Chapter 2
Istmond
Darkness.
It called to me.
Drew me in.
And I wanted to give in.
Until I noticed something strange at the edges of the fire.
A net—
woven from translucent threads—
was closing in.
Slowly.
Gently.
But with absolute certainty.
Then came the hiss.
My flames reacted to it.
The net seemed to dissolve them on contact.
It was shrinking.
Fast.
Leaving behind smoke that didn’t have time to fade—
as if hiding the consequences of my loss of control.
Through the fading flames and drifting smoke, a large, broad-shouldered silhouette moved toward me.
A man.
Unhurried.
Confident.
Almost relaxed.
“Is this where it ends?” I rasped, my voice barely audible, as warmth spread through me like a soft blanket, urging my eyes to close.
To never open them again.
“The end of this pathetic life?”
His voice was sweet.
Velvet-soft.
It lulled me—
pulling me under.
So it wouldn’t hurt.
So I wouldn’t have to feel.
So these final moments would stay with me until the very end.
“Exactly.”
He answered his own question.
The figure slowly leaned over me—
and just as daylight was about to reveal his face,
my consciousness slipped into darkness.
******
“Better move her to the infirmary wing immediately,” a male voice said from somewhere far away.
It felt like someone was trying to force their way through the iron gates of my sleep.
“Airis said she’s fine,” another voice replied.
They sounded... vaguely familiar.
“Eugene, I still think she should go straight to the infirmary,” the first voice insisted with a heavy sigh.
With effort, I tried to open my eyes.
Two glowing shapes stared down at me.
Silver rings framed their large pupils.
I had never seen anything like them.
The rings shimmered.
Those eyes felt unreal—
like something my mind had invented.
But the way they looked at me...
There was nothing kind in it.
No hope.
Only cold restraint.
Forcing my gaze away, I took in my surroundings.
I was outside.
The sky above was clear—
calm, almost reassuring.
As if everything was fine.
As if nothing had happened.
Two men stood nearby.
The same ones.
The Santa-like man... and the tall one in blue.
No guards in black stood behind them.
The place had changed.
I was standing in front of a massive red-brick building,
its entrance sealed by towering iron gates.
At the center was a large metal dragon’s head, its jaws stretched wide open.
A soft light glowed from within.
Its serpentine body coiled around the iron bars, winding through them.
And the statue’s eyes—
black, yet somehow reflecting an entire spectrum of colors—
shimmered with an eerie glow.
It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that at any moment, the dragon might come alive—
lunge at me,
and finish what the flames had failed to do.
Wait.
I was dying in those flames.
Lowering my gaze to my body, I stared at my half-burned clothes almost hungrily.
In some places, they revealed charred skin.
Wounds.
Dried blood.
In others, they were coated in something black—
tar.
Or ash.
Or both.
My hands had taken the worst of it.
There was nothing left to cover them.
A hardened red crust exposed the raw skin beneath.
Injuries like that should have been screaming.
But they weren’t.
I felt nothing.
I felt weightless—
like a feather stripped of everything.
Silence.
Maybe that’s what it feels like... after death.
“I—”
I opened my mouth to speak, but hesitated, unsure of the question I was about to ask.
“Alive?” a voice finished for me.
The same voice that belonged to those hauntingly beautiful eyes now staring straight into mine—
far too close for a stranger.
Their owner was... handsome.
Too handsome.
A high forehead.
A straight nose.
Sharp cheekbones, made even more defined by tension.
They were the second thing I noticed about him—
right after his gaze.
It was hard to look away.
But I forced myself to.
Lifting my eyes slightly, I noticed something else—
a faint glow coming from his slightly too-long hair.
Silver.
Subtle.
Unnatural.
Could sunlight really do that?
His eyes were still on me, questioning—
one brow raised, waiting.
For a moment, I forgot what he had asked.
Then I remembered.
And slowly, I nodded.
“No. You died.”
Everything stopped.
My thoughts.
My breathing.
Even my heart seemed to hesitate.
“Died?” I asked quietly, still trying to process his words.
Just like that?
From my own power?
Silence.
Broken only by something familiar—
my heartbeat.
Why was it still beating?
“Exactly.”
He nodded.
His gaze didn’t waver.
“And right now, we’re standing at the gates of Hell—
a fitting place for the way you lived.”
I swallowed.
Refusing to believe him.
“Airis.”
I heard a voice.
Santa.
“Stop this right now! She’s already in shock! How can the chief lieutenant of the Vuduarus Unit fail to recognize a human’s emotional state?”
I exhaled.
Lieutenant of what?
In response, Airis merely let out a heavy sigh—
as though he were seconds away from rolling his eyes.
“Oh, come on. He’s got a great sense of humor,” the guy in blue said with a shrug.
He and Airis were almost the same height—or at least it seemed that way from where I was.
Wait.
I glanced down at my body again.
This idiot was carrying me.
And doing it without any visible effort.
“You’re absolutely unbearable,” Santa muttered, then looked at me, meeting my eyes.
“You’re alive. And you’re exactly where you belong.”
“What? Exactly where I belong?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Don’t tell me there’s a psychiatric facility behind those gates—”
Airis scoffed.
“She’s not only unstable, she’s impressively stupid.”
Now it was my turn.
Our eyes locked.
I wanted him to understand—I wasn’t someone who could be intimidated.
“You know, I barely know you,” I began.
“And you barely know me.”
“But in just a few minutes, I’ve already figured out exactly what kind of idiot you are.”
“Idiot?” he repeated, one brow lifting.
“That’s your way of thanking me for saving your life?”
“Saving me from what?” I frowned, refusing to back down.
Not for a second.
“From the fiery cage you trapped yourself in,” he said, raising his brows slightly—as if I were a child.
“You were seconds away from burning alive.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I shot back.
“Maybe you’re the stupid one—completely out of control. Especially when it comes to the nonsense that comes out of that—”
My gaze flicked to his lips.
Damn.
Way too distracting.
I forced myself to look back into his eyes.
“—mouth of yours.”
A crack of thunder tore through the clear sky.
Loud.
Threatening.
Instinctively, I pressed closer to his chest.
He let out a heavy sigh.
“Jack, what did I tell you about using your abilities outside designated training areas?”
Santa’s voice turned sharp—
suddenly commanding.
I quickly pulled away from Airis, ignoring the fact that I was still in his arms.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Shiford. I’m still learning to control sudden surges of lightning,” the boy replied.
At that, I turned sharply toward the two of them.
My eyes immediately caught on their clothes.
Dark blue jackets.
Different cuts.
Same color.
Same brooches.
They looked... like something out of a teen drama.
Then the words sank in.
Lightning.
I didn’t imagine that, did I?
“Oh. Finally catching up?” a voice murmured near my ear.
I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
“Is that even possible?” I whispered, my eyes still fixed on the boys in uniform.
Deep down, I wanted it to be magic.
That would at least make sense.
Under a clear sky.
“Jack, show her what you can do,” the tall man said without taking his eyes off me.
Mr. Shiford looked like he wanted to protest, but after being ignored, he sighed heavily.
“Go on, Jack.”
The boy shifted into position.
Feet shoulder-width apart.
Back straight.
One arm raised.
A second passed.
Then a white surge shot from his hand.
The sky trembled—
as it absorbed the spark.
My mouth fell open.
As the shock settled, my mind snapped back—
replaying everything.
The psychiatric ward.
The conversation.
Until—
Angela.
Her last look.
Her lifeless eyes.
My body shuddered.
“Don’t even think about releasing that damn fire while you’re in my arms,” Airis muttered through clenched teeth.
I turned to him, irritation flashing in my eyes.
“Then let me go.”
“Illariana, I don’t think—” Mr. Shiford began, but Airis’s lips twitched in a brief smile.
“As you wish.”
The next second, I was on the grass.
I let out an annoyed breath and tried to stand—
and froze.
My legs didn’t respond.
Worse—
I couldn’t feel them at all.
“What the hell?”
I looked at Mr. Shiford.
“Don’t tell me I’ve lost the ability to walk because of the fire.”
“You’re fine,” the man in blue said calmly.
“Your brain just hasn’t fully recovered from the shock yet. It hasn’t reconnected with your lower limbs.”
Eugene. Right.
“Do any of you actually have a medical degree?” I asked, meeting his eyes.
I knew how I must look to them—
unstable, reckless, questioning everything.
“The education system here is a bit different from what you’re used to,” Airis replied.
I didn’t even look at him.
Didn’t want to.
Something about him irritated me far too much.
“So where are we?” I asked, nodding toward the building.
“I mean—what city is this? And what is that place?”
“Let’s move you to the infirmary,” Mr. Shiford said with a gentle smile.
“We’ll explain everything there.”
******
The infirmary didn’t look anything like a place meant for the sick.
The walls were painted a deep green, lined with large gilded cabinets with glass doors.
Behind some of them were small jars, pitchers, baskets of herbs—and books.
There were also four single beds, each with its own bedside table.
But what struck me most—
was the floor.
Mirrored.
Dusted with gold.
You could see everything reflected in it.
A few minutes after we arrived, a short man approached us, dressed in loose white robes.
The first thing I noticed was his bald head, marked with a tattoo: a wreath of leaves and roses, with a cross and a serpent at its center, stretching across his forehead.
“Hello, Sulfur,” Mr. Shiford greeted him with a warm smile.