I woke before the sun.
The room was still dark. Mira slept beside me, her curly hair spread on the pillow, her breathing slow and rhythmic. I watched her for a few seconds.
'Six years old. Lost her mother. Her father is far away. But she trusts me.'
The lie was perfect. But the weight of maintaining it was beginning to tighten.
I dressed in silence. Dark tunic, boots, the sword. My hair – half gold, half blood – shone even in the dim light of the wall mirror.
My body was back. The muscles, the definition, the strength. The hunger of slavery was a distant memory.
'I am ready', I thought. 'Ready to deceive them all.'
Mira woke when I was already dressed.
"Zirinos? Is it morning already?"
"Yes. Let's eat."
"Is there cake today?"
"Maybe. Professor Lara brings cakes sometimes."
"I like Professor Lara."
"I know."
She smiled. Took my hand.
We left for the corridor.
---
SFMSI – Endomir
The classroom was full when I entered. I sat in the middle row, Mira beside me with paper and charcoal to draw. She stayed quiet when I asked. She was an obedient child.
Endomir entered when the bell rang. The thin man with grey hair, deep eyes. His voice was low, almost shy, but everyone respected him.
"Today we will talk about the limits of the body." He wrote on the board: 'Strength, Stamina, Agility.' "Your status papers show numbers. But the numbers don't tell the whole story. You may have strength ten and know how to use it better than someone with fifteen."
I looked at my hand. Strength had returned. I didn't know my numbers – I had no paper, I was not chosen – but I felt it. In my muscles, in my bones, in the way the sword no longer felt heavy.
Endomir continued:
"Knowing your limits is essential. The enemy, whether human or demon, will exploit your weaknesses. If you don't know them first, you die."
The students took notes. I listened.
'Weaknesses*, I thought. *My greatest weakness is rage. But I learned to hide it.'
At the end of class, Endomir approached a boy in the front row – the one who lost the duel. Ethan. Endomir spoke quietly to him. I didn't hear the words.
'Good teacher', I thought. 'But too soft.'
---
History and Culture – Lara Semorços
Lara entered with the tray of cakes and her radiant smile.
"Good morning, my dears! Today we're going to talk about the reconstruction of Endomyar. And, of course, there are cakes for whoever gets the questions right."
The class cheered up.
I sat in the front row, Mira beside me. She put down her paper and charcoal when she saw the cakes.
Lara spoke of the war of 7026 – the devastated lands, the kingdoms united for the first time in history. Then the peace of 7151: the end of incest as a crime, marriages between houses, the construction of the academy.
"It was during this time that the Erréndias built this school," Lara said, pride in her voice. "To prepare the future chosen ones."
She noticed I was listening attentively.
"Zirinos, do you know who the Erréndias were?"
"One of the richest houses in Endomyar. They fell fifteen years ago."
"Exactly." Her smile faltered for a moment. "Treason. King Dizius accused Count Arthur of conspiracy. He died in a duel. The peninsula passed to the Derylinis."
"History is written by the victors," I said without emotion.
Lara looked at me. Her green eyes gleamed.
"You're smarter than you look, Zirinos."
"I appear to be."
At the end of class, she offered a cake to Mira. The girl ate with enthusiasm. Lara took the chance to speak with me.
"Your hair is striking. Is it natural?"
"It is."
"Where are you from?"
"I've already answered, professor. From far away."
"What far away?"
"From a place where the sun has two colours." It wasn't a lie. The sky of Z was red and purple. "And there, warriors wear golden armour."
"Fairy tales."
"Truths."
She touched my hair. Her fingers were cold, light.
"I wouldn't mind seeing those truths someday."
"Perhaps, if the war doesn't kill us first."
Lara withdrew her hand. The smile remained, but her eyes clouded.
"You're strange, Zirinos."
"I am."
I stood up. Mira, cake in hand, followed me.
"Until tomorrow, professor."
"Until tomorrow."
I didn't look back.
---
Physical Education – Gregorius Grémul
The yard smelled of wet earth.
Gregorius stood in the centre, arms crossed, his bald head shining with sweat.
"Today, running. The hill and back. The same last three repeat."
The students dashed off. I did too.
My body responded. My legs didn't feel heavy. My chest didn't burn. I crossed the finish line in third place.
Gregorius called me aside.
"Good work, boy." His voice was rough, but his eyes didn't lie. "Where did you learn to run?"
"Running from men worse than you, professor."
He almost laughed.
"Men worse than me? Do they exist?"
"They do. They're called nobles."
Gregorius spat on the ground.
"You're one of the few who understand that. Don't ruin yourself."
He walked away. I kept the phrase.
'Don't ruin yourself. Too late.'
---
The 11 Arts of War – Mára Ferão
The covered courtyard. Weapons on the walls. The smell of sweat and steel oil.
Mára Ferão stood in the centre, legs apart, arms crossed. Her face was hard as stone.
"Today, sword training. Each of you will fight with your partner beside you."
My partner was **Daniel Daniarólis**. Third year. Experienced. Strong.
"The apprentice against the veteran," Daniel said, smiling. "It's going to hurt."
"It always hurts," I replied.
We started.
Daniel was technical. Precise strikes, impeccable posture, a studied rhythm. I was not. I fought as life had taught me – fast, dirty, without rules. A blow to the wrist to disarm him. A kick to the knee to unbalance him. A feint with my left hand to distract him.
Daniel nearly fell. His sword trembled.
"Enough!" Mára interrupted. "Draw."
Daniel looked at me with hatred.
"It wasn't a draw. He…"
"Draw." Mára's voice allowed no argument. "You have technique. He has instinct. Both of you are stubborn."
She approached me.
"You… are interesting, boy. Where did you come from?"
"From far away."
"What far away?"
"From a place where the weak die before breakfast."
Mára didn't laugh. But her eyes changed.
*She's starting to see me as a tool*, I realised. *It's dangerous. But it can be useful.*
"Train more," she said. "Instinct tires. Technique doesn't."
"Yes, professor."
At the end of class, Daniel cornered me against the wall.
"It wasn't a draw," he whispered. "I was going to win."
"You were."
"Then why…"
"Because the professor wants everyone to think I'm good. I don't know why. But she does."
Daniel looked confused. I used the moment to walk away.
'The first ally in the academy is not a student. It's a professor.'
'And it costs me nothing to pretend.'
---
Magic – Alice Marévil
Alice was the opposite of Mára. Short, plump, blue robes. Her smile was welcoming.
"Today, a light spell. Non‑chosen practice. The chosen observe."
My classmates raised their hands, trying to ignite the blue flame in their palms.
They failed.
I did not.
I concentrated on the mana. I felt it in the air, in the walls, in the ground. Like an invisible current, waiting to be used.
The light ignited in my hand. Blue‑white, bright, steady.
The others stared. Alice did too.
"Well done, Zirinos," she said, proudly. "You have natural talent. Have you studied mana before?"
I didn't think of Z. I thought of the cell. The sleepless nights, feeling the dark energy of the masked man.
"Life taught me to survive. Mana was a recent discovery."
"Recent?" She frowned. "And you can already do this?"
"Need is a good teacher."
Alice nodded, impressed.
"If you want, you can stay after class to practice more."
"Thank you, professor. But I have to take care of my ward."
"Of course. Another day, then."
Mira, who had been sitting on the floor drawing, looked up.
"Are we leaving now?"
"Now."
We left.
---
Lunch – the dining hall
Mira ate soup with enthusiasm. I ate bread and cheese.
In the dining hall, the students talked of the war, the lords, the rumours. No one sat with us.
"Zirinos?" Mira tugged my sleeve.
"Yes?"
"Will my father ever come back?"
'Ander Féris. The baron. The man who gave me freedom.' He was in Decatry? In Lunos? I didn't know.
"Ander is a warrior. He'll return when the war ends."
"What if he doesn't come back?"
"Then you have me."
She hugged me. The weight of the lie tightened in my chest.
'If she knew what I did to her mother…'
"I like you, Zirinos."
"I know."
---
The rumour in the corridor
On the way back to the room, two older students were talking.
"They say there's a strange man asking about the Contraranures in the village of Derys."
"Contraranures? That's dangerous."
"The man has red hair. Grey eyes. He looks like a boy."
I stopped. Pretended to tie my boot.
"Red?" asked the other. "Like Zirinos's hair?"
"No. Zirinos's is gold and blood. This one is just red. Blood red."
"And the eyes?"
"Grey. Light."
"How strange."
"Yes."
They walked away.
I stored the information. 'Blood‑red hair. Grey eyes. Someone looking for the Contraranures.'
I didn't know who it was. I didn't care. The Contraranures were a cult. If someone was looking for them, either they wanted to join them, or they wanted to destroy them. Neither option interested me.
For now.
---
End – the night, the room
Mira fell asleep early. The tiredness of the day and the warmth of the blanket closed her eyes.
I sat on the chair by the window. The moon shone over the inner courtyard.
I thought about the masked man. His hidden face. The beige mask with an H on the eye.
'Why did he send me to destroy Endomyar? What does he gain from it?'
I thought about the demon lords. The rumours. The war.
'Trussum is out there, they say. But no one knows what he looks like. No one knows where he is.'
'If he corrupts the chosen ones, if he kills the heroes… what is left to destroy?'
'The masked man wants me to destroy Endomyar. But Trussum wants the same.'
'Or doesn't he?'
The liar was loose. And I didn't know whether that helped me or hindered me.
I blew out the candle.
The room went dark.
Outside, the moon shone.