The academy was quiet. Underclassmen sat silently in their classes, listening intently to the professors. Rain tapped steadily against the windows, accentuating the still atmosphere — casting a brooding tone across Concordia. My peers were under the assumption that Zauren's class would be postponed — but their disappointment was clear as we stood in formation, drenched and waiting.
Truth of our world? What are you trying to say?
The rain masked my nervous sweat. I hadn't expected my conversation with Zauren to happen so soon. But maybe it's better this way. Now I know the truth. The books matter more than I realized.
Eryx nudged me. "Alira, you okay? You seem distracted."
"Sorry, I was just lost in thought," I answered. "I'm a bit nervous, but I've already decided not to back out."
"Don't be. You've got me. We'll get through Zauren's torture together, yeah?" he smiled, then looked toward the other students. "Stay close to me, Alira."
I followed the direction he was looking, and shuddered when I spotted some of the same guys in our last combat class. I wasn't the only female student this time, but I felt exposed — my body remembered. Last time, I wasn't seen as a student, nor was I treated like one. I edged closer to Eryx.
Their voices echoed again. The taunts, the laughter. The things they said when no one was listening and the things they did when no one was watching. I shook the thought from my mind. I wasn't the same girl from that time.
"You'll be alright. Let's kick their asses this year," he said with an excited grin. I usually wasn't flustered around him, despite my feelings, but today I couldn't help it.
The gate opened, and though the rain masked his footsteps, his presence was undeniable. "Alright. Looks like you're all here and suited up."
Zauren had arrived. We all changed into our training gear instead of our school uniforms. Zauren, on the other hand, showed up in his usual clothing — a black uniform fitted for mobility, with a sleeveless vest carrying a flame sigil. I recalled how easily he overpowered the thief who stole the books. Even then, he barely needed to get serious, yet his Echo manifested into a powerful fire.
"Today — and everyday — my classes will focus on refining your combat ability," he said. "I won't tolerate lazy technique, so stay focused at all times. Understood?"
"Yes sir!"
There wasn't an ounce of excitement in the response, just fear. Yet I was eager to see his strength again, and to possibly grow stronger under his guidance.
"Before we begin," he said, stepping forward and turning slightly. "You've all heard that Echoes are a reflection of your identity, that you should be 'one with yourself'," he scoffed quietly. "All of that is nonsense. Echoes are reflections of your strength — your latent potential. When you fight, picture your ideal. Then invoke that power."
The air around us grew heavy and the ground felt like it was going to disappear from under our feet. A blistering heat emitted from where Zauren stood, the cold wind unable to shield us from it. His arm burned, the flames gathering on the palm of his hand. Raindrops turned to steam before they could reach him. With a single stroke, fire danced in the sky, warming the students below.
You're saying that those books contain the war's true history?
The flames scattered, illuminating stunned expressions. Even at a distance, his power instilled admiration in us. It was hard to believe that the same power that illuminated our cities, powered our transport systems, and stabilized our floating structures could be wielded with such force. The energy was delicate in our daily lives. But when Invokers call it from their souls, it was something else — not a tool, but a scream. Zauren, arms now crossed, turned his gaze toward us again. He stared directly at Eryx.
"Class president, you're up," he said, turning his head to me. "And you, Alira."
A chill ran down my spine. He called my name out — loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Did he just call her by her name?"
"Do they know each other?"
Students began muttering to themselves. Eryx and I exchanged blank expressions, then walked towards Zauren.
"You two will perform a demonstration match. I will gauge your abilities during this exercise, so take it seriously," he instructed us to take our positions, then continued. "The rules are simple. No aiming for vital organs or injuring your opponent. Render them unable to fight to win."
Eryx stood across from me with a concerned expression. I hadn't wanted to fight against him either, but there was no choice. I know he's much stronger than me, but if I'm too scared to fight against a friend, then there will be no place for me in the domains. I couldn't afford to lose this match. If I keep losing, then can I ever change? I nodded my head at Eryx, and we took a battle stance. My thoughts went silent, only anxiety lingered as I waited for the signal.
"...Begin!"
Eryx dashed towards me — golden threads of energy dangled from his hands held behind him. He's already invoked his Echo and is charging in defenseless. I held my hand out in front of me, white sparks danced frantically in my palms until they took the form of a sword. I gripped the handle and met Eryx head on.
I slashed at his body, hoping to knock him back. But he turned slightly to avoid my blade and his fist slammed into my side with a sharp thud. I bit my lip in pain and jumped back. The blow to my side was sharp, but not as sharp as the memory it shook — of hands that struck to hurt. I looked towards the students watching, no one laughed now. There was only the sound of my own breath as I stood up again. Eryx straightened his body and was already closing in for another attack.
For a moment, his face shifted – just barely. There was something in his eyes, in the tension of his jaw – not anger, not focus. The change was fleeting, gone the second I noticed it, but it chilled me more than the rain.
I swung again. This time, I felt my blade connect.
"No-"
The figure in front of me faded into the air. Threads trapped my limbs. My eyes followed their path and I saw the real Eryx standing a few feet behind me. The threads tightened, and my strength ebbed away. Unable to meet my opponent's eyes, I called back my Echo and let out a sigh.
"That's enough, the match is over," Zauren called out.
Those words stung more than I expected. Not just because I lost — I knew that was coming — but because of how little resistance I gave. My Echo faded so easily. Was that all I had to show?
Eryx walked over and helped me up. "Alira, you're not hurt, are you?"
"I'm fine, don't worry," I said, brushing myself off. "Let's go."
Besides the blow to my stomach, he managed to end the fight without injuring me. We returned to the rest of the group and Zauren resumed his lesson. Other pairs moved forward as he barked out new names. The rest of our time was spent watching aspiring Invokers battle, but I tuned it all out. My ribs ached, and the tightness in my chest felt suffocating — failure. Eryx glanced at me and lightly tapped my shoulder.
"You did good, you know," he whispered.
I smiled faintly, unable to keep the corners of my mouth down. "You still won."
"Doesn't mean it was easy," he said.
His words were kind, but I was only temporarily relieved from my frustration. Even if I did prove to be a challenge for Eryx, it still felt nearly impossible for me to win. I clenched my fists at my sides, feeling the faint tremor lingering after our fight. It'd be easy to sink into bitterness — to accept my weakness and believe that I'd never be strong enough.
The man in the book started this whole mess? Do you seriously believe his claims are true?
I couldn't answer. The words just circled in my mind, closing in tighter. I wanted to believe in him — in the curiosity and the hope he carried. I thought we were similar, but if the books were right… if this war started because of him, then what was I even fighting for? I thought I could cling to his story and create my own, but now it felt like I was walking a path that scarred the world before.
A dull ache settled in my chest. I recalled the kids at the orphanage. The whispers. The abuse. They mocked me. They removed my right of belonging in this world. Something inside of me wanted to rise, but I couldn't reach it. If this was all I had — if this was my Echo… maybe I wasn't meant to belong at all.
For a few moments, we sat silently and watched the other matches. The rain turned into a light drizzle. Zauren stood silently focusing intently on each of the matches, periodically jotting down notes. There were instances, however, where I felt his gaze on me. We locked eyes a few times but I quickly let my head fall. Our conversation from yesterday… maybe he thinks I'm crazy.
"Truth of our world?" he asked with a confused look on his face. "What are you trying to say?"
I quickly placed my hands over my mouth, realizing what I just said. But Zauren didn't look away. He waited intently until I explained myself.
"I mean- um…" I stammered. "I'm going to be honest with you. I'm not entirely sure if what I'm saying is true. It's just… I can't get rid of this feeling that I'm right."
The way he looked at me didn't change, nor did he hesitate to continue. "Right about what, exactly?"
My eyes flicked away for a moment, then back. "I know I'm not making sense. But… the man who wrote those books — the scholar. He claimed he started the war."
"That's not-" he said, then stopped himself. "You had two. Which one are you talking about?"
"The one you gave me in the library," I replied, curious as to why he jumped so suddenly. "It was a record of a nameless scholar's discoveries. He was the one who wrote the apology."
Zauren's expression was unreadable. "People write things. Or are you saying that the man in the book started this whole mess? Do you seriously believe his claims are true?"
"I thought that too," I said, hesitating slightly. "But when I read those words… I heard his voice. I didn't imagine what it sounded like – it was like I remembered it."
I didn't imagine. I didn't. I knew it — like a memory that wasn't mine.
Zauren stood there quietly. The silence pressed me to continue. "I know I've never met him. He may have never existed. But his voice… I can't quite remember what was said, but I've dreamed about it — long before I ever touched those pages."
"You're trusting in your dreams? Even if they only existed to fill in blanks?" he asked.
"You're right," I answered. "They're just dreams. But it felt like he was calling out to me. Like he knew I'd be the one to read that book. If they're the same man… then everything he said — about Echoes, about history — it was like the world finally started to make sense."
His eyes didn't shake, but his voice quieted. "He said he started the war?"
My voice softened. "He said Echoes were his mistake — his curse — that this war only exists because he tore something apart. And when I looked at our own history, it was like someone buried the truth."
He turned away, just slightly — not dismissively, but like I made him remember something he didn't want to.
"You know something, don't you?" I asked, pressing him to answer my questions.
He kept looking away. Then he spoke — carefully. "I've seen people lose themselves chasing truth, if you can even call it that. I've buried some too."
"Then bury me too," I said. "If I'm wrong."
"If what you're saying is true," he said in a low voice, finally looking me in the eyes again. "Then there are people who'll burn entire cities down to keep you from reading the rest."
It was our first actual conversation, and I said things that I could probably be punished for. But he didn't laugh. He never laughed. The wind in the air felt like the drizzle was coming to an end. The last pair of students had just finished their match.
"Hey…" Eryx spoke up, then paused. "How did Zauren know your name?"
"I-"
Before I could answer, I was interrupted by Zauren's voice instructing the students to pay attention. "That will be all for today's class. Rest up and be prepared for our next lesson. You may go."
Eryx and I shared a brief glance before the other students gathered themselves in hushed voices, their footsteps splashing on shallow puddles. Eryx followed, and I lingered behind — watching Zauren stare blankly into the distance, his thoughts still unreadable. Then, without a word, I followed the other girls into the changing room. Everyone moved slowly, exhausted from their matches. The weight sank deeper when we realized we'd be back here every other day.
After getting ready, I stepped outside. Eryx was nowhere to be found. His question earlier was justified. During the entrance ceremony, I hadn't even recognized him — so it was obvious for Eryx to question why he knew my name. I waited for a few minutes, unsure of what I'd say when Eryx returned. But instead, a familiar presence stirred behind me.
I turned to face the man in dark clothing. Unmoving. "Sir Zauren. Thank you for today, I'm looking forward to your future lessons."
His eyes traveled over me, head to toe. It wasn't a warm look, but it wasn't a cruel one. It felt like I was being studied.
"What was that earlier?" he asked. His voice was edged with irritation. "Didn't I tell you to take the match seriously?"
I felt ashamed. That had been the first time he saw me fight, and I couldn't put much of one up. "I'm sorry, Sir Zauren. I know I fell short. But… I want to get stronger. Even if I can't keep up right now-"
He cut me off, his expression tightening. "Can't keep up? That's obvious. No one can win against another Invoker without fully drawing out their Echo."
What? But I did invoke my Echo — my sword. That was it, wasn't it? Or was that just a shape I assumed because I didn't expect anything else — because it felt familiar. Of all the things my soul could've become… why a sword? A weapon made to carve a path, yet the one wielding it was still lost.
"But Sir–" I tried again.
"Don't hold back from here on out," he said. His tone was quieter now, but firm. "If you hesitate to become who you are… your Echo never will."
He turned and walked away, vanishing into the mist and fog. I nodded as he walked away. The chance to speak up again was lost, and the words tangled in my throat. His words in class clung to my thoughts.
Echoes are reflections of your strength – your latent potential.
If strength is the only thing that makes me real… what does that make me now? I had given everything. Every ounce of effort, every drop of sweat. And still I stood here. Shaking. Breathing. Still here. But was that enough?
Isn't there anything else I can do?
I looked up towards the darkness. The wind tugged at my hair like an unspoken question — like the sky was waiting for an answer I didn't have.