Ari and Ria crossed the threshold of an unguarded wooden gate, their steps guided by a path of flagstones, winding toward the looming silhouette of an enormous mansion. As they progressed, the shades of dusk deepened and shadows melded with the foliage, shrouding the garden they were passing by in difficult to pierce darkness. The building grew larger with every step, Ari's heart racing at the sight of its murky walls. She was about to enter a noble's home.
"Are you sure it's fine to spend the night outside the Academy?" she asked, clinging to a thread of hope that they might still turn around and leave.
"Yes, I am. We're not prisoners, and the semester hasn't even started yet," Ria responded without looking back. She led Ari straight to the front door. When she was just a few meters before the entrance, she continued. "My sisters are a little eccentric, don't mind them and try to ignore them if poss—" Ria's voice faltered, her words dissolving into the cool evening air as she pivoted sharply, only to be greeted by an empty void. She was alone, and Ari was nowhere to be seen.
Ari stood in a shadow-draped corridor on the mansion's second floor, a gallery of paintings symmetrically lining the space. Even ensconced in darkness, she could make out their ornate frames, but the figures within were indistinct strangers, obscured by the poor light. Mere moments before, an abrupt tug at her arm had drawn her into this enclosed passage, fresh air replaced by walls. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she found Ria—or a semblance of her—veiled in shadows, eyes flickering with a peculiar interest.
"Ria, what happened? Where are we? How did we…" She tried to make sense of the situation, but the logical flow of events was eluding her. Ria had been ahead all this time, guiding her along the path, yet now, somehow, she was behind her. And there was something else: Ria's dress had changed color. She had not noticed it at first—it was too dark as the lightstones had yet to glow, but the material was not green. It was pure black, matching the shade of the girl's hair. A chill pricked Ari's skin as realization dawned: this was not Ria.
"Close, yet not quite," the girl chuckled, her laughter a low, eerie melody in the dark. "Welcome to our home. I wanted to greet you on my own."
"Um, hi." Ari could not find better words. Awash with a mix of anxiety and curiosity, she met the intense stare of the other girl.
"I can't fathom why you'd choose my sister as your companion. She has a terrible character and her intellect is equally dismal. But, to each their own, I suppose. Make yourself at home," the girl said in a cheerful voice, but Ari took a step back, sensing the sinister aura pervading her seemingly cordial words.
Ari's thoughts raced. The corridor was empty. There was no one besides them. Little by little, fear crept inside her heart and she shuddered. How did she end up here? Why did Ria's sister kidnap her? The girl remained motionless, darkness blurring her body contours as she seemed to fade slowly into the background. Ari's fists tensed at her sides. (What should I do? Run?)
The soft echo of approaching footsteps permeated the air. Then, without warning, brilliant light cascaded throughout the corridor, emanating from now-glowing lightstones. Blinking against the sudden brilliance, Ari watched as a maid materialized from the brightness, stopping dead in her tracks upon sighting the unanticipated guest. As clarity returned to Ari's vision, she noted the maid's eyes scrutinizing her from head to toe before she addressed her.
"Greetings, young miss. My apologies for the lapse in hospitality. Had I known of your presence, I would have ignited the lightstones sooner. Please forgive my oversight."
Rooted in place, Ari glanced around. The black-haired girl had vanished, leaving no trace of her presence. Weighing her words, Ari hoped she was indeed inside Ria's mansion.
"Um, actually, I was brought here by Ria's sister. I'm not sure where I am. Could you perhaps take me to Ria?"
Lifting her gaze to meet Ari's, the maid betrayed no surprise in her reply. "Understood, young miss. Please be at ease. I shall escort you to Miss Ria at once. Kindly follow me."
The two embarked on a quiet procession through the corridors, the maid guiding Ari with unwavering confidence. As they traversed the mansion, Ari could not help but be ensnared by its grandeur. Vaulted ceilings gave way to opulent chandeliers, each filled with countless lightstones. The walls bore witness to the house's storied history through portraits of stern ancestors and rich tapestries of heroic battles. Luxuriant carpets muffled their footsteps, while occasional glimpses into rooms revealed sumptuous furniture and vast libraries. They descended one winding staircase after another. Each one was more ornate than the last, leading them deeper into the belly of the house.
Eventually, they reached a formidable wooden door nestled in the underground level. Before they entered, the maid turned to Ari, her eyes offering a gentle reassurance. "The ladies are currently dining. The eldest daughter can be somewhat capricious. Please forgive her demeanor."
Ari stepped into a large, well-lit dining hall, where gentle wisps of steam wafted from a lineup of meticulously prepared dishes laid on a white tablecloth. The elongated table, flanked by rows of chairs, was designed to host a gathering of at least fifty, yet it was graced only by the presence of three. Three people who looked alike. Three girls, mirrors of one another, each brandishing upright pigtails, distinguished solely by their clothes and varied hair hues.
Ria's eyes snapped to Ari upon her entrance, and in a heartbeat, she was beside her.
"Ari! Where were you?" Her voice was a mixture of relief and exasperation. "How could you disappear like that? I was really worried!" Grasping Ari's hand, she led her towards the table.
Lost for words, Ari could only dart a brief, questioning glance towards the black-haired girl, who, also rising from her seat, now leaned nonchalantly against the back of her chair. Ria followed Ari's gaze and, with a flare of anger, lashed out at her sister.
"You wench! I knew it was your doing! And you had the audacity to tell me you knew nothing?! I hope you die!" Her ire dissipated as she turned back to Ari, speaking in a calmer voice. "Please, come and sit. After we dine, we'll retreat to my room. Sorry for my sister; she can be insufferable at times—most times, actually."
Ria steered Ari towards a chair next to the sister with blonde hair, who sat unperturbed at the short side of the refectory table. Engrossed in her meal, she was oblivious or perhaps indifferent to the surrounding commotion, her eyes never once diverting to meet Ari's.
"Here," Ria gestured, her hand gently tapping the chair's backrest.
As soon as Ari took the indicated seat, the black-haired girl sprang into action, claiming the spot beside her.
"What? Get out. This is my seat!" Ria's voice scaled up, peppered with frustration.
The black-haired girl smirked. "And if I don't?"
Ria's cheeks flushed, a tempest of irritation building in her eyes. Yet, instead of escalating the situation further, she chose a different approach.
"Ari, let's move to the other side."
"She stays." The black-haired girl's hand landed on Ari's shoulder, anchoring her in place. "Why must you always be so difficult? Just take a seat across. You'll be face to face with her. See how your big sister thinks about you?"
Ria's jaw tightened, her patience wearing thin as she trembled with stifled rage. Yet, to Ari's astonishment, she conceded, moving to the opposite side of the table.
"Just so you know, we're triplets—equally aged. She acts all high and mighty because she was out a few seconds earlier. 'Big sister' my ass," Ria grumbled, leaning over the table to choose from the selection of dishes.
"See? She's just plain stupid. I would reconsider being her friend if I were you." The black-haired girl's words continued to needle at Ria, and that last comment proved to be the limit.
Ria straightened, a fearsome determination glinting in her eyes as her hand grabbed the cold hilt of a knife. With the ferocity of a wild beast, she leapt onto the table, her movements embodying an intense, chilling menace. Plates collided and sauce bowls shattered in the wake of her wrath, spoiling their once delightful contents and marring the pristine tablecloth. After two swift steps, she lunged at her sister. They toppled over together with the chair.
Ari watched, ensnared in the cold chains of disbelief, as Ria launched the knife right at her sister's throat—the drops of blood splattering all over, tarnishing the purity of Ari's uniform. But Ria did not stop at that. She hit again with the blade. And again. And again. The stabs arrived one after another with the merciless smoothness of clockwork. As Ria's strength waned, she clasped the knife with both hands and resumed making holes in her sister's body. There were no breaks, no hesitation—she was unstoppable. Her entire eyeballs transformed, consumed by a haunting gray abyss.
A strange thought pierced Ari's mind. She realized how much she resented her family, her father most of all—pure hatred surging within her at the mere memory of his face. The blade's hypnotic swings continued, each motion unearthing a dark, seductive fantasy. She dreamed of the sheer exhilaration it would be to ruthlessly do the same to all those people she despised.
"Ladies, please," a servant's voice sliced through the room with a tone of practiced indifference. "We have a guest today."
It had an immediate effect on Ria, quelling her mindless stabbing. Her eyes cleared, returning to their normal state. Grasping the edge of the table, she pulled herself up and limped back to her seat.
"Let's eat quickly and get out of here," she said to Ari in a rasping voice.
Ari sat with an open mouth. She had some strange thoughts just moments ago, but she could not recall what they were about. They faded like a dream upon waking, so she redirected her focus to the current situation.
The room's silence was deafening. No one was acknowledging what had just happened. The blond-haired sister ate undisturbed, her attention never wavering from her meal—not even during Ria's onslaught. The servants lining the dining hall remained calm and not alert, their concerns evidently not rooted in the violent outburst itself but in its potential to bother the guest. They seemed not to care about the actual outcome.
Ari looked down at the lifeless, mangled body of the black-haired girl sprawled before her, soaked in a growing pool of ghastly blood. But the nightmare was not confined to the horrific puddle—blood was everywhere: smeared across her face, staining the entire right side of her body, splattered on the table, mingling in the meals. The morbid aura of redness enveloped her, each breath coming in short, harrowed gasps.
At that chilling moment, the door creaked open, and a man, nearing his forties, stepped into the grim spectacle of the dining hall. He froze, eyes widening in shock at the gruesome scene before him.
"Hello, father," the blonde sister greeted in-between munching two large pieces of meat, her voice devoid of emotion.
The man surveyed the room, his gaze flitting from one horrifying detail to the next. Once he noticed the blood-streaked face of a young girl unknown to him, he paused, allowing himself a moment to absorb the chaotic scene. Finishing his contemplations, he then turned to the servants.
"Bring food to my room later. I have a lot of work to do. A lot," he emphasized. "I cannot stay for dinner."
"Yes, Master Sarelli," they responded in unison.
The man swept one more glance across the room and began his retreat.
An odd feeling, like the tug of a bizarre dream, toyed with Ari. (Am I losing it? Is my mind going mad?) she mused. The situation made no sense at all.
Wisps of black smoke suddenly whirled at the corner of her vision, and a shiver of irrational fear that she was on fire skated down her spine. But soon the realization came: it was the blood she was covered in. (Blood evaporating into black smoke?) That made even less sense.
"Father, wait!"
Ari turned her head to the source of the voice, only to see the black-haired girl impossibly standing there, animated and cheerfully waving at the retreating figure.
"Look, this is Ari," the girl beamed. "She's Ria's newfound friend from the Academy."
The man paused, reluctantly dragging his feet to a halt. He turned around, his face an unwilling mask of courtesy. "Pleasure to meet you, Ari," he began, forcing a semblance of warmth into his words. "Please make yourself at home. I'm thrilled that Ria is already making acquaintances with other adepts." His eyes darted toward the door. "Please forgive me now. I have a lot of work to do. A lot," he said, slipping away into the dim corridors before someone could stop him again.
The black-haired girl righted her chair and settled down, a playful mockery lighting her eyes. "Feeling better now, Ria?" she teased, her voice a soft dagger edged with scorn.
Receiving no response, she shifted closer to Ari, leaning on her shoulder. As the girl's face approached Ari's, her tone dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Sad, isn't it? A father who fears his own children. I think it's very sad." She nodded to herself, affirming her own statement. "He wouldn't normally come here, especially not with all the ruckus Ria was making. But I soundproofed the hall; he was clueless." Her laughter twinkled. "We usually dine later, but since I knew you were visiting, we gathered early. I bet he wanted to grab a bite before we'd swarm in."
Ria's eyes shot daggers at her sister. "Stop bothering her," she growled.
The black-haired girl tilted her head to the side, a mirror image of Ria's past gestures, and Ari could not help but wonder if it was some odd familial trait.
"You haven't even introduced us properly. Let me do your job," she said, a smirk playing on her lips as she pointed at Ria. "This one you probably know," she addressed Ari. "She is the youngest and the dumbest of our trio. In case she'd forget to give you her name, and I wouldn't be surprised by that, she's Ria." She then pointed to the blonde sister absorbed in her meal. "This is Mia. She's rather non-talkative but can devour any amount of food you'll throw at her. And the last is me—" Her finger hovered toward herself, but she was interrupted.
"Her name is Kia," Mia spoke to them for the first time this evening. "She thinks she knows everything, but in reality, she's a little bad in the head."
Kia's lips twisted into a wry smile. "But I do know everything. I have omnipotent wisdom."
Mia snorted, a flicker of disdain crossing her face. "Mhm, and you're confusing wisdom with knowledge. You're just as stupid as Ria," she said, then went back to her meal, clearly not interested in further discussions.
Kia brought her attention back to Ari. "So that's how it is. I know. Our father is not known for creativity, and thinking about three names at once was probably too much for him," she said, letting go of Ari's shoulder. "Being the eldest, my name is the original, and theirs are just poor, uninspired variations." She winked and went back to her own plate.
Ari's curiosity momentarily outshone her bewilderment. "But how can you claim to know everything? And how did you know I'd come here today?" she questioned, as she doubted Ria would have told her sisters about their visit in advance.
Kia leaned toward her again, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I see the threads of time, the past and future, woven as one." She paused, nearing Ari's ear so close that Ari could feel her breath. "Kittens. Tiny, defenseless kittens." Her words drew the color from Ari's already pale cheeks. "And the blaze, the cries—a cacophony of terror." Kia watched as Ari's hands trembled, a hint of cruel satisfaction in her eyes. "You remember it well, don't you? But let's not dwell on old echoes. The future, you see, often mirrors the past." She stopped for a few breaths, her gaze locking with Ari's. "Mirrors, but not exactly," she continued. "Next time it will be a dog. A poor, unsuspecting pup. And after you do what you must do, when you look at the fire again, a silent fire this time, you will remember I knew all along."
Ari's grasp faltered, and the drink she had been holding splashed onto the table as she jolted upright in her chair. Across from her, Ria's head snapped up, another storm clearly brewing behind her narrowed eyes. And then the door swung open again.
"Little lady, you didn't inform me you were coming!" A familiar face of the old butler appeared at the entrance.
Instantly, Ria's simmering fury found a new target. Her hand shot out, seizing the closest plate piled high with food, and whirling on her heel, she hurled it in the butler's direction.
"Don't call me 'little', you bastard!"
The contents of the plate scattered mid-flight, raining down a cascade of food that traced a path across the hall.
Ari could only gape, the chaos unfolding before her acting as a sudden balm to the panic that had clenched her a moment before. The tension, the fear incited by Kia's cryptic prophecy—all of it dissolved into absurdity. She felt an urge to laugh; the ridiculousness of the situation combined with the mounting strangeness of each passing day was overwhelming. What next? She wondered. What fresh madness would tomorrow bring? Would she keep her sanity?
"… What?" Kia's sharp tone snapped Ari back to the present. It was not a sound of disbelief, but annoyance. "You have some problem?" Kia's gaze was fixated on an empty spot in the middle of the table, where not a single dish had been placed—in fact, because of the table's sheer length, most of it remained bare except for the side were they were sitting. "I thought so," Kia finished after a few seconds of silence, returning to her feast.
Ari's eyes shifted to Mia, who had paused mid-bite to watch Kia as well. Catching Ari's glance, Mia raised her index finger to her temple and circled it several times. "Crazy," she said.
Ari smiled and picked up an empty cup, filling it with nearby citrus water. It had been flecked with Kia's blood droplets not so long ago, but now it was crystal clear. All the blood had dissolved into that strange black smoke. (Whatever,) she thought resignedly. Her boundaries of what was normal had expanded.
*
Melia gazed through the window. Dark, gloomy clouds had covered the sky early in the morning and remained adamant to stay. A thin drizzle fell over the city, adding to the mood of the overcast weather. Drops of water, too small to make a sound, clung to the window, accumulating and racing down the glass pane. She focused on the two of them, competing head-to-head. They swallowed smaller droplets in their paths to the bottom, steadily growing larger and hastening their descent.
"Princess Melia, is there anything else you require?"
Her attention momentarily flickered, her focus on the raindrop duel disrupted. She turned slightly, acknowledging the maid's presence, her mind pulling back from the window's melancholic scene.
"No, thank you, that's all for now," she responded, dismissing the servant with a polite nod. The refreshments she had requested earlier were neatly arranged on the table.
"The examiner has already arrived and will be with you shortly, Princess." With a respectful bow, the maid retreated, leaving Melia alone with her thoughts.
Melia returned her gaze to the window. She had missed the chance to see the winner because of the interruption, and while other raindrops began their own struggles, those trivial contests now seemed inconsequential as she contemplated the impending examination. She exhaled slowly, a sense of resignation washing over her while she idly played with the frills of her dress.
The examination was perhaps her final opportunity to escape her fate—the fate of a princess possessing nothing but the useless title. The succession line to the 'throne' was long, and as a woman, her prospects of ruling were nonexistent. She scoffed softly to herself. Her father's grandfather had settled nomadic tribes and built cities. Since then, they had been playing a pretend game of being a civilized nation. Technically, he was her great-grandfather, but she had never felt like a part of the family.
Her mother came from a clan refusing the new way of life and remained wandering across the steppe. The details of how she, a nomad, became the seventh wife of the king remained a mystery to Melia, but while she was alive, she told her daughter countless stories about the never-ending plains, about a flat as a pancake horizon, and about massive herds of animals roaming free.
The death of her mother two years prior had abruptly thrust Melia into premature adulthood. On the surface nothing had changed, but Melia, being a clever child, quickly grasped the bleakness of her future. While true princesses married influential men from other tribes, maintaining their status, for someone like her, whose mother was from a lower caste, there was nothing. They would sell her as a mere business token to whomever was at hand.
To make it worse, the influence of her father was waning. The two other largest tribes already sniffed the blood, and the demise of the ruling clan was only a matter of time.
She laughed bitterly at herself. A fourteen-year-old child wailing over her non-existent future. There was no way out, nothing she could do. The only glimmer of hope lay in her upcoming meeting with the examiner; becoming a Great Mage would change everything. She would no longer be under the rule of her father. But it was a futile dream.
As part of the royal family, she had undergone a preliminary check for magical aptitude at the age of eight, which had yielded nothing. Since then, she had been overlooked, forgotten. Now at the cusp of turning fourteen, she faced the mandatory examination—her second and last opportunity. The early trials were never conclusive, but to say she had even a slim chance at success would be an overestimation. Each year, the Academy admitted only around one hundred new adepts, and from what she heard, only half of them met real standards for a Great Mage. The rest were children from wealthy families who showed potential just good enough to allow their parents to sponsor a costly buy-in. The title was priceless—Great Mages ran the world.
Two sharp knocks reverberated throughout the room. She clamped her fists and issued a hasty, "Come in!" but despite her resolve to maintain the regal appearance, her voice broke a little. The door opened to reveal a short, rotund man, followed closely by a solitary servant. Melia's eyes were immediately drawn to the man's enormous belly; he seemed to be more wide than tall as he shuffled into the room with a side-to-side waddle.
"Princess Melia," he began, pausing to offer a courteous bow, "it is my great honor to meet you. Your radiant beauty dispels without fail the dreariness of today's gloom. My apologies for the delay—an unexpected incident on the road held me back for two days." His eyes briefly scanned the room before he continued. "Please, take a seat on the bed. This won't take long."
Melia settled onto the plush duvet, attempting to mask her racing heart with an air of indifference. The servant placed a chair right in front of her.
"We should conduct the examination in privacy," the man stated, lowering himself onto the chair and giving a meaningful glare at the attendant. The chair squeaked under his weight, eliciting a discreet smile from Melia.
She gestured for the servant to leave. As the examiner tried to get comfortable, the chair protested more, groaning and creaking. Alone now, Melia watched the man's little eyes dart around, avoiding direct eye contact. His face, already flushed, grew increasingly red until he grunted, satisfied. Finally, finding the right sport, he settled in and focused his attention on her.
"My name is Rick Orteves, and I am here to conduct your official examination. Depending on the outcome, if the source of Power residing within you is substantial enough, you will have a duty to attend teachings. The examination is straightforward; simply follow my instructions. Do you have any questions before we start?"
Melia's response was a mute shake of her head, her throat too tight to form words.
"Very well. Are you ready, then?"
She nodded affirmatively, her heart pounding in anticipation.
"Good. Now, close your eyes, steady your breathing, and try to relax," he instructed, gently taking her hands.
Melia complied, stealing one last glance at the man and his unusually long mustache, a style uncommon among the Argenta. Plus, the size of his body; he was clearly a foreigner. No Argenta would grow that fat, not even those living in the cities. And a low level mage for sure. The royal family would never allow their children to attend the public examination. It would be a disgrace, especially if the child would turn out to be a Powerless. Instead, they called for a dedicated examiner, but for someone like her, they would not spend too much money.
(If only I weren't the only one… if only there were some other king's child turning fourteen this year…)
Melia stood in the darkness. She did not know how and when she had come to this realization. Around her, an array of stone butterflies hovered, each frozen in a unique pose, as if an unseen hand had halted their dance mid-flight. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers against the nearest one. Its limestone texture felt coarse and scabrous. She attempted to dislodge it, to pluck it from its place, but it resisted her pull, anchored by some invisible force.
"That's nice. The source is already manifesting. Let's see if it's any good." The man suddenly materialized to her left. "It should be calling you. Focus on that sensation and embrace it. Let it run through you, let the Power flow."
She felt a faint, electric tingle at the back of her mind. The butterfly under her touch fissured; a network of cracks rapidly spider-webbing across its surface. She withdrew her hand, watching in wonder as the brittle stone shell crumbled away, unveiling delicate, azure wings beneath. Then the wings flapped, and with a newfound freedom, the butterfly took flight, spiraling amidst unseen currents. As it whirled past her, a long-forgotten memory stirred to life, and she remembered.
She remembered a plain with not a bulge in sight, covered by blooming argent grass. A sea of little white flowers waving back and forth. The sun and a cloudless blue sky. And her mother, wailing on the open steppe over the grave of her brother, stroking the round stones of a cairn erected in his memory.
The gale blew across the land, pulling up Melia's dress, and as she fought to keep it down, the world turned azure. Thousands of fluttering butterflies rose from the grass in a spectacle of flickering colors. The wings, argent on one side and blue on the other, blinked in the rhythm of their delicate flaps. How could she forget? It was the only time when she had ventured beyond the city walls, the only time when she had seen the steppe.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as the poignant memory engulfed her. The scent of the flowers, so distinct and fresh, filled her nostrils—it was so vivid, so tangible, as though she were there again, despite being no more than five years old when it had happened.
One by one, butterflies broke free from their stone casings. They fluttered around her, some perching on her shoulders and head, while others continued their erratic flight. The darkness of her surroundings morphed into a blend of azure and argent, mirroring the plains from her recollection.
"Excellent visualization," the man's raspy voice cut through, breaking her immersion. "However, it tells us nothing about your Power. It is but a facade, or perhaps a sign of a taint. Focus on the Power. Uncover the nature of your source."
Reluctance gripped her; she did not want to let the scene go—it felt as though a part of her mother lived here, within those dancing butterflies, and she feared that delicate echo would shatter with the slightest disturbance. But there was no other way. She lost herself in the purposeless movements of the wings. The connection was there, a thin thread of the flowing Power. She followed it, delving deeper into the network of pulsating veins until it all blended together. What remained was a point. A singularity. The source. Her source. She touched it.
Everything stopped. Just for a moment. Then, a dark green orb popped out of nothingness, and the butterflies rushed forward, swarming together, converging around it. Their wings changed colors, forming new patterns of black and the orb's sickly emerald glow. They now looked more like moths searching for light. As she drew upon her source, they responded in kind, fluttering synchronously, resonating with the surging Power within her.
"No…" the man muttered to himself, but she heard him well. "No, no, no," he repeated, his voice rising. He looked at her, his face etched with terror. "Do nothing. Not a thing. Calm down and let it all go. Do not channel the Power any further!"
But it was too late. The current was already sweeping over her body, poised on the brink of release. "I… I can't," she said, realizing there was nowhere to put what she had already willed.
"Get out! Wake up!" he said, urgency beaming from his voice. Then he disconnected from her mind, not waiting for a response.
She tensed, trying to contain the overflowing Power. Soon, the sensations of her real body returned, and she opened her eyes to a scene of disarray: the chair overturned, the man pressed against the wall, his eyes wide with fear. His expression resembled that of an animal trapped in a cage, waiting for its butcher.
"Do not channel!" His hands were shaking.
"I can't stop it. I have to release it." She was calm, and it surprised her. The man's behavior was strange and it should have alarmed her, but at that moment, nothing could affect her. The energy, craving nothing but to escape, filled her with bliss.
The man rubbed his sweaty hands, his gaze scanning the room for anything that could help him. His sight stopped on a large potted plant with a thick stalk and broad leaves sitting in the corner. "There!" He pointed at the plant. "Go and touch it. Then release your Power slowly. Very slowly."
Melia rose from the bed and stepped towards the pot. The man, still glued to the wall, moved in the door's direction. After closing the distance, she touched one leaf and let the awakened force rush through her fingers.
"Steady, I said. Restrict it as much as possible."
The running Power filled the plant, but suddenly, the flow reversed. A new stream of energy, a different kind of energy, entered into her from the point of contact. It was rejuvenating, like the first breath of air after the storm. At the same time, she watched the plant's vitality drain away, its once vibrant leaves withering one after another into a brittle, brown husks.
"Do not use it ever again," the man said, his voice shaking. "Ever. Stay in your room. I need to notify the King and the Academy. If you don't try to use it, you will be safe. Do you hear me? I will arrange everything. We will help you."
Melia stood in the corner, not reacting, keeping her eyes on the now-dead plant. The examiner spared her one last glance and quickly exited the room. Left with her thoughts, she touched the dried stems, which crumbled under her fingers, falling to the floor. The influx of the new Power, coupled with the release of her own, restored sharpness of her mind. Hundreds of thoughts rushed through her head, but they all led to one conclusion, one explanation that fitted what had just happened. She was a Death Mage.
*
Heavy clouds veiled the stars and twin moons, casting the night into darkness, broken only by the warm glow seeping from the windows of the mansion. Perched atop the estate's wall, Naymila's gaze remained fixed on a particular room. Although its location was too elevated to discern details from her vantage point, it hardly mattered. She had marked her target a long time ago, and now its bright blue silhouette gleamed in her vision, ignoring all obstacles. The silhouette flailed its hands, gesticulating in short bursts; clearly, the Docks girl was still awake.
Naymila could guess that the girl was with Ria Sarelli, her newfound roommate. A simmering frustration grew within her: she wanted to kick the girl's ass. Instead of sitting patiently in the Academy, the girl had ventured on a trip the very next day. It had taken Naymila hours to realize she was gone, but at least tracking her down proved effortless thanks to the mark she had left on her. Once both girls retired for the night, Naymila would be relieved of her duty.
('Relieved', for sure…) She gritted her teeth. Her assignment should have ended the moment the girl was admitted into the Academy, but naturally, Master Toaro had a change of heart and forced her into extended babysitting.
However, Naymila could not deny that this unexpected turn of events was not without its perks—perks delivered today. The dubious dealings of Sarelli with the emperor were the subject of public whispers. Perhaps, Naymila mused, she might seize the opportunity to unearth some information or catch a glimpse of concealed secrets. Her master, having remained tight-lipped, had explicitly forbidden her from getting close to the mansion. Yet fortune seemed to favor her today. The mandate to ensure the Docks girl's safety certainly superseded the prohibition.
"Ho! A stalker!"
The sudden voice right next to Naymila shattered the night's stillness, making her spring to the side like a startled cat. It gained her precious distance from her former crouching spot. The speaker, a diminutive figure standing confidently on the same wall coping, was barely discernible in the darkness. However, Naymila's night vision was good enough to recognize the intruder, who was none other than one of the sisters, Kia Sarelli.
Unfazed by the precarious height, Kia stepped closer with the ease of a tightrope walker, balancing effortlessly on the narrow parapet. She then tilted her head. "What are you doing here? In my house?" she asked, her voice a mix of amusement and challenge.
Naymila eyed Kia warily, her mind racing. (How did she sneak up on me? I still sense nothing,) she mused. This was the girl her master warned her about, the child entangled in personal dealings with the emperor. In a flash, weighing available options, she made her choice—to confront and gauge the truth of the rumors herself.
Her blade caught the faint light as she lunged towards Kia, intent on confirming the girl's alleged abilities. If Kia was fortunate, she would escape with mere scratches.
"What a poor decision," Kia remarked coolly, her head now tilting the other way. "Don't you have some survival instinct or something?" Then, in a blink, she surged forward.
Naymila's body halted abruptly mid-air. Though her limbs continued their forward trajectory, her torso felt pinned, as though skewered in place, impaled. Time stretched into an agonizing eternity before the rebound came, carrying the crackling Power of Kia's fist. It catapulted Naymila backwards, hurtling her away from the wall and towards the unforgiving cobblestones below.
She crashed, her instincts barely protecting her head from the brutal impact. Gasping for air, she grappled with an invisible vice constricting her lungs. Desperate to draw breath, she fought to stand, only to collapse again, her body refusing to cooperate, overwhelmed by the shock and pain. The ground spun around her in a dizzying dance.
Her lungs grudgingly allowed shallow, rapid breaths, just enough to keep consciousness anchored. She tried to piece together what had just happened as her eyes darted around, desperately scanning her surroundings.
"Great Mage, huh? You're so weak, and you dare to attack me?" Kia's voice dripped with derision as she advanced, unhurried, one deliberate step at a time.
Naymila attempted to crawl away from the incoming girl, but her muscles were in mutiny, unresponsive and incoherent in their movements. She ended up writhing helplessly on the cold ground, unable to gain even the slightest distance.
Kia latched onto Naymila's ponytail, swinging her violently into the air. Moments later, a searing pain radiated through her scalp as Kia's unyielding hold halted any further ascent, then mercilessly slammed her back to the ground. Naymila's body met the street with a resounding thud.
"Isn't there more to you?" Kia taunted, lifting and plunging Naymila repeatedly as if she was a weightless toy. The relentless assault forced Naymila's body into the rough cobbles time and again. "What are you afraid of?"
Pain enveloped Naymila, her thoughts scattering in chaos. She could no longer focus, her actions driven by pure instinct. When Kia finally released her hair, Naymila seized the moment, rolling to the side with the last vestiges of her strength. "What are you?" she gasped, hoping to stall for time as she spat bloodstained saliva onto the stones.
Trembling, she looked up at Kia and recoiled in horror. Kia's eyes had turned an abyssal black, resembling voids more than human eyes. Naymila could now see the girl's aura and she spat more blood in shock. Reality itself seemed to warp and bend all around them. Darkness oozed from every crevice, responding to Kia's gestures with unsettling servitude.
"Well, I guess I could introduce myself," Kia said, her lips curling into a malevolent grin. "I am the Sister of the Void. Bringer of Emptiness. Carrier of Nothingness." She paused for effect. "I am Tarh-o-Theal Kattamaria, the chief general at the service of the Lord of Darkness, leading his countless armies." Her laughter rang out, tinged with dark amusement. "Or at least, I will lead them in a future so distant, it makes no sense to speak about now."
Naymila's own Power source responded to Kia's grand proclamation. It churned, a tempest of energy coursing through her veins. She fought to contain it, to suppress its pressing flow, but it would not listen. Already agitated beyond control by the pure darkness swirling around, it now entwined with reality, distorted by the girl's presence, defying Naymila's will. (All these years of training for nothing,) she thought, drowning in her own Power, unable to stop the channeling. Her energy, raw and unbridled, came forth. (No, no, I can't let it go. I've held it all this time; I can't fail now.) She tensed, her muscles coiling tightly like a spring, every fiber bracing against the flood.
"What are you afraid of?" Kia echoed her earlier question. "Is that how you want to spend your life? In fear of what? Yourself?" Her face drew perilously close to Naymila's. "I can see it. Doesn't it feel familiar?" Kia's smile widened as she touched Naymila's skin.
In that moment, the Power surged like a tidal wave. Darkness enveloped the street, creeping into every crevice, every shadow. Naymila, connected to this dark energy, felt an unexpected unity with her surroundings: the stones beneath her, the walls around, the rats scurrying to hide in their pits, the stubborn weeds breaking through the cobblestones. She perceived the intricate weaves of energy in an eternal dance of what she knew as reality. As she lay on the street, her vision absent yet all-encompassing, she saw herself from the side: a woman and a girl, each with eyes like black voids, locked in a mutual gaze.
Kia withdrew her finger, and the darkness dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Naymila's Power calm, as tranquil as a lake on a still day.
"Eh. Trash is trash. Time to go. You need to ponder more on your miserable existence," Kia said.
Naymila struggled to resist, but her body ceased to heed her commands. Once again, Kia seized her ponytail, dragging her mercilessly along the street. Her back scraped against the cold stones, the sensation distant, as if pain had lost its edge.
Suddenly, the world around her morphed. Colors swirled and blended into an indistinct haze. In the next instant, she was inside a room. The interior was familiar, but her muddled mind refused to form coherent thoughts, making her unable to recall where she was.
With a swift motion, Kia swung Naymila once more. Her body arced through the air, bracing for another harsh landing. But instead, the fall transformed into flight. The details of the room whirred past as she soared, her muscles tensing in anticipation of the inevitable impact. The impact that never came. Instead, she halted gently in mid-air, floating gracefully until she was lowered onto a couch, where soft cushions cradled her aching body.
"I found some of your trash on my property, and I'm kind enough to return it to you in person. I hope you're grateful," Kia said to someone else in the room.
Straining to turn her head, Naymila's eyes found her master. A cough of relief escaped her lips, and she took a deeper breath, a wave of relaxation washing over her at the sight of him. In her master's presence, she felt a renewed sense of safety. Today was not her day to die.
"Miss Sarelli, what a surprise," Cassem Toaro said, standing behind his desk, his gaze fixed on Kia. "Thank you for returning my pupil unharmed. I apologize for any inconvenience she may have caused," he added with diplomatic calm.
Kia's head tilted, her expression betraying a flicker of dissatisfaction with Cassem's composed response. "Hum, good. Keep your pets on a shorter leash next time." Seemingly disappointed by the lack of confrontation, she turned towards the door. As she moved, a large, glass-like sphere materialized in her path. Unperturbed, Kia stepped forward, her form beginning to warp and twist. Colors melded and swirled around her, and in moments, she vanished, leaving nothing but the empty air where she once stood.
"She didn't even say goodbye." Cassem strode around the desk, his fingers thoughtfully stroking his short beard. "I told you to stay away from that house. How are you feeling? Any broken bones?"
"I don't think so," Naymila managed, her voice hoarse from the blood she had swallowed. "At first, she got me by surprise. I compensated for the following strikes and impacts, nothing but a few bruises, if I'm lucky. But what is she exactly? She threw me around like a rag doll." Naymila paused, her statement not entirely truthful. While confident about the absence of broken bones, she suspected a few minor internal bleedings. She needed a healer.
"Make sure to visit the infirmary later," he said, scrutinizing her condition. After a brief silence, he addressed her question. "Regarding what she is…" He seemed to weigh his words carefully. "The entire trio of sisters is something uncanny. You're familiar with the hierarchy of the Power. Elemental forces forming more complex types and so on. But even the rawest elemental Power is not a basic one. There are two primordial forces: Darkness and Chaos."
"I've never heard of them. I doubt anyone at the Academy has," Naymila interrupted, her gaze fixed intently on her master. The Powers he mentioned sounded exotic, reigniting the old suspicions she had harbored over the years about his peculiar actions and random bits of information he shared with her—information no scholar of today would possess. "Is this part of lost knowledge?" she probed further, her curiosity piqued by these mysterious forces.
"Don't talk. It's not the time for questions," he said. "So, the world is built in 99.99% from the Dark Power. The elusive Chaos Power makes up for the scant remainder, a mere 0.01%. Encountering someone who can wield pure Darkness is rare. There is something that makes people use only compound energies. As for Chaos, I had never even heard of anyone capable of manipulating it. And then I met the Sarelli sisters."
He paused, his gaze drifting as if revisiting a memory. "They were just little children then, five or maybe six years old. The emperor himself requested I assess them. The youngest, Ria, appeared relatively normal, especially when compared to her siblings. She possessed a potent affinity for Life Power. Then came Mia, the middle child. Even at that young age, she was already manifesting Power, albeit playfully, using it to levitate toys and such." A faint smile crossed his lips. "You've probably guessed by now—Mia is a Chaos Mage, the first of her kind. I was astounded. But my astonishment only grew when I encountered the eldest, the very girl you met today."
He winked, a lightness in his tone despite the gravity of his words. "When I examined her, I was confronted with pure Darkness, unaltered and raw. The memory is etched in my mind: she stood there, composed and confident, while I knelt before her, utterly dumbstruck. She told me to 'take it easy' and even patted me on the shoulder. Can you imagine that?" He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "But that made me wonder. Two extraordinary sisters and one seemingly normal? So, I took another look at Ria and examined her more closely. And, lo-and-behold, she too is a Chaos Mage. It's a paradox—she wields Life Power, which should theoretically be incompatible with Darkness-derived energies. Not that we have any prior knowledge of such mages—there were never any before—but these Powers do not mingle together in nature. Yet, in her, the Chaos Power lies dormant, but it is surely there."
He sighed, the weight of his revelation hanging in the air. "In short, all three are anomalies—freaks of nature. I had hoped to study them once they joined the Academy, but unexpectedly, the emperor granted two of them an exemption. Another mystery, but the eldest sister differs from the other two. She acts more like an adult than a child, even back then when she had been a tiny child. With her Power, it wouldn't be strange to me if she had blackmailed the emperor. Which is why I had asked you to stay away from them."
He looked at Naymila, his expression turning serious. "And I'm telling you all this because I'm expanding your duties. You're to observe both girls now. Ari and Ria. But whatever you do, stay clear of Sarelli's mansion."
Naymila looked at her master, stupefied. In truth, she had not expected to hear anything of value from him.
"Rest now. I hope I satisfied your curiosity," he said, his voice trailing off as he returned to his desk.
"In a moment," she muttered, more to herself than to him. Each movement sent sharp waves of pain through her body, a constant remained to stay still. Her mind churned over the newfound knowledge, mulling over the disconcerting undertones in Cassem's words. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she closed her eyes.
In her mind's eye, a tree materialized—barren, with dry branches clawing at the void, its trunk hollow and sheathed in cracked, peeling bark. It was her source. She touched it and it shivered, oozing dark fluid from its fissures. Slowly, black leaves unfurled, forming a dense canopy. Flowers bloomed, morphing into small, dark fruits. Everything was shrouded in black, yet she perceived each detail with vivid clarity. The fruits began to ripen, but she cut the Power supply and the process halted. She feared the fully grown fruits.
(Does he know?) she mused, opening her eyes and turning her head to observe Cassem. (Why would he take me as an apprentice? I wasn't any good. I was concealing my Power.) A wry smile crept onto her face. She had once thought her source was of Death Power. On the examination day, barely keeping herself from panic, she had framed it as a Power related to space manipulations. She lived her life being sure her deception worked. (But did it? Why would he take an interest in me? Unless he knew all along, and I am just one of his test subjects.)
Cassem, sensing her gaze, met her eyes.
"Should you be spending nights so often here?" she tried to taunt him. "You have a wife and a daughter. And the Academy's aura is known to tamper with one's… drives?"
"Such minuscule effect obviously won't affect me. It's just barely strong enough to keep the students more focused on their studies than on… other pursuits," he replied with a smile. "How is it going with Rob?" he asked in turn.
"It's going," she said in a weak voice. The irritation of not knowing how much her master knew about her source gnawed at her, but she could not ask him without exposing herself.
Deciding to switch topics, she asked. "How did she get in and out of here? Was that teleportation?"
"Yes," he replied.
"Isn't that forgotten knowledge as well? From before the invasion?"
"I think so."
His lack of engagement signaled the end of that line of questioning. Naymila caught her master many times in the past on sharing information no one else possessed, and now she was adding two more pieces to that collection.
("What are you afraid of?") Kia's question echoed in her mind, haunting her thoughts.
Kia emerged from the portal into the garden. It was nearing midnight, yet the majority of the mansion's windows still radiated light. A woman in a pristine white dress awaited her, the fabric seeming to glow in the moonlight.
"Yo, lil sis," the woman greeted with a smile.
"What are you doing here? Why are you not slumbering?" Kia approached her, not a shred of warmth in her voice.
"Oh, come on. Don't be like them kitties. Can't I have some fun once in a while? I've slept enough."
"You stalk Ari, don't you?"
"Well, I have my cravings. Don't you have any?" The woman retorted with a smirk.
"I can't have any. I am the Void," Kia answered, her tone deathly still.
"Ah, right, I keep forgetting how pitiful you are, lil sis." The woman grinned. "And what of our little cousins?"
"Nothing new. They have the privilege of ignorance, like always. They have no idea what their true nature is. Sometimes I envy them."
"Heh, poor lil sis." The woman rolled her eyes. "You're at least having some fun." She shook her head. "I'm off. Just wanted to drop by and say 'hello'. Look at that ugly stare he's giving me." She pointed at the mansion's door where a large black cat sat, gazing at them intently.
"Take care," Kia said, not bothering to wait for the woman's departure and strolled towards the mansion.
"That girl you roughed up earlier. She's one of yours, isn't she?" the woman's voice came from behind.
"Yes, she is. Now, off you go," Kia replied, her patience thinning.
Kia reached the black cat, giving it a gentle pat on the head. "The seventh—checked," she said.
"Checked," the cat confirmed with a nod.
The door opened before her, and Kia descended the stairs to the dining room. Inside, the space was spotless, betraying no signs of their earlier meal. The room was nearly vacant, save for another cat lounging in the center of the table, idly flicking his tail.
"Ari's already upstairs," she informed the cat.
The cat opened his eyes briefly, then shut them again, blatantly ignoring her. She wanted to say more, but suddenly his body floated upwards. He levitated without changing his posture, and like a ghost, phased through the ceiling.
"Sometimes, I'd gladly trade places with you, sister. Eternal sleep does hold its allure," Kia whispered to herself. (I hope no kitty heard me,) she added in her mind, glancing around. (They are already insufferable enough.)
A ripple of disruption in the fabric of the universe washed over her. She turned her head, peering at the wall as if to glimpse beyond it. The information gleaned from such a minor cosmic event was limited, but what she sensed differed from the usual small wormholes made by those alien miners.
"Ah, a little kitty-god has arrived." Her mood improved. She would actually get some fun soon. Relatively speaking.
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