Feigned Delusion

A low hum resonated in her ear, the closest thing to company she was allowed to have. She walked between four inordinately plain-looking guards, one behind, one ahead, one at each side. They kept pace, walking through the marble corridor of the longest hall, the silence seeming to echo.

Her brow furrowed as she finally realized what had been bothering her: she couldn’t hear her own footsteps, her own breathing, her heartbeat. Her concentration was interrupted as she bumped into the guard in front.

“This is as far as we go, Lady Alera.” The guard was nearly twice her size, not so much a giant; more so, she was adorably tiny for her age. The four knelt before her, presenting a path to a single, pitch-black door.

Please, you really don’t have to do all that. She wanted to protest and laugh off the situation; however, today she had resigned herself to protocol.

Alera placed her right hand over her heart and offered a solemn, “Thank you.” She bowed as she walked past them, her tension increasing with each step. Her fate drew ever closer.

She approached the pitch-black door; a soft, melodic hum began to infiltrate the silence. It was delicate, like the gentle chime of a music box, its notes flowing through the air with an almost ethereal quality. The sound was faint at first, barely more than a whisper, but it grew more distinct with each step she took.

She had heard of the headmaster—a combatant who struck with the ferocity of lightning and shook the battlefields with thunder. Standing as one with the right to fight for the title of “Almighty,” the headmaster had long surpassed the requirements for the title of “Celestial.” An anomaly even among the cast of horrors the representative had described, wielding four spells simultaneously—this headmaster was her last hope for the answers she sought.

A familiar aroma greeted her, faint as it was, she had become familiar with it—ink. She paused at the front door and stared into its near void-like darkness. Out of the corner of her eye, out of focus, she could see a glimmer; it disappeared when she tried to take a look.

Her ashen eyes widened and her arm twitched as she tried to focus. She quickly raised her hand, hesitating before she slowly made contact with the void. Her finger traced crests and valleys, feeling countless pores so fine “a baby’s eyelash couldn’t fit,” she thought.

She gently pressed her face against the door, focusing on its smoothness as she massaged her cheeks on it.

Click.

The door opened, and Alera remained leaning against it. Trembling, her eyes looked up to see a young woman. Her hair shone a deep crimson as it rolled over her shoulders, and her eyes appeared a blazing red as she stared at the young girl leaning thoughtlessly against the door.

“Do you intend to come in soon?” she asked gently, a smile crossing her face.

“U…uh-huh.” Alera managed to reply. Her mouth agape, whether it was due to the headmaster seeing her in this odd position or her expecting an old man, she wasn’t exactly sure.

“I’ll be waiting then.” Her smile grew as she giggled, closing the door on Alera.

“Are you certain she comes from the Astraelith family?” One guard asked, rubbing his freshly polished head as he watched her push herself off the door.

“You’d be wise to retain your doubts, lest they turn inward. Judge too soon and you’ll fall victim to the slightest inconsistency with your ideals, that’s what separates you from a celestial.” Replied the guard beside him, his muscles bulging his outfit.

“How does that answer my question in any meaningful way?”

“I’ve never witnessed a case like hers. I’ve never known of the families harboring members. Mayhaps, she possesses greater potential than the grandmaster.” They watched Alera rub her face to calm her nerves. Promptly, she turned back to them and gave them one final bow of gratitude, her cheeks stained by the black pigment.

“Maybe not.” The muscular guard relented dejectedly. Alera disappeared behind the veil of darkness.

On the other side of that darkness, Alera’s view fell upon a tiny room. The air burned her throat, a strong, bitter taste invaded her mouth as the scent of ink permeated throughout the room. As she looked around she could see stacks of tomes, each a head taller than her. Dark blots stained the floor, it carried over dozens of scattered sheets. Small items hung from a corner of the room, a straw doll, a flask, a few bells and a small silver knife.

“Good afternoon, headmaster!” Alera proclaimed as she bowed, her legs trembled as her nerves got the best of her.

“Lets have none of that, sweety. Have you had a look around the grounds?” Her voice was serene, like a mother speaking to a child. She spoke softly, slowly. Her gaze was kind, her blazing eyes appeared comforting, like a fireplace or a day’s dawn.

“No ma’am. The representative brought me, it was my first…” She clutched her hands to her mouth, holding a wide smile, but stopped herself short of going on an excited rant. She composed herself, her smile faded.

The headmaster’s eyes widened with surprise. “Tell me sweety!” She implored, waving her hand pleadingly. “Does it feel good to be out of the house? Tell me, what is your goal, attending this Institute?” Her face was wrought with curiosity.

Alera paused, her mind lingered on the headmaster’s question. “This is the first time I’ve left home ground.” She began. “I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone but the guardians, but they never showed me anything they could do.” Her chest rose and fell heavily as her breathing grew quicker. “Today I felt it, the tingle of mana. It coursed through my body, I…I had a rune!” She cried out, showing her palm to the grandmaster, as her glossy eyes finally relented their hold.

Her tears flowed down her cheeks, over her wide smile. She pulled back her hand, caressing her palm. “I can do that too, right? I have a rune, right? I have an ability, right? I can… do something, right?” She remained still, waiting for the headmaster’s response.

“You shouldn’t ask such questions.” The headmaster stated firmly. “The law of this world dictates everyone must have a specialty, innate and acquired. The first step is to believe.” The headmaster got up from her chair. “You see, as we grow up we are given rules to follow.” Mi. She spoke barely a whisper. The walls of the small room disappeared as reality seemed to twist around them.

“Over time we restrict ourselves.” She waved at Alera to approach the edge of the wall less room, Alera complied, making her way over, slowly. “We hold ourselves back, initially by choice then it becomes subconscious; once you break those bindings, only then can you truly be certain of what your specialty is.” Re. She spoke with a soft breath, pointing at a hanging Amme’s Fruit. It snapped from the pedicle, falling onto the head of a poor passerby. “See? It’s not something to be crying over, sweety.” She reassured Alera, drying her cheeks with her palms. Alera let out a laugh as she watched the seemingly random student look around for the culprit.

“I ask once more. What is your goal, attending this Institute?”

Looking out at the view of the sprawling expanse of the institution, the three massive buildings, the faraway mountains, the rising sun shining behind the headmaster. She was certain, her dream would become reality. She proclaimed, staring into the blazing eyes of the headmaster.

“Headmaster, I’m here to discover my specialty.” Those eyes defied her own doubts.

“Just call me Asha.” The headmaster insisted, patting Alera on the shoulder.

The dining hall was quieter than usual, aside from the critters outside, apprentices came and went, carrying with them snacks and beverages, they took no time to sit and converse, they did not have that luxury today. Yet, in the corner sat a pair, a young man, his black hair fell to his shoulders, entangled wildly, he whipped his head back to keep it out of his food. Across from him sat a young woman, her bangs hid her gaze. She twirled her silk-like blonde hair as she laid her head on the table, resting on her right arm, she stared vacantly at her glass of Amme’s Juice (Made from the tasty white innards of the green, spiky fruit).

“Yo! Aren't ya gonna eat?” The young man asked for the third time. “Kari?” His voice filled with concern.

With a deep sigh, she turned to look at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your class?”

“Aren’t you?”

Her posture straightened as she sat properly, putting both fists on the table she leaned forward, ready to confront any incoming allegations. “I have express permission from the headmaster to study Azurael at my own discretion!” Her fair face glowed pink. Lips quivering, doing her best to maintain her wavering frown.

Unphased by her slight outburst, the young man continued to dine on his fried potatas. “You can just call him Zu, y’know? Or Az.” A childish, toothy grin crossed his face, he chuckled, “Ass.”

Kari stared at him, unimpressed by what he thought humorous. Rolling her eyes, she relaxed, dropping her head back onto the desk. “I don’t get how you two are related.”

“Luck of the draw, y’know? Flip of a coin.” “Eenie Meenie Miney…” He gestured flam- boyantly, pointing from one side to the other. “Mo.” Holding his hand to his heart as a braggadocious smile formed at the corners of his lips.

Kari pulled her bangs back to look at him, her eyes pierced daggers. If looks could kill, a life would have ended here. “You. Suck. Pleb.”

“You know who else is a pleb?” His face tensed, his eyebrows narrowed and his lips tightened, he could not hold his smile.

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to him.” Once again, Kari lifted her head to confront him. “Is that all you have? You really think some flimsy familial tie will compensate for your lack of effort?” She had stood from the table, now laid across it, nearly close enough to bite him if she tried. “Sorry Oren, that’s not how the world works.” She forced out through gritted teeth.

Oren’s smile returned, “You smell nice.” He said through glossy eyes, before he proceeded to rub them.

Kari stared at him, bragging about lineage wasn’t something she was particularly fond of, considering it didn’t account for any of the effort she had to put in so far. If struggling to pull through on general incantations wasn’t enough, she could hardly keep it active when she could manage one. For as arrogant and confident as he came off, Kari’s comment left a bad taste in her mouth. It had even surprised her. Perhaps she was just trying to get him past this point, past the point where your expectations have to die, if her experience was anything to go by.

“Photus Effunde.” Oren stopped rubbing his eyes, turning to look up at her. “Can you do it yet?”

He extended his hand, palmside up. Curling his fingers, keeping his index extended, he pointed to the sky, incanting a single phrase, with a calm up-tone in his voice. “Photus Effunde.” A pale white light coated his finger, barely visible even in the candle-lit dining hall.

His incantation was perfect, however…

Kari bit her lip before she could criticize his effort, in retrospect, if not for Azurael’s encouragement, she might have never gotten as far as she had. At this point it had only been a Luna since the semester started; it had taken her four to achieve what he just did.

“I apologize, you’re not a pleb. Maybe it does run in the family, huh?” She smiled awkwardly, giving a slight chuckle. Oren smiled back, closing his fist completely as he stared at it.

“There'll be hell to pay when I find out who’s toying with me, I tell you. Mornin’, Kariavri.”

Azurael strode in, the scar across the right side of his head visible even in the dim light—a stark reminder of his clash with one of the most fearsome entities in creation. Kari’s eyes flicked to it, recalling the stories of his battle with Erodax. The single child among a handful of celestials, they said. A paragon of this era, commanding respect wherever he went.

Kari and Oren stared, momentarily frozen as Azurael’s shadow fell over them. Despite his beast-like appearance—especially after a grueling training session—he moved with an unsettling grace, catching them off guard in the farthest corner of the dining hall.

Kari finally broke the silence, her gaze settling on his, which held an infuriatingly calm smile. “Paragon, you seem to have a little… mess up there.”

“Hey, when life gives you fruit, you make juice. Anywa–” Azurael clapped his hands, clearly trying to divert attention from the white, stringy goop on his head.

“Nobody says that,” Oren chimed in, unenthused. Azurael turned to him, his smile fading as he stared blankly. "Why are you here?" he asked, licking his lips in annoyance.

An awkward silence followed. Azurael’s ear twitched as he straightened, his voice dropping to a reverent tone. "All rise for the grandmaster, the Songbird of New Dawns, whose presence graces us all."

Kari’s eyes widened in disbelief as she whipped her head around, sending her tray spinning across the table, trying to verify the statement. Oren stood quickly, coughing as he tried to clear a fry he had inhaled.

The room stood empty, except for the trio making a ruckus, Kari held her chest to calm herself. Breathing deeply, she looked at Azurael.

That wasn’t funny, you nearly killed Oren! Oren remained still, looking at her. She paused, as both boys stared at her. You can’t be pulling stunts li… She froze, her words had not simply fallen on deaf ears, they had been rejected by the world that should project them. She could not hear her own voice.

Wait. She realized, their eyes pierced through her. A soft glow enveloped her.

Please be seated. A serene voice spoke in her ear. Kari complied, a wave of comfort washed over her as her heartbeat slowed, leaning on the table, her eyes slowly shut as she drifted off to sleep.

“Such a sweet girl,” Behind the sleeping Kari space warped, light was bent along it, a slender hand reached through the blanket of light and around Kari’s neck, gently lifting her chin. The light faded as the space normalized, the headmaster leaned over Kari, pressing her cheek onto her own. “Are you boys treating her well, Oren?” Her eyes seem to plead, glossy as if tears could roll at the slightest issue.

Oren’s eyes slowly went down to his empty tray, “Yes ma’am.” His body shook, a smile stretched uncontrollably across his face. His body grew hot. I’ll do it, I’ll be stronger. I. Will.

“Yay!” The headmaster smiled, turning to give Kari a peck on the cheek before carefully setting her head on the table to dream.

“Zu,” She straightened herself, clutching her hands to her chest, she asked, “Will you accept my request?” Azurael locked eyes with her

“Anything. Always.” He responded softly, firmly.

She extended her arms to him, closing the distance, reaching up with her left hand. She traced her fingers along his scar, she appeared lost in thought. Without warning, her right arm wrapped around his head as she pulled him in close. Azureal stood leaning a head lower than he was used to but there were no complaints on his part. She held him to her bosom with a sly grin, “I’ll be leaving her in your care.” She turned around, pulling him lower, and he met face to face with a beaming Alera, wearing her new black robe, admiring her little golden scarf.