There was nothing in the hallway.

Nothing but darkness. Except the raised voices of students like him, protesting that the power had gone out.

For such small things, he couldn't let himself get carried away. He couldn't let his mind and imagination play tricks on him.

A repeat of that day?

Another massacre that would solve nothing, that would have no reward? No. That couldn't be what was happening. Besides, the circumstances were not exactly the same. Unlike The Four Seasons, this place was close to civilization.

The nearest town wasn't even a kilometer from them. If they attacked, reinforcements would be on them.... And Desmond realized that he was analyzing the situation as if the supposed attack was going to be from a small group, to catch them by surprise, and not a full scale war.

Not the real start of the war he had been anticipating since that day.

Calm down, he told himself. Calm down.

If the Empire's attacked, it wouldn't be in the same manner as that day. A small group. Subterfuge tactics. If not they would come down on them with everything they had.

So this, that the power was out, could not be a prelude to an attack. It was a tactic befitting a small team that had to rely on every possible advantage.

The power was out, period. Such things could happen.

He was a nervous person. It was in his nature to overreact, but there was a limit to everything.

"Desmond... "Christina's voice. He didn't like the sound of that. "Look at this."

Desmond followed the girl's gaze. She was pointing at the ground. Towards...

Desmond took a deep breath.

It wasn't just that the power had gone out. No, it wasn't that simple. The fireflies had fallen and lay dead on the ground. They would not rise again.

I want wings. A fragment of a memory, again.

But what affected him most about that sight was not the confirmation that something was going on here. As stupid as it sounded, what took his breath away was that the fireflies left on the ground when he looked were three. It seemed like an ominous premonition. They disappeared before his eyes, like all the others.

And Desmond couldn't help but feel another chill.

"What is it? "Amy asked. Oh, right. She couldn't see in the dark like they could. He always forgot, something had to remind him.

He didn't pay attention to her question. He didn't answer. Desmond stepped out into the hallway, as he had a moment ago. His heart in a fist.

The hallway... Now that he knew where to look, what to look for, he saw what he hadn't seen before. The hallway was full of dead fireflies. He thought. They looked like bloodstains.

Both the light they gave off and the beings themselves were artificial, things created by magic. So they disappeared before his eyes just as the ones in the room had.

Desmond put a hand to his mouth. Shit, shit, shit. Yes. There was no doubt about it. Something was going on here. The lighting system couldn't have failed like this by accident.

Someone had done something. Which had to mean they were under attack. He could no longer avoid the truth. Convince himself he was wrong. And on top of that...!

Desmond took a deep breath. He shed the feelings that weren't going to serve him well in the battle ahead.

He emptied himself, transforming himself into the weapon he was meant to be. He went back inside with Christina and Amy, closing the door behind him.

"But this... This doesn't have to mean... "Amy was saying. Christina had told her about the fireflies. Or else she had seen them with her own eyes, once they got used to the dark enough. It's not like humans were completely blind in the dark.

In any case, she was as scared as he should be.

But not enough to accept reality. Or was it the other way around? Too scared to accept it? Oh, well. Yeah, that was probably closer to the truth.

In any case, that was something that needed to be rectified. And the sooner the better.

Desmond approached the window. Carefully, from one side, and pulled down the blinds.

"What are you doing? "Amy asked.

"Just in case."

"So... Do you really think it's going to happen again? No, it's happening."

"I believe it. Because it is. There's no denying it anymore, Amy, no matter how much I want to."

Amy bit her lower lip hard. She wanted to deny it, of course. Anyone would want to deny it. No one would ever want to go through something like this again....

Wait, what was he thinking?

Going through things like that again and again, over and over again, until they finally died, wasn't that the soldiers' only role? Their only duty?

Yes, that was what a soldier's duty was tied to. A path of suffering marked with the blood of enemies and their own. They knew it very well. Amy knew it all too well.

And, yet, there was nothing wrong with it. And, even so, Amy's reaction was more than understandable. No one would like the idea of going through something like that again, duty or not.

Right?

"But how could they cut the power? It doesn't have to be another attack," Amy insisted, stubbornly, refusing to give in. To accept reality.

"At the very least, we have to act as if it is. The consequences of not doing so would be disastrous," Christina said. At least I'm still armed.

She held the book in her hand. Tight against her chest, as usual. But they had nothing. Nothing at all.

Amy didn't have her sword, he didn't have his either, and not even the gun. He had few bullets left, he hadn't had the time or the money to buy more, and he was too embarrassed at the thought of asking Christina or Amy to pay for it.

But hey, few or not, it would have been useful. It would have helped him, at the very least, to feel more at ease.

Before going to bed, they had been forced to take their weapons to the armory. To leave them there. As if they feared they were crazy enough to use them against each other if a fight broke out.

Not everyone had weapons, neither swords nor guns. Too many students relied solely on their magic like fools. They didn't even have a measly knife to defend themselves in a close encounter. And, whatever they did, they couldn't stop them from using magic. So they could have allowed them to keep their weapons.

If violence bothered them, well, that wouldn't have changed anything.

But that was the current situation. Complaining wouldn't change anything.

"Okay. What do we do?"

"We barricaded ourselves in, for the moment. And wait for the teachers to come. Because they'll have noticed too, and they'll come, it's not something they can overlook," said Desmond.

It was better to stay here and wait. Running around the facility wouldn't solve anything. They could be attacked at any moment and they would be scattered. In other words, easy prey for an assassin attacking from the shadows.

"I agree," said Christina.

Using the shadows in the room, she moved the cabinet against the door. They were already barricaded, just like that. Good. He hadn't had to fill his body with magical energy for a few seconds.

He had been already going to do it, not having realized that Christina was perfectly capable of doing the same thing. And in a much easier and faster way, too.

"Stay away from the windows," Desmond said. "It's possible, though not likely, that we'll be shot through the window by a sniper. Be as careful as possible."

They nodded.

And so the three of them waited, sitting on the floor in the darkness.

■

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Desmond was half worried that the teachers would prove to be idiots incapable of seeing the danger right under their noses, that they would turn around and tell themselves that this was a small problem they could put off until tomorrow.

But they didn't.

They came as he had said they would. Knocking on doors, calling them to come out.

He didn't recognize the voices.

They hadn't even been in this place a whole day, it was impossible for him to have already become familiar with the faces and names of all the teachers who weren't from his academy.

But even so, there was no reason to be suspicious in this case.

The imposters would have been discovered at once. They wouldn't have been able to get to this floor, in fact, they wouldn't even have gotten anywhere on the first floor if they had tried something so stupid.

Being cautious was fine, but that kind of paranoia bordered on stupidity.

So he went out, and they stepped out after him.

And there was no trouble. In the crowd, he saw Isabella, he saw Annabelle too, he saw Megan. There were no problems.

His shoulders slumped, relaxing.

For the moment.

They wouldn't be here if trouble wasn't about to rain down on them all. But at least now he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that things were not as he had feared.

Which didn't mean he could rule out that among those present was some imposter, looking for the most opportune moment to strike.

Someone like Laura.

Like Laura had done with Avery. Or some young soldier who had blended in with the frightened crowd, hoping not to be discovered.

He looked around, piercing the darkness.

Looking for someone who looked too calm, given the circumstances.

And he found him.

He found many like that person. Most of them had yet to come to terms with the danger they were in.

They refused, just as Amy had refused.

Many seemed irritated at being dragged out of bed.

Disbelieving, even bored.

No, if there was an imposter, that would not be how he would find out. Desmond knew he couldn't let his guard down at least. And he wouldn't.

The hallway that had seemed spacious to him was now quite narrow, with everyone gathered here.

"All right, listen up!" The boring, overbearing man from this morning's speech was apparently taking over. His name was Jack. "I'm not going to lie to you. It's possible that this is nothing more than a malfunction, but, although the possibility is not zero, it's pretty close. All indications are that we're under attack. That we soon will be."

He blurted it out. Tactlessly.

But maybe he was letting him not like that man color his perceptions. In truth, there was no good way to talk about this.

In a way, the best thing was to rip off the bandaid. And let everyone deal with it in their own way.

There was a big stir, just now.

That was a surprise to him.

He had already figured that they wouldn't tell the students anything concrete until they had all gathered. But this, this overreaction?

Hadn't they imagined it? Despite the lights, the dead fireflies, hadn't it crossed their minds that something serious might be happening? Or will it happen soon?

And they had been led here without knowing the reason, without even suspecting it?

Unbelievable.

Unbelievable that he had been caught by surprise. He was surrounded by children, for God's sake!

Desmond couldn't expect the same from children as from himself.

Those whose reaction hadn't changed had to be people like Christina and Amy, like himself. And the other students who had escaped alive from the attack on the academy months ago.

In other words, survivors.

They may not have been officially soldiers yet, but they were survivors.

"Silence! "Jack said, ironically having to raise his voice to make himself heard so that there was a chance they would obey his order. "Didn't you hear me? Before long, you may very well be fighting for your lives. You may have to prove that you are a soldier. Are you so eager to go into battle? No? Then keep quiet. Now..."

And for long seconds he seemed lost, as if his mind had suddenly gone blank and he was searching, in vain, for what had been erased.

That's right. His mind may have gone blank, but not his expression. There was terror and confusion there.

Just because he was a teacher didn't mean he was equipped to handle this.

It didn't mean he'd ever gotten blood on his hands.

"Now we'll go to the armory. For everyone to retrieve what they need," he finished. He made it, in the end, but not a single person present would have missed that moment of weakness.

And that would have its effects.

Especially among the young people who sought the protection of adults. A profound effect.

Desmond didn't know when he had formed the idea that teachers were like some kind of veterans covered in blood from head to toe. Teachers were teachers because of their skill and scholarship.

No more, no less.

Most of them had probably never been anywhere near the battlefield. It could even be that they had never seen blood.

Perhaps that misconception had been born from when he had seen the teachers of The Four Seasons fight. Perhaps that moment had left such a deep impression on him.

Even if the idea that had taken root in him was so stupid....

All in all, most of them were nothing more than academics. Desmond couldn't tell himself, just as he couldn't have told himself months ago during the initiation test, that everything would be alright because here were the teachers.

Like then, he would have to figure things out with his own hands.

With his own strength, protecting everything that was important to him.

Desmond looked at Amy and Christina.

But his gaze remained mostly on Christina's face.

And Desmond clenched his fists, which were full of determination to fight. He would protect them. He wouldn't let anything happen to them. Yes.

This was turning out to be like a repeat of that day. He would make sure it was like this to the end. They had survived then and they would survive now. He would make it so, whatever it took.

■

At last they set out.

Ahead were people who possessed an affinity related to the element of fire, to light the way.

The moonlight streamed in through the windows and fell heavily.

But it was not enough by itself for dozens and dozens of people to walk down the corridor without any problems.

Many people had an affinity related to each of the four elements.

But no one had exactly the same affinity. That was simply impossible, unless a person with that affinity died and the "spot" was vacated.

There was always something that differentiated common affinities.

It could be something as simple as the trigger. A person with a fire affinity could, for example, use it only by spitting fire out of his mouth like a dragon or by speaking, and the utterance affected how the fire came out, the density of the flames, their speed, all the factors.

Or it could be a more esoteric difference.

The ability to transport between fire sources instantaneously. As small as a match and as big as the flames of a fire consuming a building.

So those in front were not all those with a fire affinity in this group, not necessarily.

Only those who could use their specialty to light the way.

Nothing happened along the way.

They heard no sound of exploding glass, footsteps in the dark, nothing suspicious. There were no screams or gunshots, they were not attacked.

But when they reached their destination...

Empty. The armory had been ransacked, leaving absolutely nothing behind. This confirmed beyond any doubt that they were under enemy attack. And that they would have to come out of this situation with bare hands.

There was panic at this. Many people didn't need to retrieve anything from the armory, but they were deeply affected all the same. Because this was confirmation, as he had said. They couldn't lie to themselves anymore.

Desmond ignored it. It didn't concern him, not really.

"Abigail," he muttered.

It was a nuisance that he had to speak aloud so she could hear him. Communicating with his thoughts would be much more convenient in every way. She had promised him that this was something that could be rectified. However, he had made no progress so far, so he was forced to do this.

His call went unanswered.

Desmond pursed his lips into a thin line. Well, okay, she hadn't answered him. It didn't matter. He didn't really need her to answer.

He knew she was on her way. He'd like to know when she'd arrive and have her here, but, really, even if she did arrive, it was best for her to stay out of it. He should have told her to leave it when she said she had to follow him to make sure nothing happened to him. She had already exposed herself too much for her own good.

Desmond would be happy if she just stood on the sidelines and did nothing. He wanted to tell her: don't worry, I'll take care of it. I'm capable of doing it. I'm capable of anything for your sake.

He didn't say anything.

He wasn't going to, but then the urge came over him. They were still talking. The students were panicking like headless chickens, and the teachers were trying to control them. Drama that seemed otherworldly to his eyes.

Insubstantial. Not even real. Even though it was vitally important.

Something that affected everyone, Christina and Amy too, of course.

Desmond put a hand on Christina's shoulder.

"Don't worry," he said, looking at her.

She gave him a sidelong glance. He thought her expression would speak of confusion, then understanding when she realized what he was talking about. But it didn't. The girl looked at him as if he had caught her in an embarrassing lie.

She sketched an apologetic half smile. Yes, she looked embarrassed. For some reason.

"Does it show that much?"

It would be stupid to tell her the truth, that he hadn't been able to see anything. Because then she would shut down instead of continuing. He couldn't be sure, but it was the most likely scenario. He couldn't pass up this opportunity to act like what he wanted to be.

A good teammate...and an even better friend.

"A little," Desmond said.

She looked away.

She could feel everyone's emotions. Especially now, that not only was it night, but they were in a building with no light. Without a single light that would work properly. It was a bitter irony that someone whose affinity was darkness by nature would fear it to such an extent.

Could the girl sense that he was lying, somehow? It wasn't like reading thoughts or anything, so it could be that she wasn't. Or she was. He couldn't be sure.

The only thing he was sure of was that thinking about it, going over and over it endlessly, wouldn't help him at all. So Desmond focused on what mattered.

"Do you know the legend of the Valkyries? "Christina whispered.

It seemed like a sudden change of subject. But, just in case it really had something to do with the conversation he wanted them to have, instead of protesting he decided to simply answer her question.

"Warrior women who walk the battlefields after it's all over, collecting the souls of the dead. Or something like that. I think."

"No, you've hit the nail on the head. I'm like one of those women."

"What?"

Christina smiled sadly. And with a hint of bitter irony.

"I told you, didn't I? That day. What I am... and what could happen to me."

She spoke carefully so that Amy, who was nearby, wouldn't know. Then Desmond understood. Or thought he did, at least.

"Collecting souls. Do you think that's what you're doing?

"In a metaphorical sense. Don't be so literal. I... I... I thought that this is what I needed. That I could find myself if I came here, followed this path. But with this fear inside me... the best thing for me, really, would have been to go to the mountains. Live as a hermit."

Her voice was full of powerful emotion.

It made a lump in his throat.

Christina swallowed.

"But I couldn't. In fact, I threw myself headlong into what I wanted to run away from. And I... That's because I..."

She shook her head. She thought she would remain silent. That would be the end of it.

"Because..." Desmond repeated softly, urging her to continue.

"I don't know why. I'm just... hurting myself. I can't live alone, but I'm only hurting myself this way. I remember the people I've killed so far. The way they looked before they died, what they said to me... what they felt... The way I am... You don't understand it, you can't understand it, but it's... every time like I'm dying myself. And I can't help but think that such an impression, such a momentous moment, has to leave more traces than anything else."

Silence fell.

Between them, that is.

"If you don't want to continue, I will support your decision. And I will understand it. I wouldn't follow you, not unless Amy did the same, because I couldn't leave her alone. But we could stay in touch. It doesn't have to be the end of anything."

Christina looked away, ran a hand over her face.

Desmond got the impression that she was going to burst into tears. However, nothing suggested that. Her eyes weren't even wet.

"It's not about that," she said at last, turning to him, looking into his eyes. "I don't know why, but this is my life. Whatever it takes."

Desmond looked down, thoughtful. He nodded his head.

"Okay. Then let's make sure you live to fight another day."

"Yes." And that sad smile, that bitter irony returned. " That's exactly what worries me."