Riniock slipped into the classroom as quietly as he could, but his late arrival didn’t go unnoticed. The professor, mid-sentence, turned to address the unfamiliar face amongst the seated acolytes.

‘And who might you be?’ she asked sharply, her tone carrying a note of irritation. ‘I don’t recall seeing you amongst the first arrivals.’

‘My sincerest apologies, professor,’ Riniock said, bowing his head slightly in a show of contrition. ‘I encountered an unexpected and rather inconvenient delay that caused my tardiness.’

‘Is that your excuse?’ she retorted, her scepticism evident.

‘It is,’ he replied with calm confidence, meeting her gaze.

The professor raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. ‘How much do you know about astronomy?’

‘Enough,’ Riniock said with quiet assurance, ‘to make you reconsider any assumptions you might have about me.’

‘Good. Sit down and pay attention,’ the professor instructed briskly.

Behind her, the tower's ceiling had been ingeniously opened, its tiles pushed aside to reveal the vast expanse of the night sky.

‘As you can see, two moons are clearly visible tonight. You, the new one – what are their names?’

‘The smaller moon is called Serina, and the larger one is Selodis,’ Riniock replied confidently.

‘That’s correct! You know your moons,’ the professor remarked, though their names were common knowledge. ‘Now, who can tell me how many moons our world originally had? New guy?’

‘Twelve, professor,’ Riniock answered immediately, without hesitation.

‘And what happened to the other ten?’

‘They were destroyed aeons ago by a powerful dark maegi. The two that remain were named after her children, to whom she offered when each came of age.’

‘Or so the story goes,’ the professor commented, her tone sceptical.

‘It is no mere tale, professor. The Fable of Sinolia is built upon facts,’ Riniock countered firmly.

The professor's gaze sharpened, intrigued by his certainty. ‘Then perhaps you'd care to identify the constellation tied to that fable? No telescope.’

Riniock rose from his seat and approached the fenced edge of the tower’s rooftop to get a clearer view. With no telescope to aid him in this particular search, he relied entirely on his memory and sharp eyes.

‘There,’ he said, pointing upward. ‘The Irindum Constellation.’

His finger traced an invisible line between the stars, connecting them to form the image of a skull with a snake slithering out of its gaping maw.

‘Correct again. It seems your claim was no idle boast,’ the professor acknowledged, a glint of approval in her voice.

‘Thank you, professor,’ Riniock replied, dipping his head respectfully.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

‘Now then, everyone,’ the professor addressed the class. ‘Claim a telescope from the ones provided and set to work. Observe the sky, record, and sketch every constellation or solitary star you can identify from this spot.’

With the professor’s attention no longer fixed on him, Riniock felt a wave of relief, finally able to breathe freely.

As he turned to his assigned task, aligning the telescope and gazing at the vast night sky, his thoughts drifted. The Tale of Sinolia lingered in his mind, demanding his fascination.

How immense must one’s power be to obliterate an entire moon? he wondered, admiration welling up within him. And if destroying a single moon required unfathomable strength, what then of Sinolia, who shattered ten?

It was an awe-inspiring feat, one that stirred something primal within him. A vision of ultimate power took shape in his thoughts – not as a destructive ambition but as an aspiration, an idea of omnipotence so complete that the world itself could become a marionette, its strings tugged effortlessly by his hand.

If ever there was a goal worth striving for, it was this. The power to rewrite existence itself, to stand beyond mortal comprehension, was a dream tantalising in its boundlessness.

The lesson wrapped up shortly after.

‘New guy,’ the professor called out to Riniock, gesturing for him to approach as the rest of the acolytes descended the steps of the astronomy tower. ‘I trust your first astronomy lesson met your expectations?’

‘On the contrary, professor, it exceeded them,’ Riniock replied with a polite bow. ‘I am deeply grateful for your patience and generosity. I am undeserving of such kindness.’

‘Quite the charmer, aren’t you?’ she said with a smirk, pulling out a roll of parchment. ‘However, your tardiness cannot go unaddressed. Before our next astronomy lesson, I expect you to conduct extensive research on stars and constellations. This question sheet will guide you – I want names, their discoverers, their meanings, and any relevant information.’

Riniock accepted the parchment, his expression betraying a flicker of indignation before he masked it with composure.

‘With your apparent breadth of knowledge, I suspect you have the potential to excel in my class,’ the professor added.

‘Understood, professor,’ Riniock said, maintaining a respectful tone.

‘I never caught your name.’

‘It’s Riniock,’ he replied.

‘Ah, the Riniock, I presume,’ she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as if piecing together something significant. ‘Well, I’m Professor Reginalia.’

With a faint smile, she turned and walked away, leaving Riniock to wonder what, exactly, she knew of him.

After packing his belongings, Riniock descended the winding steps of the astronomy tower. By the time he reached the bottom, his peers had long since returned to their dorms, and even the senior maegis who had been stationed at the entrance were nowhere to be seen.

The night was tranquil, the sky a deep canvas of stars, and the cool breeze carried with it a soothing calm. Riniock paused outside the tower, closing his eyes to savour the moment. The gentle wind on his face momentarily eased the tension of the past few days.

‘I should get back to –’ he muttered, but his words were abruptly cut off.

Before he could react, a force struck him from behind, tackling him to the ground. His vision spun as he hit the earth hard, the attack swift and silent.

Riniock’s instincts flared. He immediately began channelling his odh, the vital energy stored within him, readying his palms to cast defensive spells. But before he could focus, a heavy boot slammed into his face, shattering his concentration.

Another figure held him down whilst blows rained upon him – kicks, relentless and deliberate. The coordinated assault kept him disoriented, his attempts at resistance repeatedly thwarted.

Fingers pried his eyelids open, inspecting the faint redness in his eyes. ‘They’re red,’ one of the attackers confirmed coldly. ‘Irgod was right.’

The beating continued, brutal and unrelenting. Riniock lost count of the strikes, his body succumbing to the assault. His face swelled grotesquely, blood dripping freely, whilst his torso and limbs bore deep bruises and lacerations.

The one pinning him leaned down, their voice a venomous whisper in his ear. ‘Leave Linry alone. If we catch you with her again, tonight will seem merciful.’

Riniock tried to speak, but his swollen lips could only manage a faint hiss of incomprehensible words. His attackers released him, letting his battered form collapse to the ground.

‘Later, you piece of trash,’ one spat, adding insult to injury before the two figures fled into the night.

Riniock lay motionless, his body broken and his consciousness slipping away under the weight of searing pain. As his vision darkened, the stars above blurred, fading into the deep stretches of Murat.