Ms. Amara gave a small nod of approval but then smirked slightly, her tone shifting. "So... you were fighting Hollowed Spirits now, were you?"
Ronan froze. "W-We had no choice! We were trapped in a cave—"
"An Adept Tier mage, taking on Doomscale Lizards and Hollowed Spirits," Ms. Amara said with mock disbelief, stepping forward slowly. "That takes courage. Maybe too much courage. Maybe... I should test it. Come here."
"Wait, no!" Ronan yelped, darting behind Samantha like a startled squirrel. "We were just trying to survive!"
Ms. Amara cracked her knuckles. "Let me help you survive some more."
She lunged, and Ronan bolted across the deck, laughter bubbling despite the lingering heaviness. Samantha watched the chaotic chase, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.
"What would it feel like... to have a mother?" she wondered, eyes lifting to the sky. "Would she care for us just because we're her children... not for politics, not for legacy? Just... love?"
She sighed, letting the wind carry the thought away.
Then Ronan suddenly skidded to a halt. "Okay, okay! I want to tell you both something serious. Please—listen."
Ms. Amara paused mid-stride, brow raised. She exchanged a glance with Samantha, who nodded slowly. The laughter faded. The night grew still again.
Ronan's expression was solemn now, lit only by starlight. "This is important."
Under the quiet embrace of the night sky, Ronan sat cross-legged on the flying boat. The occasional brush of a cold breeze kissed his skin, tousling strands of his dark hair. His eyes were half-closed, lost in thought, yet there was a softness in his expression as he raised his hands gently into the air, as if inviting someone to hold them.
Samantha and Ms. Amara, seated on either side of him, exchanged a silent glance. Without a word, Samantha reached for his left hand. Ms. Amara took his right hand. As Ronan closed his eyes, both women mirrored him. A deep stillness fell.
When their eyes opened, the world around them had changed.
They were no longer on the flying boat. Instead, they stood on a vast, circular stone platform surrounded by an endless sea of water. The horizon stretched forever in every direction. In the centre of the platform, a massive Willow tree towered upward, its green leaves shimmering in the sunlight that now bathed them in warmth. The sun hovered directly above, bright but not blinding, wrapping them in comfort. A gentle wind stirred the sea, creating soft waves that lapped rhythmically at the stone edge.
Smaller stone platforms floated nearby, connected by narrow stone bridges like stepping-stones across this tranquil world.
Ms. Amara turned slowly, her voice barely a whisper. "Inner World..."
Ronan walked forward without a word, his steps purposeful as he approached one of the smaller platforms. Samantha followed closely, her gaze wide with wonder. "This is... beautiful," she breathed. Her voice trembled with awe. "This is a beautiful Inner World, Ronan."
Ronan let out a small, soft laugh, glancing over his shoulder. "This is a fabricated one. Not the original."
Samantha froze, eyebrows lifting in surprise. She turned slowly, taking in the breathtaking view again with fresh eyes, realising that even this was only a construct. Ms. Amara narrowed her gaze. "Say what? This... is fake?"
"Hm," Ronan hummed. "I created it to guard my real inner world. A barrier, of sorts. So no one can access my memories or tamper with my emotions too easily."
He scratched the back of his head, a faint blush on his cheeks. "It's not perfect, though," he added, laughing awkwardly. "I know that."
Ms. Amara's eyes widened. "Not perfect?" she thought. "I can't even tell it's fake. If this is a facade, then what must the real world look like?"
They arrived at the smaller platform. Ronan stepped forward and extended his hand as if to grasp something invisible. In response, a doorway formed in the air—an ornate gate of silver and light, swirling water spiralling within it like a portal into the depths of the unknown.
Ronan turned to the two women, his eyes steady and calm. With a simple gesture, he beckoned them through. Samantha stepped forward first without hesitation. Ms. Amara followed.
What greeted them on the other side was beyond imagination.
The same sea, the same giant tree, and stone platforms remained, but everything was different. Night had fallen here. A silver moon hung in the sky, casting a gentle, serene glow over the waters. Moonlight shimmered across the surface, illuminating patches of white lilies floating on the sea. A soft, bluish mist rose from the lilies, yet instead of drifting upward, it flowed downward like dream-silk, curling gently atop the water.
Samantha gasped, her hand instinctively reaching for her heart.
Under the great tree, three versions of Ronan were seated, each focused on a different task. One was absorbing a core of flame, intense and radiant. Another was drawing in abandoned mana from the surroundings. The third was carefully weaving that mana into something new, like a craftsman sculpting flawed stone into a masterpiece.
Samantha's thoughts swirled. "Is he training using clones?" she wondered. And then she looked again—truly looked—and saw not futility, but intention. Purpose. Artistry.
Samantha stood silently, unable to speak. Her throat tightened with emotion. She had always known her brother was special. But this... this was something else. A hidden world filled with quiet beauty, fierce will, and gentle sorrow. A place sculpted not only by power, but by pain, hope, and dreams.
She turned to Ms. Amara, who was just as mesmerised. No words passed between them, yet they both knew:
They had just stepped into the soul of Ronan—not just the warrior, but the boy, a brother, a dreamer. And it was beautiful.
Samantha stood still, mesmerised by the beauty of the inner world that surrounded her. Though countless questions swirled in her mind, she couldn't bring herself to break the spell of wonder. For now, curiosity could wait—this world was too beautiful to question.
Behind her, tension thickened.
Ms. Amara clenched her fists, gritting her teeth. A heavy breath escaped her lungs, and with a voice laced in a mixture of anger and sorrow, she called out, "Ronan."
Ronan, startled, turned to face her. "Y-Yes, ma'am?"
Pointing toward the silver moon glowing eerily in the sky, Ms. Amara asked coldly, "Care to explain why that thing is here?"
Ronan followed her gaze, then rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward smile. "Oh, that? That's... uh, Ghost Flame."
"Ghost Flame?" Samantha murmured under her breath. "What kind of flame is that? I've never heard of it."
Without warning, Ms. Amara struck Ronan on the head with a firm fist.
"I know what that flame is! I asked why it's here!"
Nearby, Ronan's three clones burst into laughter at the sight of their original getting punished.
Ms. Amara snapped her head toward them, eyes narrowing. "Don't get too comfortable, I will beat you if you laugh."
One of the clones raised his hands in protest. "Hey! What did we do?"
"You're part of Ronan. That makes you just as guilty," she shot back. "Get ready. Once I'm done with him, you're up."
Still rubbing his head, Ronan glanced at Ms. Amara, whose aura now boiled with rage. Sensing the storm wasn't over, he quickly scurried behind Samantha, using her like a shield.
Ms. Amara's eyes burned as she addressed him again. "Do you even understand what kind of flame a Ghost Flame is?"
Her voice softened, shadowed by grief, as if pulled back into some haunting memory.
"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is?" she asked, her voice trembling with the weight of the past.
Ronan chuckled nervously. "But... it doesn't even have a ranking. How bad can it be?"
Samantha turned to him sharply. "Ronan, don't be rude."
Ms. Amara let out a long sigh. "It doesn't have a ranking, precisely because it's unquantifiable. One, it's too chaotic. We still don't fully understand it. And worst of all, over time, it consumes the user's consciousness. Slowly. Quietly."
She took a step closer. "This flame isn't something you control, Ronan."
Ronan blinked, then said casually, "But I can control it."
Ms. Amara opened her mouth to scold him, then stopped, eyes narrowing. "You... what?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I can't use every ability it has, but I can keep it in check."
She stared at him, stunned. "How? How did you manage that?"
Ronan scratched his head and offered a sheepish laugh. "Hehe... I kinda conquered those nightmares."
Her voice dropped. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
His gaze fell. "I wasn't sure it was related. I didn't want to say anything until I understood it better."
Ms. Amara sighed, shaking her head. "You are, without a doubt, the most troublesome student I've ever had. You drive me crazy."
Despite her frustration, a soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Her eyes wandered across the shimmering landscape.
"Still... this inner world is beautiful. A night world always comes with mystery. But Ronan, I'm warning you—don't use the Ghost Flame. If anyone finds out, you'll be in serious danger."
Ronan nodded. "Only Sir Valmire and Sir Arnold know. They're the reason I fabricated the world above it—to hide the original."
He gave an awkward laugh again.
Ms. Amara studied his expression and sensed he had more to say. "Is there something else?"
"Hehehe, yeah... two more things."
She groaned. "Alright, let's hear it. Can't be worse than the Ghost Flame."
Ronan grinned. "This inner world? It follows the time of the physical world."
Ms. Amara's eyes widened. "You mean—it has a day and night cycle?"
He nodded enthusiastically.
"I take back my words," she muttered.
Samantha turned to Ms. Amara. "Ma'am, isn't that something only achieved at a much later stage?"
Ms. Amara nodded. "No. After a certain Tier, we can alter the scenario of the Inner World. But it never follows the physical time automatically. Another mystery."
She glanced at Ronan, this time with a mix of awe and apprehension.