Chapter 49
The body lay at the center of the grounds, covered with a pristine white shroud and surrounded by flowers in the color of his magic.
Blue flames lilies stood as a final farewell, guiding a hero into the next world.
That was how I would always remember Seris—
A boy who hadn't been afraid to face danger.
Who had accepted someone else's fate as his own.
The grand ceremony of the Selection had been transformed.
Thousands of candles now illuminated the grounds, their warm glow seeming to cradle the soul of the fallen.
He had given his life to save mine...
And I had barely had the chance to know him.
The Selection hadn't ended.
It had simply been suspended so that, as Stacia had quietly explained, Seris's soul and magic could be guided into the Realm of Death.
After a silence that lasted not one minute, but ten, Mr. Shiford, Eugene, and Draksen Ardevain stepped onto the stage.
"In all the years since Istmond was founded," Draksen began, pausing before he could continue, "I have never had to speak words like these."
For a moment, it almost seemed as though the pause was meant to heighten the drama.
But then I noticed his hands.
They were trembling.
He wasn't doing it for effect. He was doing it because it was the only way to steady himself.
"Today, we all gathered here for the Selection."
His voice carried across the silent crowd.
"And none of us could have imagined that before it was over, both Istmond and Istarus would be forced to say farewell to one of our most promising first-years."
I could hear every word.
But none of them truly reached me.
My mind was drowning beneath a relentless tide of thoughts.
Everything that had been weighing on me had chosen today of all days to demand my attention.
And it took everything I had simply to remain standing.
My eyes drifted across the crowd.
Some faces were stricken with grief.
Others...
looked completely indifferent.
That alone made something inside me burn.
Then a few of the guests let out quiet laughs.
Without realizing it, I tightened my grip around Stacia's hand.
She hadn't let go of me since we'd arrived.
And somehow...
that was the only thing keeping me together.
Airis's gaze was another distraction.
Ever since I'd returned, his eyes had stayed fixed on me, refusing to look away.
I didn't want to see him.
I didn't want to talk to him.
And I was grateful my friends had instinctively gathered around me, leaving him no chance to get close.
"If he were a fire mage, he'd have burned a hole straight through you by now," Stacia whispered after noticing where my eyes had wandered for a split second.
I said nothing.
I was still angry with him.
"He was terrified while he watched you fight that demon."
"He wasn't the only one," I muttered.
I was about to change the subject when a burst of laughter rippled through the crowd.
My whole body tensed.
What the hell were they laughing at?
Then I looked toward Mr. Shiford.
He was standing onstage, sharing amusing stories about Seris.
The audience laughed.
The musicians shifted into a brighter, livelier melody.
To my complete disbelief...
people began to dance.
"What the hell is going on?" I asked my friends, who were smiling and laughing along with everyone else.
"Have you all lost your minds? Someone just died."
I lowered my voice for the last sentence.
Before I could even process what was happening, someone grabbed both my hands and pulled me into the growing circle of dancers.
Tripping over my own feet, I clung tightly to Stacia.
"What's happening?" I asked again, looking at her in utter disbelief.
She stared back at me with equal confusion.
As though I were the strange one for questioning why people were dancing at a funeral.
"What do you mean?" she asked. "It's a funeral."
I frowned.
Realization flashed across her face.
"Wait... don't they guide souls into the Realm of Death differently in Vuduarus?"
"They do," I replied. "We mourn. We honor the dead with silence."
I looked around at the laughing faces surrounding us.
"And here... death is a celebration?"
"This is our way of sending a soul on its journey," Stacia said gently.
Then, pulling me out of the whirling circle of dancers, she led me toward the banquet tables.
"As far as I know, this ritual exists in all twelve worlds. Even in Vuduarus." She glanced at me and offered a gentle smile. "Though apparently not everywhere."
"According to tradition, people shouldn't cry endlessly, sink into despair, or cling to grief. Every tear becomes an anchor, keeping the soul trapped between the world where it died and the Realm of Death."
There was logic in that.
And yet...
The entire ceremony still felt utterly surreal to me.
"In some cities," Stacia continued, "people even make love, form soul bonds, or get engaged during the funeral."
My eyes widened.
Stacia burst into laughter.
"You should see your face right now."
"I'm sorry," I said, still staring at her in disbelief, "but that's genuinely insane."
"It symbolizes life triumphing over death." Her smile softened. "We refuse to let death have the final victory."
I fell silent.
Turning her words over in my mind.
It amazed me how differently we viewed the same thing.
Their traditions made sense.
Yet at the same time...
they felt strangely heartless.
The dancing only grew faster.
That was when I finally noticed the twelve figures standing around Seris's body.
Each wore a crimson robe.
A chill ran through me.
"What are they doing?" I asked. "And who are they?"
"Healers," Stacia explained. "One from each of the Twelve Houses."
She followed my gaze toward them.
"While everyone celebrates, their task is to help Seris's soul leave his body and seal away his magic."
She paused.
"And the louder the celebration becomes... the easier that journey is for him."
"So this is where the two of you disappeared to."
Tarven's slightly breathless voice came from behind us.
He gestured toward the ever-growing circle of dancers, which seemed to swallow a new participant every few seconds.
"How did you manage to escape all that?"
"The same way you did." Stacia smiled. "I was just explaining our funeral traditions to Ria."
She glanced at him with playful curiosity.
"Did you know that in Vuduarus everyone cries and mourns the dead in silence?"
Tarven raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest.
"Of course I did." Tarven arched an eyebrow. "I'm Vuduarus's representative, remember?"
"Oh, really?" Stacia shot back. "You're still not tired of reminding everyone?"
Tarven only broke into a wide smile.
"I'm just glad you're alive."
As it turned out, only our two groups had encountered demons that, from what I understood, had somehow broken free from their confinement.
Which was strange.
It also explained why every other student had completed the trials long before we had.
Apparently, only some of the strongest participants had been unfortunate enough to face something far worse.
My gaze drifted back to the healers in crimson robes.
Beneath the snow-white shroud, Seris's body was slowly dissolving.
Tiny blue flames rose from it one by one, drifting upward before fading into the air.
So this...
This was his farewell to the world.
I closed my eyes, trying to stop the traitorous tears gathering behind my eyelids.
My hand came to rest over my heart.
I'll do everything I can...
...to make sure you never regret giving me the chance to live.
Anastasia Lang's POV
After Seris's soul had been sent on its final journey, the official induction ceremony into Istmond Academy began.
One by one, the students stepped onto the stage, where each of us was presented with a brooch bearing the academy's crest.
The Strongest Twelve had been placed upon a raised platform at the top of the ancient staircase—steps said to be the very first ever built in all of Istarus. It was the academy's way of honoring them before the incoming class.
I'd already received my brooch and was standing with the newly accepted students, waiting for the rest of our little group to finish.
Including Ria.
She was doing everything she possibly could to ignore Airis's gaze.
He hadn't looked away from her once.
It was oddly amusing to watch.
Every time she caught him staring, her cheeks puffed ever so slightly with annoyance, and her hands instinctively smoothed the skirt of her gorgeous gown.
"I wonder if we're allowed to keep these maps," I heard one of the first-years ask.
I'd never seen her before, which meant she hadn't been among this year's strongest candidates.
She was speaking to two other girls while holding her Selection map.
"They still haven't taken mine," another girl replied as she unfolded hers. "So I think we can. At least I really hope so."
I was about to turn my attention back to the stage, where another student was receiving their brooch...
...when I froze.
Her map looked different.
Different from mine.
Different from Taylor's.
Rosalie's.
Azalia's.
The other two girls unfolded theirs as well, comparing them.
Every single one was identical.
The mandatory checkpoints were all there.
No empty locations.
No false trials like the ones we'd been forced through.
And Point Z...
Point Z was on the opposite side of the temple, beside a small pavilion of repentance.
They hadn't even needed to enter the temple's inner chambers.
Unlike us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Kaeron making his way toward us, his newly awarded brooch pinned neatly to his jacket.
I motioned for him to come over.
Ignoring his heavy sigh—and the way his eyes nearly rolled—I leaned closer and whispered, nodding toward the girls' maps as we discreetly studied them from behind.
"Do you still have your map?"
He patted his pockets.
Paused.
Then answered slowly,
"I think... I must've dropped it."
"Or maybe it destroyed itself to erase the evidence."
I nodded toward the girls again.
Thankfully, they were too absorbed in comparing their maps—and wondering why they hadn't crossed paths during the Selection—to notice us.
"Our maps were different."
Kaeron fell silent.
For almost a full minute.
Thinking.