The first rule of an assassin is simple: don't get caught. A caught assassin is a dead one. There are no exceptions. Either the enemy kills you, or your own people finish the job.
That's why my escape plan took years to prepare — two and a half, to be exact. I spent every spare moment studying the magical structure of the barrier woven around the confines of our monastery-school, searching for the smallest weakness. If such a weakness existed at all. Perhaps the wall was flawless; perhaps I simply wasn't skilled enough yet. And honestly… who in their right mind would teach sacramental secrets to a not-yet-initiated trainee and risk exposing a centuries-old organization?
Our High Monk, Gadros, certainly wasn't the type to take such risks. He was only the face of the sect, responsible for our training and distribution after the ritual. The true leaders operated far beyond these stone walls — a circle of influential aristocrats and officials conspiring against the royal house. Ironic, really. They weren't blind at all.
My training time was running out. Each day pressed heavier on me, tightening around my ribs like an iron belt. Endless drills with weapons offered a brief distraction — but only a brief one. The empty expressions of my sparring partners reminded me in every cell of my body what awaited us all soon.
I couldn't wait any longer. It was now or never.
I knew what failure meant: immediate, excruciating death before the eyes of my peers. But dragging things out had become pointless. No miracle happened. I couldn't break through the wall. I was out of options.
Well — almost.
There was one path left: the portal artifact in the High Monk's office. It activated only by reading the owner's aura. Two days ago I'd tried — unsuccessfully — to copy his aura imprint using my bracelet. I had no clue what the artifact truly was or what it could do, but there had been a passage in an ancient folio suggesting that certain hereditary relics could absorb foreign magic upon direct contact.
Not a word about aura-scanning — but desperation makes optimists of us all.
When I passed Gadros in the corridor that day, I "accidentally" dropped a stack of books, staggered, grabbed his arm, and pressed my bracelet against his bare skin.For a heartbeat, the metal warmed beneath my fingers.
Did it work? No idea. But hope is stubborn.
Tonight — at midnight — the governing circle would celebrate the sect's anniversary. Gadros was expected to attend, leaving his office unguarded.Perfect timing. If I could break in, activate the portal, and jump… well, somewhere… that would already be better than staying here.
Thinking about what would happen if I got caught wouldn't help. One problem at a time.
The wall clock struck ten — two divisions left until the operation.
The long spiral staircase creaked under my feet as I climbed toward the High Monk's office. My breath was shallow by the time I reached the top. Only a simple task remained: pick the lock, find the artifact, activate the portal.Easy on paper.
In practice, it took three-quarters of a division just to pick the lock — I nearly dropped the pick twice because my fingers were shaking. Another two-quarters vanished while I groped around in the dark for the artifact. I wasn't blind yet, unlike the initiated assassins with their sharpened remaining senses — and the pitch-black office was the worst possible place to be sighted.
And then, finally, I found it.
My incredible streak of luck ended the moment I closed my fingers around the artifact.
A lantern flared to life, blinding me.Gadros's booming voice filled the room:
"Student Oro, for breaking and entering, and for theft, you are sentenced to one hundred lashes and the branding of a thief upon the back of your hand. For attempting escape, you are sentenced to death."
I bowed my head in submission and fell to my knees. Between the miserable life of an assassin and a quick death, I preferred the latter. No regrets. The chance of escape had always been tiny — and I had tried. That was enough.
Gadros's voice cut through my thoughts again.
"In any other circumstance, I would carry out the sentence immediately. But you are fortunate today, Student Oro. Fate — through our organization — grants you one more chance to redeem yourself. After fulfilling one crucial assignment, you will be allowed to undergo the initiation ritual."
His words made no sense.
I lifted my head slowly, searching his piercing gaze. (And why wasn't he blinded by the lantern? Another question without an answer. Typical.)
"Why me, Teacher?"
Gadros's reply was even stranger.
"Because you are a girl."
I repeated the word dumbly, my mind refusing to process it.
"A… girl?"
"Yes. A girl. Our next mission requires an assassin trained specifically as a female candidate. A completely unprecedented case. And you, Student Oro, are the only female trainee graduating from our walls this year."
Gadros's answer still echoed in my skull when I forced out:
"But… you do have female assassins."
A loud, humorless laugh answered me.
"They are all blind, Oro — and you know that well. As I said, this is an unprecedented case. You're extraordinarily lucky. You'll get off with only twenty lashes and three days in solitary confinement. We cannot afford to bring you to a half-dead state now. The success of our operation is at stake."
His voice hardened.
"You must be in perfect condition, without exhaustion or bruises, by the time you arrive at the High Academy of Magic."
I almost choked on air.
High Academy of Magic?Did he just say—
"I… have magic?"
"You should."
"And if I don't?"
"We'll find out upon your official enrollment. If you don't—well, you've lost nothing."
Right. Nothing.Except maybe my life. A minor detail.
But before I could formulate anything more coherent than internal screaming, Gadros added:
"You may leave."
I bowed stiffly.
Leaving his office, legs shaking not from fear anymore but from sheer disbelief, I caught something unusual: he didn't look at me again.He genuinely didn't care.
The corridor felt colder than usual.
So… I survived starvation, beatings, solitary confinement, years of training, a failed escape — only to end up being sent to a school?
Fantastic.
And apparently, my task was to attend the High Academy of Magic as… a girl.
My real gender — a detail ignored all these years — suddenly mattered. They had always referred to us in the masculine form. No one cared who was what — the elixir they fed us erased desire along with memories and identity. It never worked on me, but no one noticed… or cared to notice.
I had been Oro for so long that the word "girl" felt foreign.
It didn't matter. I wasn't going there as Oro anyway.
The thought made my stomach twist.
If they were sending me into the High Academy, I would need a new name. A proper one. A noble one.
Something generic, forgettable, safely aristocratic.
Leslie Farrell would do. A fallen house from the borderlands. Enough to explain my existence. Enough not to draw attention.
As I walked back to my cell for the night, reality finally settled in:
Three months until the ritual. Three months until the end.
Unless I escaped before they blinded me…Unless I used this assignment.
My heart beat faster — not with fear this time.
This was it. The chance Seim never got.
I wasn't going to waste it.