"Did you see the way she moved?"
"What was Sir Zauren thinking, letting us watch that?"
The boys locker room was unusually talkative — voices loud in laughter, in petty commentary about our match. I sat on the bench, tuning most of it out, until the mocking hit a little too close.
"She didn't stand a chance," someone said. "You should've asked for a new pair."
Then a hand on my shoulder, and another voice. "Good job today, man. She looked completely helpless out there."
I slapped the hand away without hesitation. A sudden silence hit the room, and all eyes were turned toward me.
"What the hell did you just say?" I asked, voice sharp.
He stepped back, hands raised. "Whoa — sorry, dude. I didn't know you cared that much. You just looked excited to fight her, that's all."
I stood up and pressed closer. "I fought her because I had to."
"Whatever," he said, walking off. His voice faded into a quiet murmur as he left.
My frustration didn't fade, though. And my pulse was still loud in my ears. I stepped outside.
Clouds lingered overhead, dull and unmoving. Most of my classmates had already cleared out, their voices muffled by the soft slap of shoes against the wet floor. I stood at the edge of the field fidgeting with my hand in my pocket.
There they were — Alira and Zauren, speaking alone in the middle of the field. I could only hear fragments of their conversation from where I stood, but that wasn't what intrigued me. Zauren didn't seem to be scolding Alira, nor did she look like the shy, soft-spoken girl I knew. She stood tall — steady. It was a side of her I hadn't seen in a long time.
When did she start changing?
My jaw tensed. I knew something was off ever since the entrance ceremony. She didn't even know who he was back then, so what happened in the time between? When did they become acquainted? I wanted to stop staring, to stop jumping to conclusions, but the way he looked at her earlier — during our match — stuck in my head. Even before that, he called her by her name.
How did he know? Why her? I might've misheard — but I could've sworn he told her not to hold back.
Their conversation seemed to have finished as Zauren took his leave. Alira stood quietly staring into the sky. I considered approaching her — to get her answer for my question earlier, but now didn't feel like the best time.
I bowed slightly as Zauren walked past me. But he stood still, looking at me with his hands in his pockets.
I raised my head. "Is something wrong, Sir?"
"That was an awful face you were making earlier," he answered, still unmoving.
I met his gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You don't. But I still saw it," he said, lifting his head toward the dark sky. "Jealousy doesn't suit you."
"I wasn't jealous," I replied.
He turned his gaze back to me. "No? Then what was it?"
I stopped for a moment. I just admitted, hadn't I? But still, it wasn't jealousy. What do I have to be jealous about?
"...I don't like being underestimated. That's all," I said.
A faint smirk grew on his face. "Neither do I."
The wind slowed for a moment. We stopped talking, and both looked toward Alira. She stood still — like she was frozen in place. Neither of us said anything, but I felt like Zauren was able to understand. Then, he walked past me.
His voice was firm, but quieter. "Be careful how badly you want to prove yourself, class president. Wanting more isn't wrong — but trying to climb that high has its price."
I didn't like how much that sounded like a warning. Or how much of me agreed.
"I already know that," I replied, not turning to face him.
"No. You don't. At least, not yet," he said over my shoulder, ending our conversation.
Again. It happened again. I was being looked down upon. My body stiffened, and I took a deep breath. I took one more glance at Alira before turning back into the academy's halls.
Zauren's class had run longer than most. The students who had lectures today had already left. I passed some students finishing their work — cleaning desks, wiping chalkboards. That's when I recalled Alira's behavior yesterday. She had been speaking with Lysandra. I waited to ask if she wanted to study together, but she completely brushed right past me. It was strange. She used to wait for me after every class. Once, she even stood out in the rain just because she thought I looked upset. But yesterday… their expressions…
Just what were they talking about?
Lysandra wouldn't be in the lecture room now, but most professors stuck around to work in their offices. If I wanted answers, that was the place to start.
I climbed the large staircase toward the faculty rooms, the steps stained with lingering rain. From below, I caught the echo of hushed voices.
"Did you hear about that incident? I couldn't believe it."
"Me neither. Where were the officers? Sleeping?"
Officers? I hadn't heard anything about trouble on campus — especially not with the strongest man alive in town. I kept walking.
Lysandra had been teaching at Concordia Academy long before Alira and I became students. My first encounter with her was when I was still studying at the orphanage, where she had visited as a representative for the initiative program.
"Oh! And who might this one be?" she said, kneeling down with a smile.
"His name is Eryx. He's the pride and joy of our little home. Eryx, say hello to Professor Lysandra. You might have the opportunity to learn from her in the future."
"Just Eryx, huh? It's a pleasure to meet you," she said with a smile.
That was years ago. Even now, I remember the way she looked at me — curious, maybe, or quietly sympathetic. I didn't like it, and her remark on my lack of a last name angered me. Although the caretakers of the orphanage treated me well, other children mocked me for not knowing where I came from. I would end up fighting with them for an apology. Sometimes I would make up stories of my parents and their noble acts in war, but it was clear I was lying. That's when I first heard of Alira — a girl without a past, like me. She didn't try to defend herself from the bullies.
"Why do you let them talk to you that way?" I asked the blue-eyed girl.
"What way?" she replied quietly.
"You know they're making fun of you, right?" I asked.
"Yes, I know. They're telling the truth, though. I don't have a family or a name to claim," she clutched her worn book tighter. "So I'll just have to find my place in this world."
At first, her innocent behavior annoyed me. I made an effort to avoid her for the rest of my time at the orphanage. That changed when the both of us were chosen as Concordia's new scholarship students. Both of us were sixteen years old at the time, much older and aware of what little we had. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, and her eyes were captivating. My initial judgement of her character had been wrong. Alira didn't avoid fighting because she was weak. She was determined to prove herself. We were alike in that way.
We quickly grew closer to one another. Somewhere in between shared classes and morning commutes, I started to realize my feelings for her were special. There were times where it felt like we had each other and no one else. Then came our first combat class — and the incident. Being the strongest in our grade, bullies never targeted me for their fun. However, I was blind to the traumatic events they put Alira through. The three boys came from wealthy families — and so the school took no action in punishing them. I spoke up against the director's choice, but ultimately failed in changing his mind.
Once again, I felt powerless. A boy with no history couldn't change anything, and I felt ashamed. I decided I would take hold of my future — to protect Alira and I, to rid me of my shame.
Did I truly want that?
After the incident, Alira changed. She was no longer the strong-willed girl I knew, she looked like she had given up. I understood what she was going through, and I did everything I could to help piece herself back together. So why would she ignore me, brush me away? Why did Zauren look in her direction?
She was a weak, broken little girl. But she's strong now. Confident. She fought me with everything she had — and for a moment, it felt real. Is that why Zauren said she was holding back? Does she think she's better than me?
No.
No one is better than me.
The thought lingered bitterly, and for a moment, I hated that it felt good. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. Maybe she's just growing up… without me. But even if I thought that way, I hated how hollow it sounded. I needed answers, and hoped Lysandra would give me one. I arrived at her office and gently knocked at her door.
"Come in," she said quietly from the other side of the door.
I stepped in, gently closing the door behind me. "Excuse me, Professor Lysandra. Is now a good time?"
"Oh, if it isn't Eryx. Please, take a seat, dear," she answered, gesturing to the open seat.
She was as welcoming as always, though her tone carried that distinct gentleness she reserved for students she liked. The office was dimly lit, lined with worn bookshelves. Papers — most likely assignments — sat atop her desk under a warm light.
I stepped in, pulling out a sheet from my bag. "Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to confirm my answers before the assignment is due."
"It's unlike you to second-guess your answers, dear. I guess even the best of us have off days," she skimmed through my work, then spoke up. "There's nothing to correct, Eryx. You have answered everything flawlessly."
"Is that so? I guess failing to answer your question in class has made me hesitant." I paused and smiled at her. "That reminds me — you and Alira seemed to be discussing something. She looked distraught afterwards, did something happen?"
Asking directly would seem suspicious if it was anyone else, but Lysandra knows how much Alira depends on me.
"Oh, that's…" she hesitated. "She had a question about something I mentioned during the lecture. A little confused, that's all."
Confused? Alira answered her question perfectly — but then she shut down like something was weighing on her mind for the rest of class. Something's not right. I was about to push further when something caught my eye — just behind Lysandra's chair. A soft shimmer pulsed faintly in the shadows. A subtle veil of violet light, identical to the haze of the sky, clung the two objects.
I stood up to leave, getting a better view. "I see. I'm glad it wasn't anything serious. If you'll excuse me, then."
It was barely visible. Within the cloud, it looked like two books sitting atop one another. It reminded me of something else. Something I hadn't seen all day — Alira's book. She never went anywhere without it.
"Professor…what are those?" I gestured vaguely to the shadow. She didn't turn around. Instead, her smile seemed to slightly waver — barely — but I noticed. Her voice was calm, but the shift in her expression said enough.
"Those are research materials, dear. Nothing to concern yourself over," she said softly. But her fingers curled slightly around the edge of the desk — just once. A twitch. Then she stood and walked to the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I'm a bit behind on grading."
Dismissed.
I stood outside of her office, the door clicking shut behind me. Her behavior was strangely suspicious. For a split second, I felt a bit afraid that I might've crossed the line.
"Looks like I won't get any answers here…"
I stepped into the cooling night, rain once again clinging to the wind. As if the sky couldn't quite decide on how it felt. I walked in silence, the conversation with Lysandra replaying in my mind. Her tone and answer to my questions. Then Alira herself…
When did she stop carrying that book? She always held it close, but it was gone. And in its place — Zauren's gaze, his heated words, and her spirit rekindling out of nowhere. Was she getting stronger behind my back? Was it because of him?
I boarded the train, head down. Most of the cars were empty, save for the group of underclassmen a few rows down — loud enough to draw my attention.
"They say it was targeted. The attacker followed a student home."
"Seriously? What were they even trying to accomplish?"
"I heard they stole some old books. Zauren showed up and saved them."
"I think it was a girl. One of the upperclassmen. She lives off-campus."
"No way, who attacks a girl for books? Creepy."
Books. A girl. Zauren.
My fingers curled into a fist. The pieces fit into a puzzle that was too twisted to ignore now. Zauren's interest in Alira, her newfound strength, and the odd glow in Lysandra's office. All different things. And yet they all pointed to the same place — something none of them wanted me to see.
Everyone had a part of her now. The professor. The Invoker. The book. Everyone but me. I tried to tell myself I was being paranoid. That this was just part of growing apart. But the feeling stayed — like something was being carved out of me as I watched.
I hated how bitter I sounded. But I hated the feeling even more. What I hated most, though, was how true it felt.
I pressed my head against the cold window, watching the dark blur whip past. Somewhere in that blur, the girl I knew was slipping away — pulled into something darker. And now, I wasn't even sure if I could follow. That thought turned into feelings.
And those feelings turned into words. "What the hell did you get yourself into, Alira?"