Fire.
A dim room illuminated by a small chimney.
One lonely black-haired girl was looking at the mirror, her eyes shining with blinding determination.
She lived alone in an opulent mansion.
Once it was full of retainers and decorations.
Now it was hollow. All walls were bare and devoid of warmth.
'It's time,' she thought to herself.
For as long as she could remember, she had trained and prepared for this moment.
Her first nightmare.
Why?
So that she could gain the needed strength to avenge her family.
To avenge herself.
To destroy the Spell that ruined her childhood.
'Even if the Gods were alive, they could not stop me.
I will not bend to the ghouls.
I will not bend to the Spell.'
Steeling her resolve, she turned around and went towards the police station.
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]
***
Fire.
It was night, yet the world was painted in the flickering orange of a tall bonfire.
Like every night after dinner, the salt-heavy air of the beach became their training ground.
Nephis moved in sync with her father, their shadows stretching long and distorted across the sand.
It was beautiful.
They sparred until their breaths came in ragged, rhythmic gasps.
Their blades didn't just clash; they conversed. Steel met steel in a symphony.
Her father's style was a flowing battle art.
It was created to shift its shape to meet any threat, and Nephis fought to keep up, her muscles screaming in protest.
High above in the villa, her mother watched from the window. Her smile had a heavenly glow that could be seen everywhere.
She was an anchor for them both.
Her father lowered his blade. His face, usually a mask of focused intensity during their katas, softened into a weary but proud smile.
He reached out, his hand heavy and warm as he ruffled her hair, a sensation she hadn't realized she'd been starving for.
"That's enough for tonight, Nephis," he said, his voice deep and grounding.
"Your form is good, you've earned your rest.
Come. Your grandmother has surely already prepared the tea.
We shouldn't keep her waiting."
Nephis nodded, wiping the sweat from her brow, and began following her Father.
For some reason, she kept gripping the hilt of her sword.
As they stepped through the heavy oak door, the scent of old parchment enveloped them. It was exactly as it should have been.
"There you are," a voice called out from the kitchen.
Her grandmother was a silhouette of dignity and respect.
"The water just reached a boil. Sit, Nephis. You've pushed yourself hard today."
Nephis moved toward the table.
Her gaze travelled the room, the steam, the frayed edge of the tablecloth, the way the light glinted off the silver spoons—anything but their faces.
"Nephis? Is something wrong?" her father asked, pulling out a chair for her.
His hand reached for her shoulder. Without realizing, their eyes locked, and a sudden, sharp jolt of nausea twisted in her gut.
She did not understand this emotion.
It wasn't fear.
It was an acidic disgust.
As if their presence here, smiling and safe, was a profound insult to an image she couldn't quite remember.
'Why?'
She was happy here. The happiest she'd been in a long time.
"I'm just tired," she said, her voice sounding hollow even to her own ears.
"Drink," her mother urged softly. "It will settle your spirit."
***
Fire.
Days had passed since she started feeling the strange sensation.
Thankfully, she realized it was becoming dimmer the longer they spent time together.
It was her turn to watch the lighthouse.
Keeping the fire alive was her family's only duty.
Here, atop the island, nothing could reach her.
She liked to spend her time watching the horizon and feeling the fire's warmth on her back.
She heard faint steps climbing the tower. By the sound of them, it seemed her Mother was next.
"How was your shift, darling?"
"It was good, Mom, same as usual."
Laura had been glad to see her daughter finally carrying the flame.
But nowadays she could feel that something was wrong with little Neph.
"What is it? What troubles you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about…"
"Oh, please, I've seen you grow, do not pretend like I don't understand you."
Nephis sighed; her mother was not easy to fool.
Still, her lips curved slightly. It felt refreshing to have someone who understood her.
"I don't know, I keep feeling like there's something important I need to do.
An important goal I must conquer."
"Mmm, well of course you do, you have the most important mission of all.
You were born to keep the fire alive.
The fire must burn forever.
It must remain immortal throughout the ages."
Nephis eyes widened.
A painful headache, hands grasping the rails tightly.
Memories of a life she never lived and yet were hers nonetheless.
They faded quickly, but something remained.
One name etched itself on her brain.
Names have always been a powerful thing, and so it refused to let go.
'Immortal Flame'
"Thank you, mother,
you always know how to help me when I'm in trouble."
Laura felt delighted that her daughter seemed to understand the importance of the lighthouse.
"And I will continue doing it, for as long as I can."
***
Fire.
'Nothing here is real.
Not the flames, not the house, not the memories.
Not even my family here is real.
Only one thing remains real in this paradise.
Hate.
Hate at the very idea of being satisfied with a lie for so long.'
***
Fire.
Step, step, another step.
Nephis was climbing the lighthouse.
Step.
'Should I just remain?'
Her hand twitched at the thought.
'I'd like to berate myself, to say that even thinking like this was ridiculous.
But can someone really blame me? What is wrong with living in bliss?'
Nephis had been looking for a way out for days already; unfortunately, she managed to find none.
So today she was going to try something radical.
The longer she remained, the harder she had to force herself to continue searching.
And now she almost faltered.
Time was running out.
Step, step, another step.
There was a burning flame.
It was tall and strong, found in the center of the lighthouse.
For years, it had been the guiding light to both travelers of the sea and to her.
"Not real." She reminded herself.
"One must light itself on fire to rip its blessing." Her grandma used to say.
Nephis planned to do just that.
It was only when she was about to cover herself in oil and take the last steps that, suddenly, a letter came to her mind.
It was a strange letter; there was no return address on it, and she didn't know who sent it.
The only thing she knew was its content.
____
Dear Nephis,
What is the essence of combat?
Simple, It's Murder.
If you can, do not light yourself on fire.
Break the illusion instead.
____
'It made no sense back then…
Now it makes too much sense.
Who sent it? Can I even trust it?
The essence of combat... Murder is the right answer.
You either kill the opponent or get killed by the opponent.
That is what my Father taught me.'
Instead of drowning in the flames, Nephis decided to drown the fire in water.
Reality began shaking.
The horizon she liked to often see began tearing itself open.
A door at her back was opening. There were no more traces of her father. Now it was a hunched, slender, black figure with no face.
Its head kept moving as if broken, unable to register anything but the desire to kill the one who drowned the fire.
The creature moved like a puppet with its strings tangled.
It lunged at Nephis, its limbs elongated with a sickening crack, its obsidian-sharp fingers raking the air where her throat had been a millisecond before.
She had no aspect, only the weight of the practice sword in her hand and the muscle memory of thousands of repetitions.
Nephis stepped into the creature's guard. Distance was a luxury she couldn't afford against a reach like his.
She drove the pommel of her sword into what should have been the creature's solar plexus.
The monster swung a heavy, elongated arm in a horizontal arc.
Nephis dropped low, the wind of the strike whistling over her head.
She didn't just dodge; she used the momentum to drive her blade into the creature's knee.
Crack. The hunched figure buckled.
Nephis did not waste the opportunity.
She scrambled up its back, wrapping her left arm around its neck in a cold, professional chokehold, while her right hand brought the sword around.
She wasn't looking for an "honorable" duel. She was looking for the kill.
With a guttural cry, she drove the blade through the creature's heart and twisted.
It looked similar to humans, so she had hoped to guess its location correctly.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Cavern-Arachnodream Minion]
[You have received a Memory: Practice Sword.]
As the monster began to dissolve into black smoke, the lighthouse didn't just disappear. It shattered like glass.
Nephis found herself in a dark cave, nestled in a slimy cocoon of robust silk.
All around her, people were sleeping in similar enclosures with their eyes open and happy smiles on their empty faces.
They looked like her mother. Hollowed.
Above them was a spider so revolting and abhorrent that calling it the worst thing she had ever seen was a compliment.
It was feeding on their dreams.
Stirring awake because of her.
She summoned her new memory, a simple sword identical to the one she used during her practices inside the dream.
She hastened herself to break free and kill the creature before it fully regained its senses.
It was an Awakened Terror.
[Wake up, Nephis! Your nightmare is over.]
[Prepare for appraisal…]
***
Nephis stepped out of the car and stood before the heavy Academy gates.
It was colossal, a city within a city.
There was another car as well.
A young, average-height boy got out of it.
He was pale-skinned with medium-length black hair. The shadows seemed to deepen slightly around him. His eyes were so deep they looked like an endless abyss.
The boy was staring at her.
"What are you looking at?"
'Oh, right. Grey eyes, white hair...
I might tint them back to black eventually.'
A sad smile.
"Oh, I'm sorry, that stoic face of yours reminded me of someone I used to know."
He responded while caressing the back of his head.
Nephis didn't understand facial expressions or emotions well, but she had seen that smile many times. It was the smile her grandmother had when reminiscing about good times.
"I see."
Their conversation was cut short by the sounds of opening gates.
They entered the compound together.
Nephis in front and the boy following with confident steps behind her at a comfortable, calculated distance.
'Dangerous.'