Chapter 4
Airis’s explanation left me unsettled.
I still couldn’t fully connect my life to that kind of threat.
But if that gene really existed in every living being—
then humans were in danger too.
And no—
I wasn’t someone who wanted to protect all living things.
I’d rather step aside.
I was selfish.
That’s what my parents always said.
And yet—
the thought that this man could become a threat to Vuduarus made my chest tighten painfully.
Because the people I cared about were still there.
Gwendolyn, Mike, and Dwayne—
my family.
Not by blood. Not by anything official.
But they were the only ones who knew the real me.
And accepted me.
With all my scars, flaws, and... anomalies.
Because of them, I wouldn’t be able to just stand by.
“So my main task right now is to learn how to control my magic?” I asked.
Airis nodded.
“Turns out you’re not as hopeless as I thought,” he said.
I ignored him.
“And from what I understand... there’s a chance a war might start soon?” I asked quietly.
His fists clenched again.
His jaw tightened.
“Maybe,” he replied, just as restrained.
A pause followed.
Barely there.
I broke it immediately.
“And which world would be hit first?” I asked in the same quiet tone.
“The weakest one,” he said without hesitation.
I exhaled, silently praying he didn’t mean Vuduarus.
If “cleansing” meant killing—
“But we’re doing everything we can to protect the weaker worlds.”
“Do you personally take responsibility for that?” I asked, meeting his eyes.
“I’m the chief lieutenant of the unit in Vuduarus,” he said, as though that alone proved everything.
“And I don’t make mistakes, Fireling.”
I exhaled again, trying to shake off the tension in my body.
I didn’t want to believe a war was coming.
And that I wouldn’t be strong enough to help.
I wouldn’t forgive myself if I lost Gwendolyn, Mike, or Dwayne.
I needed a distraction.
“I’ve heard about the twelve worlds a few times now. Why only twelve?”
“Because there were twelve energies that created them.”
I looked at him, confused.
“Our universe is called Noveris,” Airis began, leaning back in his chair—as if trying to shake off the weight of the previous topic.
“It was created by Arus and twelve energies, each tied to a different element.”
“Arus is seen as a god here,” a familiar voice cut in.
Aars.
He appeared behind Airis, crossing his tiny arms.
“Though no one actually knows what kind of being he was.”
“Each world carries part of his name—like Istarus, Vuduarus.”
“And the second part?” I asked.
“Depends on the world,” Airis shrugged—
earning a sharp glare from Aars.
The small dragon-cat flew closer to him, clearly annoyed.
“With explanations like that, they might as well have given you mice to mentor. Same level.”
I bit back a laugh.
Good thing Airis couldn’t hear him.
Bad thing I could.
“The second part is tied either to the element—or to the world’s meaning,” Aars added.
“Then what does ‘Vudu’ mean?” I asked.
“Like... a doll?”
It sounded logical.
“And I was desperately trying not to jump ahead with even more questions.”
“Vudu means ‘human,’” Airis replied.
“But in the world’s name, it refers to living beings in general.”
To my surprise, he didn’t look irritated for once.
And he wasn’t wearing that smug, seductive-idiot mask either.
For once, a surprisingly reasonable version of Airis was sitting in front of me.
“What language is that?” I asked, nodding toward the bookshelves.
“I’ve never seen letters like that before.”
“That’s the binding language of Noveris. It’s called Urpis,” Airis replied calmly.
“Almost every being in Noveris can speak it—except those from Vuduarus.”
“Why?”
“Because humans don’t need it. They’re not meant to know about Noveris yet.”
“Why not?” I frowned, not quite understanding that kind of restriction.
“The higher powers believe humans aren’t ready to accept magic—and everything they only see in movies or read about in books,” he said with a shrug.
“This idiot won’t explain it properly,” Aars cut in, hovering nearby.
“But Vuduarus is one of the most protected worlds precisely because its inhabitants are... fragile.”
He puffed up slightly.
“It’s surrounded by a dense astral barrier that prevents direct portal travel between worlds.”
Aars flapped his wings for emphasis.
“That was originally planned by a being named Vuvivia—a deer with crown-like antlers.”
“She didn’t want magical creatures entering her world. And apparently, no one has changed that rule since.”
“Alright... what about the other worlds?” I asked, resting my chin on my palm.
“The remaining ten? Is there any order to how they were created?”
I wanted to know everything.
Airis noticed I still wasn’t eating.
His fingers tightened slightly.
A quiet sigh.
Then, calmly:
“The first world created was Saquararus. It’s tied to primary energy—lightning.”
“Terrible storytelling,” Aars scoffed.
“He has no sense of drama.”
“The hummingbird who created the first world is called Saquaku,” Aars continued proudly.
“His name means ‘small brave bird.’ And the world’s name means ‘lightning.’”
Airis ignored him.
“The second world was Vuduarus. Then came Miriarus—the world of dreams and illusions.”
“Which, by the way, was created by a sleeping moth named Miraru,” Aars added enthusiastically.
“Literally in its sleep.”
His tiny fists clenched as he gestured wildly—
like he was arguing during some dramatic debate.
“And Miraru’s name translates to ‘a flower that lives in our consciousness.’”
I didn’t even want to ask how that translation made sense.
“You should know,” Airis added,
“the world of dreams and illusions ranks among the most dangerous in Noveris.”
That surprised me.
In a good way.
At least he chose to share that himself.
“Why is it considered dangerous?” I asked immediately, already feeling slightly overwhelmed.
Saquararus—lightning.
Vuduarus—humans.
That was manageable.
Miriarus—dreams and illusions.
And there were twelve of these worlds I had to remember.
And Aars kept adding extra details about their creators, and I had no idea what to do with them.
“Because only its inhabitants truly understand it,” Airis said.
“To outsiders, Miriarus appears differently to each person.”
He paused briefly.
“That’s what makes it dangerous. You never know what you’re actually dealing with.”
“That’s true,” Aars nodded vigorously.
“And no one from Miriarus will ever explain their world. It’s forbidden.”
“The fourth world is Maliarus—a water world,” Airis continued dryly.
Meanwhile, Aars lit up again.
“And that one was created by my favorite! The Leviathan Mimaia!”
I frowned, trying to imagine what that even looked like.
Honestly—
I appreciated the history lesson.
Both from Airis and Aars.
But this dragon-cat was only giving me more questions.
“What? Did your brain start shutting down by the third world?”
The corner of Airis’s mouth lifted, showing that same arrogant, insufferable confidence.
My fists clenched under the table.
“More like it got tired of the storyteller,” I shot back.
Though, to be fair, I knew perfectly well that if he named at least three more worlds, my brain actually would give up.
Especially with Aars adding his “fun facts.”
Why did I even need to know anything about the creatures who created them?
And how exactly was I supposed to ask that—
while pretending not to notice Aars sitting under Airis’s sharp gaze?
“The fifth world might feel familiar to you,” Airis continued, ignoring my sarcasm.
“Plaraarus is the world of fire.”
“And the winged lizard who created it—Plhraar—is an arrogant jerk,” Aars huffed, crossing his tiny arms.
“And the people living in Plaraarus aren’t any better! Well... I don’t actually know any of them,” he added, scratching his chin thoughtfully.
“But I’m sure there’s nothing good about them.”
Alright.
That was enough.
My hands clenched again, and I abruptly stood up, fixing Aars with a look that clearly said: you're coming with me.
“I need a minute,” I muttered, covering my mouth.
Without waiting for a response, I hurried to the bathroom.
Once inside, I made an unpleasant sound—to make it convincing—turned on the faucet, and waited.
Aars appeared almost instantly.
“What, did someone poison you already?” he asked, giving me an annoyed look.
“What the hell are you doing stuffing my head with all those facts about the creators?” I crossed my arms.
Aars’s eyes widened—
then narrowed sharply, like a predator sizing up its prey.
“For your information, those beings are still alive in Noveris!” he snapped, planting his tiny paws on his hips.
“And since you’re apparently some kind of Vuduarus-born outsider, you need to understand all the details.”
I exhaled, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to calm down.
At first, it seemed like he hadn’t accepted me at all.
And now he was helping me—
without even being asked.
I’d snapped again.
Like always.
That damn part of me.
“Sorry,” I said, lowering my hand and looking at him.
“It’s just... a lot of information at once.”
I hesitated.
“I’m trying to at least remember what Airis is saying. I really don’t want to embarrass myself in front of him. You get that?”
Aars looked away, thinking.
“You’re unlikely to find any dirt here to fall into...” he muttered.
I slapped my forehead.
Right.
Of course he wouldn’t understand the expression.
Especially considering most spirits I’d seen back home weren’t exactly... modern.
“It’s just a saying,” I sighed, already mentally thanking whatever patience I had left.
“I don’t want to look stupid in front of him. I don’t want him thinking I’m an idiot who can’t even remember a few worlds.”
“Aaaah. Got it,” Aars nodded.
Then narrowed his eyes again, raising one paw.
“But you’re still getting the full lecture about the creators.”
I instinctively lifted my hands in surrender.
“Later,” I mouthed.
He seemed satisfied.
I turned off the water, flushed the toilet for effect, and headed for the door.
The moment I opened it—
I walked straight into Airis’s chest.
Only then did I really notice the difference in our height.
I barely reached his shoulders.