-Year 7335, Ocean between Decatry Island and the Derylini Peninsula-
The sea was calm. Too calm.
Leaning against the ship's railing, I felt the weak wind on my face, carrying away the smell of salt and wet wood. The Derylini peninsula grew slowly on the horizon – a dark line that became hills, and the hills towers, and the towers the promise of a future I had not chosen.
Mira stood beside me, both arms resting on the wooden edge, her eyes wide trying to see the fish beneath the waves.
"Zirinos?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the water.
"Yes?"
"Do fish feel afraid of us?"
"Fish don't know what fear is."
"Yes, they do. Mummy used to say fish swim away when they see shadows."
I tightened my grip on the wood. Lysara. Always Lysara. The dead woman who would not be silent.
"Your mother knew many things."
"She did." Mira raised her head, her light eyes fixed on me. "You liked her, didn't you?"
"I did."
"Liar."
The word came out small, but certain. Mira did not look at me. She looked back at the water.
"You never talk about her. You only say it was a tragedy. That she died."
"It was a tragedy. And she died."
"You killed her."
My heart sped up. My hands sweated. My face remained neutral. Years of training in Z's court were not lost in an instant.
"What did you say, little one?"
"I saw." Her voice trembled. "Through the door. I saw the knife. Mummy bleeding."
The boat creaked. A seagull passed, indifferent.
I knelt to her height. I touched her chin, lifted her face. Her eyes were moist, but not yet crying.
"Your mother was suffering, Mira. Very much." My voice was sweet, almost tender. Every word carefully chosen. "I ended her suffering. It was an act of kindness."
"Kindness?"
"Kindness. Sometimes kindness hurts."
She did not understand. A six-year-old child does not understand. But her eyes changed. Fear gave way to doubt. Doubt to acceptance.
"You're not bad, Zirinos," she said, and hugged me.
I returned the embrace. Over her head, my eyes were cold.
'She saw. But she doesn't understand. If she ever understands...'
The thought remained unfinished. It didn't need to be.
---
Later, the boat approached the wharf. The other passengers – a boy with glasses, a girl with braids, a weapons master returning to the academy – moved to disembark. No one spoke to me. No one looked at my hair. No one noticed me.
It was better that way.
Mira, still in my arms, asked:
"Zirinos? Why don't people talk to you?"
"Because I have an ugly face."
"You don't. You're handsome."
"Handsome people scare others too."
She didn't understand. She didn't need to.
---
The Derys wharf was busier than last time. Carts, merchants, soldiers. People spoke of the war, the demon lord, the rumours spreading like fire through dry grass.
A functionary in blue robes approached.
"Are you a student?"
"Squire. Zirinos, in the service of Baron Ander Féris."
"Documents."
I handed over the scroll. He read, nodded, returned it.
"The others have already left. You'll have to walk up. There are carts for hire, if you want."
I paid. The cart was a plank on wheels, pulled by a tired horse. Mira sat beside me, legs swinging.
The road climbed.
The academy grew on the horizon. Dark stone towers, high walls, the golden dome of the library shining in the setting sun.
Mira slept on my lap, her curly hair spread over my tunic. The cart moved slowly, the horse panting.
I looked at the road. At the blue and red pines. At the rare flowers no one picked.
'Ethan lost a duel. Daniel Daniarólis humiliated him. In three moves.'
The servants on the boat had said it. They laughed. Called him "slave". Called him "useless".
Weak. Vulnerable. Manipulable.'
'Useful.'
---
My muscles were back.
The hunger of slavery was gone. The meals at Decatry Castle, the meat, the bread, the wine. Training with Ander. My body hardened, defined.
My hair fell over my shoulders, half yellow-gold, half blood-red. It shone in the setting sun. Women looked. Men too. Some with desire. Others with envy.
None with indifference.
'Beauty is a weapon', the masked man had thought, before throwing me into this world. 'Use it.' And I did.
Mira woke when the cart stopped.
"Have we arrived?"
"We have."
The gate guard – a grey-bearded man with tired eyes – examined my documents.
"Room seventeen. Boys' wing. The child stays with you."
"Yes."
"Don't cause trouble."
"I never have."
He laughed. A dry laugh.
"We'll see."
---
The academy corridors were empty. Torches on the walls. Dancing shadows.
Mira held my hand, her eyes wide as she took in the statues, the portraits, the high ceilings.
"Zirinos? Will you have classes?"
"I will."
"Can I come?"
"No. You stay in the room."
"I'll miss you."
"You'll read."
"I can't read."
"You'll learn."
She made a face.
"I don't like books."
"You will."
We reached the room. It was small. One bed, a table, a window overlooking the inner courtyard. I laid Mira on the bed. She grabbed my arm.
"Zirinos?"
"Yes?"
"Mummy used to say you were a hero."
"Your mother lied."
She looked at me, confused.
"But she liked you," I added, tucking her blanket. "And I like you. So sleep."
She closed her eyes.
She fell asleep in seconds.
---
I sat in the chair by the window.
Outside, the inner courtyard was empty. Moonlight drew shadows on the stone floor.
'Néris Truid is on the second floor, girls' wing. Luna Lunos too. Livia Aryster, the pale princess, probably in the same corridor.'
'I want to speak with them. I need to know them. I need to conquer them.'
'One by one.'
I stood. Adjusted my tunic. Ran my fingers through my hair.
'The game has begun.'
---
— INTERLUDE – The Knights of Ban —
Miles to the north, in the Marquisate of Lunos, three knights of Ban descended a pine-covered slope. Their hardened leather armour was stained with blood. Their swords, too.
Torvin, the eldest, wiped his blade with a rag.
"How many?" asked one of the younger men, a light-eyed boy named Kael.
"Seven. More in the cave."
"The goblins are multiplying."
"Blame the portal. This Torrus-endra has been open for weeks. No one closed it."
Torvin sheathed his sword. He looked at the valley. Smoke. Burning houses.
"Let's go."
They found the family on the road. A father, a mother, three children. The father's leg was bleeding, the mother carried the youngest in her arms.
"Help us," the man begged. "They killed the neighbours. They took the children."
"What children?"
"The ones from the farm at the bottom. We heard the screams. Then silence."
Torvin bit his lip.
"Kael. Take them to the port. We'll go to the cave."
A boy appeared among the trees.
Silver-blue hair. Light armour. A black sword with red veins in his hand – the same as Andy's, the same as the one Ethan had lost at the bottom of the sea.
"You don't need to go to the cave," the boy said, his voice calm. "I've been there. I killed them."
Torvin frowned.
"Who are you?"
"Someone passing through." The boy sheathed his sword. He looked at the family, at the knights, at the distant smoke. "The goblins are dead. The Torrus-endra is closed. But there's another open further south. You'll need more men."
"Why are you telling us this?" asked Kael.
"Because my father used to say the Ban are loyal. And I like loyal people."
The boy walked away. Disappeared among the pines. His silver-blue hair glinted for a moment, then vanished into the darkness.
Torvin looked at Kael.
"Do you know that boy?"
"No. But the sword... it's the same as Duke Decatry's."
"The duke has children."
"He has one. Alór. He's in the north, they say."
Torvin sighed.
"Let's go. The family first. The rest later."
They walked toward the port. There was still much to do.
---
— INTERLUDE – The Shepherd and the Liar —
In Delizy, a small village of shepherds in the foothills of Derylini, night fell slowly. The sheep gathered in their pens. The bronze bells tinkled in the wind.
Trussum sat at the kitchen table. The shepherd, an old man with calloused hands, served him tea.
"You've come from far away, boy?"
"Far away. Very far away."
"And you're going to the academy?"
"Perhaps. First, I want to know the land."
The shepherd spoke of the war. Of the rumours. Of the demon lords that haunted men's dreams.
"They say one of them came out of the portal. Trussum, the liar."
"Trussum?" The red-haired boy raised his cup, took a sip. "I've heard that name."
"No one knows what he looks like. No one knows what he does. Only that he lies."
Trussum smiled.
"Does he lie well?"
"Very well. They say it's his power."
"What an interesting power."
The shepherd changed the subject.
"At the academy, there are new chosen ones. The duke's daughter, Ana. Chosen of Anorys. They say she destroyed a monster all by herself."
"Impressive."
"And a boy. Chosen of Macano. But apparently he lost a duel today. They humiliated him."
"He lost?"
"Apparently he doesn't know how to use a sword."
Trussum took another sip.
"He'll learn. Everyone learns."
"You're strange, boy."
"I am." Trussum stood. "Thank you for the tea."
"Will you stay for dinner?"
"No. I have to go."
He said goodbye. Outside, the sheep slept. The bronze bells gleamed in the moonlight.
Trussum walked down the empty road.
The Trásserius flowers were kept in a pouch at his waist. Their black petals glowed in the dark.
"So easy to deceive," he murmured. "All of them."
The shadow lengthened. The demon disappeared into the night.