Chapter 3 #2
His heart had stopped a long time ago.
Far too early...
and unfairly so.
“No way,” Aars muttered, flying closer and examining me without hesitation.
Now I could see its face.
Something between a newborn crocodile and...
something completely unnatural.
Sky-blue eyes.
An oval pupil, sharp at both ends.
What the hell was that thing?
“Or maybe she’s just cross-eyed and we think she’s looking at us,” it added, squinting.
“I can see you. I can hear you,” I said calmly, meeting its gaze.
Aars frowned, lifted its head proudly, and flew back toward the others.
“Who are you? And what are you doing here?”
“I’m Moirz,” the silver-haired one said, still watching me carefully.
“This is Louise,” he said, gesturing toward the blond.
“And that—” he pointed at the creature, “—is Aars.”
“And you?” Louise asked, his brows knitting together.
“What kind of magic do you have, if you can see us?”
“I’m Ria,” I said.
“Fire, I think... or whatever you call it here.”
Then I paused.
A thought hit me.
“Wait... can’t everyone in Istarus see you?”
“No,” Moirz said.
“You’re the first in twenty years.”
My body went still.
Confusion tangled with something deeper.
I had always been able to see spirits.
Even back in the human world.
Everywhere.
I just had to hide it—
so they wouldn’t lock me away.
When I came here, I thought...
everyone must be like that.
Apparently not.
“Who was the last one?” I asked quickly, clinging to the question.
“The one from twenty years ago?”
“A girl connected to Mataarus,” Moirz replied.
He studied me.
“You’re not from here, are you?”
I shook my head.
“And you don’t know about the other worlds?”
“How many?” I asked quietly.
“Twelve.”
I swallowed.
“I only know about Istarus and Vuduarus.”
Then I hesitated.
“This Mataarus... what is it?”
“The world of death,” Louise said simply.
Well.
That... actually made sense.
“The world of death,” Aars repeated proudly, flapping his wings.
“And I, by the way, am from there. Fortunately, I’m stuck here.”
“Fortunately?” I asked—
just as a knock sounded at the door.
I flinched.
“You talking to yourself in there?” Airis’s voice came from outside.
“Oh, look at him—already listening,” Aars scoffed, flying toward the door and shaking a tiny fist at it.
“I’ll find out all your secrets, you idiot.”
“Don’t tell him about your ability,” Louise said quietly.
“Yes, I’m talking to myself. That happens,” I said, annoyed.
“And I’d appreciate it if you stopped listening.”
“And I’d appreciate it if you came out so we can start your lessons,” Airis shot back.
“At night?” I asked.
“Want me to come in and dress you myself, Fireling?”
His voice dropped—
low, velvety.
A shiver ran through me.
“Just say the word...”
“Don’t you dare react to that,” Aars snapped, suddenly right in front of my face.
I blinked.
Snapped back to myself.
“I just need a minute alone,” I said.
“For what? To set my bathroom on fire while overthinking everything?” Airis replied sharply.
“To figure out where I am and what kind of danger I’m in,” I shot back.
“Then get dressed, open the damn door, and I’ll tell you everything.”
He sounded just as tense as I felt.
“He’s stubborn,” Moirz said calmly.
“That’s how he got where he is. Don’t fight him.”
“We’ll stay nearby,” Louise added with a soft smile.
“And talk again when we can.”
“Okay,” I nodded.
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
I heard Airis mutter something under his breath—
then his footsteps faded.
I lowered my voice.
“Why shouldn’t I tell him?”
“Don’t,” Moirz said firmly.
“Even here, that ability is rare. And dangerous. You could become an experiment.”
“Why warn her?” Aars grumbled.
“She could’ve made an excellent test subject.”
“Because maybe we finally have someone alive to talk to?” Louise said, crossing his arms.
“I like her.”
Aars rolled his eyes and drifted away, inspecting the shower again as though I might have left something interesting behind.
“I appreciate that,” I said dryly, holding the shirt against my chest.
“But could you maybe let me get dressed?”
“Of course,” Louise said—and, surprisingly, blushed slightly.
I blinked.
I had never seen that in a spirit before.
“We’ll visit again.”
“Not exactly my dream,” Aars muttered, “but fine—”
Before he could finish, the other two grabbed him by his tiny paws—
and all three of them slipped straight through the wall.
Leaving me alone.
******
When I returned to the room, wearing the long shirt with the kimono tied loosely over it, I noticed Airis sitting at the table, clearly irritated.
He was watching me.
Expectant.
Almost disdainful.
“What?” I muttered, crossing my arms.
“I came back, just like you wanted.”
On the table in front of him were two steaming cups, something resembling pastries on a plate, and two open books.
“Sit,” he said, nodding toward the food.
“Eat. And listen.”
I didn’t move.
“I’m not your dog. Or one of your subordinates,” I replied, recalling his rank.
“Speak to me with respect.”
He exhaled, sounding tired.
“Sit down and eat, Fireling. We don’t have much time before the Selection, and there’s too much information for you to process.”
I moved slowly to the chair and sat down, still keeping my arms crossed.
“Why do you call me Fireling?” I frowned.
“I have a name.”
“A nickname I created for you. Fire and darling—it suits you.”
One corner of his lips curled slightly.
And again, I felt the urge to wipe that smirk off his annoyingly perfect face.
Even thinking that felt dangerous.
“I didn’t give you permission to call me that.”
“As you wish, Fireling.”
That smirk only deepened.
I ignored it.
“You mentioned a Selection. What is that?” I asked, crossing my legs—his gaze instantly dropping to them.
“What?” I shot back.
“Do women’s legs look different in Istarus?”
He snorted.
“Yeah... this is going to be a real pain.”
Then, more evenly:
“The Selection is a public initiation ceremony for new arrivals—officially making them students of Istmond.”
“Like an exam?” I asked, feeling the warmth of the steam against my skin.
“Something like that,” he said slowly, pressing his lips together—as though he were choosing his words carefully.
Hiding something.
“Didn’t your director already accept me without exams?” I asked.
“The Selection serves more than one purpose. It’s not just about evaluation.”
Again, that pause.
I hated pauses.
“You realize ignorance is more dangerous to me than enemies,” I said, locking eyes with him.
“You may not care about my safety. But you care about Istarus. And I’m an unstable fire mage. I can cause a lot of damage.”
“You can start eating, unstable fire mage,” he replied calmly, nodding toward the food.
Unimpressed.
I didn’t move.
“You’re not refusing to eat out of stubbornness,” he said, watching me,
“or because you think I poisoned it?”
Silence.
He picked up one of the cups and drank from it.
Then from the other.
The one closer to me.
“How do I know you didn’t take an antidote beforehand?”
“You don’t.”
He rested his chin against his fist, tapping the table lightly with his fingers.
Thinking.
Then—
“Everything that happens during the Selection is broadcast across all twelve worlds,” he said at last.
“Anyone can watch it. It gives people hope... in times like these—”
“Don’t speak in riddles,” I cut him off.
“I need clarity. And the truth.”
For a second—
I swear—
his gaze could’ve killed me.
But I didn’t flinch.
“You said ‘times like these.’ Why are they difficult?”
He held my gaze.
Then answered.
“The universe of Noveris—which governs all twelve worlds—is under threat.”
I leaned forward slightly.
Listening.
“There’s someone who wants to destroy the gene that gives us magic. To do that, he needs a powerful army.”
I nodded slowly.
It made sense.
“And Istarus is the core.
Where powerful beings are trained and shaped.”
He was still choosing his words—
but now, less carefully.
“During the Selection, he watches the new students. Learns what they’re capable of. What role they could play in his army.”
Airis cleared his throat.
“That’s why, for the past four years, the academy has been hiding the potential of strong mages. Anyone with exceptional potential is trained to suppress it during the Selection.”
“So he doesn’t notice them.”
“Why would he want to destroy the gene that gives us magic?” I asked.
Airis paused.
Then said,
“They call it the demonic gene.”
This time—
he didn’t look indifferent.
He looked... tense.
“According to scholars, every living being has it,” he continued.
“Just in different amounts.”
His fingers tightened slightly.
“When there’s too much of it... and the person can’t control it—”
He stopped.
“They break.”
My stomach tightened.
“And become demons.”
The word hung in the air.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
“No emotions. No doubt. No compassion,” he said quietly.
“Only instinct. Only destruction.”
I swallowed.
“But...” I frowned.
“If everyone has it... how can it be destroyed?”
“Through cleansing.”
The way he said it—
I didn’t like it.
“And what happens afterward?”
He looked away.
Just for a second.
But I saw it.
“No one knows,” he said.
“And that’s the worst part.