Chapter 82
Written by Bayzo Albion
"Are you, by any chance, from another world?" she asked suddenly, squinting at me with newfound scrutiny.
A chill raced across my skin, my chest tightening as if I'd been exposed, my secrets laid bare.
*Why am I so scared?* I wondered. *I'm the admin of this world, after all.*
"I... remember fragments," I managed, forcing the words out. "Hazy images, echoes of an old life. But it's all blurred."
"Magic sometimes grants memory a second life," she replied evenly. "The soul recalls what the mind has long forgotten. You're not alone in that—lucky... and unlucky all at once."
*Convenient excuse,* I thought with a sigh of relief. But her knowing glance suggested she saw through me. She just chose silence. For now.
Rising to her full height, she delivered the truth without preamble:
"So, Balthazar, even if you train your whole life, you'll remain a weak mage. Your body—it's frail. No escaping that fact."
"Then what? Isn't there some potion, some cure to grant me strength?"
"No cure exists. Your only path is to master flattery, ingratiation, seduction of the powerful. *That's* your true magic."
"Ha... Teacher, I didn't know you had a sense of humor."
"I'm dead serious," she snapped, and in the next instant, another icy chunk struck my head—harder this time, the cold shock radiating through my skull. "Learn to make others feel warmer, more advantaged with you around than without."
"So, be a bootlicker?"
"Be *smart*. Empty flattery is bootlicking. Back it with action, and it's a tool. Want power? First, let others taste it in themselves. Make them crave your side of the battlefield."
She narrowed her eyes again, a sly smile ghosting her lips:
"Let's start now. Charm me for one minute. Succeed, and I'll share new knowledge. Fail, and it's twenty push-ups."
"I'm just a kid."
"All the more intriguing," Mirin said. "The world won't wait for you to grow up. Neither will I."
"I'll start simple," I replied. "With truth. I'm weak. I'll mess up plenty. But I won't waste your time."
I raised my hand, summoning the droplet. It coalesced at my fingertips, cool and obedient.
"This is 'water,'" I whispered. "And this is 'close.'" I inched my palm nearer to her—not invasively, just enough to bridge the space.
"And this is 'hold,'" I added, focusing intently.
The droplet held steady.
"Fancy words don't suit me," I continued, holding her gaze. "But I have three things going for me. One: I learn fast from my bruises. Two: I act even when terrified. Three: I know how to say thanks. If you teach me, your name will echo wherever I go—even if that's just to the doorstep."
I tilted my palm, catching her reflection in the droplet—a tiny, rounded mirror framing her image.
"You said 'hold the gaze.' I'm holding. You said 'don't force the mana.' I'm not. You said 'charm for a minute.' I don't know what hooks you, but I know what won't: hollow praise. So here I am—small, stubborn, and useful. I won't promise strength. But I promise value."
The droplet quivered; I murmured "still," and it settled.
"And one more thing..." I flashed a sidelong grin. "I won't mix up 'water' and 'yoda' again. Scout's honor. Though if needed, I can memorize 'iodine' or 'yogurt' too—just don't give up on me."
I fell silent, maintaining the pause—eyes locked, droplet intact.
"Enough," she said at last, her voice even, but with a subtle lilt at the end, like a hidden note of approval. "You win. Congratulations."
*You know, Teacher... you're truly beautiful. Sometimes it feels like I'm teetering on the edge—like some divine force inside me is surging, ready to hurl me out of childhood, force me to mature, just so I can say: be my wife. But I won't. Because I know this place isn't just testing me—it's trying to turn me into a beast, then destroy me.*
*And you... you're like a mother to me now, so you must hide your beauty. Or I'll lose my mind.*
Gathering my resolve, I invoked my power. With a subtle shift of will, I veiled my own eyes, shrouding her face from my sight. Not to forget... but because I wasn't ready to perish in this exquisite, deadly paradise.
Silence stretched between us, thick and charged. But in the depths of her gaze, I caught a faint tremor—an spark of surprise. Perhaps, for the first time, she saw me not as a mere child, but as a being capable of choice—even if that choice meant fleeing from a beauty that could unravel my sanity.
– – –
I continued my studies, day after day blending into a serene routine, as if my life had settled into a predictable, unremarkable path. But fate has a way of shattering illusions in an instant, like a bolt of lightning cleaving a cloudless sky.
It was a pitch-black night, the kind where the world feels alive with malice. Street lamps outside swayed erratically in the gusting wind, casting wild, dancing shadows across the walls that twisted like tormented spirits. Drafts whistled through the cracks in the windows, carrying whispers that sounded like dying curses from unseen throats. Sleep eluded me; an insidious anxiety gnawed at my insides, relentless as a mouse burrowing into a sack of grain, leaving me hollow and restless.
Suddenly, the door burst open with a violent crash, and my mother stormed in. Without a word, she seized me like a rag doll and dragged me into the corridor. The floorboards thudded rhythmically under my heels, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, her hands trembling uncontrollably—yet her strides never faltered.
"Your brother has taken the throne. And his first decree… is to have you removed. Not because you threaten him, but because you are weak — and your weakness stains his name. He fears that as long as you live, people will whisper, question his lineage, doubt his strength. I tried to stop him… begged him… but nothing changed. From here on, you must continue alone."
We raced through shadowy archways, down narrow staircases, past doors where others slumbered unaware. Somewhere below, metal clanged sharply, sending vibrations rippling through the stone like the palace itself shuddering in dread. My mind reeled, thoughts tangling in a chaotic web. Everything was happening too fast—my eyes could barely track the flickering shadows, and my heart struggled to comprehend the betrayal unfolding around me.
After what felt like an eternity compressed into minutes, she slowed abruptly. We had reached the edge of a foreboding forest. The trees loomed like silent sentinels, their branches clawing at a sky darker than charred coal. The wind carried scents from the depths: damp earth mingled with something unfamiliar, a sickly sweet allure laced with peril that made my skin prickle.
Gently, she set me down on the ground. Tears glistened in her eyes—not from weakness, but from the raw agony of a choice she knew would haunt her forever. From beneath her cloak, she produced a glowing white bracelet. The metal was cool and smooth to the touch, etched with a faint, pulsating vein of light along its rim, like a living heartbeat.
"This is your shield," she said, slipping it onto my wrist. "It will conceal you for a time: dampening your familial mark, masking your scent from trackers, distorting your voice even in the dreams of those who hunt through the ether. Do not remove it. Under no circumstances."
She cupped my face in her hands, her touch firm yet tender, imprinting her love into my skin.
"And above all, trust no one. Not even yourself. Those who pursue us are masters of deception—they can mimic our voices, weave false memories into your mind like sparrows scattering pebbles into a nest."
She pressed a kiss to my forehead, her lips lingering for a heartbeat, and managed a faint, bittersweet smile.
"Go now, and don't look back."
From the thicket of bushes, dark silhouettes emerged—ominous figures closing in. My mother whirled to face them, stepping forward with unyielding resolve. The air around her seemed to contract, tightening like fabric pierced by a needle, charged with an unseen power.
I glanced at the bracelet. It pulsed gently, as if breathing in sync with my racing heart. Within it, I sensed... something alive. A presence, perhaps, watchful and enigmatic, monitoring my every breath.
"Forgive me... and farewell. I pray you survive, my son," her voice echoed in my ears, fading into the encroaching darkness like a distant echo.
A thousand questions burned in my throat: Where should I go? Whom could I seek? Why me? But she was already vanishing into the mist, dissolving like a phantom that had never truly been. And just like that, I was utterly alone.
The darkness thickened around me, but the bracelet's glow sharpened, carving a fragile halo that kept the terror from swallowing me whole. I stepped into the forest. Leaves whispered like living tongues, twigs snapped under my feet with echoes so sharp it felt as if the woods were marching beside me.
Hours blurred. Branches clawed at my clothes, roots twisted to trip me, and every gust of wind felt like a hidden pursuer brushing past. I was just a child—small, exhausted, barely holding myself together. My legs throbbed, my eyelids drooped, and my mind drifted between fear and numbness.
Pressing on became impossible. I searched desperately for shelter—anything to hide me from predators, rain, or whatever hunted in this place.
Then I saw it: an ancient tree towering like a silent giant. Near its base, tucked beneath a curtain of leaves, lay a small hollow—just high enough to challenge me, just concealed enough to save me.
Scraping my hands and knees, I climbed and squeezed inside. The cavity fit me perfectly: dry, warm with the scent of wood and moss, blissfully silent. No wind. No footsteps. No voices.
Curled tight, knees to chest, I glanced once more at the heavy, stone-like sky. The bracelet glowed softly on my wrist—steady, watchful. Protecting me… or simply waiting. Waiting for me to sleep and reveal whatever fate it carried.
A sudden clarity cut through my fear: this wasn't an ending. It was a beginning.
And with that thought, I finally surrendered to sleep—no tears, only the quiet sense that this slumber would be either my last peace… or the first step into an unimaginable journey.