Three Years Before the Main Events
“Viorin! Viorin, stop right there!” her aunt called out, struggling to keep up as she stumbled over the stairs. “This is for your own good!”
“Really?!” the girl snapped back without turning around. “Then why doesn’t it feel that way to me?!”
“Because there’s a lot you don’t understand!” came the classic retort, the ultimate argument of every older generation.
“Well, then let him find some other naive fool who’s willing to ‘understand’ all that nonsense!” Viorin shot back, clearly unimpressed by the weight of her aunt’s words. She stormed into her room and slammed the door shut behind her, locking it with a decisive click.
“You could at least hear us out!” her aunt huffed, nearly colliding with the door as it banged shut in her face.
“Mom and Dad would never have done this to me!” Viorin shouted from the other side, her voice trembling as she fought back tears.
“Sweetheart,” her aunt pleaded, scratching lightly at the door, “your parents made this arrangement when you were just a little girl.”
“And they forgot to ask me!” Viorin retorted, refusing to back down.
“Well, you didn’t seem to mind back then,” her aunt said with a wry chuckle. “I remember because I was visiting at the time.”
“That’s because I was young and clueless!” Viorin clenched her fists, glaring at the door as if it were her enemy. “What can you expect from a child?!”
“Viorin, darling,” her aunt tried to reason with her, “just take a moment to think it through. You can’t just shut us out like this.”
“Oh, but it’s fine to treat me like some object to be bartered?!” the young girl exploded with fury. “I’m sure Mom and Dad would feel differently now! But you don’t care!”
“Your uncle and I do care, and you know that, my dear,” her aunt replied in a softer, coaxing tone, trying to reach through the barrier of the door. “How about you calm down, and we’ll talk this over again. Alright, sweetheart?”
“Never! Do you hear me?! This will never happen!” Viorin’s voice cracked from the strain of shouting.
“Okay, okay,” her aunt murmured, her tone even more conciliatory. “Just cool off for a bit, and we’ll find some middle ground.”
Viorin wanted to yell something else, but she heard her aunt’s footsteps retreating down the hall. She decided to spare her already hoarse throat from further abuse.
Middle ground?! They were offering her a compromise? She’d show them a compromise! They’d remember it for the rest of their lives.
Approaching the mirror, Viorin grimaced at her reflection. Some things would have to change, at least for a while. Her vibrant chestnut hair with its subtle copper sheen would need to go black—she’d been wanting to try that for ages. Maybe she’d add a touch of lilac for flair. She didn’t want to change her green eyes, but for safety’s sake, she’d make them violet. Her skin—she’d pale it out. Her face would thin out on its own soon enough.
She glanced back at the door. If she kept it locked for too long, they’d just break it down. Well, let them! They’d be in for a surprise. They’d asked for it...
Three Years Later
“Estery! Estery, wake up!” someone shook her shoulder insistently. “We’ve got an exam today!”
Who else could be this persistent if not her best friend?
“I hear you, Miella!” Estery grumbled, swatting at the hand like it was an annoying fly. “I hear you!”
“Were you up half the night crafting artifacts again?!” Miella scolded with an exasperated huff. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble!”
“Shush!” Estery muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Unless you want me to get expelled and banned from ever doing this again. Not to mention the fines.”
“That’s exactly why I’m telling you to be more careful,” Miella poked her in the side. “They can track you down in the dorms in no time.”
“I’m always careful,” Estery said, sitting up on her bed and feeling like the walking dead. “They haven’t caught me yet, have they?”
“If you keep pulling all-nighters, you’ll slip up one day and lose your edge,” Miella warned.
“I need that little house I showed you,” Estery sighed, resting her chin in her hands, elbows propped on her knees. “I could set up a hidden workshop there and craft artifacts without anyone breathing down my neck. But that takes money.”
“Weren’t you planning to work as an assistant over the summer?” Miella reminded her. “That’ll bring in some cash.”
Estery slid off the bed and shuffled toward the bathroom, muttering irritably under her breath.
“Even with what I’ve saved up, it’s only enough to rent the place. And if I’m just renting, I can’t do whatever I want with it. I need my own house, where no one can poke their nose into my business!”
She didn’t catch Miella’s response over the sound of running water. She needed to pull herself together fast and rush to the exam. Dier Alezar fer Deymar—the rector of the Magical Academy and currently her professor of fire magic—absolutely despised tardiness. It soured his mood instantly, and right now, his mood could determine not just her exam results but also the assistant position he’d promised her in the fire magic department. For the whole summer! It was a decent paycheck, and combined with what she earned from illegally crafting artifacts, it brought her a little closer to that dream house.
But, of course, they managed to be late. They raced up the stairs to the lecture hall like madwomen. Estery burst into the corridor first and immediately collided with someone’s broad back. The owner of said back hissed as if the impact had caused him excruciating pain, muttered a restrained curse, and stepped aside. The sudden movement threw Estery off balance, and she started to fall—only to be yanked back by her collar. She dangled in her rescuer’s grip, narrowly avoiding a kiss with the floor. Not that this rescue was much better; she felt like a naughty kitten caught in the act.
“Excuse me, but could you maybe let me move now?” she snapped, glaring at the stranger with her violet eyes as she tried to free her collar from his iron grip.
Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair the shade of burnished bronze tied back in a ponytail, he fixed her with a withering stare from his deep blue-black eyes. His sharp, almost sculpted nose, with a slight bump, added a predatory edge to his gaze.
“So you can trample someone else?!” His pleasant baritone did little to mask the irritation dripping from his words.
“For someone who’s been ‘trampled,’ you look awfully lively!” Estery shot back with a venomous sneer.
“Should I apologize for denying you the chance to finish the job?” His dark eyebrows, with a faint bronze tint matching his hair, shot up in mock surprise.
Estery opened her mouth to fire off another retort, but Miella, standing behind the man, was frantically wringing her hands and nodding toward the lecture hall door where the exam was to take place. Estery remembered why she’d been running in the first place.
“How about we call it even?” she said with a cheeky grin. “I didn’t trample you, and you didn’t let me fall. So, we’re square!”
Her audacity seemed to render the man speechless. When he finally found his voice, the lecture hall door creaked open, and the rector stepped out, looking less than pleased. He’d clearly overheard their rather loud exchange.
“Diera Mireyn! The time for the exam is running out, and there will be no extensions!” He turned his attention to the stranger the moment he saw him. “Dalarn! My boy, what a surprise! I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. Come in! And you too!” He nodded at Estery. “And you, Diera re Marn,” he gestured to Miella, “will go next.”
Estery let out a skeptical huff. “My boy” was clearly well into his thirties. But she’d never seen the rector look so delighted, and she hoped to satisfy her curiosity about this newcomer.
“Prepare yourself!” the rector instructed, nodding toward the nearest desk in front of the podium.
Estery glanced at the completely bare surface and blinked at the rector in confusion.
“I’m not getting a sheet of paper or a pen?!”
“Why would you need them?” he replied with a sardonic smile. “You should know the answer to any question on the subject. Haven’t you studied?”
Of course she’d studied! But she hadn’t expected to be denied even a moment to prepare.
“Yes, but…” She cast a sideways glance at the stranger, who was watching her intently. “Outsiders… they’ll be a distraction,” she ventured, hoping to at least take the exam without an extra audience.
“No need to worry about that, Diera Mireyn,” the rector said with a satisfied smile. “There are no outsiders here. This is your new fire magic instructor, and he’ll be interested in assessing your level of knowledge. Meet Dier Dalarn fer Artor.”
Under the mocking, almost taunting gaze of those blue-black eyes, Estery felt an overwhelming urge to crawl under the desk. But that wouldn’t save her from the promise of future retribution she could practically feel radiating from him. And there was another reason—one she hoped he hadn’t guessed.
She looked pleadingly at the rector, hoping he’d be the one to administer the exam instead of this arrogant man, but her hopes were dashed.
“Well, then,” Professor Deymar said, folding his arms across his chest with a pleased expression, “I’m sure Dier fer Artor has some intriguing questions about fire magic for you.”
Estery bit her lip, shooting a quick, reproachful glance at the rector. He, of all people, knew she had no issues with theory or practical skills. Except when it came to artifact crafting… She had to pretend she had no talent for it to avoid suspicion that she was the underground artificer undercutting the capital’s licensed craftsmen. She’d needed to make money somehow after running away from home. Working officially required graduating from the Academy and passing a professional exam to obtain a license for an artifact workshop.
But living on a measly stipend wasn’t an option for the former Viorin. She’d grown too accustomed to a comfortable life. Luckily, she’d stumbled upon a rogue artificer while looking for side work. He’d nearly turned her away, but she’d crafted an insect-repelling artifact right in front of him in mere minutes, impressing him enough to strike a deal. She’d get thirty-five percent of the value of her creations, while sixty-five percent went to him for taking the risk and covering any bribes if they were caught.
“Diera Mireyn!” The rector’s sharp voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “Did you even hear the question?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, plastering a guilty smile on her face. “I was just organizing my thoughts so I wouldn’t embarrass you.”
Fer Artor let out a disdainful snort.
“This is an exam. Your knowledge should already be organized by now if you’ve truly prepared.”
Estery grimaced. He wasn’t even that old, yet he was already such a bore!
“As I can see,” the rector nodded approvingly, “you’re thinking along the right lines, my boy. And you were worried you wouldn’t be able to teach.”
Estery perked up at that “my boy.” It hinted at a familial connection, and the familiarity suggested a very close one. Interesting—who had he brought in for this position? The notice seeking a fire magic instructor had been posted in every magical bulletin for ages, ever since the second instructor literally burned out on the job under mysterious circumstances. Officially, it was deemed a failed experiment, but rumors swirled about an attack by unknown forces targeting that very department. No wonder no one was eager to fill the attractive vacancy.
“My boy” turned a sarcastic gaze on his “uncle.”
“Aren’t you worried you’ll have to expel students?”
“Just make sure you don’t kill them,” the rector replied in a perfectly casual tone, as if student casualties were a routine matter at the Academy and par for the course with this man.
Estery’s stunned gaze darted between the two, trying to gauge what kind of threat this new fire mage posed to everyone—and to her in particular.
“Shall we start with her?” Fer Artor nodded dismissively in her direction.
Estery indignantly sucked in a deep breath, filling her lungs to give this know-it-all a piece of her mind while she still could. He probably wasn’t officially on staff yet, so disrespecting an instructor wouldn’t be held against her. Probably. But the rector beat her to it.
“Don’t scare the girl!” he laughed. “She’s practically a straight-A student! Just struggles a bit with artifact crafting.”
“Well, in my firm opinion,” Fer Artor said, casting her a mocking glance, “women aren’t suited for such complex disciplines.” He flashed a brazen grin right in her face. “Even if they’re straight-A students.”
All the air in Estery’s lungs threatened to burst out in a hurricane. To hell with such opinions! A volcano raged inside her, ready to incinerate with lava what the hurricane didn’t sweep away, while venomous words burned on her tongue. But once again, the rector didn’t let her vent.
“I wouldn’t be so absolute, Dalarn. Remember your mother—one of the most talented fire mages around. You owe your solid foundation to her.”
“My mother is an exception,” the man replied darkly.
“Alright,” the professor said with an encouraging smile toward Estery. “We’ve wasted enough time, and I still have exams to administer for a few other students. So, I’ll pose the question to our dear Estery Mireyn myself.”
The desk in front of her suddenly erupted in flames, the tongues of fire nearly licking her face.
“You have two minutes to extinguish it…”
He didn’t even finish the instruction before Estery swiftly isolated a salamander from the blaze. The creature devoured the flames and licked its chops for good measure.
“Impressive,” the rector nodded with satisfaction. “You’ve mastered one of the most challenging fire formulas, a fundamental skill. Not everyone can summon a salamander.”
However, the display clearly failed to impress her potential future instructor.
“Every fire mage in a combat unit should master this basic skill.”
“Do they?” the rector asked with an ironic smirk.
“Unfortunately, no.”
Estery quickly noted this detail as well. It seemed this man was a combat mage. They usually only turned to teaching after retiring from military service—either due to age or severe injury. She recalled how he’d hissed in pain when she’d bumped into him in the corridor. It seemed he was indeed a combat mage, and likely fresh from a recent battle.
“As you can see,” the professor said, leaning back in his chair with a pleased look, “Diera Mireyn also has reflexes to be envied.”
“One instance proves nothing,” the stubborn combat mage refused to acknowledge her abilities.
“Well, in just a few days, you’ll have the chance to test both the knowledge and reflexes of our star student firsthand,” the rector said, clapping Fer Artor on the shoulder. “She’ll be your assistant for the entire summer.”
Both Estery and Fer Artor stared at the professor, clearly far from thrilled by the news.