Chapter 23
Only now—
when I tried to breathe—
did I feel the sharp pain in my ribs.
The iron statue had nearly knocked the life out of me.
“What the hell, Tarven?!” Stasia snapped.
She seemed incapable of feeling anything but anger.
Tarven, meanwhile, was trying to stay calm.
But the guilt in his eyes was unmistakable.
Only Miloran looked completely at ease.
He lazily twirled a long pale strand of hair around one finger.
Like a serpent calmly watching its prey.
Nothing about him matched the brutality of his magic.
“Stasia, this was for your own good.”
Tarven raised his hands in surrender.
Her irritation ignored the gesture completely.
“Do you even realize how dangerous that was?”
“Exactly,” Miloran said calmly.
“Creating toxic flames inside an enclosed space was deeply irresponsible.”
Stasia shot him a murderous glare.
He didn’t seem the least bit bothered.
“But effective.”
A faint smirk touched his lips for the briefest moment.
“What exactly was the point of all this?” I asked.
“Now that,” Tarven said, stepping beside Miloran, “is the interesting part.”
He made no effort to hide the fact that he preferred standing farther away from Stasia.
“We learned your weaknesses.”
“And you learned them too.”
He looked directly at me.
“You rely on your emotions to control your magic.”
“You trust fear because it makes your power stronger.”
I stayed silent, turning his words over in my mind.
“Today, fear and rage weren’t enough.”
“You had to find another way.”
“And you did.”
His expression hardened.
“But you’re still too impulsive.”
“You attack before thinking about the consequences.”
“In a real battle, you’d burn yourself out far too quickly.”
Only now did I realize how weak my arms and legs felt.
Even standing upright took effort.
“For someone wielding untamed fire magic,” Miloran said softly, “you’re far too predictable.”
His pale eyes never left mine.
“Too sharp.”
“Too loud.”
“Too obvious.”
“That’s exactly what your enemies will expect.”
“You don’t feel your magic,” Tarven added.
“You force it.”
Then he turned toward Stasia.
“Well?”
She crossed her arms.
“Go ahead.”
“List my flaws too.”
I still couldn’t quite process how terrifying sweet, gentle Stasia became when she was angry.
“First of all,” Tarven said carefully, “you lose faith in yourself the moment real danger appears.”
“I didn’t realize how bad it was until today.”
Stasia rolled her eyes dramatically but didn’t interrupt him.
“You always talk about having confidence in your abilities.”
“But the second real danger appeared, you dismissed all the progress you’ve made.”
It almost looked painful for him to maintain eye contact with her.
“And in critical situations, you stop thinking.”
He was being harsh.
But he wasn’t wrong.
“What happens during the Trials if something catches you off guard badly enough that you lose control and unleash your full power?”
Stasia remained silent.
Though not silent enough to stop herself from scoffing.
“The next mistake belongs to both of you,” Tarven continued, shifting his gaze between us.
“But yours is worse, Stasia, because you already knew about Miloran’s magic from my stories.”
Neither of us answered.
“You focused on the effects instead of the source.”
Miloran nodded approvingly.
“And neither of you used your surroundings properly,” Tarven continued.
“You could’ve avoided far more of those attacks.”
“And your synchronization is terrible.”
“If you’re going to survive team combat, you need to be able to adapt to anyone.”
I let out a quiet breath.
Slightly surprised by this side of Tarven.
Yesterday, he had seemed emotionally unstable.
Now I finally understood why he belonged among the Strongest Twelve.
“Regardless,” I finally said, “I’m proud that we didn’t leave the battlefield willingly.”
“And I’m proud that we eventually figured out how to synchronize our powers,” Stasia added.
“Well done.”
Tarven nodded.
“Now no one’s entering that training hall for the next month.”
“Unless Airis somehow figures out how to clear the air faster.”
“And if you thought training was over for today...”
He glanced at both of us.
“This was only the beginning.”
A slow smile spread across Miloran’s face.
“The rest will take place in the open arena.”
******
After a lighter training session focused on control, Stasia and I were finally free.
My hands still trembled, and my body felt one step away from completely shutting down.
We sat in the garden overlooking Isthmond’s main academic building, trying to recover what little strength we had left.
“I never realized my best friend was actually a complete psychotic tyrant when it comes to training,” Stasia muttered, leaning back against the wooden bench.
Evening had already settled over the academy.
I still couldn’t believe we had spent the entire day training.
“But they were right,” I admitted with a nod, still impressed by the way they had analyzed our fight.
Every muscle in my body ached.
Maybe from the training.
Maybe from pure exhaustion.
“Tarven only seems easygoing and carefree on the surface,” Stasia said.
“Does he know?” I asked, nodding toward her talisman.
Her eyes widened instantly, and when she spoke again, her voice was quieter.
“Of course not.”
“Why?”
“Because he’d report it to the Novers.”
She let out a heavy sigh.
“And honestly, I don’t even know which would be worse—them or Alicia.”
I had already heard the rulers of Noveris mentioned several times.
And judging by the reactions whenever they came up...
They were far from ordinary rulers.
“The Novers protect their own worlds,” Stasia said thoughtfully.
“Some people break under that pressure.”
“Others spend their entire lives trying not to.”
She fell silent for a moment.
“We don’t usually talk about them.”
“Especially not in Isthmond.”
I listened without interrupting.
“The circle of twelve rulers is known as the Novers,” she continued.
“And they’re among Isthmond’s primary sponsors.”
That didn’t sound like someone talking about leaders she trusted.
Then again...
How many people were ever truly satisfied with those in power?
There were always disagreements.
I decided to steer the conversation in a different direction.
“Why are you so sure Tarven would tell them?”
“Because he’s righteous to his core.”
The heaviness in her sigh made it obvious she wasn’t particularly fond of that trait.
“And every member of the Strongest Twelve works closely with the Novers.”
“Complete trust.”
“Complete honesty.”
“Complete loyalty.”
“They aren’t allowed to keep secrets.”
“And you really think every single one of them follows that rule?” I asked.
I was curious.
Especially because Stasia’s words aligned almost perfectly with what the spirits had told me.
“I think most of them do,” she answered quietly.
“Who wouldn’t want to matter to the people who control almost everything in this world?”
I didn’t respond.
The subject felt dangerous.
As though there were an invisible line running beneath our conversation...
And I wasn’t ready to cross it yet.
“How does your second power work?” Stasia asked suddenly.
I frowned for a moment, not understanding what she meant.
But when I met her gaze, I answered honestly.
“Through communication.”
“The dead are surprisingly talkative.”
Stasia frowned.
“So... something like necromancy?”
I shook my head, forcing a faint smile.
“No.”
“Spirits whose souls never reincarnated...”
“Or never found peace.”
“Damn.”
She stared at me without blinking.
“That’s actually incredibly useful.”
“So is your ability.”
Unlike her, though, I already had a plan.
Now I just needed to figure out whether Stasia would agree...
And whether any of it would actually help.
The rest of our time in the garden passed in comfortable silence.
Maybe because we had no more questions.
Or maybe because we had far too many for a single lifetime.
******
I returned to the room around eleven that evening.
I had expected to be greeted by solitude.
Though it had become unfamiliar far too quickly.
After opening the door and stepping inside, I didn’t immediately realize I wasn’t alone.
Silver eyes met mine, glowing with something unfamiliar.
I froze at the sight of Airis standing in the darkness, bathed in moonlight.
Both of us tensed.
The air between us felt dangerously thin.
As though the world itself had paused, waiting to see what would happen next.
“You’re back.”
The words were barely above whisper —
Yet painfully clear.
As though the silence itself had been waiting to hear it.
“Were you not expecting me?”
He tilted his head slightly.
As though he’d expected a different answer.
The memory of the dream hit me without warning.
And...
I was suddenly afraid to answer.
What if I said something I shouldn’t?
My feelings felt strange.
Unfamiliar.
And that uncertainty frightened me more than anything else.
“And who decided to touch this perfection, Fireling?”
I frowned, completely confused.
Airis gestured toward his own face.
My fingers brushed my cheek—
And I instantly flinched as a sharp sting shot through it.
The adrenaline must have numbed the pain until now.
“The statues Miloran animated,” I answered.
Then the meaning of his words finally caught up with me.
“Wait.”
“Did you just call my face perfection?”
One of his brows lifted.
His lips parted slightly.
His tongue brushed the back of his teeth before he answered, his voice lower now.
“I leave you alone for two days, and suddenly your imagination starts breaking speed records.”
I looked away, biting the inside of my cheek.
Had I really connected reality with the dream?
Maybe after everything Luis had told me about seers, I’d started thinking the same way—
As though everything existed on the same timeline.
God.
How embarrassing.
“You became my responsibility far too quickly,” Airis said, clicking his tongue softly as he continued studying the irritated marks on my face.
“Then I should probably mention I wasn’t exactly trying,” I replied, attempting to regain control of myself.
He stepped closer.
Looking at me more carefully now.
At first, I thought he was examining the scratches.
But no—
“New earrings?” he asked, moving even closer as though trying to get a better look.
I instinctively took a step back.
“What makes you think that?”
Mike always insisted men never noticed things like that.
Especially piercings.
“I’ve watched you fall asleep and wake up every day for the past few days,” Airis replied.
The teasing tone was gone now.
“You think I wouldn’t memorize every detail?”
“Every detail?” I asked carefully.
I should’ve changed the subject.
What if Airis could tell which kind of magic each stone belonged to?
Then again...
Stasia had said he and Tarven weren’t superstitious at all.
“Every detail,” he repeated.
“At least the ones you’ve chosen to show me.”
“Don’t you think I should probably treat these injuries first?” I asked.
“What if my perfect face ends up scarred?”
I wanted to know whether that word had been real—
Or just another product of my imagination.
But Airis never looked away.