Aedran felt heavy. His body barely responded, and thinking itself was a struggle. He tried to move his arms, but they wouldn’t obey. He wasn’t sure whether it was the lingering effect of entropy magic or some kind of brain damage. The tter was unlikely—he was Gramorguian, after all—but probability was never zero.

  It had been years since he had st encountered that kind of magic. In fact, he had believed most entropic mages had died during the Year of Absolution. They had been a priority target, precisely because of the nature of their power.

  Still, every time he remembered that sensation, Aedran could only feel revulsion. Feeling it again made his blood boil. He wanted to stand up and kill whoever was in front of him.

  At least he knew Lyara hadn’t died.

  Idiot. Why do you even care about an apprentice you’ve known for barely two days?

  “Definitely brain damage,” he thought.

  He remained in that lethargic state for a few more minutes, until he felt something wet on his face. It wasn’t blood. He opened his eyes on reflex—and for the first time, he could react.

  Was I just asleep? was his first thought.

  He turned his head and saw the hunter enthusiastically licking his face.

  “Get off!” he growled, pushing it away.

  He sat up slowly. Beside him, Elryn fell backward. She had been curled up next to him. Aedran stared at her in confusion, recalling that the st time he’d seen her, she’d been at the bar.

  She tried to get up.

  “What are you doing here?” Aedran asked.

  Elryn looked up at him, confused.

  “Marreck… he… he…” she tried to say, but her voice broke.

  Aedran frowned, irritated. The sensation of entropy magic still burned inside him. And seeing her there—so pathetic, so frightened and miserable—just like he had been back then—

  He swallowed a growl and, without thinking, grabbed her by the colr of her uniform.

  Elryn screamed as her feet left the ground. She tried to pry his hand away, but his grip was so tight that he could feel his fingers crushing the buttons beneath them.

  Aedran was furious… and confused. He didn’t understand where this rage was coming from.

  He pulled her closer to his face.

  “Why don’t you talk already?” he demanded.

  Elryn was shaking. Her expression was about to shatter; her eyes filled with tears.

  “Marreck found you… and asked me to help you…”

  “And where were you during the chase?” Aedran roared. “You could’ve helped with something!”

  He lifted her even higher. Elryn panicked when she no longer felt the ground beneath her feet.

  Aoi came running in, armed by the shouting. When she saw the scene, she rushed toward them.

  “Aedran-sama! What do you think you’re doing?” she cried, trying to pull him away.

  “I… I notified the guard to… to…” Elryn stammered.

  Aedran shook her.

  “SO THEY’D ALERT THE OUTER DISTRICTS!” she shouted, breaking down into tears. “I thought it was the best way to help…”

  Aedran’s eyes widened, as if he had only just realized what he was doing. He released his grip. Elryn colpsed to the floor, sobbing in terror. Aoi immediately knelt beside her, asking if she was all right.

  Aedran stared at his own hands, disoriented. His breathing was ragged. He looked back and forth between them and Elryn, guilt flooding his chest. He didn’t understand why he had reacted like that. He wasn’t even sure what had gone through his mind.

  He walked toward the exit of the house. Before leaving, he turned his head. He saw Aoi trying to calm the girl. He also saw a man and his wife—the homeowners—watching him in fear, gripping a broom as if it were a weapon.

  Aedran clicked his tongue in irritation.

  “I need to go after the entropy mage…”

  The thought unraveled halfway through. Everything went bck. He colpsed face-first onto the floor and lost consciousness once again.

  Aedran opened his eyes intermittently. He remembered things, but he wasn’t sure whether what he saw was real. He saw Lyara and Kaeldric arguing beside him; he had the distinct impression that they cked the decency to avoid fighting in front of someone who was half-dead.

  He blinked. He was alone, in a hospital room.

  He blinked again. This time, a nurse was changing the sheets with excessive care, as if she feared even the slightest touch might break him.

  Aedran couldn’t stop thinking about Elryn’s face—sobbing, terrified. He desperately wished it had all been a dream.

  “Shit… it’s always the same,” he shouted to himself. “Why do I always do this?”

  His thoughts devoured him, flooding his mind with useless questions he couldn’t answer right now. He could only think as the darkness closed in around him again. Elryn’s face returned over and over, blending with the memory of another face—so simir in that shattered expression that it became unbearable.

  Finally, he opened his eyes fully.

  He breathed slowly, letting air fill his lungs once more. His nose felt weak and sore, but at least the air no longer forced its way through fluid.

  “At st, you’re awake,” said a voice beside him.

  For a moment, Aedran expected to see Lyara. Instead, his expression hardened with concern and discomfort when he saw Ptea sitting by the window, calmly reading a book.

  “How did you sleep?”

  She tilted her head; her caramel-colored skin glowed in the sunlight pouring through the windows. Aedran squinted and lowered his head with a weary sigh.

  “How are they?” Aedran asked.

  “Your division? To hell,” Ptea replied bluntly. “I have to say, when the Lord suggested giving you a division, I told him he was an idiot. My father agreed with me. But this time you outdid yourself—two days, and you fell into the same hole as always.”

  “How are they?” Aedran corrected. Ptea raised an eyebrow.

  “Thaelen took a direct hit from entropy magic. He’ll lose part of his hearing for a while, but he’s still operational. Aoi is on edge, and Lyara only suffered a few scrapes—she was lucky the mage held back instead of killing her.” She paused, relieved no one had died, though her tone remained stern.

  “And Elryn?”

  “Well, as expected… terrified. She’s locked herself in her room and refuses to speak to anyone. Lyara goes every day to try to cheer her up. And by the way, the Valbourgs are furious. You’re lucky the father is traveling, or—”

  “I don’t care,” Aedran interrupted, sinking back into the bed. “I told them it was stupid.”

  “How’s your head?”

  “I got smmed into a wall. What do you think?”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Ptea hissed.

  “He didn’t attack me with entropy directly. He only used it through his seals to scramble the mind,” Aedran replied irritably.

  “Entropy affects weak or fractured minds disproportionately,” Ptea insisted, deliberately pressing the issue, refusing to let him sink further into self-loathing. “Even after the spell is no longer active, it leaves a mark on the brain. It doesn’t release anything that wasn’t already there—but it worsens it. It’s like a drug, except it has only negative effects.”

  “My mind isn’t broken! I’m just an idiot who attacked one of his own apprentices,” Aedran snapped, shutting down.

  Ptea didn’t argue. She exhaled slowly.

  “Did you use the armor?” she asked. Aedran shook his head. “You know what happens to bastards in Gramorg, don’t you?”

  Aedran sat up abruptly, eyeing her warily as he shifted back on the bed. Ptea stood and approached him step by step.

  “What do you want, Ptea?”

  “The magical anti-terrorism division exists for two reasons,” she said, her voice adopting that grandiose eastern cadence. “To project control and security—for the people and for the Celestials. My father is too much of an idiot to see it. Mostly because he hates you even more than I do.” She continued calmly. “And to test technocamelium against wizards—to use it as leverage for the unification of the five nations, including Gramorg.”

  “Why are you so obsessed with the Gramorguians and Camelium?” Aedran asked nervously. Somehow, this woman always managed to strike a nerve.

  “The Gramorguians are the strongest humans now that the sentinels are gone. Only they can match other races—but their numbers are limited, and the Crimson Blessing only affects fifty percent of them.” She pressed her lips together; she clearly didn’t like it either. “The world always revolves around one person per era. It used to be Wayne. Before him, Lodtrack and Veronica. Who knows who comes next—but right now, it revolves around you.”

  “And why do you want me involved so badly?” Aedran shot back. “I was perfectly comfortable before.”

  Ptea let out an irritating little ugh.

  “Comfortable in your own misery? Please. You’re nothing more than a pathetic alcoholic who happens to be strong—but barely more than a failed attempt at being human.” She spoke with genuine contempt, locking eyes with Aedran on every sylble, pushing him further and further. “At first, the division was meant to test whether you were capable of leading on your own. If not, we’d hand you over to the Gramorguians. In the Lord’s words: no matter how strong you are alone, you’re useless if you can’t even command a division. Better to trade you for their favor.”

  A chill ran down Aedran’s spine. Being handed over to the Gramorguians—after what they had done to his parents—was a death sentence, preceded by agonizing torture and cursecraft.

  Before he could respond, Ptea continued, stopping beside the bed. Strange ornaments adorned her fingers, like golden cws. She slowly dragged them along Aedran’s neck, up to his chin.

  “But I decided to keep you in the guard. You’re dead weight, but you can use the armor and test whether it works,” Ptea expined, her gaze colder now—calcuting. “I know how you are, so if you don’t use it soon, we’ll hand you over.”

  “Why don’t you just do it already, if you hate me so much, bitch?” Aedran growled, exhausted by her games.

  Ptea smiled, irritated, and scratched Aedran’s chin with her golden cw. A drop of blood slid slowly down his neck.

  “I don’t want the Gramorguians in exchange for handing them a bastard. With their pride, it would set a terrible precedent: they’d believe they can have whatever they want just for being a little strong,” she said coolly. “I need to get them by their decision—offer them power so great only an idiot would refuse it. Along with that, of course, there’s the threat posed by the Dunari, the Drynari, and all the damned races of the continent.”

  “Techno-Camelium… if they manage to stabilize it and have the Gramorguians, they’d have an army on par with—” Aedran deduced, staring angrily at the sheets, feeling like a test subject. “So what now? You’ll just let me go back to the division?”

  “After what happened? By the White Child, no. Not even the Lord is that irresponsible. You’ve already proven you can’t do this on your own.” She grabbed the Gramorguian’s face, squeezing it as if he were a child. “I’ll supervise you, for two reasons. One: humanity can’t stand alone. If we want to counter the other races, we must stand united—and I must convince my father, at all costs, that you’re worth it. If he cooperates, the other four will follow, and sooner or ter, the Gramorguians will as well. And two—” she smiled cruelly, “—I can’t think of anything more entertaining than having you by the balls, my dear Aedran.”

  The guard’s residence. All newly graduated recruits were required to spend their first and second years of service there, to strengthen their sense of responsibility and ensure the proper execution of their duties. Lyara, for her part, had never slept there—not only because she lived close to headquarters, but because her parents would never have allowed it.

  She didn’t mind. At times, being picked up by a gryphon was actually fun. Besides, she could sleep in her soft bed instead of on the bricks they dared to call beds in the dormitories. Still, every now and then she stayed in the common quarters—gossiping with her friends or bothering Kael, even forcing makeup on him against his will.

  She rode the newly installed elevator. A middle-aged man operated it, pulling a pulley by hand to raise it to the desired level. Lyara wondered if there wasn’t some way to automate it; relying on a job like that felt unnecessary to her. She stepped out onto one of the balconies, about fifteen meters above the ground. All the buildings at guard headquarters were absurdly tall.

  She carried a bit of food she had asked Mirel to prepare, hoping Elryn wouldn’t mind reheated meals. When she entered the building, she found it packed with novice guards and students rushing about in high spirits—jumping between bunks, trying to flirt with fellow recruits, or simply fooling around with water balloons. Lyara sighed with nostalgia and kept walking.

  She reached the floor’s reception desk, where a pair of apprentices were working briskly. Both looked up at her.

  “Again?” the girl asked, grabbing a book and a pen and handing them to Lyara. “You must really like her. She’s a freak. No bourgeois girl would ever do something like this for someone like her.”

  She snickered. Lyara swallowed the insult and merely smiled. Both apprentices rolled their eyes and let her pass.

  Lyara walked down the corridors, ignoring the lingering stares. One young man broke into a run and tried to lift her skirt; without thinking, Lyara stuck out her foot, sending him sprawling to the floor before continuing on with a faintly mocking smile.

  She passed by Kael’s room. He wasn’t there, but farther down the hall there was a mirror. She stepped inside for a moment and looked at herself. Mentally, she was fine; the entropy magic had barely affected her. Physically, though, she had fallen face-first onto the pavement—her face was covered in bandages over the scrapes, and her hair was a complete mess. She had barely slept since the incident.

  She knew what people said about Aedran, but she still found it hard to believe that he had truly tried to hurt Elryn.

  Lyara stopped in front of the door and knocked softly. From the other side, she heard a startled whimper.

  “Elryn, sweetheart… may I come in?” she asked cautiously.

  There was no answer for several seconds.

  “No… please go away. I don’t want to talk… to… to…” She didn’t finish the sentence.

  Lyara pressed her lips together. From what she had learned, Elryn hadn’t eaten in the three days since the incident.

  She was about to leave when she remembered something Ptea had once told her:

  You can’t expect everything to be resolved by the kindness of the world. If you want something to happen, make it happen.

  It was a worn-out phrase, but it was true. Lyara took a deep breath and raised her fist, hesitating. She couldn’t bring herself to knock again. She remained there, motionless, then let out a small groan and turned away, lost in thought.

  That was when Kael appeared unexpectedly down the corridor. His bck hair was damp, a towel draped around his neck.

  “Lyara! What are you doing here?” he asked with a smile—until he noticed the door. “Oh… Elryn?”

  “You know her?”

  “She was in the css ahead of ours.”

  “Two years ago? How do you know her?”

  “We spent a lot of time together,” Kael admitted. “Remember how, in our final year, we had to help a lower-grade student? She helped me.”

  “What was she like?” Lyara asked, turning slightly toward him.

  “She was… well, not very talkative,” Kael said after a sigh, “but she was optimistic. She had a clear vision of what she wanted to achieve in the guard. She didn’t have many friends, but she said she didn’t care—that she’d only keep those who shared her vision. I tried to be her friend… but I don’t think she ever saw me that way.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Kael looked at the door with pity.

  “When the… accident happened, she stopped talking to everyone. She locked herself in her room and only accepted food when her stomach couldn’t take it anymore. She never told me what was wrong, so there was nothing I could do except leave her alone.”

  Lyara nodded. She wanted to reproach him for leaving Elryn by herself, but she knew it wasn’t his responsibility. Besides, Elryn didn’t make it easy.

  “I wish she could go back to how she was before,” Kael continued. “I don’t know what the guard—or Captain Kaeldric—will decide, but at the very least, they should let her go back home.”

  Kael gnced at his watch, muttered under his breath, and hurried off. Lyara remained standing in front of the door again. Always alone. Facing everything on her own.

  The thought was unbearable. But if that was what Elryn wanted… did Lyara have the right to interfere?

  Then she thought of Aedran. A shiver ran down her spine. Another person alone. Without support. Marked by a near-death experience. The guard wouldn’t turn a blind eye if this continued.

  “They would get rid of her,” her father had said.

  Unlike Kael, it had been Lyara who had insisted that Elryn stay. She couldn’t simply turn her back now. She knew what happened to people whose minds were broken at too young an age. Aedran had lived through the Red Night at seventeen—only three years younger than Elryn was now.

  She sighed, grasped the doorknob, and opened the door.

  “I won’t leave her alone,” she told herself.

  End of Chapter 10.

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