The moral flicker came during "Harmonic Sparkling," an exercise that involved making one's light pulse in rhythm with a metronome.
Most children produced erratic flickers that bore only coincidental relationship to the beat. Leo managed a steady, if slightly delayed, pulse with his green finger. Chloe's rose glow surged and faded like a nervous heartbeat.
Astraea, of course, produced three silver sparkles that appeared and vanished in perfect synchronization with the metronome's click. Not a nanosecond early or late.
Teacher Milly noticed. She always noticed.
But today, her noticing felt different. Not the cheerful, surface-level observation of a teacher tracking progress. Something deeper. More contemplative.
During juice break, Milly sat beside Astraea on a rainbow mat. The usual performing energy was absent from her voice when she spoke. "Your control is remarkable, you know."
"Thank you," Astraea said, maintaining her polite-child tone.
"I mean it." Milly's eyes held that teacher's keenness, but softened with something like wonder. "It's not just good for your age. It's… perfect. Your sparkles aren't trying. They just are. Do you understand the difference?"
Astraea kept her expression curious. I understand that channeling photons requires less conscious effort than your pancreas producing insulin.
"I've been reading the old texts," Milly continued, her voice dropping. "The ones the Association is translating from before the Famine. They talk about masters whose magic was 'effortless as breath.' Who achieved 'harmony' with the mana itself, rather than forcing it." She looked at Astraea, and her gaze was uncomfortably perceptive. "I think you might have that, Astraea. A real harmony. Even if it's just sparkles right now."
The words landed with surprising weight. Milly wasn't just praising a child. She was articulating a truth she couldn't possibly understand, using the limited vocabulary of her rediscovered scholarship.
Harmony. The term was closer to reality than Milly knew. Dragon magic wasn't about force. It was about resonance. About being so aligned with cosmic principles that manipulation became mere suggestion.
"I just do what feels natural," Astraea said, offering the most honest answer within her deception.
"That's exactly it!" Milly's face lit with genuine excitement. "You trust your instinct. That's a gift." She leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't let the tiers and tests define you. I've seen the Association's categories. They're… boxes. And you…" She paused, searching for words. "You don't fit in boxes."
Astraea felt the first genuine pang of guilt since beginning this charade.
The System was a cheerful idiot. The Association was bureaucracy. But Milly's kindness was authentic. Her perception, while limited by human understanding, was pointing directly at the truth. And she was offering not just encouragement, but protection—warning against the very system she represented.
Deceiving the System felt like a game. Deceiving the Association felt like strategy. But deceiving Milly, who saw her with such genuine, if misguided, care—that felt like a betrayal.
The tension manifested as a faint, cold knot in Astraea's stomach, unrelated to hunger or growth.
The "Partner Sparkle" exercise made it worse. Milly partnered with her. "Let's see if my old-lady glow can play nice with your perfect sparkles," she joked.
Milly's power was a soft, general luminescence—peach-colored, warm, soothing. Perfect for calming anxious children. The Association likely classified her as low-tier Luminous with a "therapeutic adjunct" specialization.
They focused on the space between their palms. Milly's gentle glow swelled. Astraea allowed three sparkles to manifest within it.
And something happened.
Milly's glow, in contact with Astraea's minutely controlled energy field, suddenly stabilized. The natural flicker of human mana use smoothed into perfect steadiness. The peach light deepened, saturated, filling their corner of the room with a profound, calming radiance.
Across the room, Chloe—who had been on the verge of tears over a tangled sparkle—suddenly took a deep, shuddering breath and relaxed.
Milly gasped. The glow faltered for a second before she regained control. "Oh… oh my." She looked from their joined light to Astraea's face, her eyes wide. "What was that?"
"I didn't do anything," Astraea said, which was technically true. Her presence had simply acted as a stabilizer—a harmonic anchor for Milly's untrained power.
"But you did." Milly's voice was awed. "I've never held it that steady. That was… it felt like peace." She looked at Astraea with an expression that was almost reverence. "You're a little catalyst, aren't you?"
Catalyst. The word hung between them, heavy with unintended truth.
On the drive home, Astraea was silent. The moral knot had tightened. Milly was a good person—not just professionally kind, but fundamentally good in a way that transcended era or culture. And Astraea's entire presence in her life was a carefully constructed lie.
That night, she measured her height.
Growth: 0.29 cm cumulative.
The progress was relentless. The thaw could not be stopped for guilt, no matter how justified.
But perhaps, she thought, it could be balanced. Not with truth—that was impossible. But with something.
She could give back. Not revelation, but support. She could be the "catalyst" Milly had named her, in small, hidden ways. Stabilizing the teacher's glow on difficult days. Subtly helping the other children find their control. Using her ancient knowledge to nurture, even from behind the mask.
It wouldn't balance the scales. But it would be an offering. A gesture of respect from one being who cared for growth to another.
[System notification!]
[Hidden quest unlocked: 'The teacher's aid']
[Objective: Provide subtle, undetected support to Instructor Milly on three (3) separate occasions]
[Reward: 'Secret mentor' Title, Improved relationship with 'Milly']
Astraea accepted the quest. Not for the reward, but for the principle.
Later, as she prepared for bed, she caught her reflection. The girl in the mirror looked the same. But Astraea felt the changes within—not just physical growth, but this new, uncomfortable moral complexity.
I am deceiving you, Teacher Milly. But I see your kindness. I recognize your goodness. And I am not ungrateful.
Even if the candle believes it is lighting a child's way, and not a dragon's long path home, I will ensure your light burns a little steadier for having met me.
It is the least I can do. And the most I dare.