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Savar-day
Another school day did not portend anything new for me. Everything proceeded within the standard academic rhythm. I once again woke up before Catherine and, having quickly completed my tasks, sat down at my desk, feigning to read a useless book on air magic, the lesson for which I was to attend today.
Catherine was waking up slowly, but I saw no need to rush her—there was enough time before breakfast, and my plans did not include her premature awakening.
The silence did not last long, and ten minutes later, I heard her voice.
"Good morning, Arta…" Catherine stretched sweetly, covering her mouth with her hand from the yawn that overcame her.
I registered the completion of her internal process of doubt. There was a lightness in her movements, and her gaze was clear and focused. The reflexive heaviness of yesterday had disappeared, replaced by a calm confidence.
"Morning," I replied dryly, closing the book, placing it on the table, and looking at Catherine. My gaze was neutral, but I noticed that she was looking for something more in it than a simple greeting.
"Listen, Arta, do you mind if I skip air magic today? I'll go to the breathing practices. You spoke yesterday about self-control. I think it will be a useful tool," she said, getting out of bed.
"Everything that helps to stabilize the internal state is a useful tool," I answered her question calmly.
Catherine smiled, going behind the screen to change.
"You know…" she said from behind the screen. "I really want to learn your level of control. Perhaps it's an unattainable dream, but I will try and learn."
"It is a matter of practice, perhaps a long one, but for a person, nothing is impossible," I replied, understanding that such a task, though incredibly difficult, is not absolutely impossible.
"I agree," she replied, emerging from behind the screen. "And so, Arta, I have one more question. Can you answer it?"
I turned my head to look at her. Her face was thoughtful.
"My question may seem a little strange, but still…" Catherine looked at me, waiting for my nod before continuing.
I nodded silently, giving a sign for her to continue.
"How do you think, can all personalities, all… souls, be fitted into the framework of generally accepted categories?" She looked at me with such expectation, as if something very important for her depended on my answer.
"It depends on what you mean," I said. My hand rested on the cover of the book. I guessed what kind of typification and probably about whom she was talking. "Everything can be sorted into categories, broken down into its parts. The problem is what we do with things that don't quite fit. When a collection of traits isn't significant enough to form its own category, we simply call it a deviation. An exception to the rule."
"Is that so… Does that mean that we are all, in essence, unique?" Catherine clarified, her voice becoming quieter.
"Catherine," I began patiently, "'uniqueness' is just as stereotypical a feature as 'category.' If you initially pose a choice between these two concepts, you are already driving your perception into a basic template from which it will be extremely difficult to exit later. The truth often lies beyond such dichotomies."
Catherine remained silent and just quietly nodded. I was not sure if it was a sign of agreement or just an acknowledgment of the complexity of the answer to her question.
"I just want to understand for myself what to do with Ren," she looked up at the ceiling, as if looking for a common truth there. "I do not doubt the correctness of my action in the slightest, but how should I continue to communicate with her?"
The logic of her question was predictable, but there was no unambiguous answer to it. Ren is Chaos in its pure, unadulterated manifestation, and one does not argue with Chaos—it is either structured or ignored if it does not pose a direct threat. And the most correct advice for Catherine in this case would be to provide her with the opportunity to resolve this issue on her own.
"I understand what you mean," I said, allowing a shadow of a smile to touch the corners of my lips. "Trust, Catherine, is indeed a very delicate matter. It must be earned through long and consistent actions, and it is easily lost with one careless word or action. Therefore, personally, I would distance myself from her, not physically, but mentally."
Catherine thought for a moment, but then asked a completely different question, "And you… do you trust me?" in her voice, I heard a distinct hint of an internal instability, which was always a risk of the appearance of my internal itch. Her need for confirmation of her own significance was saturated with an emotional subtext.
"If the question is only in that, then yes, I trust you," I answered, trying to look as impassive as possible.
This was the truth, although I sometimes doubted the stability of her structure, she was definitely someone I could trust with at least part of the truth. Catherine smiled broadly. Her self-esteem, probably, at that moment received the necessary reinforcement, and that was enough, including for my state.
"And is there anyone else whom you trust as much?" her question sounded like an attempt to penetrate deeper, into those layers of my essence where access for her was closed.
"Trust is a resource that must be earned and which is easily exhausted with irrational use. I have already spoken about this," I reminded her, maintaining a neutral tone. Her attempts to look deeper caused nothing in me but dry reflection.
"So, you only trust me, did I hear you correctly?" Catherine laughed, her mood clearly improved.
"For now, yes," I replied. "But if you continue to ask questions that have no direct bearing on our current tasks, I believe you risk losing your unique status."
"Alright, Arta!" she waved her hand, her laugh light and sincere. "Let's go to breakfast already, or we'll definitely be going hungry for the next four hours!" Catherine said, hinting at the duration of the morning classes.
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We left the room and went to breakfast, plunging into another day that, like all the previous ones, promised to be filled not only with study but also with the unpredictability and chaos of human behavior.
We took one of the free tables in the center of the hall. Catherine went for food, promising to bring me something "tasty" in her opinion. As it turned out, by "tasty" she meant cottage cheese casserole and a cup of strong black tea without sugar—a choice that I silently approved, as it was functional and did not overload my body.
For some time, we sat in silence until Ren entered the hall. She moved with her characteristic mixture of grace and hidden tension. Quickly surveying the hall, she found us and, without hesitation, sat down in the chair next to Catherine.
"Good morning! I was already starting to miss you!" she began her standard morning routine. "Catherine, how was your night? Nothing outstanding happened?" she said this in her usual chaotic manner, but with a special emphasis on the last phrase, casting a quick glance at me.
Catherine, setting her cup aside, looked at her coldly.
"Ren. We have already discussed such topics," she answered in an unexpectedly firm voice. "I do not want to repeat myself, but for me, this question is closed." Ren put on a face of sadness and offense, her lips trembling slightly. "What are you talking about, Cat? Can I not simply inquire how my… friend's night was?" The word "friend" in her performance sounded almost defiant, with a barely perceptible mockery.
"Ren, I repeat once more: trust must be earned," Catherine replied, almost quoting my morning words verbatim, but investing her own confidence in them now. "You have not yet earned it. Or rather, you have lost it, and the path to restoration will be long."
Ren pouted picturesquely and crossed her arms over her chest.
"You two are as usual, one is silent, the other…" she faltered, not finishing the phrase. "Alright. I will not bother you. Nova is with Evelina right now anyway, so I have nothing to do here either." She stood up abruptly from the table and demonstratively headed for the serving line, but, taking only an apple, she quickly left the dining hall without looking back.
"She is an absolute something…" Catherine muttered, more to herself than to me, but I heard her words.
"I suppose the question is within the bounds of decency and respect for others' boundaries. She obviously lacks them or has an extremely flexible, chaotic structure," I confirmed her thought, maintaining the objectivity of the words spoken.
"I agree," Catherine replied with a slight smile. In her smile, there was no longer the former bitterness, but rather a calm statement of fact.
Soon breakfast was over. Catherine went to her breathing practices, and I went to my air magic lesson, which promised to be as predictable as the movement of variables in a long-studied coordinate system.
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After breakfast, Catherine and I said goodbye. She went to her breathing practices class, and I, to the air magic hall. The room was on the second floor of the west wing of the academy—spacious, bright, with high windows and a light scent of enchanted wind left over from previous classes. Today's lesson was theoretical; the hall for practical exercises was closed, and a lock hung on the door—a sure sign that the next two hours would be spent on theoretical explanations of the specifics of using air magic.
Magister Arine, a woman with fair hair gathered in a high bun, was already preparing her lecture materials, checking her own notes lying on her desk. Her voice always sounded calm, almost muffled, like the whisper of the wind, which, I suppose, most of the students liked.
I took a seat by the window, not expecting anyone to join me. From my chosen position, I could perfectly register all of Ren's actions, who was sitting a few rows ahead and feigning complete indifference to what was happening in class, but her suspicious involvement in random turns of her head to observe my actions did not go unnoticed.
Soon Nova entered the hall and, seeing me, hurried to sit almost next to me. Her movements were soft but measured, like a person who had thought out every action in advance.
"Good morning, Arta," she said, nodding her head slightly and sitting in the adjacent chair. She wanted to add something, but then she turned away and began to listen to the lecture on air magic, which Magister Arine had begun.
The lecture went on slowly, and I created the impression of an attentive listener and sat silently at the table, occasionally making notes in my workbook on key issues so as not to arouse the suspicion of the other students.
Nova occasionally glanced at me, which led me to the false feeling that we were observing each other, although the true reason for her attention was different. Perhaps she wanted to ask something or tell me about Evelina, but she did not dare to interrupt the teacher's speech with her questions.
When the lecture was over and the students began to disperse, I began to gather my things, understanding that Nova wanted to talk to me about something. However, Ren soon flew up to her and, after making a few flirtatious gestures, reluctantly left, leaving Nova alone with me.
"Arta," she addressed me when there were only a few students left in the hall. Her voice was quiet but confident.
I turned. In her eyes, I saw uncertainty and a shadow of expectation, characteristic of people who need something.
"About our trip to Eldenbridge this weekend…" she began, hesitating slightly. "Is everything still on? I wanted to clarify the departure time. Ren suggests leaving earlier, on Yuvel morning, to have as much time as possible. What do you think? And… Catherine is also coming, right?"
Her question was presented as purely organizational, but I caught in it shades of personal interest.
"Yuvel morning…" I paused briefly to seem thoughtful and looked out the window, "I suppose it would be difficult to choose a better time," I replied, my voice even and expressing neither particular enthusiasm nor objection. "Catherine probably won't mind; I'll talk to her." I looked her in the eye and added, "And yes, I hope we won't be too late. I wouldn't want to violate the curfew."
Nova relaxed, and a light, sincere smile appeared on her lips. "Wonderful! I'm very glad, Arta. Thank you. I'll tell Ren that everything is agreed upon. And yes, of course, no violations of the academy's daily routine. We will be back before curfew." She paused briefly, her gaze becoming a little warmer. "I think it will be… a necessary trip. For all of us."
She looked at me, and in her gaze, almost on the same level as mine, was an undisguised gratitude and something else that I classified as a manifestation of a complex human attachment that required further observation.
"I suppose any change of scenery can be useful," I remarked, trying to maintain the dialogue with the key object of my observation. "And perhaps it will allow some…" I paused briefly, "…to learn to control their emotional manifestations."
Nova smirked almost imperceptibly, understanding that I was hinting at Ren.
"Let's hope so, Arta. Let's hope so." With these words, she politely inclined her head and, without waiting for further comments, headed for the exit. I followed her with my gaze, and then slowly went out after her.
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I met Catherine only at the "Form and Dissonance: Non-Elemental Magic" class. The classroom for these lectures, located on the second floor of the central wing, was a bright, illuminated space, most suitable for working with books and lecture material.
I sat next to Catherine, who looked calm, as if the internal shifts brought on by the breathing practices lesson had already stabilized her state. She smiled at me quite happily but said nothing. I, not objecting, just began to observe the classroom, into which, as expected, Nova soon entered.
Glancing at Catherine and me, Nova hurried to take a seat nearby, probably thereby marking our common belonging to the "squad" that she was so diligently building.
Soon the teacher entered the classroom, Professor Eleonora Brovaros—an elderly woman with glasses and curly gray hair, who, after slowly surveying the classroom and noticing unfamiliar faces, shook her head slightly.
The lecture began casually. Today, they were talking about Aether and its structure, and it was symbolic that I had ended up in this lesson during the "Astrarium" veytra. The professor began, her voice sounding with an academic finality that left no room for other interpretations, "Aether connects all structures in our world. It is invisible to the ordinary eye, but it is everywhere. It is the basic component of our universe, and without it, nothing would exist."
I could not agree with such deep misconceptions about the universe, the basis of which were the basic forces—Order, Chaos, Light, and Darkness. Aether, like fire, water, earth, and wind, was only a lower, elemental essence, important but not fundamental. It was paradoxical that mortals still did not know such explanations about the nature of "Aether." Their tendency to call "red"—"green" and their general incompetence in these matters generated in me only a deep disappointment in the society of Illumora as one of the worlds.
The professor, as if mocking the true nature of things, continued to express increasingly absurd justifications, built on a false foundation, "As you know, the Magic of Chaos, Order, Darkness, Light, Earth, Air, Water, Fire, although they are important aspects of the universe, but without aetheric waves they become completely unworkable concepts, behind which there is nothing."
After these words, the desire to continue listening to such a zealous and absurd stream of thoughts completely disappeared from me. I began to observe Catherine and Nova, who were enthusiastically listening to these explanations, demonstrating their level of trust in what they themselves did not understand. I sat through the rest of the lecture, completely detached from the absurd conclusions based on other absurd conclusions of the so-called "academic professors." For me, all this was the height of the incompetence of the society of Illumora, and I endured it only because I needed to maintain my mask of an "ideal student."
As soon as the lesson was over, I was the first to leave the classroom, deciding to wait for Catherine outside so as not to spend another minute in this purgatory of erroneous judgments.
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The rest of the day came together, submitting to the established order that, here at the academy, seemed almost unshakable. Lunch passed without Ren and Nova, but their absence only benefited Catherine's internal state. After lunch came homework: Catherine immersed herself in it with the meticulous thoroughness that had already become part of her newly forming structure, while I merely maintained the appearance of a study process, my internal thoughts far beyond the plan of these events. Then followed dinner and after—our sword training, which had already become a familiar necessity, where I, layer by layer, corrected her combat skills, weaving into her movements the meanings and lines of Darkness and Order magic. She absorbed the knowledge; her system adapted at the proper speed. At the end of the day, we returned to our room to complete our small daily tasks and prepare for the start of a new day.
Catherine, whose fatigue was clearly visible in the barely perceptible slowness of her movements and the deep shadows under her eyes, sat on her bed. But despite this, her gaze was more alive, and in this was not just fatigue or thoughtfulness, but a latent accumulation of the unsaid, seeking an outlet.
I went to the window; contemplation always stabilized the flow of my thoughts. The sky of the Astrarium—that flawless, ever-flowing and simultaneously unchanging map of the universe—spread out above the academy. Its special light, characteristic of this time of year, had not yet cut through the morning mist but was already felt as a presence: cold, deliberate, predictable. The flows of aether, invisible to most, were for me clear, vibrating lines of force, piercing the fabric of reality. The time had come for the next step. I turned around.
"Catherine, Nova reminded me of the trip to Eldenbridge, on Yuvel," my voice sounded calm, devoid of any intonational shades. "I agreed to go."
A quick smirk flashed across Catherine's face, almost immediately extinguished, replaced by surprise. She blinked several times, processing the information.
"I didn't think we would be going so soon. You want me to go with you?" she asked, and her voice lacked the lively enthusiasm that I had registered before, during our joint trips.
"Not necessarily," I replied coldly, giving her space for a true expression of will. "If you want, you don't have to go."
Catherine lowered her gaze. "I will go, but not because I want to, but because it's dreary to stay here alone without you," she answered in a sad tone, and this sadness was unfeigned, devoid of any game.
Her words confirmed what I had already analyzed: her attachment to me was the pivot around which her current system of decisions was being built. I moved away from the window and sat on my bed so that our gazes were almost on the same level—an optimal position for dialogue.
"You are dreary?" I clarified, awaiting a verbalization of her state.
"Arta, I have no friends at the academy with whom I would want to spend time, except for you," she sighed sadly. "Ren, I don't want to consider as my friend, and Nova… I'm sorry, but I'm still not ready to trust her," Catherine answered firmly.
"And Lilian?" I clarified with her.
"Lilian…" Catherine froze. "She's a nice girl, but I can't say we talk much."
"I understand," I replied. "In that case, perhaps you should take up some personal hobbies? The academy is full of extracurricular activities. Remember the debate club you stopped going to," I replied, looking her directly in the eye.
Catherine smiled ironically, but with a note of clear fatigue, "Arta, I can't keep up with anything as it is! If I also go to clubs, considering our evening training and the homework, which has become noticeably more difficult in the second year, then I'll be run off my feet."
"But we are going on a weekend," I objected, not understanding why her logic was failing, why her point of view was built along one vector, ignoring the obvious alternatives. "You always try to do your homework on the same day. It turns out you could have spent the day as you wished."
"And what would I do alone?…" she clicked her tongue ironically, her mouth slightly ajar, and her hand instinctively went to her prosthesis—a gesture I had long categorized as a marker of her internal tension. "Arta, perhaps I could have read something interesting and put in order… My thoughts," she smirked. "But I would rather spend the day with my friend… even if it's with Ren and Nova, than spend it alone."
In response to her words, I allowed myself a smile. She wanted to spend time with me, which created the perfect cover for my observation of Ren and Nova.
"Alright," I said. "Then Yuvel, at five in the morning, we should already be up."
"So early?! Are you serious?!" her indignation was expected.
"Serious," I confirmed. "Otherwise, I would have had to wait too long again while you were choosing what outfit to wear."
Catherine laughed—this time more openly. The tension that had arisen immediately dissipated.
"Oh, don't start, Arta!" she said, understanding that my words were an accurate reflection of her behavioral peculiarities.
"I am not starting," I replied coldly. "I am just pointing out facts that you are ashamed to admit."
"Alright, alright, I don't want to argue with you today. I'm too tired…" she complained. "But if you want to talk about something, know that I'm always ready, even in this state." Her eyes sparkled, and a playful smile appeared on her lips.
"I suppose it's already too late," I concluded. "Perhaps we should both get some rest. A good and healthy sleep is what we really need right now."
Catherine looked at me, then at the burning magical lamp, whose steady light outlined the contours of the room.
"I agree, Arta."
It was on this note of formal agreement that another day at the academy ended. My plans were entering a new phase of development, and Catherine was becoming an increasingly integral part of their structure, weaving into the general fabric of this reality's existence.