The Tower of the Academy
Marion walked the road to the northwest, and soon the walls of Parzipazio lay behind him. Fields stretched out on either side; farmers worked, beastfolk pulled plows under the crack of whips. Dust clung to his shoes, and the wind slowly carried away the stench of the city.
He walked in silence, the old man's words echoing again and again in his mind.
"If you take the road northwest, after an hour you will see a tower."
And indeed — after little more than an hour and a half on foot, a shadow rose before him against the sky.
Not a fairy-tale tower, not a single spire jutting from the land — but a vast complex of walls and buildings.
The mage school.
One high tower rose above the rest, banners fluttering in the wind, marked with symbols of Light and the Elements. Around it stood walls, gates, and side buildings. Smoke rose from chimneys, voices echoed from the ramparts.
Marion stopped. His heart raced; his legs felt heavy.
So this is it. The academy. The place where I might finally become someone.
He approached slowly, eyes lifted upward. Students in clean robes passed in and out, their voices loud, full of confidence. Some laughed, others carried books; some casually performed small spells — sparks, illusions, bursts of flame.
Marion pulled his coat tighter, feeling the dirt on his clothes, the dust on his face. Among them, he looked like a stranger. An intruder.
When he finally stood before the gate, he looked up at the two guards. Men in armor, spears in hand, eyes stern.
"What do you want, boy?" one asked.
Marion swallowed, throat dry. "I… I want to enroll. I want to learn magic."
Silence for a moment.
Then the other burst into laughter. "You? Enroll?"
He gestured with the tip of his spear toward Marion's coat, his filthy shoes.
"A street beggar?"
A few passing students turned, snickering and whispering.
"Did you hear that? He wants to study here."
Marion lowered his gaze, his face burning.
Not again. Not to be laughed at again.
But he stood still, did not protest, let the words wash over him.
"Get lost," one guard growled. "You don't belong here."
The other laughed. "Maybe he can at least clean the latrines."
The crowd tittered, the whispers grew louder. Marion wanted to scream, wanted to show his spark, to prove he wasn't just a nobody.
But his hands remained cold. Empty.
He turned away, heart heavy, steps slow. Behind him the laughter continued, the giggling. It burned inside him like fire that would not ignite.
When he had walked some distance from the gate, he stopped. His gaze drifted back to the tower rising high above the walls.
Somehow… I'll manage it. I'll get inside. Somehow.
The sun lowered, casting long shadows across the road. Marion stood there alone, as unremarkable as ever.
The Woman in Black
Marion trudged back along the dusty road toward Parzipazio. The tower of the academy still loomed behind him, tall and unreachable, like mockery cast in stone. His steps were heavy, his stomach empty, his heart even emptier.
Laughed at again. Pushed aside again.
The students' voices echoed in his mind:
"Street beggar!" — "Latrine cleaner!"
He clenched his fists. He had sworn not to be invisible anymore. Yet at the gates of the academy he had once again been nothing but dirt to brush from a coat.
The sun tilted low, the sky glowing red.
Then he heard it: the soft crunch of footsteps behind him.
He stopped and turned.
At the roadside, half in the shadow of an old tree, stood a figure. Clad in a black robe, hood drawn low over the face. The fabric shifted lightly in the wind. A shimmer of red hair caught the evening light.
"Tell me, boy…" The voice was soft, warm — yet cuttingly clear. "Would you like to study at that school?"
Marion froze. "W… what?"
The figure stepped closer, her face still half-hidden. But he felt it at once: her eyes were fixed on him. Sharp. Assessing. Burning.
"You want to get inside, don't you? Into the tower. To the others. You want them to see you."
His heart pounded. He wanted to deny it — but her words struck deep.
"Yes… yes, I do. More than anything."
A faint smile formed beneath the hood.
"And what would you be willing to sacrifice for that?"
Marion blinked, throat dry. "Everything," he blurted. "My life, if I must… I just want to get in. I want… them to see me."
The words hung heavily in the air. Only after speaking them did he realize how naked they made him. He lowered his gaze, ashamed, wishing he could take them back.
But then he heard a soft, throaty laugh. Not mocking — more knowing.
"Your life, hm?" she murmured. "That could be arranged."
"Come," she said gently. "Parzipazio is only an hour away. We'll find a room where you can tell me more about your wishes."
She turned and walked slowly toward the city. No hesitation, no hurry — as if she already knew he would follow.
And he did.
Each step felt like sinking deeper into a dream.
Or into an abyss.
But in that moment, it didn't matter.
The Road Back
The sun sank lower, staining the fields blood-red. Marion walked beside her, stealing glances at the woman in black.
She moved gracefully, almost soundlessly, as if her feet barely touched the dust. The wind toyed with a strand of red hair that had slipped from her hood.
Marion searched for words, but she spoke first.
"So, Marion…"
He flinched. "How do you know my name?"
She smiled faintly. "I know many things. But tell me — why do you want to attend that school? Because of magic?"
"Yes… and no," he stammered. "I want to be… more. Not invisible again."
He immediately felt ashamed of the confession, but she merely nodded as if she had expected it.
They walked in silence for a while.
Then she gestured toward a group of farmers in the distance, driving beastfolk at the plow.
"Look at them. Humans who believe they are masters. And slaves who believe they have no destiny. What truly separates you from them?"
Marion said nothing.
What really separates me?
She continued, her voice soft, almost hypnotic:
"Perhaps only one thing: your desire. You want to be seen. You want your name to be known."
Her words tingled against his skin. He nodded slowly, not quite knowing why.
When the first lights of the city flickered on the horizon, she suddenly asked:
"Tell me, Marion… what would you sacrifice to be seen?"
He swallowed. The same question as before — and yet heavier now.
"Everything," he whispered. "Everything, if I must."
This time her smile was fully visible.
Beautiful.
Cruel.
"That's what I wanted to hear."
The rest of the walk was almost mundane. They spoke of the weather, of the coming cold of night, of the noise of the city. She laughed softly once when he stumbled and helped him up, her hand cold as stone.
But in Marion's heart something grew that he had never known before:
The feeling that someone was truly looking at him.
And when the walls of Parzipazio rose before them again, he knew he would follow her —
wherever she led.
The Inn
The gates of Parzipazio swallowed them as they entered the city. She walked purposefully through the dark streets, as if she had known the way for centuries. He stumbled after her, small and unremarkable at her side.
At last she stopped before an inn whose sign was painted in gold. Not a filthy tavern, not a place for farmers — but an establishment far beyond what ordinary folk could afford.
Without a word, she stepped inside.
The innkeeper took one look at her, then quickly lowered his head. No questions. No complaints. He personally led them to a room on the upper floor.
Marion followed, his heart pounding in his throat.
Why does he treat her like that?
The room was warm, the beds freshly made, candles casting soft light. To Marion, it felt like a palace. He stood uncertainly in the doorway as she pushed back her hood.
Red hair fell over her shoulders. Her eyes glowed golden in the candlelight.
She looked at him — and he could not look away.
"You're so quiet," she murmured, stepping closer.
"I… I don't know what to say," he stammered.
She smiled and placed a finger against his lips.
"Then say nothing."
Gently, Tessa pulled him toward her — he had recognized her now. Marion felt his body grow hot as he suddenly found himself in her arms. Her hand ran through his hair; her lips brushed his — cautiously at first, then firmer.
It was his first kiss. Clumsy, wet, uncertain — but she led him, like in a dance he merely followed. He trembled, his knees weakened, but she held him, supported him.
"Shh…" she breathed. "Just let yourself fall."
He rested his head against her shoulder, feeling her coldness, which strangely felt like comfort. She stroked his back, whispered words he barely understood.
"You're not invisible. Not to me."
Marion closed his eyes, a shudder running through him.
For the first time in his life, he felt wanted.
She gently pushed him onto the bed and lay beside him. Her fingers traced his face; her lips found his again. For long minutes they lay like that — a frightened young man clinging, and a woman smiling like a predator caressing its toy.
Then he felt a sudden sting at his neck.
At first like a kiss.
Then like fire.
"Ah—"
He jerked, but her arms held him tight. Her lips pressed harder.
His heart raced. His limbs grew heavy. He felt warmth — life — draining from him.
"Please…" he whispered.
She lifted her head briefly. Blood glistened on her lips.
"Shh… my little one. You wanted to be seen. And now I see you."
Then she bent over him again.
Darkness pressed into his vision. The last thing he felt was her coldness — and the strange sensation that he was not falling,
but being held.
Until nothing remained.
The Awakening
Marion's eyes flew open.
Flickering light greeted him — the remains of candles burned low through the night. The room smelled of wax, wine… and her.
He lay in the bed, the blanket half pulled over him. His body felt weak, exhausted, as if he had not slept for days. But there was no wound, no blood.
Only a dull burning at his neck.
Slowly he sat up.
"Tessa…?" he whispered — not knowing why the name came so naturally.
The room was empty.
Beside the pillow lay something.
A small silver amulet in the shape of a flame. Next to it, a note, the script curved and red like blood.
"Put this on and you will not be rejected by the academy again."
Beneath it, a kiss mark freshly pressed onto the parchment.
And Marion knew instantly whose lips had left it.
His fingers trembled as he picked up the amulet. It was cool — but the moment he touched it, it seemed to pulse, as if mirroring his heartbeat.
He sat on the bed, staring at the ornament.
Everything about the night was blurred — the kiss, the coldness, the darkness that had swallowed him.
But his heart beat fiercely at one thought:
She chose me. She saw me.
The laughter of the students at the academy gate, the guards' mockery — all of it faded.
What remained was this amulet. This sign that she believed in him.
He placed it around his neck.
In the mirror above the dresser he saw his own face — pale, dark circles under his eyes. But the amulet gleamed at his chest, and suddenly he seemed… different.
His gaze steadier. His posture straighter.
He smiled uncertainly.
"Now they'll see me."
Outside, the life of the city echoed — carts rumbling, merchants shouting, somewhere a dog howled. Marion stepped to the window and looked down into the streets. Everything appeared the same —
and yet something inside him had changed.
He closed his fingers around the amulet.
I'll return to the academy. This time they won't laugh. This time they'll see me.
And deep within him, hidden beneath all the uncertainty, another truth smoldered:
It wasn't the amulet that gave him this feeling.
It was her.
Tessa.