Soul-BInder

[Celerius]

Chapter 1: Solstice

​

It all began with her death.

The orphanage's rusted bells tolled a mournful clang, a sound that tore through the village, sharp as broken glass. Aksel hardly flinched anymore, though the other children rushed toward the orphanage fence, eager for any glimpse of a passing stranger that wouldn't look their way. Today, however, Aksel allowed himself one fleeting hope.

The sleek carriage of Silvermoon Academy glided into view, its silence unnatural, as though it rode on currents of wind, untouched by horse or beast. The door creaked open, revealing a shadowed interior, and from the front descended a solitary figure, tall and dark, his wide-brimmed hat casting shadows over a sharp, inhumane, birdlike face.

The children whispered nervously, but Aksel remained still, refusing to believe his own eyes. Selenne appeared beside him, clutching her bag with a grip so tight her knuckles were pale. She pressed Aksel's meager belongings into his hands, a faint smile breaking through her irritation.

"Finally," she murmured in relief, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. After sixteen long years, the day had finally come.

"Mr. Night, at your service," intoned the cloaked figure, his voice a rasp like wind scraping against stone.

The stranger extended a pale hand toward Selenne, who took it cautiously, stepping into the carriage with haste. Aksel followed, settling into the plush seats, feeling the subtle hum of the wheels as the vehicle set off.

They glanced back one last time at the orphanage—the only home they had ever known—and felt… almost nothing. No sorrow, no satisfaction, not even when they locked eyes with the Mother Superiora. The broad woman stood, red-faced, her heavy breathing betraying her frustration, watching them leave toward a future most could only dream of. A future she would forever believe they didn't deserve.

Through the village, a hush followed their path. Infants stared, some brave enough to wave, while their parents whispered, pointing with cautious curiosity. It was rare, almost unheard of, for the Academy's carriage to venture this far into the countryside. And never had two Homeless left together.

As the vehicle passed the village's last crooked fence, Aksel stole a glance at Selenne. Her dark hair fell loose over her shoulder, her face a mix of determination and exhaustion. He could see the weight of countless sleepless nights, the restless fear she tried so hard to suppress, waiting for any sign—any news.

He reached over and touched her shoulder gently. She looked up, offering a small smile, though her hands remained tightly clenched in her lap. "Don't worry," he whispered. "Whatever comes, we'll face it together."

Selenne turned, her mood shifting as she kicked the side of the box with a defiant laugh. Her voice rang toward the front. "Hey, you!" she called, addressing the strange conductor, whose nature seemed as foreign as the carriage he steered. "What took you so long?!"

The conductor's voice floated back, smooth and oddly elegant. "For that, I must apologize. Lady Adelaide's passing… has complicated affairs in the capital. My master has been exceptionally occupied, and I am but a humble servant."

Lady Adelaide Elysandre Silvermoon—the greatest sorceress of her age, the headmaster of Silvermoon Academy, and the de facto queen of Fiore in all but name—was gone. Her death had sent tremors through the kingdom, a crack in the course of history that would echo through the centuries.

Yet even this monumental event did little to soothe the turmoil in Selenne's heart. She could still recall the nights spent clutching her chest, praying that their letter to the school had not been lost in the bureaucratic whirlpool of the capital, fearing they would remain forever trapped in their forsaken village, too close to the western border to ever escape the looming shadow of the war.

For Aksel's sake, she forced herself to breathe deeply, willing her anger to subside. There was no room for rage, not now. No more time or space for her to lash out like a caged animal. This was it—the life she had dreamed of, now within reach. All she had to do was steel her resolve and not destroy it before it had even begun.

❖
​

Aksel wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he woke up as the carriage jumped. The road, flanked by twisted trees, seemed to narrow, drawing them toward the heart of the kingdom.

Two weeks late. Two weeks late, but their chance had finally arrived, summoning them on a five-day journey toward their new life.

His eyes drifted over Selenne's sleeping form—surprisingly delicate, despite the many fistfights and the dirt that clung to her black dress. He could tell how tired she was by the way she slept, her face tilted against one shoulder, a strand of drool betraying her usual hard-edged composure. It was a sight Aksel would never speak of, not even to her—not if he valued his life.

"You might want to take a look," came Mr. Night's voice.

Startled, Aksel reached for the small window connecting to the front, but stopped himself, and instead he threw open the box's door, standing on the threshold as the world beyond unfurled before him.

"How… how?" he whispered, his short hair ruffling in the cool breeze.

The capital city of Solstice lay before him, bathed in the golden light of the morning sun. Wide streets, lined with grand buildings, stretched into the horizon like rivers of stone. Half-timbered houses stood shoulder to shoulder, their designs a blend of wood and stone, an elegant freedom of architecture that took Aksel's breath away. Logs from a dozen different trees had been selected to contrast, complementing facades painted in shades of yellow, blue, red, and cream.

"Selenne! Selenne, wake up!" Aksel shook her, and the carriage tilted, crossing a narrow wooden bridge. They tumbled together as it swayed.

"Huh—What the...?" Selenne jumped to her feet, ready for a fight, though her body lagged behind her drowsy mind. "How long was I—?"

"Two hours," Mr. Night answered.

"Two hours?!" Selenne's eyes widened. "Then why... Holy shit, we're here!"

Selenne poked her head out just as they rolled into a round plaza. Children playing around a fountain stopped and stared, and within moments, their parents joined them, shouting in delight.

"Are they... happy?" Selenne asked, half in awe, half in disbelief.

"Of course," the conductor answered, tipping his hat toward the crowd. "They are here because of you. The Academy and its sorcerers are the heart of Fiore. Your mere presence brings trade and wonder to these otherwise unremarkable lands—and wonder, Miss Selenne, is worth more than gold."

Selenne snorted, retreating to her seat, though her gaze lingered on the bustling scene outside. "I'd take gold any day."

"You'll hear a million tales of men and women emptying their pockets for a taste of wonder," the conductor said. "But no one boasts of profiting from their own misery."

"But they'll do it anyway."

"Indeed. Yet you won't hear about it, for dead men tell no tales. And what is a life of misery, but a story of death stretched through many years?"

Selenne sighed, the frustration melting into resignation. She appreciated the speed of their journey, but nothing could have prepared her for the feeling of standing on Academy grounds before the day was out. Her body, eager to press on, resented the effort with a passion.

As the bustle of the city faded behind them, the carriage entered the quiet outskirts of Silvering Lake. The sandy shore stretched out, alive with the hum of trading posts and the briny scent of the waters, a lively hub of commerce just beyond the capital's foot.

The carriage, its wheels still gliding, approached the water's edge. Aksel's heart leapt into his throat, his mind rushing to plan for the worst. But the wheels touched the water—and kept rolling. Smooth. As though the lake were just another stretch of solid, silvery earth.

The boy exhaled, his fear dissolving like mist.

Beside him, Selenne stifled a giggle behind her hand before reaching out to ruffle his hair. "We're safe now," she whispered through a smile. "You don't have to worry anymore."

The lake stretched behind them, its glassy, platinum waters eerily undisturbed. No boats, no ripples—just the drifting silhouettes of ethereal cherubim. Some were familiar: the small, spider-like orbs of blue light known as Surawes. Others were more unsettling—larger swan-like creatures with multiple pairs of skeletal wings and elongated forms that moved like specters through the air.

Both younglings let out a breath as solid ground met their march again, relief settling in their bones.

The moment they reached land, the illusion of an empty island shattered. Before them, a colossal manor unfurled from the haze, a fortress of stone crowned in ruby, perched atop an emerald-green plateau framed by jagged slopes and distant forests. The carriage continued forward, rolling along paths of intricately laid stone that converged at a central courtyard marked by the academy's eight-pointed insignia.

The conductor slowed, then stopped before the grand double doors. Mr. Night disembarked with practiced precision, his movements elegant, deliberate. "Please, follow me. Your first class is about to begin."

Selenne planted her feet. "Our first class?!" She tugged at the front of her dust-stained dress. "We don't even have uniforms!"

The servitor turned, his empty gaze catching the dim light. "My master's orders are to bring you directly to your first lesson. That is my reason."

Aksel caught the flicker of panic in Selenne's eyes just as it was about to ignite, and without thinking, he reached for her hand. His fingers tightened around hers—a silent promise of stability, and together, they stepped inside, following Mr. Night through cavernous hallways thick with silence and the scent of old stone. Neither of them had time to marvel at how impressive the palace-like building was, as in just moments they stood in front of an unsuspecting door before taking the final step inside.

Aksel barely had time to take in the room before something shot past his face in a blur of wings and chitin. He recoiled instinctively. A burst of blue light followed, forming a glowing sigil midair that snatched the fleeing cherubim and flung it back into its cage.

"Ah, the Homeless." The speaker stood tall, his golden mane framing a sour expression. "Well done, Mr. Night. You may rest now."

The servitor bowed—and then collapsed. His body disintegrated into a fine dust, scattering across the floor until only a polished, avian-shaped skull remained. The man scooped it up with practiced disinterest.

"Mr. Adam Becker," he continued, addressing a red-faced, rounded boy near the front. "Please sit down. You've demonstrated your complete inability to catch anything other than a cold."

The boy mumbled an apology and sank into his chair.

With an air of weary obligation, the man turned to Aksel and Selenne. "You two, take a seat. If you're inclined to follow the lecture, there's a blank grimoire in the drawer beneath your desk."

It wasn't the grand reception they had imagined. Instead of ceremony, they were met with sharp stares and an unsettling sense of scrutiny. The other students watched them like one might observe exotic creatures on display—curious, cautious, waiting to judge.

"For introductions' sake," the teacher continued, his voice as dry as parchment, "I am Amadeo Greco Angelopoulos, your prefect in the realm of history. Due to certain… recent events, I'll also be overseeing other aspects of your education until a more appropriate fit is found."

He slumped into his chair, rifling through a stack of papers before glancing up again. "Now, who among you is brave enough to demonstrate their abilities without making a fool of themselves?"

His gaze swept the room, pausing on each reluctant face. Then, with a tap of his fingers, he singled someone out. "Mr. Varian, you've had a week to adjust to the rhythm of this class. Show your fellow Homeless what you can do."

"Yes, sir." A tall boy rose from his seat.

By appearance alone, no one would have guessed he was an orphan. His uniform was pristine—an emerald-green coat trimmed in gold, with hints of red and black beneath. His sharp eyes, barely obscured by the frames of his glasses, carried the weight of someone wholly assured in himself.

Varian opened his grimoire. Amadeo walked up to the cage and pushed the door open.

A crackling storm burst forth. The cherubim—a small but fiercely radiant creature—flashed into the open, its wings pulsing with electric charge. It moved with wild unpredictability, a being of untamed energy. Lightning elementals were incredibly rare, and even more dangerous.

Without hesitation, the boy centered his pen and began to trace. A circle. Then one spike. Three spikes. The projections leaped from the page into the air, forming shimmering outlines to try and trap the creature. But before he could finish, the cherubim charged into the unfinished barrier, shattering the fragile magic with ease.

The creature dove at Varian with terrifying speed, forcing him to roll aside. He flipped to the next page, undeterred, his movements quick but focused. The cherubim buzzed, restless, disrupting his spells again and again with each discharge of electricity.

"Mr. Varian," the professor grunted, his voice carrying a thin layer of impatience.

The boy's jaw tightened. He exhaled sharply, wiped sweat from his brow, and turned the page again. His pen swept forward in one decisive motion. No hesitation. A single, unbroken stroke.

The circle sealed.

Walls rose, locking into place. The spikes followed, anchoring the binding incantation.

The cherubim's wild thrashing ceased. Its energy, once untamed, now bent to the will of its captor.

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Varian swayed under the strain but did not fall.

A slow clap broke the silence—a silver-haired girl, smirking in quiet approval. One by one, the rest of the class joined in.

Amadeo did not.

"As you've just witnessed," he murmured, "this class will, at the very least, ensure you achieve a pitiful measure of success." He waved a hand dismissively. "Continue with your practice."

Aksel and Selenne exchanged glances. The casual air in the room felt at odds with what they had just seen. A Homeless boy had captured a lightning cherubim, caging its power as if it were nothing more than a moth trapped in glass before gently returning it to its cage.

They opened their own grimoires, eager to learn.

The first pages laid out the steps for the spell they had just seen, Silvermoon's Binding Vow—Fiore's most iconic magic. With careful eagerness, following the instructions, they pricked their fingers, allowing a drop of blood to seep into the ink of their pencils. The books responded, the magic binding itself to their names as they were signed.

For the next hour, they attempted the very first step: a perfect circle, drawn in a single stroke.

They failed. Again and again.

The high-noon bells rang, their chimes slicing through frustration, signaling the end of class.

"That… was quite the introduction," Aksel muttered, rubbing his sore wrist as he studied his broken attempts.

"Not what you were expecting?" Selenne teased, though the spark in her eyes betrayed her own excitement.

"More than I expected," Aksel admitted, a rare grin breaking across his face. "Maybe I'll actually fit in here."

Just as they turned to leave, Amadeo's voice pushed through the chatter.

"Mr. Aksel. Miss Selenne."

They froze.

"Two things before you go. First, official lessons end at midday. You're dismissed, but I strongly advise extra practice. Two weeks of missed work will not be easy to recover—especially for the two of you."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "Second, there will be a field-practice event in two days. Prepare thoroughly. You will be facing your own classmates in battle, and they will not be forgiving if you aren't ready. That's all. Enjoy your afternoon. And remember, your day now starts at seven sharp."

Selenne clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. Aksel gave a small, knowing smile but kept his thoughts to himself until the professor was out of earshot.

"Umm… I-I'm sorry…"

The silver-haired girl from earlier hesitated, reaching toward Selenne before freezing at the hard lines of tension on her face. "I'm sorry!" she squeaked, retreating a step.

As the timid girl shrank behind him, Varian stepped forward. "Hey," he called. "We thought you two might need a hand."

"A hand? For free?" Aksel's usual grin started to form, but Selenne swiftly grabbed his arm, fingers digging in like claws.

"Not now," she hissed, her gaze sharp as daggers. "Look at them."

Aksel relented, rubbing his arm. She was right—there was no malice in their eyes, just an odd mixture of expectation and maybe… sympathy?

The girl beside Varian fidgeted, her elegant outfit at odds with her uncertain demeanor. Her dress, trimmed in a vibrant green that faded into soft waves along her sleeves, was stylish yet modest. Over it, she wore the academy's vest and cape, half-hidden by her voluminous silver hair. She looked like she belonged, yet something in the way she held herself reminded Aksel of his own uncertainty.

Selenne offered a tight, polite smile. "What my friend meant to say," she began, shooting a sideways glare at Aksel, "is that we'd appreciate a tour of the premises. If that's alright with you."

"The premises? We were actually planning to head into the city." Varian tilted his head. "I don't want to judge, but it looks like you've had a rough… day? Week? Life?"

"Ehhh… We weren't in the mood for a swim," the girl raised a worried brow, recalling their way to the academy.

Varian blinked, then chuckled. "A swim? Oh. No." He shook his head. "The bridge lifts every day from noon until dusk. Just don't get stuck on the other side or the teachers won't be happy."

Aksel huffed. "One can only imagine that old man happy."

Varian and his companion both smiled. "And this one here is Elowin, my trustworthy shadow." He nudged her forward.

Forced into the spotlight, Elowin gave an awkward wave, clearly hoping her knowledge of magic would soon allow her to disappear on the spot.

Aksel took a glance around. It wasn't immediately obvious, but most of the other students were steering clear of their small, unruly group. Deliberately.

"A personal tour, from one Homeless to another, huh? Sounds fine by me."

Without further delay, the four of them made their way outside. Just as Varian had said, they reached the shore and found the bridge—a massive structure of carved stone, worn smooth by time, with tufts of grass sprouting from its cracks. Students crossed in both directions, chatting in tight groups, their voices carrying a buzz of casual excitement. It was a stark contrast to the orphanage. Everyone here, no matter their reasons for coming, looked like they belonged.

Elowin and Varian had their own dynamic—one that became clearer as they walked. She was slowly opening up, her hesitations softened by his effortless, easygoing manner. It was like watching two mismatched puzzle pieces that could only fit each other.

"First stop!" Elowin suddenly declared, skipping ahead.

The shop in front of them was ancient. It had clearly been a house once, but little of that remained. Pure-white walls contrasted sharply against dark wooden beams, forming a lattice across the storefront. A vitrine showcased an array of exquisite outfits in a spectrum of colors—from elegant formalwear to simple, handmade pieces. Inside, it was a clothing library, with racks stacked to the ceiling, each holding garments clearly gathered over many generations.

"Nana!" The girl pushed the door open, guiding them inside. "We've got friends!"

Aksel barely held back a chuckle as an elderly woman emerged from the depths of the shop, moving with the painful grace of someone who had long mastered the art of patience. She looked ancient enough to have gone to school with Lady Adeleide herself, her deep-set eyes gleaming with warmth beneath a halo of silver curls.

"Oh, Elowin, my dear…" she crooned, voice rasped by time. Her gaze landed on Selenne, and she took the girl's hands with an appraising hum. "And where did you find this lovely young lady?"

Selenne tensed under the unexpected attention, but before she could form a response, Elowin leaned in conspiratorially. "Her family's from the west, Nana. Near the border."

The old woman clicked her tongue in sympathy. "Oh, you poor thing." Without another word, she wrapped Selenne in a warm embrace before guiding her toward the back. "Come, child. We'll find you something proper."

Selenne shot Aksel a look—half plea, half warning—but he merely shrugged, fingers idly counting the coins in his pocket.

"How much do you have?" Varian asked.

"Ten golden suns, give or take."

The other boy smirked. "You'll be fine. Just play along."

By the time the three women returned, Selenne was unrecognizable.

A small, wide-brimmed hat adorned with carmine roses perched atop her head, her dark hair spilling beneath it like midnight. A crisp white blouse, tied with a crimson bow at the throat, peeked from beneath a tailored dark coat. The corset—somehow laced to perfection without protest—accentuated the flowing gold-trimmed skirt that trailed behind her, the sheer weight of it making her look like she belonged in a ballroom rather than a marketplace. The dark, puffed sleeves and regal silhouette transformed her into a noblewoman of high standing.

Or, in other words, she couldn't have looked less like herself.

"I feel like an asshole." The words fell from her lips flatly.

Aksel's didn't miss a beat. "Then it must be a perfect fit."

The old woman chuckled, eyes twinkling. "Oh, sweetheart, is that your boyfriend?"

"She's still working on that."

"Well, if you're going to be so witty, boy, you'd best dress the part." The storekeeper tugged him toward a nearby rack with a firmness that left no room for argument.

Aksel let out a long-suffering sigh but complied, going through the options with minimal enthusiasm. He had no love for frills or embellishments—practicality always won over prestige. In the end, he settled on a deep wine-red shirt, layered beneath a snug black vest, paired with fitted trousers and the first pair of decent shoes he could find.

When he stepped back, Varian appraised him with a lazy glance. "Winds, she wasn't lying. You really have no taste, huh."

Selenne, having abandoned all pretense of noble poise, seized him by the collar and yanked him toward another rack.

"Stay here."

"Selenne, we're—"

"Oh, shut your mouth before I do."

"But—"

"You were the one saying we needed new clothes, so don't try to pin this on me now!" It had been a while since she had raised her voice at him, but after such a day the girl was clearly starting to show some cracks. "It's your money, anyway. Like you said, I'm not your girlfriend, so stop thinking about me. If we're going to fit in here, we need to play the part."

Without further debate, she took a beautiful, snow-white scarf from the rack and fastened it around his neck. Then, with unexpected care, she removed one of the crimson roses from her hat and tucked it into his breast pocket.

"There. Now you can try to convince others that I like you."

Aksel's fingers brushed against the familiar leather pouch tucked in his old clothes. He took a slow, steadying breath before pulling out two golden suns.

"How much do we owe you?" he asked politely, biting the inside of his lip.

The old woman hesitated, her faded eyes flickering as she deliberated. "For the pair? Let's settle on four silvers."

Aksel and Selenne exchanged a glance, their eyes drifting to the fine golden trimmings on their new ensembles. The price wasn't just low—it was insulting. Not nearly enough to cover the cost of the materials, much less the craftsmanship and work put into them.

Selenne's voice broke the moment, charged with indignation. "We don't need handouts, we—"

"Now listen to me, girl, and listen clearly," the woman interrupted bluntly. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm old. Old enough that one of these days, I'll just die, and your coins… they'll rust away in some forgotten corner of this shop."

Aksel stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "Then why keep working? You could have sold this place and lived a good life somewhere else. You could get a lot of money for an old house right at the center of Solstice."

The woman's eyes widened in disbelief, a brittle laugh escaping her lips—half sorrow, half pride. "Why work, you ask? Boy, I've been here for sixty-five years. This store, these walls… they're all I've ever known. What would I do without them?"

Her voice wavered, and for a moment, her strength faltered. Elowin rushed to her side, steadying her as she sank into a rocking chair. Her hands gripped the armrests, knuckles white, as if fighting against time itself.

She looked up at them. "I always wished I could be a sorceress. Since I was a little girl, that's all I ever dreamed of. But fate…" She exhaled. "Fate can be cruel. There's no place in the sun for someone like me, born without gifts, without talent. But you…" Her eyes softened. "You came to the academy, didn't you? You were born with greatness in your blood. You'll walk paths I could never tread, see wonders I could only imagine."

Her fingers gestured lazily at fabric of their clothes—the work of her own hands. "So take them, boy. Take the wings I've woven for you, and let them carry you far from here. Take that beautiful girl's hand and fly—fly away from this tomb I've built for myself, on the wrong end of this wretched shore."

Selenne swallowed hard, guilt tightening in her throat.

Aksel placed the coins gently on the counter, pushing them forward. "Thank you," he whispered, the words heavier than they should have been. A promise, perhaps.

No one spoke for a long time after they left the store.

They wandered the city for hours, letting the afternoon sun warm their faces as they drifted through bustling streets and lively markets. The capital thrived around them—merchants calling out their wares, street performers gathering clusters of laughing children, the scent of fresh bread and roasting meat carried on the wind. It was vibrant, chaotic, alive.
Eventually, they found themselves by the lake, settling at a modest establishment for a warm meal. Whether it was hunger, exhaustion, or the need to process the whirlwind of the day, they welcomed the break in silence.

It was only once the food arrived that Selenne finally spoke.

"What was that back at the store?" Her dark eyes locked onto Elowin. "How did you know we're from the west?"

Elowin went still, her face draining of color. Across the table, Varian chuckled.

"She was lying," he said, casually breaking a piece of bread. "Here in the capital, it's common for nobles to say 'go west and die' as an insult. If you ask where the poor and the miserable live, people will point toward the setting sun. If you want to earn people's sympathy, tell them you come from the west."

Selenne stiffened, but the explanation made painful sense.

Regenia, the kingdom west of Fiore, was infamous for its violence. Every Fioran villager had lived through at least one of the wars ignited by their barbaric neighbors, and many took pride in having survived multiple conflicts, as if mere survival granted them wisdom, even if they never stood anywhere near a battlefield.

As for Selenne, the girl had always been different. The moment a careless sister let slip that her parents weren't Fioran—that they were travelers from the west—everything had changed. No family in the village wanted to associate with the child of western barbarians, and the other orphans—they acted as if she had murdered their parents herself.

But to Aksel, she was just Selenne. Another abandoned child. Another Homeless sorcerer, severed from her past by forces beyond her control. The details of her birth didn't change the fact that she was his only friend. The one person he could trust.

He leaned back, arms crossed. "Why not just tell her we're Homeless, then? Were you afraid we'd lose the discount?"

Elowin visibly recoiled, but Varian remained unfazed.

"Every noble house is based here in the city," he said. "Even the ones without sorcerers. To some people, the Homeless are worse than commoners. We just… don't give them a reason to hate us. Not worth the risk."

Aksel narrowed his eyes. "You seem to know a lot for someone who's been here a week."

Elowin hesitated, glancing at her partner.

"We grew up in Solstice," she admitted finally. "So once the academy started… after a week, we just… presented ourselves."

Selenne didn't look convinced. "Let's say we believe you. Why go through all this trouble for us? And please don't say it's because 'we're all the same here.'"

The question hung between them, thick with suspicion. Across the table, Elowin and Varian exchanged a glance—an entire conversation passing between them in silence. Then, after one final sweep of their surroundings, Elowin gave a small nod.

"Alright," Varian conceded, exhaling through his nose. "We do need a favor from you. But before we discuss that, I need to ask—do either of you have an inheritance?"

The air shifted.

Inheritances for Homeless sorcerers came in two forms. The first was monetary. Aksel carried his own inheritance—ten Golder Suns, left by his parents at the orphanage for a situation like this. Ten Golder Suns was a significant amount, enough to cover their basic expenses for the year, assuming the academy provided food and lodging.

But that wasn't what Varian meant.

He was talking about something far rarer.

Inherited techniques—arcane abilities passed down through bloodlines, honed by generations. Every noble house guarded theirs fiercely, their power shifting and evolving with the tides of magic and time. But not every child inherited them. Some bloodlines left no mark. And in many families, if a child showed no sign of their gift, they were discarded—abandoned, stripped of their name and birthright.

They became Homeless.

"I do," Selenne murmured.

Elowin's face lit up, her relief almost tangible.

"Well, that's unlucky for us," Varian said with a wry smile, mockingly sympathetic to Aksel's silence. "But two should be enough."

Selenne's grip tightened around her fork. "Are we planning something dangerous?"

Varian tilted his head "I wouldn't call it planning. More like an… inevitable situation." He leaned back, drumming his fingers lightly against the table. "There's a 'test of courage' for those retaking their first year… And for the Homeless. You're allowed to bring a partner—but it can't be someone you knew before coming to the academy."

"So, you want us to team up with you? Just the four of us?"

"I wouldn't say you have much choice." Varian's answered lazily. "Unless another lost soul appears in the next week, we're all there is. And refusing the test?" He shrugged. "That'll just give the others an excuse to treat you like shit for the rest of the year, or until you choose to finally quit."

Aksel exhaled slowly, his mind already working through the implications.

For Selenne, the answer was obvious—she thrived on challenges like this. It was the kind of trial where her inheritance could turn the tide, a test of her strength, of which she had plenty.

For Aksel, it was something else entirely.

This wasn't just a test.

It was a gamble. A choice made under pressure, with consequences he couldn't yet see, with barely any time to consider the outcomes.

And all he could do was hope their new allies were worth the risk.

 

[Celerius]

Chapter 2: Test of Courage

​

"My name is Melisandre Vox Pertuli, and I will be the judge of this challenge."

The girl standing at the center of the common hall didn't need to raise her voice to command attention. It wasn't her name that held weight, nor the prestige of her ancient lineage. It was something far more tangible—something every student instinctively recognized and respected.

Seniority.

Melisandre was only a year older than most of them, but it showed. In the way she carried herself, in the sharp precision of her words, in the marks on her skin and the ice on her eyes. It showed.

"I still don't see why we have to do this," Selenne stepped forward, impatience flickering in her dark eyes.

Melisandre regarded her with a cool, assessing gaze. "It is only natural to test those who have already failed as sorcerers." Her voice was as smooth as glass. "Consider this your second chance. Be grateful for the generosity of your peers, and do not disappoint them."

Selenne's fingers twitched at her sides, but before she could respond, Aksel stepped in, feigning curiosity. "Then where are the others?" He gave a slow, exaggerated glance around the hall. "We were under the impression this test was for all students who failed their first year."

Melisandre didn't even blink. "They have been dealt with."

A ripple of unease passed through the gathered crowd.

"There was only one such student," she continued, impassive. "He resigned from the academy after failing the test, as it was logical to do so."

Aksel didn't reply. Neither did the others.

Around them, the two dozen students watching weren't just here for tradition. They weren't just here to see who would pass.

They were here for blood.

For most, it was a spectacle. A game where the Homeless were to be the pawns, and failure meant something far worse than death.

Varian, however, felt his heart beat for the first time in days. The weight of a bad hand only made the gamble more exhilarating. He cracked his knuckles, stepping forward.

"We're ready."

Melisandre inclined her head, satisfied. "Understood."

She turned, retrieving a small, elegant hat—simple in design, but unmistakably enchanted. "Each team will draw three slips of paper. The slips will reveal the locations of your classmates' grimoires. For every grimoire successfully retrieved, your team will earn forty points. However, for every minute you exceed the five-minute time limit, one point will be deducted."

Varian was already moving. He took the hat from Melisandre's outstretched hand, reaching inside. The interior should have been empty, but his fingers brushed against parchment. He pulled two slips free. Selenne followed, retrieving the final one.

Melisandre took her rapier, piercing all three in one fluid motion. The letters ignited instantly, curling into tongues of flame that rose into the air. The fire coiled, shaping itself into words that burned against the dimly lit chamber.

"The first team shall take the second floor, the old bathrooms, and the livestock enclosure!"

A wave of hushed whispers rippled through the crowd. Some students sighed, disappointed by the mundane selection. Others muttered about missed opportunities for amusement.

"You have five minutes to prepare," Melisandre announced, sheathing her rapier. "Good luck. May your efforts be worth your blood."
With little time and nothing left to say, the two teams exchanged silent looks of worry, confidence, and understanding. All crucial choices and strategies had already been discussed; only the uncertainty of execution remained. As the time bled away, Varian took the lead, while Selenne gave one last glance back before they both disappeared into the all-encompassing shadows of the vast academy.

❖
​

Aksel hadn't realized how intently he'd been watching them leave until he felt a shift beside him.

Elowin was trembling.

She stood at the edge of the room, her arms wrapped around herself, eyes unfocused.

"Hey." Aksel softened his voice. "They'll be fine. Selenne's strong. She can handle this."

Elowin flinched. "Huh? O-oh! Y-yeah… I…" She pushed a wild tangle of hair behind her ear, forcing a weak smile. "That's… that's the problem." Her fingers tightened against her sleeves. "Varian is really strong, too. I'm just worried about us."

Aksel blinked.

It took effort not to be offended, but she wasn't wrong.

With Selenne and Elowin both carrying inherited techniques, and Varian already grasping the basics of spellcasting, the difference in power between them was far too obvious. Aksel was the one dragging them down.

He was still searching for words when the door swung open.

Varian and Selenne stepped inside, untouched, just as they had left.

"Ten minutes and thirty-five seconds!" Melisandre announced, her eyes wide with astonishment. "Please, present your grimoires."

While Varian took care of the counting, Selenne quietly turned to Aksel, showing him her bloodied wrist. That was enough for him to confirm she had made use of her inheritance, but it seemed to have been nothing more than a gentle tap.

"One hundred and fifteen points for team one!" Melisandre declared.

"That's impossible!" someone immediately protested. "No team is supposed to get over a hundred points! They cheated."

"Indeed," Melisandre concurred, a shadow of a smile playing on her lips. "We are faced with a grave injustice, as they have been deprived of a night's sleep." She took hold of her hat and bowed respectfully. "On behalf of this institution, I offer my sincerest apologies. This test was meant to expose the undeserving, and it is unfortunate that students of your caliber were caught in it. As a gesture of goodwill, please feel free to select any room you desire, whether it is currently occupied or not."

The other students tried to voice their objections again, but Melisandre moved the process along, inviting the second team to the center. Reluctantly, the next pair stepped forward, retrieving their three pieces of paper and presenting them to the announcer.

"The second team shall take the gardens, the shore, and the basement!"

Delight returned to the crowd. Whispers and unsubtle cackles of malicious joy rippled through the room as the audience savored the misfortune they expected from the very beginning.

"This is outrageous!" Varian's voice rose, almost transforming him into another person. "First, you give us the easiest locations, and now you give them both the shore and the basement?!"

Selenne, her expression hardening, placed a hand on his shoulder and took over. "What is the meaning of this?"

Melisandre lowered her gaze thoughtfully. "Both the shore and the basement are regarded as ill omens, places we would typically advise against. These locations are notorious for harboring their own unique challenges, and they are said to occasionally attract the attention of powerful cherubim who haunt the night. If we take into account the events of recent days, the odds of a team succeeding against these combined challenges are simply minimal."

"Then why don't you—" Selenne's anger was cut short as Aksel stepped forward.

"We'll do it," he said, standing firm.

Selenne's eyes pleaded with him to reconsider, to let her speak and find an alternative. But any hope of this was dashed the moment Elowin stepped beside Aksel. The trembling girl gathered her courage, standing with a fist clenched against her chest.

"W-we are Homeless, luck was never on our side… Right?"

Aksel felt a pang of guilt. Even though the chances of Selenne's efforts succeeding were slim, it was worth trying. Yet, their current path was a reckless charge, fueled by a shared desire to prove themselves. Both he and Elowin knew that their partners had already done everything they could; now, it was their turn to pick up the pace—or at least fail trying. This fleeting connection, this shared resolve, formed a momentary bond, and he took Elowin's hand.

"We'll be back. Wait for us." With those parting words, the second team left the common room.

At night, the academy seemed even larger, immense and all-encompassing. Moonlight poured into the cold, open spaces, painting the dark wood with shades of gray and highlighting the curtains of dust that normally floated unnoticed. Aksel was thankful that none of their objectives required venturing into the upper levels, where he would likely get lost among the endless rooms and staircases in all shapes and forms.

"I-I think we should…" Elowin's words faded into a whisper as he turned to her. "We should probably go to the garden first… if you want! It would be a good chance to practice."

Aksel smiled. "Sure, although I'm not entirely sure what they mean by 'garden.' Mind leading the way?"

"O-of course not! Hold tight, shine bright!"

As if wanting to leave her own fears behind, Elowin broke into a mid-paced sprint. The first-year's common room and dormitories were situated in the mid-section of the building, between the ground floor and the first floor, so they descended a short flight of stairs before heading toward the front entrance. Even at a quick glance, Aksel could sense many things lurking in the shadows, as if the very walls held secrets not meant to be seen.

The garden lay hidden to one side of the academy's main building, a tangled nest of vines and stone columns surrounding a multicolored blanket of delicate, dew-covered flowers. It looked as if the entire scene belonged in a painting—a place of carefully crafted, yet natural perfection. At the center of the garden stood a cold fountain, its waters echoing with the soft sound of gentle raindrops. And beyond the fountain, sitting quietly on a bench made of polished wood, a figure emanating an ethereal glow observed their every move with curious eyes.

"J-just look around, the grimoire should be somewhere here," Elowin stammered.

Aksel wanted to say something. Watching his companion ignore the pale-blue veiled figure as if it wasn't even there was disconcerting, to say the least. But the strange apparition simply sat there, calm and still, her eyes reflecting his own surprise as their gazes connected for the first time. The ghostly woman recoiled in surprise before greeting him with a smile and pointing towards the fountain. Reluctantly, he followed her call, even if his eyes never left the specter for more than a second. Leaning over the water, he saw a gleaming grimoire just beyond his reach, reflected within the cold surface as if it were right by his side, sitting at the edge of the fountain.

"Elowin? Over here," he called, causing his companion to rush back.

"That was fast!" She smiled softly, stopping her sprint with a little hop. Elowin leaned forward and poked the water. "Oh! We covered this kind of illusion in class."

"Can you break it?"

"Even better, come with me!"

The girl pushed her way into the nearby bushes, creating enough space for the both of them to crawl through. Aksel, appreciating the wisdom of changing into casual clothes before the test, followed her lead. It didn't take long before he saw what she was searching for—a small creature, no larger than a common cat, with two legs but no arms, and a dry leaf perched on its head. The cherubim trembled on the verge of tears.

"What… the hell is that?"

"Shhh… it's a Mandragora," Elowin replied quietly. "They thrive around plants… and the remains of the deceased."

"Are you going to bind it?"

"Something like that," she said, her tone especially shaky. Without meddling another word, she pushed Aksel forward.

Taking the fall as gracefully as he could, Aksel rolled himself past the bushes and into the small alcove. The cherubim, in horror, released a scream of pure pain that made the boy's ears sting and throb. Thrown into the confrontation, Aksel quickly retrieved his grimoire from his hip and began casting a spell.

It should have been an easy task, as the Mandragora had no means of breaking the bonding spell's barriers. Aksel went through the practiced motions slowly and carefully. Drawing the inner circle as a minuscule ring around the creature left no room for error, and the eight spikes were added in a rush of controlled momentum. Though not perfect, the spell began to emit a pale-blue glow, casting a faint light across the dark garden.

And then, nothing happened.

Just as the Mandragora was about to scream again, Aksel felt a pair of small hands cover his ears. The sound, while still piercing, became bearable.

Elowin gently removed her hands and whispered, "Close your eyes and follow my voice."

Kneeling in the mud, Aksel had no choice but to comply.


"Open your heart," she continued softly, "to this moment, to yourself. Let them feel your intention, your desire. Ask for help—not with words, but with every part of your soul—and trust that there will be someone willing to answer."

The moment stretched on, filled with shared uncertainty and fear. Emotions, both his own and unfamiliar, coursed through him like warm water, tightening around his will to push forward. The human instinct to resist this foreign connection, to let his blood boil and his determination harden, burning away any doubts, was almost overwhelming. But instead, he focused on a gentle spark within his chest, nurturing a feeling of care and assurance that everything would be okay.

Slowly, Aksel felt the weight of his individuality return, his physical awareness overwhelming the shared emotional experience. He noticed the arms wrapped around his shoulders, soft fabric brushing against his skin, radiating a faint warmth.

"See? I told you everything would be okay. For a good start, lead with the heart!"

"Elowin… could you?"

"O-of course!" she stammered, pushing herself back up. "We can return to the fountain now! Yes, the fountain. Good work, team two!"

Aksel shook his head, a silent smile playing on his lips. His focus remained on his new companion, who stumbled forward, its tiny form quivering on the brink of tears. Gently, he scooped it up into his hands.

"Come on, little guy. Let's see what the crazy lady has in store for us."

Elowin waited by the water's edge, repeating a simple dance as if it were a nervous habit. "Alright... Now, just... You know. T-Throw it in."

Aksel raised an eyebrow. "Into the cold water? You want me to just toss this nature spirit in there after I convinced it to help us?"

"Y-Yes? Cherubim are known for passing through simple illusions! It should be fine… I think."

"And here I was, worried you might be too nice." With a resigned sigh, Aksel treated the cherubim like a soft ball and hurled it into the fountain, its brief, high-pitched squeal echoing through the air. "So..."

After a few moments of tense silence, the Mandragora resurfaced, sputtering and throwing a book at their feet before scampering off, grumbling angrily under its breath.

"W-We did it?" Elowin attempted to turn the pathetic scene into a small victory, her voice tinged with hopeful sweetness.

"Let's... let's never speak of this again."

As she grabbed the grimoire and they turned to leave, Aksel couldn't resist taking one last glance back. His eyes were drawn to the ethereal figure of that woman, which remained sitting patiently by herself—someone Elowin had never acknowledged or even noticed during their brief time there. The apparition whispered something, too faint for Aksel to hear, yet the chill it sent through him was unmistakable.

"Aksel?" Elowin's pulled him back to reality. "J-just one more and we're done!" She forced a confident smile, pushing her doubts aside.

"Yeah... N-no, don't worry, I was just... It doesn't matter."

Steeling himself, Aksel took a deep breath, brushing off his unease as he matched her pace back toward the academy. Their first success had given them both a much-needed boost in confidence, solidifying the belief that their mission was indeed possible. With renewed determination, they headed past the entrance and down to the end of the base floor, where a dark pit awaited—a void defined only by the creaking steps of dust-covered wood.

Clearing her throat, Elowin chanted softly, "From shadow's veil, let light prevail."

Her will echoed down the tunnel, brimming with power. Aksel marveled at the sight. She had explained her inheritance earlier that day, but witnessing someone cast a spell using only an incantation was still awe-inspiring. As she conjured a small sphere of light on top of her fingers, he finally grasped just how vast the gap between their talents truly was. Yet, despite the comforting glow, the oppressive darkness of the tunnel kept their nerves on edge. Each step revealed more closed doors, each room guarding an endless array of broken artifacts—some incomprehensible machines, others in the shape of eerily lifelike dolls.

Eventually, they reached the last door. Elowin entered first, and as her light filled the room, both of them froze in horror. Dozens of dust-bunny-like creatures, the kind of cherubim one could expect to find normally hidden in distant dark corners or within the walls of abandoned buildings, were now trembling in plain sight, their agitation palpable. Panic gripped the tiny beings, and the room, a simple grey space devoid of decoration, became a nest of fear. The grimoire lay in the middle of the floor, tantalizingly close, yet entirely out of reach.

Aksel instinctively moved to pull Elowin away, ready to close the door and retreat.

"No!" She whispered urgently. "I'll be okay. G-Go get help."

The terror of the situation set in as she extinguished the light, leaving herself vulnerable to the creatures' watchful eyes, hoping they wouldn't find a reason to rid themselves of her threatening presence. A single cherubim of that size was usually no threat for a human. These ones, however, appeared feral and almost tortured in their ragged state. And so, the girl stood motionless, trapped in a silent standoff, while Aksel hesitated at the door.

"I'm not leaving you here by yourself!"

"You have to," she insisted. "This isn't normal. There's nothing we can do. Go. Find someone capable."

Swallowing his pride, Aksel turned and slipped away as quietly as possible. The gravity of his decision didn't hit him until he emerged from the basement and found himself back in the lobby, just a short distance from the common room where everyone was waiting. If he returned empty-handed, they would both be expelled from the academy and cast back into their miserable lives. But at least Elowin would be safe.

Seeking out a teacher seemed like the safer option, even if it meant facing punishment for their nocturnal escapade. Maybe, just maybe, they could make up some lie and still pass the test. If only he had time to figure out where the teachers might be.

The choice became clear in his mind, so clear that his legs moved on their own, retracing his steps back to the garden. Sure enough, sitting there, as if waiting for him, was the same apparition from just a few minutes before.

"You have to help me!" he shouted, stopping before the woman.

"Help me," she echoed, distant and hollow.

"How? How do I help you?!"

The ghost leaned forward and pressed two fingers to Aksel's forehead, sending a sharp jolt of pain through him. He staggered, dizzy and disoriented, but as he blinked away the haze, he felt an irresistible pull from something powerful. Falling to his knees, he clawed at the dirt beneath the wooden bench, digging frantically until he uncovered a small, blue woolen doll with button eyes and a pointy hat. The raw energy radiating from the charm made his hand quiver.

"Thank you." Her voice faded into a whisper as she vanished.

Immediately, Aksel's hand moved to his grimoire of its own accord. He opened the book and placed it on the bench, his fingers tracing symbols he'd never seen before. Then, over and over, he drew a perfect triangle followed by three intersecting lines, repeating the process until the page was engulfed in a golden light that spread through the entire book. With the ghost's influence gone, Aksel felt an empty void in his chest, as though the spell had drained most of his strength, leaving him drenched in the cold sweat of exhaustion.

But there was no time to rest.

Pulling himself together, he hoped not to have done anything too stupid, and dashed back inside, holding the now shiny grimoire. By the time he stepped down to the basement once more, sounds of struggle tainted the path ahead.

"Hold the line, make the world shine!" Elowin's shouted with determination.

The girl's protective spell flickered wildly as the cherubim lunged themselves into it with the determination of a pack of starving rodents, biting and scratching the magical barrier to the brink of collapse.

"Elowin!"

Aksel's grimoire swung through the air like a blade, repelling one of the creatures mid-flight and driving the others back with a wave of radiant energy. Terrified but seething with malice, the horde retreated into a corner, their filthy, cotton-like bodies merging together into a massive, writhing clump that surged forward like an avalanche.

"Behind me!"

Elowin braced herself against the onslaught, pouring her remaining strength into the failing barrier, pushing back with all she had. But her resistance only lasted a few seconds before she was swept aside, her body flung into the wall like a rag doll. It didn't matter, though—just before she blacked out, she saw Aksel's grimoire collide with the heart of the horde, dissipating it in a golden flash, scattering the malicious cherubim's along the hallway in a panic.

With the second grimoire in hand, Aksel stood frozen for a moment, weighed down by his own mind. Elowin had taken a hard hit, but she was still breathing and not bleeding—always good signs. His thoughts quickly shifted to the next challenge: he now had two of the three lost grimoires, but time was slipping away from him. Facing another threat like that alone seemed impossible, yet after such a long day, the fear of failure loomed larger in his mind than any monster ever could.

Having no time left to rest, Aksel made what seemed like the only logical choice. He left both his companion and the recovered grimoires by the shared-room door, hoping that if the worst happened, Elowin would wake up and finish the test with a lamentable yet acceptable score. After all, the other students were likely looking for someone to bully, and their cruelty would turn to false kindness once tragedy struck. Besides, Aksel always found things easier to manage when he was the only one at risk. Or at least that's what he told himself as he reached the shore, stepping into the thick, grey mist that seemed to reach back towards him like illusory arms.

"Hello?" he voiced, intent on facing any danger sooner rather than later. "Anyone there?"

Whatever enchantment the ghost had placed on his spell-book had long faded, leaving his exhausted body to do all the biding. Every step across the rocky shore felt like an invitation to disaster, as if he were tempting fate, waiting to slip and become prey to whatever lurked in the now-dark waters.

After a while, a deep voice finally answered. "Turn back."

"Not a chance."

Aksel wanted to be brave, to stand his ground, but the heavy, wet steps circling him from beyond the fog were hard to ignore.

"Child," the beast purred, its voice a low rumble. "Whatever you seek, it's not worth its weight in blood. I've lived on this island for a long time. I know that foolishness is human nature, but do not force me to be the one to teach you that lesson."

As Aksel's eyes adjusted to the humid night, he began to glimpse the strange creature. It was a beast with four paws, wearing three fins along its immense, dark back, and a long, fish-like tail. A single, glowing red ember hung within its sharp, toothy maw, confirming beyond doubt that this bear-sized cherubim—if it could even be called that—had nothing to fear on either land or in water.

"Who are you?" Aksel shouted, taking a hesitant half-step back.

"Me?" The beast cackled, a sound like stones grinding together. "I am the guardian of this island. I am what keeps the waters pure and unsullied so nothing washes ashore. I am Akh'aha, the Silvermoon Shadow."

Aksel opened his grimoire, letting the pages flutter. "Silvermoon is dead."

Punishment came swiftly, like a whip —a heavy, unavoidable slam that knocked Aksel to the ground, leaving him breathless. "I suggest you mind your words," the creature growled, low and dangerous, "less you want to join her."

As the creature loomed over him, Aksel hurriedly finished drawing the inner circle of his spell, which materialized around them. Borrowing from Varian, a quick slash of ink through the page created a barrier between them, parting the circle in half. Gasping for breath, he drew the eight spikes to complete the binding vow.

Overpowering such an opponent through brute force was impossible, and with only one spell memorized, Aksel had no choice but to trust in his willpower. He let the pressure build inside him, focusing it toward his adversary. He couldn't fail; he wouldn't fail. It wasn't about pride or stubbornness—he understood the futility of his struggle. But there were people counting on him, people whose happiness and success hung on his efforts, and he would rather sink alone than drag them down with him.

To Aksel's surprise, the cherubim laughed. "Not bad, boy. Not bad at all." Akh'aha then pushed forward, shattering the spell's barrier as if it were made of glass. "But children shouldn't be thinking about risking their lives to protect each other."

Akh'aha turned toward the end of the shore, its claws pressing gently into the water, creating ripples that splashed against the rocks. A moment later, something floated to the surface and was dragged to the beach—a book, the third lost grimoire.

"Take it, young one. Take it and command your own destiny." With those parting words, the cherubim quietly melted back into the lake, leaving only a shadow in the mist.

Exhausted, Aksel picked up the book, turned around, and collapsed into unconsciousness.