After returning to the Academy, Ronan went directly in search of Ms. Amara.
Evening had already settled across the campus. The last traces of sunlight clung to the stone pathways in long amber streaks, while lanterns along the academy roads flickered to life one by one. Instead of heading toward the instructor halls, Ronan made his way deeper into the residential quarter reserved for senior mentors.
This was his first time coming to Amara's residence. He stopped before the courtyard gate and drew in a slow breath. For some reason, entering this place felt stranger than walking into a battlefield. The iron gate stood slightly open. Beyond it, soft lantern light spilt across a quiet courtyard. Ronan stepped through carefully, his boots crunching against fine gravel.
Then he froze. His eyes widened. He had expected cold stone. Discipline. Something severe and practical. Instead, the courtyard bloomed with life.
Several garden beds lined the edges of the residence. Flowers spread in layered patches of colour—deep crimson blossoms, pale moon-white petals, clusters of blue flowers that glimmered faintly beneath evening light. A separate patch contained spirit herbs, their leaves carrying subtle traces of Aether that pulsed like slow breathing.
The air smelled faintly sweet. Fresh soil. Moist leaves. Herbal fragrance drifting on the cool evening breeze. Ronan stepped closer almost unconsciously. He crouched beside one flower bed, studying the delicate petals. Tiny drops of water still clung to them, reflecting the lantern glow.
His brows slowly rose. "Ma'am doesn't seem like someone who would love flowers," he murmured beneath his breath. His mind immediately supplied images of Amara's expressionless stare, her sharp commands, the merciless way she pushed students until their bodies nearly failed.
Flowers did not fit her. After a moment, he nodded to himself. Probably arranged by the academy.
A cold voice drifted from behind him. "Why can't I love flowers?"
Ronan nearly jolted out of his skin. His shoulders stiffened as he turned too quickly.
Amara sat beneath the veranda roof, one leg crossed over the other, a porcelain teacup resting between her fingers. Lantern light painted soft gold along the edge of her face, though her gaze remained as cool as ever. She had apparently been watching him the entire time.
Ronan straightened immediately. "Good evening, Ma'am." He awkwardly cleared his throat. "Yes—yes, of course. Of course, you can love flowers."
Amara said nothing. She simply lifted the cup to her lips and took another slow sip. The silence stretched.
Ronan approached the veranda carefully, feeling strangely aware of every step he took. The faint scent of tea drifted through the air.
Without looking at him, Amara asked, "How is your injury?"
Ronan leaned slightly against one of the veranda pillars. "Almost healed."
"Alden told me you fought a Hallowed Spirit."
Ronan scratched lightly at the back of his neck. "Something like that."
Amara lowered the teacup. A faint smirk touched her lips. "So," she said calmly, "how do you want to be punished?"
Ronan's expression immediately stiffened. That smirk. He knew it too well. That was never a harmless expression. That was the face she made before increasing training difficulty beyond human tolerance. A quiet chill ran down his spine. Am I about to go through another round of hell?
Amara watched his expression change. The corner of her mouth curved slightly further. Then she asked, "So what brings you here?"
Ronan shook away his thoughts and stepped closer to the edge of the veranda. Ronan's other hand shifted slightly as a crystalline core appeared. Purple light pulsed softly inside it.
Amara placed her teacup down. Amara's eyes widened. "A Rank Four Tailed Fox Core?"
Ronan lifted one hand. A storage ring shimmered faintly. Above his palm, bluish-white flame blossomed into existence. The cold instantly changed the surrounding air. The nearby lantern flame trembled.
Amara rose from her chair immediately. Her attention locked onto the bluish-white flame. "Where did you get this flame?"
Ronan explained everything. The mine. The encounter. The hidden chamber. The strange discovery. He spoke steadily while Amara listened without interruption, though her expression grew increasingly grave. When he finished, Ronan smirked faintly. "Nobody knows where this flame came from," he said. "Except you."
Amara exhaled quietly. "If the Viridion Clan finds out," she said, "they will blame you first." Her gaze sharpened. "Do you understand the risk?" The courtyard suddenly felt colder. "You are returning the flame to Alaric," she said. "Before this becomes something larger than you can control."
Ronan's jaw tightened. The flame disappeared back into separate storage rings. "Why?"
Amara folded her arms. "Because this is dangerous."
Ronan's eyes darkened slightly. Then a crooked grin slowly spread across his face. "As long as you don't tell them," he said, "they don't need to know."
Amara stared at him. Then she pointed directly at his chest. "You." Her voice sharpened. "You reckless brat."
Ronan instinctively took a small step backwards. Still smiling. "Ma'am," he said carefully, "are you helping me or not?"
Amara hesitated. A subtle pause.
Ronan caught it immediately. His expression shifted. His shoulders relaxed slightly as he gave her the most shameless pleading look he could manage. "Please." No response. He leaned slightly forward. "Please, Ma'am."
Amara narrowed her eyes. "Stop making that face," she said flatly. "It doesn't suit you."
Ronan's smile widened. "So you're helping me."
Amara sighed deeply. Long and tired. "Fine."
Ronan's expression brightened instantly. "Thank you, Ma'am." He bowed without hesitation.
Amara stepped down from the veranda and disappeared briefly inside the residence. When she returned, she carried a small jade bottle. She handed it toward him. "Drink this first."
Ronan accepted it carefully with both hands. The jade felt cool against his palms.
"A soul-healing potion," she said. "Heal your injuries completely. Then we'll discuss merging flames."
Ronan looked down at the bottle. Soft medicinal fragrance drifted through the stopper.
Amara's voice lowered slightly. "Your soul damage is nearly healed. But nearly is not enough." She looked directly into his eyes. "If you force this while unstable, the damage may become permanent."
Ronan nodded quietly. "Yes." His fingers tightened around the bottle. Then he bowed once more. "I'll take my leave, Ma'am."
Amara returned to her chair. She gave a small nod.
Ronan turned and left the courtyard slowly. Behind him, lantern light flickered gently among flowers that somehow felt far less surprising now.
For the next two days, Ronan split his time between the dormitory and the library. The hours passed quietly. He rested. Read. Recovered. The soul pain gradually faded until the pressure inside his mind no longer lingered like a hidden wound. The moment he realised the damage had fully healed, he went straight to Amara's class. The lesson dragged endlessly.
Ronan enjoyed practical flame control and Aether manipulation, but theory sessions always felt like punishment disguised as education. Today felt especially slow. The moment practice ended, he immediately approached Amara.
She glanced at him once. Without speaking, she pressed her fingers lightly against his wrist. Aether moved. A brief inspection. After several moments, she nodded. "Healed." Then she turned. "Let's go."
They headed toward Mindward Tower. The familiar building rose quietly beneath pale afternoon light. Inside, the scent of old paper and preserved ink lingered heavily in the air.
Arnold sat at his usual place. An ancient book rested across his lap. He looked up as they entered. Amara bowed respectfully. "Good afternoon, sir."
Ronan followed. "Good afternoon, sir."
Arnold smiled faintly. "What brings the two of you here?"
Amara answered directly."Ronan wants the Flame Sutra technique."
Arnold looked toward Ronan. His gaze lingered briefly. Then he nodded. "Very well." He gestured lazily. "Go ahead."
Both bowed again before heading deeper inside. The room they entered lit automatically as the door closed. Soft runes illuminated the walls. The chamber was sparse. A round table. Several chairs. A few jade bottles. One ancient-looking book. No windows. Only narrow air vents along the upper walls. The marble floor beneath Ronan's boots carried faint traces of embedded magic. A subtle vibration hummed through the stone.
Amara stood near the centre. "If you're done staring," she said, "come here."
Ronan stepped forward. A massive magic circle was carved into the floor. Layered rings. Intricate runes. Three smaller circles positioned along the outer edge. One above. Two below.
Amara gestured toward the centre. "Sit."
Ronan lowered himself cross-legged into the middle. The stone felt cool beneath him.
Amara looked down at him. "Do you know what this is?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Good. Then I won't waste time explaining basics." She paced slowly around the circle. "Our academy possesses the Three Flame Sutra." Her footsteps echoed lightly. "Beyond your innate flame, you may bind two additional flames."
Ronan glanced upward. "Can more be added later?"
"Yes." She stopped briefly. "But that requires a different Flame Sutra entirely." She continued walking. "The Flamecrest Family hosts competitions every few years." Ronan listened carefully. "They occasionally offer access to a Four Flame Sutra." His eyes lifted slightly. Before he could ask another question, Amara cut him off. "Focus." Her voice sharpened. "We begin now."
Ronan straightened immediately.
Amara formed several hand signs. A faint orange glow spread through the carved array. The runes lit one after another. Warm light climbed through the circles like flowing fire.
Ronan closed his eyes. His breathing slowed. He focused entirely on the technique flowing through the formation.
Amara stepped aside and sat quietly nearby. Time passed. Silence settled over the chamber. Then the door opened softly. Arnold entered. Amara rose immediately. "What brings you here, sir?"
"Nothing serious," Arnold replied. He walked inside slowly. "Just observing."
He sat near the table and gestured casually. "Sit."
Amara obeyed.
Arnold studied Ronan for a moment. Then he moved a chessboard between them. "Care for a game?"
Amara gave a faint nod. Pieces clicked softly against wood. Several turns passed.
Arnold moved a piece without looking up. "What do you think of the boy?"
Amara's eyes shifted toward Ronan. "He learns quickly." A pause. "Good instincts in combat. Sharp judgment." She moved a chess piece. "His temperament is stable." Another pause. "His Aether reserves remain shallow." Arnold listened quietly. Amara's gaze lowered slightly. "But the seal…" Her fingers stopped above the board. "I still don't understand it."
Arnold glanced toward her. "Gideon claims Ronan placed it on himself." Her brows tightened slightly. "I asked Ronan directly." She moved another piece. "He says he was afraid." Her expression grew faintly distant. "And every time I ask, he gives the same answer."
Arnold smiled faintly. Satisfied. Before either could continue. Aether rippled violently through the chamber. Both looked up immediately. Energy surged from the formation.
Ronan opened his eyes abruptly. He looked down at his hands. Confusion crossed his face.
Arnold and Amara approached. "How do you feel?" Amara asked.
Ronan flexed his fingers slowly. "I thought this would be harder."
Arnold chuckled softly. "Show us."
Ronan closed his eyes again. The magic circle formed beneath him once more. One of the smaller flame nodes ignited. A crimson flame appeared inside.
Amara nodded. "Good."
Arnold narrowed his eyes. For a fraction of a second, Black lightning flickered between several runes. Tiny. Unstable. Gone immediately. His gaze sharpened. He blinked once. Nothing remained. The formation looked normal. His thoughts turned inward, "The array is stable. No overload. Then what did I see?"
Ronan raised both hands. A Tailed Fox Core rested in one palm. The bluish-white Ice Flame hovered above the other. "Can I use these now?"
Amara exhaled quietly. "If you choose them, you may remain bound to them for a long time." Her expression hardened. "The Ice Flame is difficult to evolve."
Ronan's eyes brightened. Curiosity burned there. "I know."
Amara watched him. Then nodded once. "Start with the Tailed Fox Core."
Ronan lowered one palm upward across his lap. The other hovered above. The core floated between them. He focused. Slowly. Purple threads of flame emerged. Thin streams spiralled around his wrists and forearms before drifting inward. The heat was not violent. It felt strangely soft. Warm. The flame entered through his chest. The magic circle reacted.
One of the empty flame nodes slowly filled with purple light. Time lost meaning. Hours blurred. Those days. Ronan remained seated. Absorbing. Refining. Integrating. The flame gradually became part of him.
Amara and Arnold checked on him occasionally. Sometimes speaking. Sometimes silent. Eventually, the process finished. Ronan stepped outside Mindward Tower. The sunlight felt strangely bright. He stretched slowly. Bones cracked. Muscles loosened. A deep hunger immediately struck him like a physical blow. He inhaled sharply. "Damn," he muttered. His stomach growled loudly enough to echo faintly down the stone path. He grinned. "Time to eat."