“Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.”
~ Pietro Aretino
ACT IV
Chapter XXIX
Year 2049
Six Years Ago
The air was viscous with anticipation as the last rays of autumn daylight sifted through the towering arches of the Academy's grand hall. The first-year students, known as plebes, fussed about creating a hullabaloo within the gorgeous enclosure. They gossiped as they awaited the results of the Pre-Earthworking Trials. Yoki stood at the center of the crowd, his fingers tracing the frayed edges of his worn newsboy cap—a tattered symbol of the life he clung to amidst the mayhem. Each touch reminded him of where he came from and a testament to his tenacious resolve to endure, even when the seductive ease of ending it all whispered in his ear. It wasn't just the desire to breathe that propelled him forward; deep within him burned a relentless blaze for vengeance against the monster who had ravaged his family beyond recognition. Retribution for his parents' killer was his lifeline, a commitment to deliver justice in a world that had shown him none.
Dangling from his cloak's outer pocket was an aged compass, its needle spinning lazily despite the absence of magnetic interference. Yoki understood why Lucia's spun now. Over the past months, he had begun to comprehend its kinks: it pointed not north but toward concentrations of Sphaeram, the disposition of magick itself pivoting on how and when the runes of the Academy showed the way to its shifting crux. It wasn't as much a riddle as he initially made it out to be. However, Yoki knew his knowledge was still that of a child, only better than the empirical incognizance his classmates showed.
Beside him, Ethan romped nervously from foot to foot. The auburn-haired boy's freckles stood out against his fair skin, a testament to the stress that had tailed him throughout the first semester.
"I don't know, Yoki," Ethan muttered, his voice negligibly audible above the din. "I think I might've bombed that last section."
"You worry too much," Yoki replied, reassuringly smiling. "You did fine."
Ethan shook his head, his eyes darting toward the immense oak doors at the front of the hall. "Easy for you to say. Not all of us are at the top of the class."
"Grades aren't everything," Yoki said. "Besides, you passed all your other classes."
"Just barely," Ethan mumbled. "If I don't pass this trial, my brothers will never let me hear the end of it."
Yoki glanced around, spotting the familiar faces of Ethan's siblings dispersed throughout the hall. Each one a year apart, they were a formidable lineage within the Academy, known for their prowess and competitive spirit in aristocracy. "They'll be proud of you," Yoki lied to him. "No matter what."
Before Ethan could respond, the doors swung open, and a hush fell over the crowd. Professor Elara strode in, her robes flowing behind. She held a scroll in one hand, the insignia of the Academy gleaming in the overcast candlelight.
"Students," Professor Elara announced, her voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. "The results of the Pre-Earthworking Trials are posted in the courtyard. Congratulations to those who have advanced."
A collective mutter grew as the assembly of plebes moved toward the immense oak doors. Ethan looked as though he might be ill. "This is it, I'm done for," he whispered.
"Come on," Yoki said, touching his friend's shoulder. "Let's go see."
They weaved through the students' throng into the courtyard, where an enormous parchment was pinned to the announcement board. Names were listed in meticulous columns, each depicting a half-grade forward or a lull in their first year.
Yoki reviewed the index quickly, locating his name close to the top. He knew he had passed, so Yoki continued to look for Ethan's name, whose eyes darted frantically over the names.
"There!" Yoki pointed. "You passed."
Ethan followed his gaze, disbelief fanning across his face. "I did," he breathed. "I actually did."
"Told you," Yoki said with a grin.
Ethan chortled, the tension visibly draining from his body. "Maybe luck is on my side after all."
"Or maybe you don't give yourself enough credit."
Ethan's countenance buffered. "Thanks, Yoki. Truly."
They stood for a moment, allowing the reality to sink in. Around them, clusters of students celebrated or consoled one another, the courtyard alive with various emotions.
Yoki's hand brushed against the compass at his side. "I think this calls for a celebration," he suggested.
Ethan's eyes lit up. "Hell yeah, let's run it up. But first, let's find Enrique and the others."
The Painkiller stirred gently within Yoki's mind as they pushed through the crowd.
Your friend carries more weight than he shows.
We all have our burdens. He has a good heart.
A practical ally.
Yoki spotted Enrique leaning against a marble pillar, his dark curly hair tousled. A mischievous glint was visible in his eyes. "There you are!" Enrique hollered. "I've been looking for you two everywhere."
"Guess who just passed the Pre-Earthworking Trial?" Ethan declared.
Enrique feigned shock. "You? Well, miracles do happen."
Ethan punched him lightly on the arm. "Very funny."
"Congratulations," Enrique said sincerely. "Drinks are on me tonight."
"Now we're talking," Ethan said, causing Yoki to laugh. They'd get house points taken away if they got caught, but that was part of the fun. Double for Umbra, with Enrique and Yoki, and also for Luminara, Ethan's house.
As they walked toward the student dormitories, Yoki felt an ardency spread through him—not just from their shared win but from the camaraderie that had grown between them. Enrique and Yoki had found Ethan's head down in a pile of books in the library two weeks before the pre-trial. They helped him study for the examination as a part of the two's study group, discovering he was so busy trying to not fail his classes that he had scarcely slept in weeks, even more sleep-deprived than Yoki— something Enrique had pointed out ruefully. Enrique and Yoki quickly befriended Ethan, who was actually a distant relative of Daniel's across several bloodlines. Ethan did not have the Silki house trait of flexibility. However, he did possess a genius for art. Evidently, that did not correspond to the sciences.
----------------------------------------
Snow fell softly, blanketing the Academy in a pristine white coat. The age-old marble structures stood staunch against the winter chill, their spires puncturing a sky bestrewn with stars. No matter how the buildings moved, the frozen lake at the heart of the campus reflected the constellations overhead, producing the illusion of permanent space.
Yoki stood alone on the outskirts of the Academy forest, his breath visible in the frigid air. He'd been reminiscing about the end of the first semester, concluding with the Earthwoker Pre-Trials that Yoki and his friends had diligently prepared for, all passing and not being held back. Before him loomed the deserted observatory, its once-majestic dome now weathered by time. This secluded sanctuary had become his hideaway—where he could train without fear of interruption or scrutiny.
Yoki pushed open the hefty metal door, the hinges protesting with a low groan from the rust they had accumulated since their abandonment. Inside, the air was still, the quiet broken only by the faint whisper of breeze through the fissures in the walls. Moonlight filtered through the dome's shattered glass, radiating detailed designs across the dusty foundation.
Freeing his cloak, Yoki revealed the specially crafted attire he wore beneath—sleek, dark garments woven with threads of enchantment—a gift from Master Nikita, delivered by Indigo. The clothing concealed his wings in a transparency sunderglyph, binding them comfortably against his back while allowing freedom of movement, knowing they appeared invisible to Tearings and regulars alike.
He moved to the center of the room, closing his eyes and centering himself. The Painkiller's company was a persistent rhythm in his mind, a constant companion that lived within his very consciousness.
Paratus, cum sis.
Hic itur.
Yoki started with Sanchin Kata, a fundamental form in Goju-Ryu Karate emphasizing tension and controlled breathing. Planting his feet firmly, he adopted the Sanchin Dachi stance—feet shoulder-width apart, toes pointed inward. His fists clenched at his sides, and he inhaled deeply through his nose, feeling the air fill his lungs.
With calculated movement, Yoki performed a sequence of thrusting punches, Sanchin Tsuki, each chaperoned by an alacritous exhale. The movements were slow yet emphatic, and his muscles tautened to maximize strength. He focused intently on the Sphaeram flow within his body, coordinating bodily grind with inner vocation.
Transitioning smoothly, he thrust into Seisan Kata, merging a combination of strikes and blocks. Stepping forward into Zenkutsu Dachi, he performed a Chudan Uchi Uke (middle inside block) with his left arm, immediately followed by a Gyaku Zuki (reverse punch) with his right. His shiftings were fluid as water, honed by years of relentless practice with his father.
As Yoki moved, he deviated into Suparinpei Kata, one of the most advanced forms, incorporating complicated sequences of attacks and defenses. Spinning on his heel, he delivered a swift Mawashi Geri (roundhouse kick), the fabric of his attire whispering with the motion. He dropped into a low Kiba Dachi (horse stance) without pausing, executing a rapid series of Tettsui Uchi (hammer-fist strikes).
Your technique has improved.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
I can feel it, Yoki agreed, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead despite the frostiness.
He allowed himself to tap gently into the Painkiller's potent Sphaeram, feeling the magickal energy intertwine with his movements. His senses sharpened; every sound, every shift in the air became acutely perceptible. His strikes grew swifter, his blocks more precise.
Advancing into a series of Kakie (pushing hands) exercises, he visualized an opponent before him, responding to attacks with seamless counters. His wings, though hidden, seemed to pulsate with animation, longing to be spread.
Careful. Harbor your focus.
Yoki nodded inwardly, reigning in the overflow of power. He finished his routine with Mokuso, a meditative stance with feet together and hands clasped before him. His breathing slowed, and his heart rate steadied as he welcomed the repose.
Opening his eyes, Yoki saw the faint lightening of the sky visible through the dome—the first hints of sunrise. His muscles pleasantly ached, evidenced by the vigor of his drill.
Yoki gathered his belongings, tossing one last glance about the observatory. The rumors of the students' deaths weighed on his mind—a second-year boy and a fourth-year girl since his time in the infirmary, both gone on eerie occasions. Officially deemed suicides, whispers suggested a more sinister truth.
Is there a connection?
Possibly, such events rarely occur without cause.
I can't shake the feeling that something is wildly amiss.
Stay vigilant. Shadows often conceal threats. You should know that well, pueri.
Please stop calling me boy.
You'll stop being a pueri once you show me your ability to control my magick.
Irritated, Yoki stepped out into the crisp morning air, the Academy bathed in a soft, rosy hue. As he walked back to the Umbra dormitory, Yoki considered the progression of his martial arts journey. From a 6th Dan Black Belt, he had advanced to 10th Dan—a station attained by few. The physical and spiritual maturation he underwent was meshed with his deepening affinity to the Painkiller.
Reaching the dormitory, he entered quietly, the halls motionless and muted. The other students would wait to stir for some time. Yoki ascended the stairs to his new room, having been relocated after the first semester. Yoki unlocked the door to find Caspian seated at the desk by the window.
The boy looked up, his pale eyes reflecting the dawn's light. His shock of white hair fell across his forehead, giving him a supernatural appearance. "You're up early," Caspian noted.
"Couldn't sleep," Yoki replied, setting his gear aside.
Caspian nodded thoughtfully. "Training again?"
"Yes," Yoki admitted. "It helps clear my mind."
"Mind if I join you sometime?" Caspian asked a tinge of inquisitiveness in his tone.
Yoki studied him for a moment. Caspian had been assigned as his roommate after the semester break—a quiet, mystifying figure who kept mainly to himself. "I wouldn't mind," Yoki said finally. "It might be good to have company."
"Excellent," Caspian said with a faint smile. "I've been meaning to find a training partner."
"You're a Nightwalker, aren't you?" Yoki ventured.
Caspian raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"
"I can sense it," Yoki replied. "Your aura is similar to mine."
"Perceptive," Caspian acknowledged. "Yes, I am. It's rare to meet another."
"You're the first I've met here," Yoki said. "We're not exactly common."
Caspian leaned back in his chair. "Conceivably, we can assist one another."
"Perhaps," Yoki acquiesced.
A knock at the door interrupted them. Caspian rose to answer, revealing a petite girl with white hair and bright green eyes. "Good morning, Caspian," she chirped before noticing Yoki. "Oh, hello!"
"Yoki, this is my sister, Nova," Caspian introduced.
"Nice to meet you," Yoki said, offering a courteous nod.
"Likewise," Nova replied, stepping into the room. "I've heard a lot about you."
"All good things, I hope."
"Mostly," she teased. "Caspian isn't much of a talker but seems to favor you."
Caspian cleared his throat. "Was there something you required, Nova?"
"Just wanted to remind you about breakfast," she said. "Ethan's brothers are making their famous pancakes."
At the mention of food, Yoki's stomach groaned loudly. He realized he had yet to eat since yesterday morning. "I could go for some pancakes," he admitted, privately salivating at the thought of pancakes.
"Then let's not keep them waiting," Nova said, gesturing for them to follow.
The conversation flowed easily as they made their way to the dining hall. Nova's vivacity deviated with Caspian's mum behavior, but they unquestionably communicated a strong bond.
"Ethan's brothers are quite the characters," Nova remarked. "Have you met them all?"
"Not yet," Yoki said.
"Well, there's one in every grade," she explained. "Each with their own... distinctive personality."
"Sounds like a handful," Yoki chuckled, knowing this from Ethan.
"You have no idea," Caspian muttered.
They entered the dining hall to find a lively scene. Ethan enthusiastically waved them over, flanked by his older siblings—a rambunctious group with matching auburn hair and infectious vitality.
"Yoki! Caspian! Nova!" Ethan called out. "Come try these pancakes before they're all gone."
The table was laden with plates of golden pancakes, steaming mugs of cocoa, and bowls of fresh fruit. The aroma was heavenly.
By Noctisanguis, boy—eat! This grub looks outstanding!
"Don't mind if I do," Yoki declared, taking a seat.
As they dug into the feast, the conversation turned to stories of the different students' first semesters, typically from one of Ethan's brothers sharing a ridiculously indecent report of debauchery. Yoki found himself laughing more than he had in weeks.
"So, Yoki," one of Ethan's brothers began, Simon, a fourth-year student, said. "Ethan tells us you're something of a prodigy."
"The glaze is real," another brother said, Otto, the third-year.
The second-year brother, Puck—who was probably the biggest clown of the four—started to make a wringing hand motion with his hands, occupied by an open mouth and sucking motion. These were Ethan's brothers, some of the most hated students in the entire Academy—by the professors, of course. The student body adored them.
"He's exaggerating," Yoki protested, trying to hide a grin.
Ethan was becoming pink with embarrassment.
"Modest, too," Nova added with a grin.
"Well, anyone who can help this lout pass his trials has my respect," Otto said, ruffling Ethan's hair.
"Hey!" Ethan objected, swatting his hand away.
"Happy to help," Yoki chuckled.
The group began to disperse as the meal wound down, each heading off to their respective activities. It was still early, and the rest of Yoki's friends were probably asleep, not quite as close to this group as Yoki was. Caspian lingered behind. "Remember our conversation earlier?" he asked Yoki quietly.
"Yes."
"Meet me at the observatory tonight," Caspian said. "There's something I want to show you."
"You know about the observatory!"
"I followed you there this morning."
"Ah—funny to be played by a fellow Nightwalker," Yoki agreed, shaking his head. "I'll be there."
Caspian nodded before turning to follow his sister.
What do you think of Caspian?
He is intriguing, but be cautious. Trust is earned.
I know.
The remainder of the day passed in a blur of lectures and practical exercises. Yoki's thoughts frequently drifted to the upcoming meeting with Caspian, excited to train at last with another Nightwalker.
----------------------------------------
Yoki returned to the observatory as twilight daubed the sky in receding orange hues. The air was crisp as it was in the morning, the snow crunching under Yoki's boots as he walked. The compass at Yoki's side shined faintly, the needle pointing directly ahead.
Pushing open the rusted metal door, he found Caspian waiting inside. The room was illuminated by a circle of softly glowing orbs for visibility.
"You're punctual," Caspian remarked.
"I try to be," Yoki replied. "So, what're we training?"
Caspian gestured for him to sit. "Actually, I wanted to discuss the recent... events at the Academy."
Damn, I actually wanted to train.
Should've known better, pueri.
"The deaths," Yoki said soberly.
"Yes," Caspian confirmed. "I believe they're connected."
"Connected how?"
Caspian took a deep breath. "Have you heard of the Veilseekers?"
Yoki's eyes narrowed. "Only whispers."
"They're a clandestine group operating within the Academy," Caspian explained. "Their goal is to harness forbidden magicks—powers that could disrupt the balance of our world."
"What does that have to do with us?"
"Nightwalkers possess unique abilities," Caspian said. "Our connection to the shadows, to the Veil itself, makes us valuable to them."
Yoki knew all this already, but he knew even more that they wanted the Painkiller. "You think they're targeting Nightwalkers?"
"I do," Caspian said gravely. "And I fear we may be next."
He's lying.
I noticed.
Play along.
"What can we do?" Yoki asked aloud.
"Join me," Caspian said. "Together, we can expose their objectives and destroy them."
Yoki considered his words carefully. Trust was a precious commodity, and knowing Caspian was lying about the connection between the suicides and the Veilseekers was illogical. The Veilseekers were after the Painkiller, and perhaps there was some truth in them being after Nightwalker, too. Still, they bore no correlation to the suicides. Of that, Yoki was certain. So why would Caspain portray it that way?
"Alright," he said finally, heeding to the Painkiller's words. "I'm with you."
A flicker of relief crossed Caspian's features. "Thank you."
They spent the next hour discussing tactics and sharing little information they had. Yoki did not reveal his kidnapping to Caspian. As they parted ways, Caspian claimed he had duties elsewhere, but Yoki shrugged and returned to their room.
Returning to his room, he found Nova waiting outside the door. "Would you mind if we talked?" she asked.
"Not at all," Yoki said, unlocking the door.
They stepped inside, and Nova closed the door softly behind her. "Caspian told me you've agreed to help."
That was quick.
"Yes," Yoki confirmed skeptically. "He believes the Veilseekers are a real threat."
"He trusts you," Nova said. "Which is rare."
"I trust him, too," Yoki lied. "But I have to ask—why involve me?"
"Because you're a Nightwalker," she said simply. "And because we can't do this alone."
It was at this moment Yoki realized he couldn't sense what class Nova belonged to. That was—
Impossible.
Yoki nodded, playing it cool. "Then let's work together."
A small smile touched her lips. "I'm glad."
As she left, Yoki prepared for bed, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The moon cast a silvery glare through the window, causing shadows to dance across the floor.
Are you ready for what's to come? This Nova girl and Caspian are quite the pair.
No… but I have no other option. I have to go with it.
That you do, boy.
You see, dear reader, the Painkiller knew exactly who Nova and Caspian were, but he didn't tell Yoki. Oh no, now why would he do that? Why ruin the surprise?
──── ∗ Somewhere In The Academy While Nova Was Speaking With Yoki ∗ ────
The room hummed with expectation, the muted, sandy glow from the bedside lamp tickling the contours of her figure as she stepped forward. The atmosphere appeared to buzz around her, levied with a hedonism he couldn’t explain. She didn’t speak—not at first. Her hush lived its own sort of invitation, her look a magnetic muscle that vamoosed him breathless, embedded in place.
She started with a touch, the most delicate imprint of her fingers across his forearm, transmitting a tide of warmth through his skin. Unhurriedly, she bent closer, her lips grazing against his ear as her breath instigated something primal within him. Her voice was a soft, sultry murmur, each word twisting about him like steam. It wasn’t what she said but how she expressed it—like a secret meant exclusively for him.
Her lagging hands explored him, touching an introspection in discrepancy: firm enough to commandeer, faint enough to razz. Her fingertips followed across his chest, her nails narrowly grazing the surface, vacating after a wake of shudders. His breathing hitched as she pushed closer, the heat of her body bleeding into his, her fragrance—a mix of something flowery and faintly exotic—clouding his senses.
When her lips finally found his, it was with a fierceness that startled him. The kiss heightened quickly, her tongue taunting, soliciting, as though she couldn’t get enough. Her hands skated down, dragging him nearer, her body firming against his with a warmness that threatened to engulf them both. The world beyond the bedroom ceased to exist.
Her motions were plotted, yet each one was levied with an intenseness that left him trembling. She drove him back to the bed, her hands never leaving him as she thrust him onto the mattress. Her gaze latched onto his as she climbed over him, her lips curving into an equal parts impish and predatory smile.
The tempo between them built like a tempest, per touch, per sigh, pulling them closer to its apex. Her body moved with preciseness, a soporific influence that seduced him into plunging into her clasp. He reached for her, his hands coasting her sides and her rear, his fingers frantic to tow her closer. She let it happen, gratifying him, her laughter melancholic as she tipped down to press her lips to his throat.
The fire between them attained a frenzy rise, the bed under them whining in protest as they moved together. His breathing grew irregular, his voice catching as he whispered her name—again and again like a mantra. She answered with delicate, teasing moans, her hands knitting through his hair, her lips ghosting over his skin with a vigor that made him convulse.
When the moment finally ended, it arrived like a tidal surge, slamming over them and leaving him gasping under her. His body shuddered violently, his hands clutching her hips as though he could hold onto the moment eternally. But as his muscles tightened and his back arched, something in him seemed to snap.
For a heartbeat, she stayed motionless, straddled above him, her watch set on his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth parted in a conclusive, voiceless exhale. His chest, which had risen and fallen so desperately seconds back now lay unnervingly still. She slanted her head, surveying him, her lips twisting into a faint, delighted smile.
She rose from the bed with a sedentary classiness, her motions sluggish as she filed her cloak and ran her fingers through her hair. The aroma of sweat and her perfume sagged heavily in the room, a lingering reminder of what had just happened. She pivoted to look over his dead body once more—his face frozen in an expression of ecstasy, his skin now turning pallid.
The door clicked softly shut behind her as she left, her heels tapping against the floor with a gauged cadence. The room was silent, save for the faint rasp of the bed settling under the weight of the student who would never move again.