Bright. Way brighter than anything I'd ever seen before. My eyes strained trying to focus on my surroundings. There was no floor, nothing to resist my feet — just light. Soft and endless, like we stood in a sky held by a sun. The light was natural. It was honest. It hugged my skin in a warm embrace.
"Hello, dear."
That voice. I'd heard it once before — soft, sorrowful. The whisper that had replaced the man's voice in my dreams.
Before me stood a woman. The light bent around her, but it didn't cast a shadow. Her pale ivory skin seemed brighter than the glow that enveloped us. She took a step forward. Her long, silken white hair flowed behind her as she closed the distance. I met her gaze — silver-blue eyes. They were beautiful, she was beautiful.
"Who are you?" I said, hesitating to step back.
"Oh my, you look like you've seen a ghost. Though, I suppose to you… I am one," she said with a quiet laugh. "It's sad that you don't recognize me, dear Alira."
"How do you know my name?" I asked, unable to understand why I felt so unreasonably calm speaking with her.
"Curious girl, is that truly what you want to know?" she asked.
Her words sparked a memory in me — one from the same day. Zauren warned me not to hold back anymore, but I didn't understand what he meant. I had invoked my Echo, my sword. Still, why did I get the feeling that he was right? And why did her question remind me of his words?
"I want to know… how to get stronger," I replied.
A strange certainty filled me as I said those words to her, like she's heard them countless times. Yet, I couldn't help but put my hand over my mouth. Her smile was warm. Still, a faint grief lingered on her face and stained her voice.
"And once you have that strength… where will it take you? Who will you be when you finally feel strong enough?" she asked, stepping closer and brushing my hair behind my ear.
I've asked myself that same question my whole life. Every time I was pushed down at the orphanage, every time they reminded me I was nothing. And later, when the boys in the combat class laughed while stripping me of not just my dignity — but my right to belong. They smiled as they did it — like my pain was proof of their worth.
I thought I had healed, moved on, and once again, steeled my resolve. But my loss against Eryx made it clear — I'm still small. In Lumeira, power comes from who you are… and I don't know who that is.
Tears slid down my cheeks. Not from pain alone, but from the silence I'd kept for so long. I had no obligation to speak up again, to tell a stranger my shortcomings. But her presence — the way she stared at me, it made me feel vulnerable.
"I…I don't know where it'll take me," I quavered. "But I want to be someone who belongs — someone I can trust has a place in the world."
She smiled again — it strained a bit, like she held back what she truly wanted to say.
"Then be that," she said. "Not for them, but for you."
"I'm scared that I won't be enough," I admitted.
She held me close. Her warmth felt like it could erase all the pain. "You already are. You've simply forgotten how to stand. You carry something precious, Alira… something even this world tried to forget."
A sharp wind began tugging at us, pulling me away from her. The warmth slipped slowly from my skin like sunlight fading through clouds. I wanted to talk to her more — to be held by her. I could feel my vision blurring again, the world of light began to darken. I spoke up before I fell into it.
"Miss… your hair… it's beautiful." I said.
Her voice faded slowly. "Thank you, dear. He said the same thing…"
I didn't know what else to say. My voice trembled with something like love, or grief — maybe both. Her warmth felt like it was reaching out for me. Then, I opened my eyes again and the familiar sight of my ceiling was made visible. The chance to ask her name was lost. It was usually the man's voice that filled my nights, yet for some reason, I hoped to see her again.
The white-haired woman left me with so many unanswered questions — like how she knew my name, or where we were. She didn't look at me like it was our first meeting. Her eyes told me that she cared deeply, but I don't think I would forget seeing someone as alluring as her. The mournful look she had, and the sorrow in her voice. The feelings they stirred reminded me of the man in my dreams, though I've never seen him.
He rarely spoke, nor did it sound like he was talking to me. I can't remember the words, only the feeling — grief, heavy and distant. The "he" she mentioned… could they be the same? I shook the thought away, neither of them are real, just figures my mind created to keep me company as I slept. Imaginary figures.
I rubbed my eyes, shaking the fragments of the dream. The next few days were important at Concordia. The third year students will be participating in a field training program overseen by professional Invokers. We'll finally get the chance to experience life within a domain. Memories of Zauren's class had pestered me the rest of the day yesterday. Strangely, however, I felt more confident now. Not in myself — but in the time ahead.
Time pressed forward, indifferent as ever. I needed to leave. I paused at the door and glanced at my book — or where it should be. The attacker from that night… they must have been tracking me down for a long time. But I didn't understand why they waited until I had both books in my possession. The second was sitting quietly in the library… it couldn't have been difficult to steal.
The train station was still quiet when I arrived. Students participating in the field training needed to arrive early. Most of our time today would be spent traveling to the domains, passing the capital and outer cities. I suspect that when we arrive, we will set up camp and meet with the Invokers to discuss the actual events. I fought to keep my eyes open. Reading kept me awake, and it was earlier than usual.
As the train drew near my stop, I fished into my bag for the cracked mirror to touch up my hair — more out of habit than vanity. The moment it caught the light, my breath caught with it.
A glint. A strand.
White.
Right where she had touched me.
My fingers froze mid-motion. The mirror slipped from my hands and landed in my lap with a dull clink. I stared. Not blinking. Not breathing.
My hair.
I leaned in closer, heart thudding in my throat, hoping the illusion would dissolve. Hoping it was just the light, or my exhaustion. But it didn't fade.
"No…" I whispered.
It was there, the same silk white color that rested beautifully atop the woman's head. I touched it gently. It wasn't a dream — some part of her had followed me back to reality.
The train hissed to a stop. Concordia's gates rose in the distance. Unable to reasonably explain the new look, I hoped that Eryx wouldn't notice. When I stepped off, I held my head down slightly, expecting the usual call of my name, but there was no sound. I looked up and saw that he wasn't standing in his usual spot.
"Is he late?" I muttered to myself.
He's waited for me everyday since our first year, and greeted me the same way. Still, he has no obligation to continue doing so, and there might be a reason he can't. I seemed to be the first to arrive, so I sat quietly near The Faceless statue and waited. More students and faculty members began gathering near the gates, their voices drowning out the silence. Still no sign of Eryx.
"Good morning, Alira."
A voice from behind. I turned to see Ms. Lysandra. She seemed to be coming from within the academy.
"Good morning, professor. Will you be accompanying us during our trip?" I asked.
"That's right! I won't be entering the domains, but I want to be available as extra support just in case. Besides, the non-combat students will need a supervisor," she chuckled quietly, then looked toward the gates. "I don't think Zauren would appreciate research questions."
The size of the crowd had grown, yet Zauren stood out like a sore thumb. He was a tall man. His physique was impressive, seemingly trained like an athlete. His bronze-brown skin tone matched nicely with his all black outfit. It was undeniable — from the way he carried himself to the way he fought — he was strong. Beside him stood a group of five, each wearing similar outfits to him.
"Ms. Lysandra, those Invokers — are they Sir Zauren's friends?" I asked.
"I don't know if you can call them his 'friends' but… they work under his command. He brought them here specifically for this program," she paused momentarily, then looked just above my eyes. "Alira, your hair… did you always have this white strand?"
"Oh! No, I-uh, I think it's probably just stress," I stammered, brushing the strand behind my ear hoping she wouldn't press further. "Ah, shall we join the rest of the group?"
She held a slightly suspicious look. "I see… well then."
We made our way to the gates. Just as I took my place beside the others, a figure caught my eye — Eryx. He stood with his arms crossed, his fair skin pale against the school's lights. His uniform was pristine, and he had neatly combed his blonde hair to the side. Although he looked the same, something felt off. From the way he stood — tall and poised — to the stiff look on his face. I walked up to him quietly, unsure of what to say.
"Eryx-" I began. But I didn't get to finish. A strong voice drowned me out.
"Eyes forward."
Zauren's command swept over the students, firm and final. Eryx glanced at me briefly, unreadable, then shifted his gaze forward without a word.
"Listen up, you're about to be taking the next step to becoming professional Invokers and researchers. We will be escorting you beyond the outer cities, where the domains lie," he brought attention to the group of five. "Spend today getting acquainted with your supervisors. It's a long road ahead, let's get going."
There was diversity in the Invoker industry. The five consisted of three males and two females. They all carried themselves confidently, highlighting their strength and making it difficult to discern any weaknesses.
The faculty had arranged a train to the outer cities. There, we would be divided into groups and the rest of our journey would be by carriage. Lumeira was a large continent. But because of the lack of light and the amount of domains outside the kingdom, citizens were prohibited from traveling. Invokers and researchers owned licenses that granted them access to these areas. Still, it's rare to meet anyone eager to go west outside of work. There were no domains in the kingdom, but they littered the continent just outside the walls.
The group began entering the train, and I looked over to see Eryx had already boarded. He turned without a word. No grin, no nod. Just… silence. And that silence was louder than any goodbye he could have said. I could have been overthinking it, but I felt like he was avoiding me. Even if he was, I wish he'd at least say something. Then I wouldn't have to keep guessing what I meant to him. But there wasn't time to worry about that now, so I moved along.
Following the rest of the students on board, I kept an eye out for a seat near the professionals. Unfortunately, most of my classmates had already begun circling around them. I squeezed past the others toward the back of the car. Then, I saw one of the professionals sitting alone.
None of the students were approaching her. A cane sat in between her legs. She looked to be a middle-aged woman — too young, it seemed, to need a cane. Maybe that's why the other students avoided her — potential weakness in the domains repelled them. I approached slowly, hoping she would allow me to sit with her.
"Excuse me," I began. She looked surprised, like she wasn't expecting company. "If it's not a bother, do you mind if I sit with you?"
"Ah, why, go on ahead!" she said with a wide smile, patting the open seat beside her.
"Thank you very much," I replied, sitting down.
"Well now. You've got quite the pretty face. And who might you be, young lady?" she asked with a soft tone. Her voice was gentle, it felt hard to believe that she was a professional Invoker.
"Alira, ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you…" I trailed off.
"Mary, dear. And what a pretty little lady you are? Are you a research student?"
Her body swayed slightly as she spoke, like she truly meant her words. I couldn't help but smile. "Thank you, Dame Mary. And no — I'm actually aiming for my Invoker license…"
"Just Mary is fine, dear. And do forgive my assumption. It's not right to presume, especially with another woman," her eyes lifted slightly toward my head. "Your hair is stunning. And this white strand — were you born with it?"
I had hoped it wasn't noticeable, but so far, everyone has mentioned it.
"Oh, no. My hair is naturally brown, these stands were probably just stress," I said with a laugh.
"You are far too young to be stressed, love. Come now, what's bothering you?" she said, leaning in gently and taking my hand. I sensed a familiar feeling to the one in my dream — a feeling that I could confide in her. Just as I was about to speak up, another voice interrupted.
"Alira," Zauren approached, his tone sharp.
"We need to talk."
The more I interacted with him, the more attention it drew. I already knew what he wanted, but I had hoped that he'd wait until we were alone.
Mary seemed to have sensed my discomfort and intervened. "Zauren! Can't you see that we're in the middle of a conversation? If you can't wait, you're welcome to sit and join us."
"I-uh… what we need to discuss… it's-" he stammered.
"It's nothing that can't be said here. Come now. Take a seat, young man."
Zauren hesitated. It was the first time I'd seen him falter. I felt like I was watching a mother scold her son. Despite his averse look, he took the seat beside me. Now sandwiched between two professional Invokers, I could feel the stares from my classmates. I shifted a bit closer to Mary.
"Listen, Mary. Keep what you hear to yourself," Zauren began, then turned to me.
"Alira, about the incident. Have you come up with anything?"
Mary spoke up before I could. "Hey, wait. What incident? You can't just skip the details."
Zauren let out an exasperated sigh before nodding at me to explain. I recounted everything: the books, the masked attacker, and our conversation. Mary listened intently, her expression unchanged, but I could feel her attention on every word. She took my hand again.
"Oh dear, I'm glad you're alright," she said softly. "And? You two intend to find the attacker?"
"That's right," Zauren replied. "Those books — I'd meant to question Alira about them. But the masked figure stole them before I could."
"Sir Zauren, you never did say why you were so interested in the books. What were you hoping to find?" I asked. Normally, he'd have no obligation to tell me anything. But now, I was a direct victim of whatever he was investigating.
He turned his attention toward me. Pausing for a moment, he looked reluctant to say anything, but spoke up anyway. "It ties back to an old assignment from the king. Years ago, I was tasked with the destruction of a certain object. I didn't expect it to be a book, but I got rid of it anyway," he paused, then turned his head to me. "The one I found… it had the same shadow as the one I gave you. Not right away — it was when I tried to burn it. It was like it knew it was being destroyed."
A book the same as mine, and he burned it. They looked the same, but that didn't mean they were. There was something else missing…
"I didn't want to alarm you," he said. "So I stepped outside and watched you through the window. That's when I saw two books on your desk."
"I see. You assumed they were identical to the one you burned," I replied. "I told you that I'd be in your class, you could've asked me then. But you followed me. Why?"
"There's more," he continued. "Before I came to the academy, I received an anonymous message. It said I'd find what I was looking for at Concordia. The incident happened after I ran into you at the library."
So his intention wasn't to become an instructor. That makes sense, but why did he assume that the message was talking about the book?
"You came to the academy under the assumption you destroyed the book," I said. "But you still chose to search the library?"
"That's just it," he replied. "I wasn't sure it had been completely destroyed."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mary intervened. "And aren't you forgetting something? Why would the king send you of all people on that job?"
She's right. I was so focused on why Zauren was interested in the books that I completely ignored the fact that the king himself was the one who sent him.
"I've wondered the same thing," Zauren admitted. "The king could have sent any officer. But after the job, he kept asking me — again and again — if I was sure the book was gone. He seemed obsessed, like he couldn't rest until he knew it was out of the picture.
Then came the message. The timing felt too good to be true — like my answer was just waiting for me at the academy. Despite my suspicion, I convinced the king to let me become a professor, temporarily."
"So your decision to teach at the academy was a coverup," Mary said. "You needed a way to get in and investigate."
"But what did you mean by 'completely destroyed'?" I asked. It made sense now why someone as important as Zauren became an instructor, but his investigation could've started anywhere.
"In truth, it was just a bad feeling," he answered. "When I initially got hold of the book, I couldn't understand why it was so important. That was until I read it, the story was of a scholar's journey-"
My body froze. A chill passed over me, not surprise — more like recognition. My voice rose before I could stop it.
"That's the one I had."
He paused mid-breath. Mary glanced at me, her brow slightly raised.
"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I didn't mean to interrupt. But that story — it's the same. A lone man, traveling through forgotten lands, chronicling lost civilizations warmed by a sun. Always searching for something… unreachable."
I looked him in the eye. "That's the book I've had since I was eight years old."
"Eight?" he repeated, voice low.
"Yes. At the orphanage," I continued. "No author. No title. A worn cover, something that felt alive. I got lost in it. It didn't feel like reading — it felt like listening. Like the book was speaking to me."
Zauren seemed to remember the book clearly the more I described it. That explains his reaction when I initially mentioned the story. I called it a record of the scholar's discoveries, but he only knew about the journey.
He leaned back, eyes fixed on me like I was a puzzle. "That's the same one. I remember that exact feeling."
"You're saying…?" Mary asked.
"I'm saying the book she had is the one I burned," Zauren declared. "Not a copy. The exact same."
"But-" I blinked. "You burned it."
He nodded. "Ten years ago. On direct orders from the king. I watched the pages turn to ash. I was certain it was gone."
"But it wasn't," I whispered. "Ten years ago… that's when I got my hands on it. Gifted to me by one of the caregivers at the orphanage."
Mary's expression turned solemn. "Are you sure it's the same one? Couldn't it just be a copy?"
Zauren shook his head. "No. The king confirmed there was only a single copy at the time of my search, yet Alira's book was already worn when she received it, same as the one I had. But more than that," he continued. "It wasn't just the story. It was the presence. The book felt sentient, somehow."
I nodded slowly. "There were two. The one from my childhood, and the one I found in the library. The first told the journey. The second, the recordings. But they felt… linked. Told in the same voice."
And both were gone now — stolen.
Mary leaned forward. "Then maybe the one you burned wasn't the same. Maybe it was the record?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. "The story Sir Zauren burned was the one I've had as a kid. I found the record recently."
Zauren's jaw clenched. "Then the one I destroyed came back?"
We fell silent.
"Books don't just return from fire, dear," Mary broke the silence gently. "Or maybe… those books weren't meant to stay gone."
I couldn't deny her words. No matter how I try to apply logic to the situation, it felt like there was no other explanation. A strange feeling welled up inside me. Those books weren't just records. They were… living.
Zauren leaned forward, his voice quieter now. "Alira… your hair."
Even he noticed. Just as I spoke up to explain, he continued. "It's turning white…"
My hand instinctively rose to my hair. I reached for my mirror. Another thread of white woven into the brown. Subtle. New. Wrong. It wasn't just color I could ignore anymore. It was a question I didn't have the answer to. Before I could respond, the train groaned beneath us.
It started low, a metallic grinding deep in the tracks. Then it climbed — high and loud — until the entire car began to sway. Students gasped. Mary gripped her cane, bracing herself. The train screeched violently, and everyone lurched. I stumbled forward. My mirror fell from my hands, and I heard it hit the floor. The sound of glass raining drowned out by panicked voices.
I looked down. The already-cracked mirror had shattered across the aisle. And just for a moment, in one of the shards, I thought I saw movement. Not my reflection — something else.
Then it was gone.
Just glass, again. Just me.
The train eventually came to a stop, and the conductor announced that there was a large storm preventing the trains from moving. After some time, Zauren and the other supervisors had collectively agreed that we would stay the night in our current location — Lumeira's second outer city, Virelle. They rented out rooms at nearby inns, advising us not to step outside until the weather was clear again.
The sudden accident was frightening, but I was muddled by what was happening to my hair. In just one day, my appearance seemed to change drastically. Eryx stepped off the train. We stared at one another for a brief moment, his expression still unchanged. Without a word, he walked off with the other men in the group. I was sure something was wrong, the Eryx I knew wouldn't have hesitated to comfort me. His silence stung — but it was the kind that said more about him than me. And that worried me more.
We arrived at our inn. It was quiet, wrapped in the hush of rain tapping steadily against the windows. The golden lighting barely reached the corners of the common space, where couches and tables filled the space with comfort. I sat on one of them, legs folded beneath me, holding a warm cup of tea in my hands. Mary sat across from me, her cane resting against the arm of her chair. The other girls were either in their rooms or taking a warm bath. Professor Lysandra entered quietly, her usual smile tempered by today's exhaustion.
"You made it," Mary said, lifting her hand in a wave.
Ms. Lysandra leaned into the chair beside us, removing her coat. "Barely. It's an awful storm out there. I was helping escort the other staff members."
They shared a look, something familiar.
"You two seem quite close," I said, tilting my head.
"Oh, well," Mary chuckled quietly. "You could say that. I've known Lysandra since she was your age, dear. She and Zauren both served under me in the same squad. Now she's your professor and Zauren is my commander. Back then they were still wet behind the ears."
Ms. Lysandra gave a small, almost embarrassed smile. "She's exaggerating."
"You were good kids," Mary replied gently. "Both of you. Smart and loyal."
I blinked. "Wait — you served under Mary too? With Sir Zauren?"
Ms. Lysandra nodded. "That was a long time ago, Alira. Things were different back then," she walked away slowly. "Well, I'm going to run a bath before I catch a cold."
"Treat yourself, dear," Mary called out as she walked away.
I leaned back in my chair. "Is she… a good fighter? Professor Lysandra, I mean."
"One of the best I've ever worked with," she said fondly. "When the moment calls for it, she can increase her speed and strength tenfold. Only in bursts, though. That kind of power takes a toll on the body."
My eyes lingered on the hallway Ms. Lysandra had disappeared into. Before she became a professor, she fought side by side with the strongest Invoker. She must've given it her all when she battled. I wondered what she meant by things being different now. I pictured the masked thief who stole the books, unwillingly comparing them to Ms. Lysandra.
I shook the thought away. Instead, my thoughts wandered back to the dream. The woman with white hair… the warmth in her voice when she said my name. The way she held me like someone who knew every part of me, even the ones I hadn't come to understand myself. My gaze drifted to the left — and there it was again. White. Quiet.
Mary looked at me gently. "You keep touching it. Is it bothering you?"
"No," I said softly, twisting it between my fingers. "Just thinking."
"About what?" she asked, her head resting in hand.
I paused, unsure how to put it into words. "Someone I saw in my dream. She had hair like this. White. Soft."
Mary didn't respond, she nodded slowly as if she understood.
The storm was loud. Somewhere beyond it, the domains waited. I wasn't sure where I would end up. Maybe my path would change like Ms. Lysandra. I'd find my answer soon. I didn't know what these strands meant, but maybe…
Our paths will cross again.