Chapter 6
After a quick breakfast, Airis and I made our way through long corridors toward the training hall.
The training facility was located in a separate wing, most of it built underground.
“What exactly are these walls made of?” I asked, seeing the deep bluish-black bricks for the first time.
Or were they simply painted black?
“These walls are made of onyx glass,” Airis replied, striding ahead with his broad, muscular frame, not bothering to check whether I could keep up.
Today, he was wearing dark gray cargo pants that sat low on his hips, paired with a zip-up vest in the same shade.
It was the same training uniform—
just the male version.
“Here specifically?” I asked, quickening my pace to catch up.
He clearly didn’t account for the difference in our height or walking speed.
“With all those questions, someone might mistake you for one of our enemies,” he said.
I snorted.
“Wow. Two whole questions. I’ve really gone off the rails,” I replied, dripping with sarcasm.
“Does this ‘enemy’ have a name?”
“Harold Moss.”
Short.
Of course it was.
That seemed to be his life motto.
“And who exactly is this Harold Moss? What kind of magic does he use?” I asked.
“He’s not a powerful mage.”
A pause.
“He never trained alongside the students of Istmond,” Airis added, once again leaving a brief silence between his words.
“He worked as a geneticist at the academy.”
“Then what are we supposed to be afraid of?”
“His unit.”
Airis turned sharply to the right, and I nearly walked straight into the wall before following him.
Seriously?
A warning wouldn’t kill you.
“How many people are in it?”
“The better question is how advanced they are,” he said.
I swear, he was getting more irritating by the minute.
As if the version of him I’d spoken to last night had been nothing more than a hallucination.
Or maybe it had been.
“Fine. How strong are they?” I asked through clenched teeth, my fists tightening at my sides.
“Control yourself, Fireling.”
I swear I could hear the hint of a smile in his voice.
“I’ll say it again—don’t call me that.”
“As you wish, Fireling.”
I took a deep breath just as he continued:
“There are four former students in Harold’s unit who were candidates for the Strongest Twelve.”
I raised a brow.
“And what exactly is that? Sounds ridiculously dramatic.”
“The Twelve is Istarus’s elite military unit,” he said.
“They are responsible for protecting Noveris. The unit is made up of graduates who surpassed even their own instructors.”
“Protecting all of Noveris? So they defend every world?” I asked as we passed another turn.
I didn’t even want to imagine how deep underground these training halls went.
“Exactly. Some members of the Twelve represent specific worlds.”
“And I’m guessing you’re one of them,” I said, thinking out loud. “Considering how surprised Mr. Shiford and Eugene were about you being assigned as my mentor.”
He didn’t answer.
Which was answer enough.
“So which world do you represent?”
“The one you’re standing in right now.”
“And what exactly does that title give you?”
“Access to archives. And the right to attend certain political councils between the leaders of all twelve worlds.”
“That’s it?” I muttered—
—and nearly walked straight into his back when he suddenly stopped.
“Maybe give me a warning next time?”
“Of course, Fireling. I’ll be sure to do that,” he replied dryly.
Then, pressing his hand against a stone panel, Airis opened the entrance to one of the training halls.
A vast chamber revealed itself before us.
The walls and ceiling were made of something pale and faintly shimmering.
The ceiling stretched impossibly high.
And that’s when I realized just how far underground we were.
“Welcome to the room that will become your most loyal companion.”
“So I should trust it more than you?”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, gesturing toward the center of the room.
“Your spot, Fireling.”
“Perfect,” I said, stepping into place and crossing my arms.
“Well?”
I looked at him expectantly as he assessed me.
“Should I twirl for you too? Just so you can get a better look?”
A faint smirk touched Airis’s lips.
He raised his hand—
and a second later, a tiny vortex of air formed in his palm.
“Your turn. Try to create a small flame—like a candle.”
I watched the miniature tornado, then shifted my gaze to my own outstretched hand.
As I focused on my fingers, I felt the heat slowly building at their tips.
Thin, invisible threads of flame crawled toward the center of my palm, where a small fire flickered to life.
“Keep it steady,” Airis said.
“Don’t let it change size.”
I focused.
For three full minutes, the flame didn’t waver.
“It listens to you,” he noted.
“Of course it does. It’s part of me.”
My small...
potentially world-destroying anomaly.
“I thought you had no control over your fire,” he said.
“Not after what I saw yesterday.”
“That wasn’t control. That was emotion.”
I clenched my fist, extinguishing the flame.
When I looked back at him, his gaze had turned cold.
Colder than it had been just minutes ago.
“What changed your mood?” I asked, raising a brow.
“You’ve had magic for eight years. No training. No teacher.”
He paused, his lips pressing together before he continued.
“Looks like you left something out, Fireling.”
His calm tone was slowly turning dangerous.
I saw the tension in his body.
The way his gaze sharpened.
Predatory.
“I didn’t lie,” I said with a shrug.
“I just didn’t tell you everything.”
He moved—
too fast.
One second, he was standing across from me.
The next—
I was pinned against the cold wall of the training hall.
Hard.
Without warning.
His knee locked my hips in place, cutting off any chance of movement.
One hand gripped my wrists, pinning them above my head against the wall.
The other settled against my throat.
Not choking.
But holding.
Controlling.
My throat went dry instantly.
My heart...
forgot how to beat.
“What exactly didn’t you tell me?”
His voice dropped.
Too quiet.
Dangerous.
I lifted my gaze.
The silver in his eyes was no longer cold.
It was sharp.
Cutting.
I couldn’t look away.
Not now.
Not from him.
“I didn’t have a teacher. That part’s true,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected.
“But my friends...”
I faltered.
Damn it.
His fingers shifted slightly against my throat.
Not tightening.
Not releasing.
Just...
reminding me who was in control.
“Talk.”
No pressure.
But somehow, that only made it worse.
“They... came up with a way to train me.”
A pause.
He didn’t move.
I could barely even hear him breathing.
Only feel the warmth of his body.
Too close.
“What? How?”
A flicker of surprise slipped into his voice.
For a second.
Then it vanished.
“I didn’t want to say...” I looked away.
“I thought you’d laugh.”
His grip on my wrists loosened.
Just slightly.
But I felt it.
“Go on.”
His thumb slid slowly beneath my chin, forcing me to look at him again.
And this time...
he didn’t pull away.
His fingers lingered at my throat.
Too calm.
Too... long.
Like he was watching.
Not my words.
My reaction.
I inhaled.
Mistake.
Because his breath brushed against my cheek.
Warm.
Damn it.
My body reacted.
Not with fear.
And that was the worst part.
“Fireling?” he murmured.
I clenched my fists.
Focus.
“I would’ve answered already...” my voice sounded slightly hoarse,
“if I had some space.”
A pause.
A long one.
He looked at me.
One second.
Two.
Three.
“You want me to step back?”
There wasn’t a hint of mockery in his voice.
That made it worse.
“Preferably.”
He let go.
Immediately.
No resistance.
Like it meant nothing to him.
Like it was just an action.
Not a moment.
And that irritated me.
More than it should have.
“They even signed me up for private piano lessons, art classes... and Gwendolyn started teaching me how to shoot, so I could improve my precision and accuracy.”
Airis raised a brow, watching me.
“I know the first two sound ridiculous, but... they actually helped,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself as if searching for something to hold on to.
He kept looking at me.
With a gaze I couldn’t read.
“It really works,” I added, frowning.
“I know,” Airis said.
“The academy has dedicated hours for piano and painting.”
I froze, staring at him in disbelief.
Was he mocking me again?
“I just don’t understand how your human friends came up with that.”
Ah.
So he was serious.
I shrugged.
“They’re smart. What else can I say?”
“Then we test your control. Through your emotions—and your control over them,” Airis said with a faint smirk.
I immediately raised a hand in front of me.
“Don’t even think about playing your little proximity games.”
My gaze locked onto him, dead serious.
“Better make me angry than try anything else.”
“Fine, Fireling,” he nodded.
“And I doubt anyone at the Selection will try to seduce you anyway.”
I raised a brow.
“Oh? And why’s that? Because you don’t think I’m attractive enough?”
“I only see a mage,” he replied calmly.
“I don’t pay attention to appearances.”
Oh.
So that’s how it is.
Fine.
“I’m glad. That means we have nothing to worry about.”
“Except your temper.”
Then, slipping back into that now-familiar serious expression, Airis continued:
“Now light the flame again. Small. In the center of your palm.”
I obeyed.
“And then?” I asked.
“Then we’ll see how well you can maintain it while your emotions shift.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why did you say you wouldn’t visit your parents?”
My lips pressed together instantly.
Of course.
Not even two days with me, and he’d already found a weak spot.
But I wasn’t that easy to break.
Not for him.
I wouldn’t let him take that from me.
“Because they don’t deserve my time. Or even my presence.”
“What happened between you?”
I exhaled slowly, forcing my mind to stay clear—
keeping the thoughts that could hurt me at bay.
“Do you know what that place was where you found me?”
“A psychiatric hospital.”
“Yeah. And I ended up there because of my parents,” I said, forcing a smile.
In truth, things had gone wrong long before that.
Since the day I was born.
They never wanted me.
Not once.
When I got older—when I started to understand more—they began to fear me.