Morning came far too quickly.
I woke to the soft rustle of pages turning—Seraphina already studying at her desk, hair braided loosely over one shoulder, posture straight and dignified even when she was half-asleep. A perfect princess. Meanwhile, my hair looked like it had tried to escape my skull during the night and almost succeeded.
The written exams were today. Wonderful.
I dragged myself out of bed, Jerry wrapped snugly around my wrist like a sentient bracelet, complaining with every movement.
"Your breathing is too loud."
"You don't breathe."
"Exactly. So be quieter."
I ignored him, washed my face, and mentally prayed to whichever remaining gods still tolerated me. Then I headed to the exam hall.
Four subjects.
Alchemy.
Language Arts.
History.
Noble Etiquette.
I wasn't sure who designed this curriculum, but I hoped they stubbed their toe every morning.
The exam hall was enormous, sunlight spilling through tall windows, illuminating rows of desks spaced evenly apart. Students filtered in one by one—nobles in crisp uniforms, commoners in simpler attire, knights with weapons strapped cleanly to their backs. Everyone looked anxious, which made me feel slightly better about my own impending doom.
I took my seat, placed my quill down, and tried to keep my heartbeat from rattling the table.
The instructor stood at the front. "Begin."
Alchemy was first.
I stared at the first question.
Define the purpose of a transmutation catalyst and list two common examples.
I blinked.
Jerry groaned.
"You can't just make up equipment again, Mavis."
"I am not."
"'Liquid Spark-Stone' does not exist."
"It sounds like it should."
"That's not how alchemy works."
"Then what is a catalyst?"
"HOW DO YOU NOT—" He hissed, exasperated. "Fine. A catalyst is—actually, you know what? I'm not telling you. You'll just misuse the information and blow something up."
"Jerry."
"No."
I narrowed my eyes at the page. "So… if I write something confidently, they'll assume I'm right?"
"Absolutely not. That is not—STOP WRITING THAT."
I scribbled down three sentences that sounded vaguely scientific—well, scientifically offensive—then moved on.
Language Arts was much easier. I breezed through it, remembering the months I spent reading at Bertha's bookstore. Literature made sense. Words made sense. Even grammar made sense, which shocked me more than anyone.
History? Child's play. The seven kingdoms practically wrote their drama into textbooks. I answered every question with confidence, even adding small details I remembered from Hel's vision—though I made sure not to mention anything that could get me dragged into another divine meeting.
And then came Noble Etiquette.
One question.
Are nobles inherently superior to commoners?
I snorted. Loudly.
Someone turned around in horror.
Mentally, I screamed NO, circled YES, and moved on with the resigned acceptance of someone who understood hypocrisy was a core requirement for survival.
After finishing, I handed in my test and followed the instructor to the waiting room—small, warm, chairs pressed along the walls. Students lingered in nervous silence, fidgeting, tapping quills, whispering prayers.
I sat.
Jerry immediately started up again.
"You should've cheated off me."
"You didn't know anything either."
"I know plenty!"
"You literally told me Liquid Spark-Stone sounded real."
"…Well, it could be."
I rolled my eyes. "Why are you like this?"
"Because you refused my help."
"I refused your nonsense."
He let out a dramatic gasp as if physically wounded. "I am an ancient serpent with knowledge predating—"
I didn't hear the rest.
Because suddenly—
My head throbbed.
My stomach twisted.
A cold shiver ran down the back of my neck.
Jerry's mouth opened to continue talking, and—
Black fog poured out.
Dark, wispy, curling smoke.
My left eye twitched violently, a sharp pulse striking the center of my skull. Instinctively, I grabbed my temple, nails digging into my skin.
"Jerry," I whispered, "did you just—lie to me?"
He froze.
Completely.
"…Maybe."
"You did."
"…No."
More fog.
I jerked back in my chair, heart racing.
My breath caught.
Because I shouldn't know what this was.
Shouldn't understand it.
Shouldn't recognize something I had never seen before.
But I did.
Deep inside me—something ancient, something not entirely my own—clicked into place. A memory that wasn't a memory, knowledge that wasn't learned, a whisper of a whisper of a god's voice—
When truth breaks, the eye will see the crack.
Odin's voice?
Hel's?
I couldn't be sure.
But I knew.
Absolutely, undeniably knew.
That black smoke spilling from Jerry's mouth—
It meant he was lying.
I stared, breath trembling. "Every time someone lies… that fog appears."
Jerry stared back, eyes widening.
"…You can see it already?"
"What do you mean already?"
"Mavis." His voice dropped low. "That's Odin's Eye. It sees truth. It sees lies. It sees the fractures in words."
The room suddenly felt too small.
My heartbeat loud.
My breath uneven.
My vision doubled for a moment before snapping back with cold precision.
"I didn't—Jerry, I didn't activate anything. It just… happened."
He coiled tighter around my wrist, hesitating, "The blessing is waking."
My stomach flipped.
"Is… that bad?"
"It's not necessarily bad." He hesitated. "Blessings adapt to danger. They react to protect you. It might happen more."
My throat went dry.
Great. Wonderful. Amazing.
A magical lie detector in a school full of nobles who lied as easily as breathing. What could go wrong.
Jerry shifted nervously.
"…Anyway," he said too quickly, "you should've cheated off me."
Fog spilled from his mouth again.
"Jerry."
"FINE. Maybe I don't know alchemy."
More fog.
"Jerry."
"…Okay, I know a LITTLE."
Fog.
"JERRY."
He sagged, defeated. "…I don't know anything."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Unbelievable."
"I'm a serpent of the SEA, not a potion brewer!"
His tail flicked dramatically. I sighed and leaned back in my chair.
The fog still lingered faintly in my peripheral vision—like a reminder that the world was now a little more complicated.
A little more dangerous.
A little more… mine to see.
Before I could spiral deeper, the office door creaked open.
The instructor stepped out, holding a stack of graded papers.
"Mavis Van Buqeat?"
My heart leapt into my throat.
Jerry whispered, "If you fail, I'm leaving you for a smarter summoner."
"Try it," I muttered. "I'll toss you into the ocean."
"…Fair."
"Mavis Van Buqeat," the instructor repeated.
I stood.
The room felt too quiet. Students stared. Jerry went still.
The instructor handed me a sealed envelope.
Inside were my results.
My future.
My ranking.
My place in the Academy.
My hands shook as I tore it open—
And just as my eyes caught the first line, something else pulsed in my vision—
Black fog seeping from another student's mouth across the room as he whispered to his friend—
"I definitely passed everything."
My stomach tightened.
I didn't need to hear the truth to know it.
I could see it now.
I could see everything.