I woke late.
The sun was already high when I opened my eyes, the light filtering through the thin curtains of the room. The space around me was empty – the other boys had left hours ago, apparently. Empty bunks, folded blankets, heavy silence.
Saturday. No classes.
I sat on the bed, legs dangling, staring at the worn wooden floor. The room smelled of wax and other people's sweat.
'I have no plans', I thought. 'I have no friends. I have nothing.'
I dressed slowly. Dark tunic, boots, the iron sword leaning against the wall – heavy, clumsy, an extension of an arm that still didn't know how to use it.
---
The dining hall was full.
Long tables, wooden benches, the noise of plates and conversations. A hundred students, perhaps more. They talked, laughed, shared bread and cheese.
No one called me.
No one looked.
Sara was sitting near the window, with Ariny and other students I didn't know. Her sweet red hair shone in the morning light. I saw her glance my way, hesitate for a second – her eyes met mine, then looked away.
'She's ashamed', I realized. 'Ashamed to associate with the defeated chosen one.'
Ariny didn't even lift her eyes from her plate.
I looked for Ana. She was in a corner, alone – as always. Her dark golden hair fell over her shoulders, the burnt tips still visible. Anorys's mark wasn't glowing now, but I knew it was there, hidden beneath her tunic.
I approached.
She raised her head. Her brown eyes met mine. I saw discomfort settle in – the slight recoil of her body, the hand that gripped her fork tighter.
Before I could open my mouth, she stood up.
She stood up and walked away. She didn't run. Didn't hurry. She just moved away, with cold dignity, as if my presence was an unpleasant smell not worth enduring.
I stared at the empty seat.
Revulsion doesn't need words. It shows itself.
---
I ate dry bread and drank water, alone, at an empty table at the back of the room.
The bread tasted like ash. The water tasted like nothing.
---
The training yard was empty.
Most students had gone to the village – Derys was a half-hour walk away, and on Saturdays the market filled with merchants, hot food, smiling faces. I had no money to spend. No company to take.
I drew my sword.
The movements were clumsy. The vertical cut – too slow. The thrust – my wrist trembled. The guard – the blade's weight always pulled to the wrong side.
I tried to imitate what I'd seen others do. Daniel Daniarólis, in the duel. The older students, in morning drills.
I failed.
Sweat ran down my forehead. My arm burned. The sword grew heavier with every minute.
A weapons master – I didn't know him, a thin man with a grey beard – passed by the yard. He stopped. Watched me for a few seconds.
His eyes ran over my stance, my wrist, the tremor of the blade.
Then he walked away without a word.
No one teaches me. No one helps me.
---
"Ethan?"
The voice came from the stone arch leading to the cloister. I recognized it. Renan, the scholarship student from Elasér.
"Renan."
He approached, carrying a stack of books. His round glasses threatened to fall off his nose.
"I thought you'd be in the village."
"I don't have any money."
"Ah." He nodded, as if he understood. "Neither do I. That's why I'm at the library."
"The library?"
"Studying. Scholarship students have to keep good grades, otherwise they lose their spot."
I looked at the books. Worn leather, yellowed pages.
"Do you know anything about the chosen ones' system?"
"Some. Why?"
"I lost my paper. The Gods' Screen. I can't see my status."
Renan frowned.
"The system isn't a paper, Ethan. The paper is just... a reflection. The writing is engraved on your soul. If you could get another dose of Dessus-rarir, you could read it again."
"Where can I get that?"
"In the library. In the potions section." He lowered his voice. "Or in Derys's black market. But that's dangerous. And expensive."
"How expensive?"
"I don't know. I've never bought any."
I stored the information.
"Thanks, Renan."
"You're welcome." He hesitated. "Ethan... people talk about you."
"I know."
"Don't listen to them. They don't understand that power doesn't come overnight."
"Daniel understood. He humiliated me in three moves."
"Daniel is an idiot."
I smiled. It was the first smile in days.
---
The library was an old building, dark stone, with high windows that let light in at strange angles. The silence inside was heavy – the silence of old books, dusty scrolls, secrets kept for centuries.
The librarian was an old woman, with deep-set eyes and knotted hands. She wore grey robes and a necklace of black stones.
"The potions section," she said, not letting me finish, "is restricted. Only third-year students or those with a professor's authorization."
"How do I get authorization?"
"You study. You show merit. Come back in a year, perhaps."
"I can't wait a year."
"Then you can't enter."
Her gaze was hard, merciless.
I left the library empty-handed.
---
The corridor was dark. Torches on the walls crackled. The sound of my footsteps echoed on the stone.
That's when I saw him.
Hair half gold, half blood. It shone even in the half-light. A handsome, angular face, eyes that seemed to measure the world without ever committing.
A little girl with curly hair held his hand.
"You're Macano's chosen one," he said. It wasn't a question.
"I am. And you?"
"Zirinos. Squire."
His eyes ran over my sword, my stance, my sweat-stained tunic.
"You need training."
"No one teaches me."
He smiled. The smile was beautiful, but there was something in it – a coldness, a calculation – that made me shiver. I couldn't identify what it was. Perhaps the way the eyes didn't follow the smile.
"Maybe someday, if you become interesting," he said.
The girl tugged his hand.
"Zirinos, I'm hungry."
"We're going, little one."
And they walked away. His hair gleamed for an instant, then disappeared around the curve of the corridor.
'That man is dangerous', I thought. 'I don't know how, but he is.'
---
The room was dark when I returned.
The other boys hadn't come back yet. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
I thought about Ana. The way she walked away without a word. As if I were a stain on the wall, something not even worth ignoring – just avoiding.
I thought about Sara. The hesitation, the glance that met mine and then fled.
I thought about Ariny. The indifference.
'No one helps me. No one wants to help.'
'Zirinos... Zirinos is different. He didn't avoid me. He spoke to me.'
'But there's something about him. Something that won't let me rest.'
The candle on the windowsill flickered. The flame wavered.
I picked up the sword. The iron was cold.
'I need to become strong. Even if it's on my own. Even if no one helps me.'
I blew out the candle.
The room went dark.
Outside, the moon shone over the academy's rooftops.