The walls were filled with artwork of women with horns and large white wings.
The first bringers of magic onto this world and the origin of all sin.
The Primordial Witches.
Hate for witches was especially prevalent during the dark ages due to their association with demons.
Due to the witch hunt, only a few thousand witches are alive today.
"These shelves are really pissing me off."
Neila stood in the center of the room, her small frame rigid with displeasure.
Her blue eyes swept across the shelves with cold assessment. The shelves were a disaster.
Photographs leaned at drunken angles, ornaments were clustered in nonsensical groups, a porcelain figurine of a cat sat next to what appeared to be a paperweight shaped like a frog, as if someone had simply placed objects wherever their hand happened to land.
"You all care so much for such trivial matters, how piteous."
Sarah looked up from the bed where she'd been reclining, a bag of chips materializing in her hand from wherever it was she kept such things. Her amber eyes held the lazy disinterest of a cat watching a bird through glass, mildly entertaining, but not worth getting up for.
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
She didn't wait for an answer. Her hands were already moving, already reaching for the nearest shelf, already beginning to impose order on the chaos. Her teeth ground against each other with an audible scrape.
"Coming into my room, judging how I spend my time. You don't even know me."
"You were the one that asked to become my roommate." Sarah crossed her legs as she laid back in the soft cushions of the bed, her eyes staring up at the blank white ceiling. "I ask myself the same question everyday."
"I don't like you at all." Neila's eyes narrowed as she stared at the girl in front of her, gripping onto one of the glass cups tightly. "You remind me of someone I know."
"Oh?" Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Really? Do tell."
"None of your business."
"You brought it up."
Neila set the glass cup on the shelf with more force than necessary. "Don't try to pry into it, I won't budge."
Sarah's lips curved. "I wasn't trying to pry, but merely to engage in discourse. There is a distinction."
"Is there?"
"One involves genuine curiosity. The other, from a baseless defense."
Neila turned, her blue eyes flashing. "You're lying on a bed that doesn't belong to you, eating chips messily, judging someone you just met. What does that make you?"
Sarah said flatly. "It makes my soul weary."
"If you're going to stand there and judge my shelves," she muttered, "you could at least help."
"I'm not judging your shelves. Tis you whom I pass judgement upon" Another crunch.
"You're infuriating."
"Thank you. I strive."
"I can't fucking understand half the words you're talking about."
"What are you two talking about?"
It was a high voice, the sound of someone soft and quiet but not quiet enough for Neila to not hear him.
The door creaked open.
The boy stood in the doorway.
He was small. His white hair was immaculate, his posture perfect, his hands clasped behind his back in a pose that was almost military. He wore a simple dark suit, perfectly tailored, and his smile was the most unsettling thing about him.
His eyes were blue, pale and clear, and they held none of the warmth that his smile was performing.
Sarah crossed her arms and looked towards the young boy sitting down on the desk, his body looked physically weak.
Sarah crossed her arms, her gaze shifting from the ceiling to the boy with the slow deliberation of someone who had all the time in the world. "We were discussing the essence of truth and honesty. Neila was just about to tell me all her most profoundest secrets."
Neila slightly flinched from the sound of his voice as she looked back, staring him in the eye. "I was sure I locked the door, how did the youngest Mirlo manage to sneak into our room?"
The small boy pulled out a keychain, the metal glinting in the lamplight. "I got in through the front door."
"That's not what I asked. I asked how you got past the lock."
The small boy pulled out a keychain from his pocket. It was simple, unadorned, a plain silver ring with perhaps a dozen keys of varying sizes. He held it up for her inspection.
"I got in through the front door," he repeated.
"And you wanted to come here?"
"I wanted to see the witches." His smile didn't waver. "Other than my dear older sister, I've never seen any other witch before."
"You didn't see him?" Sarah asked. Her voice was casual, almost bored, but there was something beneath it. "He has been casting his gaze upon you this whole duration. Since before you started organizing the shelf. Since before you started the petty squabble with me."
Neila's jaw tightened. "And you didn't think to mention this?"
"You seemed to be much too occupied. I didn't want to interrupt your little communion with the glassware."
"It wasn't a little communion."
"Could've fooled me." Sarah bit into a chip, the crunch deliberately loud. "You were muttering under your breath about chaos and disorder. Very much dramatic."
The boy tilted his head, that cat-like motion that made him seem both younger. "You remind me of my sister, except she cleans things to make them look nice, but you on the other hand…. This isn't even your room, the glassware isn't even yours for that matter, but you appear to be a neatfreak, a rather strange obsession with cleanliness, is it trying to compensate for something?"
Neila turned back to the boy, her patience clearly thinning. "Hey, brat." She had one hand in her pocket as she stared down at him.
"Is that how you should be addressing your superior?"
The small boy crossed his legs as a calm smile spread across his face. "You were supposedly tasked to protect me, you know? That makes you my subordinate, not my superior. The client is always higher than the hired help."
"Anyways, what do you want?"
"Father sent us a message," the boy said, his voice settling back into its earlier softness. "He thought it would be good for us to get to know each other. The witches and the family they're protecting. He believes in... what's the word? Cohesion."
"How touching. You're contradicting your previous statement."
"Was I?" The boy's smile widened, just slightly. "I was just so shocked by you staring at me that I blurted something else out. We were taught that witches are dangerous after all. Anyways, father wants to make sure you're not planning to betray us."
"And if we were?"
"Then I suppose we'd find out." The boy shrugged, a small, elegant motion.
"Hmm." Neila leaned against the wall as she let out a sigh of exhaustion, she rubbed her temples like she was about to do something draining. "You think I give a shit about you?"
The child's voice stayed eerily calm. "How discourteous of you to say such a thing, you truly have no shame for a tool."
Neila's pupils sharpened like knives as her fist clenched tighter around the glass cup. "Tsk."
Sarah's gaze flickered towards her with a mild curiosity, a slow crunch coming from her mouth as she bit into the potato chip. "Looks like he's really getting to you, my dear little human."
"Shut up, you're annoying."
The boy smiled. "I was just saying hi."
"Hey brat, I have a question about your sister."
"What is it?"
"What's up with her?"
She didn't blink. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Sarah crunched another chip. The estate settled around them with the soft creaks and groans of an old building adjusting to the evening.
Instead, he slightly tilted his head, like a cat looking up out of curiosity. "My sister?" He stopped suddenly, then he quickly exhaled. "What about her?"
Neila narrowed her eyes, gauging his very essence. "She just sits there. She's honestly weird as hell, like a human shaped doll. You sure that she's not a skinwalker?"
"Do you always speak so crudely about people you don't understand?" He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, chin resting on laced fingers. "You know, if you insult her again, I might have to start thinking you're not qualified for this job."
"You're getting defensive now." She smiled. "I thought you hated witches?"
The child's smile slightly wavered. "That's none of your concern."
"Really?" She got closer to his face, her blue eyes glowing a deep aquamarine. " "It became my concern the moment your psychopathic brother threw a knife at my face. Your family is my assignment. All of you. And if one of you is... fuckin defective." She straightened, crossing her arms. "That's something I need to know about. It's going to be my responsibility if the house somehow mysteriously burns down and she isn't able to escape."
"My sister is not defective."
"Yea she is, she's a goddamn vegetable. I can practically eat her at this point!"
The boy was silent for a long moment. His fingers, still laced together, had tightened until the knuckles were white. His smile was still there, still fixed in place, but it had become something else now.
"It's because of my-my elder brother, Adrian."
Sarah was standing up, peering through the window. "Speaking of that human, he's down there hitting one of your friends with a wooden sword."
She yanked the curtain aside, letting the gray afternoon light flood into the room. Neila crossed to the window, grateful for the distraction, and looked down at the training courtyard below.
Adrian was swinging his wooden practice sword like it was a real blade. Each strike was full of force, full of malice, the kind of attack that was meant to hurt rather than to train.
Edward stood in the center of the courtyard, his wooden sword raised in a guard position that was already crumbling. His arms were skinny.. His maroon hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His dark eyes were fixed on Adrian's blade with the desperate intensity of someone who was trying very hard not to die.
"Come on, witch!" Adrian's voice carried up through the glass, muffled but still audible. "Try harder!"
He swung again. Edward barely managed to parry, the impact jarring up his arms, making his whole body shudder. He stumbled backward. Raised his sword again. Waited for the next blow.
"What is Edward doing?" Neila asked, her voice flat. She already knew the answer. She just wanted to hear someone else say it.
The youngest boy spoke with a flippant tone, his eyes unmoving. "Elder brother has always been like this. He forces them not to use their magic so he can beat them down in a duel. He isn't the first one."
"He's going to get himself killed."
"Probably not. My elder brother is stupid, but not that stupid. Killing a Hex Academy student would cause too many problems, even for someone like my brother."
Adrian kept swinging his sword, each strike stronger than the last yet all Edward could do was barely block the attacks.
Edward lifted his sword, his arms shaking as he swung down with all the force he had yet Adrian moved to the side barely dodging the attack with a smile on his face.
"Is that all you've got? I thought Hex Academy trained soldiers."
Edward's chest heaved. "I'm not-" He ducked under another swing, the wooden blade whistling past his ear. "I'm not allowed to use magic. You said no magic."
"I said no magic because I wanted to see what you're made of. And what you're made of, apparently, is nothing. Just bones and fear and the desperate hope that someone will call this off before I break something."
"No one's going to call it off."
"Of course they're not!" Adrian shifted his ankle, swinging his sword from down below, striking Edward straight in the ribs as he flinched.
"That's not—"
"Aren't you witches supposed to be stronger than humans? What the hell happened?" Adrian kicked him in the chest, launching him straight into a wall. "You have magic and all the power in the world. You could end this fight in a second. But you won't because you're weak. Because your magic is just a crutch for people who can't survive on their own."
Hoshimi's face was blank, his violet eyes fixed on Adrian with an expression that revealed nothing, he sat on the bench right beside them. His breathing had shifted,becoming something controlled.
He picked up a wooden sword from the nearby stand. Tested its weight.
"What's he doing?" the young boy asked.
"Don't ask me, I don't know the guy."
Down in the courtyard, Hoshimi stepped into the training ring. Adrian turned to face him, his cruel smile widening.
Edward looked up from where he'd fallen, his dark eyes widening with something.
"I'll sub in, I'll be your practice dummy Adrian Mirlo."
Adrian turned, his amber eyes sweeping over Hoshimi with naked disdain. "And who are you supposed to be?"
"I don't know either."
Hoshimi's violet soul peered through his eyes, glowing like an iridescent sky.
He stared down at the wooden handle of his weapon, his hands slightly shook.
[Weird, I've never used a sword before. Then why does it feel so natural?]
He held his sword to the right, close to his chest as his eyes shifted into an aquamarine that glowed like the bright blue sea.
Hoshimi's sword glowed with an invisible energy unlike that of mana.
Adrian grabbed onto his sword with one hand and point it towards his face. "Another one wants to challenge me?"
Kira watched nervously as she twiddled her thumbs, sweat ran down her cheek.
A sudden memory of Reina flashed through Hoshimi's mind.
{Unless you have the strength of Heracles, swords are impractical, heavy and large. Something like a handgun is more effective and easier to conceal. No one would expect a witch with a gun.}
Hoshimi thrusted his sword towards Adrian as if it were an extension of his arm.
Adrian's eyes immediately widened at the speed of his repeated thrusts, barely blocking the attacks with his sword. "What the—"
"What did you say about witches again?"
"That they're-" Adrian's words were cut off by another thrust, this one nearly slipping past his guard. "That they're weak. That they rely on magic because they can't-"
Hoshimi's voice was calm, conversational, as if they were discussing the weather rather than trying to kill each other. "I can't hear you, speak up, master Adrian."
Adrian's hands shook with every strike he blocked, the raw pressure behind his thrusts forcing him to step back one pace at a time.
Each movement was fluid, precise and effective.
"Then what am I doing right now?" Hoshimi asked. "I'm not using magic. I'm not using any special abilities. I'm just holding a sword and moving it forward."
"I'm not losing."
"You're backing up. You're struggling to block. Your hands are shaking." Hoshimi's voice was still calm, still quiet, still utterly devoid of triumph. "That's losing, Adrian. That's what losing looks like."
"Shut up."
"You'd need to force me to."
Hoshimi's voice was calm and his eyes even calmer, like he was sizing up his prey with his cold blue eyes.
Adrian snarled, regaining composure, his amber eyes flashing. "You're all witches, who the hell cares!?" He lifted his sword up into the air, aiming to slam it down directly onto Hoshimi.
But Hoshimi didn't block.
He moved three steps to the left in a flash.
Hoshimi kicked his leg in the back, knocking him to the floor. Adrian winced as he stumbled back, trying to regain footing.
"You telegraph your attacks," Hoshimi said, standing over him.
"You—"
"You're a three-time regional champion. That's what the boy said. But regional championships are just tournaments. Rules don't matter in a fight."
Adrian pushed himself to his knees. "You think you're better than me?"
Hoshimi walked up to him. "I don't like fighting, let's get this over with quickly."
Kira gasped quietly, clutching her jacket. "That was-he didn't even-"
"I thought you were supposed to be a witch!" Adrian spat.
Hoshimi stared at his own hands, rough and callused. "A witch should always know the basics of close combat, no matter the situation. You're forgetting that the body is also a weapon."
"I don't want to hear your blabbering!" Adrian's brows furrowed as he immediately pounced onto him, all technique abandoned in favor of raw, desperate aggression.
"I'm just trying to teach you, sir Adrian, that's all."
Hoshimi stepped forwards and swiped upward in a rising arc. Adrian barely managed to block it, the force reverberating through his bones like a truck was pressing onto his body.
Adrian went on a counterattack, his sword coming from the side aimed towards his neck.
Hoshimi ducked under it and smashed the hilt of the wooden sword into his chest, the air knocked clean out of his lungs as he keeled over.
Neila walked down the stairs and straight towards Edward, staring him down with a stern look on her face. "You look pathetic."
She had her hands in her pockets and had no intention of helping him up.
"You don't have to tell me that." Edward grabbed onto the bench as the grass rustled beneath his feet, hoisting himself up. His face and arms were covered in bruises, from the repeated strikes.
"Why didn't you fight back?"
"What else was I supposed to do?"
"Do something, I dunno."
"He would have—"
"He would have done what? Killed you."
Edward stared at her. "Why do you care?"
"Here." Neila threw him a bag of bandages.
Edward caught the bag, wrapping himself as he rapidly coughed. "For being such a bitch, you can actually be nice sometimes."
"Don't get used to it." Neila turned her back to him, waving her hand dismissively. "Be glad I'm not beating you up for calling me a bitch."
She softly hit his shoulder with the back of her hand. "Remember when you, me and Dominic used to play together?"
Edward kept wrapping the bandages on his arms. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"We were kids. We didn't know anything about politics or families or what we were supposed to be. Dominic would cheat at cards."
"You still boss everyone around."
"Shut up. That's not the point." Neila's voice dropped, losing some of its sharpness. "The point is that something's off with him."
From the upper floor window, Sarah leaned further out, chips in her hand. "That human's good, I don't even think he's even using mana."
The youngest child spoke up in a soft tone. "I'm surprised a beginner can beat him that easily, he's a three-time regional champion, y'know?"
"The honorifics you use to label other humans hold no real meaning," Sarah said as she turned around and towards the door, as she walked through the hallways, they were empty, eerily empty.
Large paintings of beautiful women with large wings passed by her.
"This isn't very entertaining, I really need some way to regain what I lost."
From behind her, a voice came out.
"Can I help you?"
A well built man with dark blue hair and bright blue eyes.
"You're that human, Dominic Walker."
He had one hand on his chest as he bowed before her. "For someone of your caliber to remember my name, I thank your majesty. But Dominic isn't in control right now, he's napping, I'll be in control for a while."
His eyes glowed a deep and eerie blue.
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "You know who I am?"
Dominic got onto one knee and bowed beneath her feet. "How could I mistake you for anyone else? Your divine presence is unmistakable."
"Divine." Sarah tasted the word. "That's a strong claim. What makes you think I'm divine?"