Magic. Oh, Magic. Wondrous and terrible. Mimicry of godly might. You free the mind from its mortal shackles and ensnare the heart in your corruption. As the sinful forget the fatal lessons of their forefathers, you lead more astray with your magnificent allure.

In the last days of the Jaldehim, the hearts of the Ancients became consumed by your delusions of godliness. You made them lovers of power, boastful, arrogant, abusive, ungrateful, unholy, unfeeling, uncooperative, slanderous, degenerate, brutal, hateful of what is good, traitors, reckless, conceited, and lovers of themselves rather than lovers of the divine.

Too great to shun is indeed the potential within the arcane arts, yet wielders must guard themselves against the pride and decadence that felled the Progenitors. Unchecked power leads to the irreparable distortion of the soul. Let not the pursuit of magic blind one to the perils it conceals; for in the certainty of corruption lies the call for discipline, humility, and a vigilant heart.

—verses from the Custodian Order’s Scripture.

-

Rest 30, 2497 AK, Radiant Empire, Cleft Isles, Greyport, Northern Sanctuary of the Faith.

The smooth temple walls were never intended for climbing. Doing so in broad daylight was not the wisest either. But Kaydence was in no mood to be wise. She was exhausted, in pain and angry—at nothing in particular. She was just… angry. The unpleasant feelings acquired inside, looking at the murals, clung to her like tar, poisoning her thoughts.

Her fingernails wedged into the thin seams between the stone blocks, pulling her ever upwards, ripping in the process. Blood trickled slowly down her hands, one droplet at a time. Her injuries healed too fast to allow more bleeding, and the hurt of her ripping nails felt fresh every time. She could have stopped it, silenced her frazzled nerve endings, but she cherished the pain. It reminded her of those parts of her that were still human—or human once more.

She was terrified to lose them again.

Seagulls scattered frightfully when Kaydence vaulted over the roof’s edge. A scarcely used walkway ran around the central dome, and she followed it to one of the corner turrets. Above and beside her, the sky was clear, free of yesterday’s choking fog. The weather always seemed unnaturally clement at the start of the Founder’s Festival. Many saw in it divine providence. The occasional lone cloud sped by, carried by the strong ocean winds that dishevelled Kaydence’s hair, tugged at her clothes and scattered the smoke of the town’s chimneys.

The morning sun was still rising. Kaydence had made sure to climb the shaded western side at an angle where she would be difficult to spot. She might act recklessly, sometimes, perhaps too often, but she tried not to be overly stupid when she could help it.

The half-day of schooling was already close to ending when Burtin had expelled her. Soon, Annet would come to fetch her and Sarmin. Kaydence had no time to wander around town. Thus, she decided to try to catch a nap where no one would bother her.

Hence, the roof.

Short, square, pointed towers marked the corners of the temple roof. Though they might look like defensive structures, Kaydence doubted they had any purpose other than decoration. Access to them was too unprotected, and their windows were too wide. However, they did make for good secluded nap spots and offered an unobstructed view of the sanctuary below.

The modern complex spanned several housing blocks. The Sanctuary of the Faith was the nerve centre for the citizens’ social lives. It encompassed not only the main temple and the school halls, but several chapels dedicated to minor gods, the clergy’s quarters, and the northern Greyport’s columbarium and library—what it amounted to. A significant part of the whole was taken by the House of Uat, over a quarter, to accommodate its public baths and hospice. The House also technically served as a separate temple for the Goddess of Water, whose faith was naturally prominent on an isolated archipelago.

The entire area was built in a style Kaydence considered distinctively imperial: high walls made of large stone bricks, horseshoe arches and doorways, colonnades aplenty, domed roofs with cupolas, pyramidal spires, and statues at every corner. It contrasted sharply with the half-timbered architecture of the houses just across the street, like pieces from two different paintings stitched together.

From her perch, Kaydence watched the people go about their business, tiny as ants. Everything looked so mundane and peaceful from up here.

Staring straight down, she could barely see into one of the classrooms, where the third years were receiving the same long-winded lecture she had been booted from. The angle only showed her the seat closest to the window, at the back of the room, coincidentally occupied by her half-elf childhood… friend? acquaintance? cohabitant? They did not even truly live under the same roof. Lenril only dumped his kid with Annet whenever he went out hunting, which was most of the time. Not that Kaydence had any parenting lessons to give.

Sarmin probably got relegated to that seat because it was the coldest spot in the room. It had been far too long since the windows had been resealed, and during the cold months, the draught was constant—not a pleasant place to sit still for hours. Kaydence had heard rumours he was being picked on, which frankly did not surprise her. Even as a full-blooded human, the meek boy would have been bullied, and his pointy ears, fair skin, and slanted green eyes helped none. Children could often be more openly cruel than adults.

“…not my problem,” Kaydence muttered, turning away. It was not like the kid looked unhappy, listening captivated as the lecturer surely rambled on about the First Emperor’s heroic feats, his pointed ears twitching in attention, only shivering occasionally. Kaydence slid to the stone floor, reclined against the wall, hands behind her head, and tried to find some elusive sleep.

No time seemed to have passed at all when the temple horns bellowed midday, startling Kaydence out of her somnolence. “Void,” she groaned, her head ringing from the noise. As much as she longed to dawdle the rest of the day alone up here, she started contemplating how to climb down undetected, when a commotion from below caught her sensitive ears.

“What now?” Sighing, she leaned over the roof’s edge, and her expression quickly soured.

* * *

Life for Sarmin Mercer was a confusing and stressful experience. He had long ago realised everyone around him was bigger and stronger than him, and whether he liked it or not, those people got to decide the rules, even when they made no sense. He knew his father loved him, yet Lenril was often absent when his son needed him most. Auntie Annet was kind but weird in a way that confused and scared Sarmin a little. Kay was mean and scary, an uncaring force of nature like the storms that sometimes hit the coast, and she seemed to hate him. Yet she was always there when Sarmin needed help—unless she was the source of his torment.

Sarmin did not understand.

Everything in his life felt like puzzle pieces that kept changing shape whenever he tried to figure them out. Why were others mean towards him and his father when they never did anything to them? Why was Annet hated when she was so nice to everyone? Why did only the big, strong people get to do what they wanted? Could he ever be like them and not be afraid of what others might say or do to him? Could he be strong like Kay told him he should be? Strong like her? Strong like the First Emperor, who protected everyone from the bad guys?

Without answers to these questions, Sarmin could only observe the world around him, racking his nervous mind to puzzle why people never acted how he expected them to and hoping things would one day start making sense.

And yet, observing his surroundings was precisely what Sarmin had failed to do today at the end of class. Instead, he had been daydreaming, wondering if he could ever be even a fraction as awesome, fearless and noble as the First Emperor, and he had missed the group of teenagers converging on him from the fourth-year classroom.

“Well, well… Where’s your rabid guard dog, tree licker? Did you finally put her down?”

When he heard the sneering voice, it was too late.

The group counted six older kids, four boys and two girls, aged eleven and twelve. Before Sarmin could react, they had him surrounded. As they dragged him to a secluded corner of the courtyard, he caught the gaze of the priestess who had just been teaching his class. But she quickly averted her eyes and walked away.

Why…?

Sarmin did not understand.

The leader of the teen gang was a large, heavyset boy with a round face and short-cropped blond hair. Thomas Burtin had the mean, beady eyes of his father. A fading black eye circled the left one, a souvenir of his last encounter with Kaydence. Smirking, he cracked his knuckles while stepping forward, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the tiny half-elf. “Did you think I would just say nothing, hey, Sarmin?”

“Wha– What?” Sarmin’s heart pounded rapidly in his chest. He fearfully looked for an escape route, but the other kids had closed in a half-circle around him, with the temple wall at his back. He was trapped. “W-What do you want, T-Thomas?” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. He hunched to make himself less of a target—too late as it might be.

Thomas shoved him harshly against the wall. “Lyra told me you sent her presents!?” His smirk was gone, replaced by an angry grimace. “You think you can steal my girl, eh?!”

“Wha–” Sarmin’s eyes widened in shock and flickered to one of the girls, who grinned behind her boyfriend’s back. “N-No! I-I d-didn’t–”

Why would she say something like that?

Sarmin did not understand.

“Don’t lie to me!” Thomas shoved him even harder. “You think a pretty girl like Lyra would ever like a creepy little goblin like you?!” Behind him, the girl puffed out with pride.

The half-elf shook his head frantically, green eyes pleading. “No, I s-s-swear, I d-didn’t do a-anything! I-I wouldn’t d-do that.”

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But Thomas was not listening to him, only to his friends egging him on with jeers and taunts. “You’re a pathetic worm,” he spat, towering over the smaller boy. “You think you can hide behind that demon freak and get away with anything you want?! Well, you can’t! And I’ll show you why.” The large twelve-year-old raised a hand before Sarmin’s face and seemed to focus intensely.

For a moment, nothing happened, and then Sarmin felt something he could not describe pour sluggishly out of Thomas’s palm. A small fire burst into existence, somewhat bigger than a candle flame, hovering above Thomas’s fingers. The half-elf stared at it, fascinated.

“See!” The older boy preened. “I’ll have my Appraisal this year, and I already know I’ll be one of the chosen! My dad says my talent is super great because I can already do this much without formal training. Maybe even as great as the First Emperor!” A sadistic smirk split his face. “I can’t wait to see how that ugly freak reacts when I throw a fireball at her stupid face,” he snickered, his friends laughing along.

“…nowhere near…”

Thomas’s eyebrows twitched. “What did you say?!”

Sarmin gulped, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. He thought he should keep quiet and apologise. Instead, he looked up at Thomas, his eyes brimming with tears but unflinching. “I s-said you’re nowhere near as strong as the F-First Emperor, or Kay!”

The boy’s face turned crimson red. “You leaf ear bastard! You’re nothing but a subhuman! Know your place!” His punch caught Sarmin off guard. Kay would have scolded him for not expecting it.

Pain exploded in Sarmin’s nose; he was on the ground. He tried to crawl away, but Thomas dragged him back, lifted him by the collar, and painfully slammed him into the wall. “Maybe I should practice on your face first!” He brought his flickering magical flame close to Sarmin, who whimpered and closed his eyes in terror.

Why…?

“Please… Kay… Hel–”

A deafening thud startled all the children.

The group’s attention snapped to the side. From a cloud of dust, a tall, broad figure stepped out, black hair wild, breath fogging in the cold, and the midday sun shining off her bronze skin. “Kay…” Sarmin choked in relief.

But his feelings of elation died when he noticed the look in Kaydence’s crimson eyes.

Two years ago, Sarmin had wandered beyond the edge of the defensive wards while gathering herbs in the woods. By the time he realised his mistake, one of the deep forest’s monsters had found him. The beast had the rough shape of a bear, only twice as big, and bloated and deformed. Suppurating growths protruded over its body, parting its shaggy black fur. Its giant claws pawed at the dirt, and too many fangs jutted from its maw, dripping sizzling saliva. Its warm, rotten breath had enveloped Sarmin as the beast closed in.

However, what the boy recalled most intensely, what haunted his nightmares and lurked in his waking fears, were the monster’s eyes: red orbs that did not belong to any sane animal, but gleamed with madness, hatred, and insatiable violent impulses.

At this moment, Kaydence’s eyes were the same—the same as that monster she had beaten to death with her bare hands before threatening Sarmin against ever speaking of the incident. Needless to say, the half-elf knew whom to fear most, and he could not fathom why Thomas and his gang were not already running away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kaydence’s words were void of any emotion. She stalked towards them, her steps silent even to Sarmin’s sharp ears. However, her eyes were not on any of the children, but on the flames in Thomas’s hands.

Perhaps mistaking her focus for fear, Thomas dropped his victim and turned to wave his fire at the incoming monster, a confident smirk on his face. Sarmin thought the boy had lost his mind. “Get back, demon! See that? My dad says my talent is one in a million. When Appraisal Day comes this year, I’m sure to be admitted into the Imperial Academy. So you better beg for forgiveness on your knees while you can, or I’ll burn you and your little elf pet– argh!”

Sarmin must have blinked for too long.

One instant, Kaydence was five steps away. The next, her fist plunged deep into Thomas’s stomach. The boy bent in two with pain. Bile flew from his mouth. He started to collapse, but Kaydence did not let him. Her fingers overlapped his and forced his hand close around the flame he still held. Thomas cried out when the fire burnt his skin before dissipating. He tried to punch Kaydence, but she caught his fist without looking. She twisted his wrist. There was an ominous crack. The boy fell to his knees, screaming.

The red eyes were pitiless. “Magic… is not a toy.” The slow, uncaring voice sent shivers down Sarmin’s spine. “Play carelessly with fire, and you’ll get burned.”

“Let go of me!” Riding his anger through the pain, Thomas tried to free himself, but the grip around his hand did not budge. “Release me, bitch! My father will–” Expressionless, the girl tightened her grasp. There were more cracks. “AAAH!!”

“Never use magic if you’re not ready for the consequences. Do you hear me?” Though the red eyes fixated on the boy, Sarmin wondered if Kaydence was even talking to him anymore.

Ominous cracking noises continued coming from Thomas’s hand, and his cries soon turned to whimpers. The other kids had long fled the scene. Sarmin thought he should do the same but found his fingers grasping Kaydence’s sleeve instead. “K-Kay. You’re hurting him.”

The monster’s eyes turned to him.

Sarmin’s heart missed several beats. For a terrifying instant, he was back in the forest, feeling helpless and terrified, imminent death breathing down his neck, fangs closing in on his throat.

Then Kaydence was back.

She blinked and glanced to the sides, a frown on her face, as if confused about her location. Her eyes met Sarmin’s, and he briefly recalled another memory, of his father this time, of a night Lenril had spent staring out in the rain, when he thought Sarmin was asleep. Why did he look so sad?

The moment did not last long before Kaydence turned away. Her attention shifted to the crying boy at her feet. She unclenched her fist, freeing Thomas’s bent and bloodied fingers. The boy tried to curl protectively around his destroyed hand, but she snatched him by the front of his shirt and lifted his face to hers, just as he had done to Sarmin earlier. A menacing, evil grin twisted her features.

Somehow, Sarmin found it less scary than her earlier lack of expression.

The girl shook Thomas until his teary eyes focused on her. “Listen here, boy–”

He spit on her face.

Kaydence’s grin slipped along with the glob of saliva down her cheek. “Alright. I see how it is… A quick lesson about magic– any sort of combat, really. Know your limitations, kid. Otherwise, you’ll get hurt. Just like this.”

There was a loud crack when her fist met Thomas’s face. Strangely, there was no trace of damage when his head bounced back up, leaving the boy looking shocked and groggy.

Kaydence nonchalantly thumbed the spit off her face. “Now, where was I? Oh, right.” She pulled Thomas’s face uncomfortably close. “If I ever hear you used your magic to threaten or harm someone ever again, I will track you down, and I will do to you much, much worse than break a few fingers. You call me a demon? Boy, you’ve seen nothing.” Her red eyes gleamed from deep within, making it clear to any who looked into them that this was no mere threat, but a promise. She shook the boy again. “Do you understand?!”

Thomas nodded fearfully, tears, snot, and anger oozing from his round face. Kaydence held him a moment longer, and Sarmin felt a strange prickle at the back of his neck, like when lightning was about to strike. Then, Kaydence dropped Thomas carelessly and suddenly snapped around at Sarmin. “And you!”

“M-M-Me?!”

“How many times do I need to tell you before it sinks into your thick, thick skull?! Don’t take abuse like a wet mop! Throw a punch! Kick! Bite! Spit in his eyes! Or at least call for help! You think I’ll always magically appear to beat up idiots?! What if I–” Kaydence stopped talking abruptly. Her hands dragged over her face as she muffled a scream, which eventually turned into a deep, weary sigh. “Don’t rely on me, okay?”

Sarmin’s mouth opened. But before he could figure out what to say, heavy, hurried footsteps came rushing in their direction, preceded by a breathless shout.

“Void Spawn! Get… away… from… my son!”

Rivers of sweat were dripping down Lector Burtin’s bald head. His bulbous red face was edging on purple. Each breath wheezed out of his throat like a wailing spectre. Accompanying him were Thomas’s friends who had run away, followed closely by Kaydence’s mother.

Annet quickly overtook the rest and kneeled before Sarmin. “Aw, love, what happened to you?” She produced a handkerchief from her robe and took it to his face, from which it came bloodied. Sarmin was startled. In the confusion, he had forgotten the punch he took to the face. However, now that things were calming down, his nose started throbbing painfully.

“Who cares about the half-breed?! Look at what your creature did to my son!” Burtin senior had raised Thomas to his feet and was screaming spitles at Annet. “She probably brutalised the elf spawn as well. I’ll have her banned from the school grounds this time!”

Kaydence was now leaning on the wall, arms crossed, looking bored. She levelled the priest with an unimpressed glance. “You should be glad I stopped your idiot spawn from burning the twig’s face off. I’m not sure what the legal sentence is for aggravated magical assault on a minor, but you’re the teacher, so you tell me.”

Burtin’s face cycled through several unhealthy colours, from sickly green to bruised purple. It settled on a mix of white and red blotches that made him look like a very angry bulbous mushroom. Sarmin might have found it funny if not for his swelling, bleeding nose stealing most of his focus.

“You watch your mouth, you sordid little bi–”

“Lector Burtin!” Annet stood suddenly. “Sarmin, hold this to your nose, love,” she handed him the bloodied handkerchief and marched at the priest, who took a step back despite being a head taller than the petite woman and over twice her body mass. “My child has a bloody nose, and your son has a bloody fist. I don’t think we need to involve the City Guard’s investigators to figure out my daughter stopped a flagrant case of bullying.”

Startled, Sarmin looked towards Thomas. The big boy was cradling his hand, but his fingers, which had looked like broken kindling before, now appeared completely unharmed. Thomas nervously glanced at Kaydence, who seemed only interested in the passing clouds.

Lector Burtin’s double chin trembled with rage. “You dare accuse my son of–”

“The facts accuse your son, Reverend.”

“Keep your glib tongue for your suitors, harlot! These children came to me, scared for their well-being, after that unholy thing you call your daughter assaulted them!”

Annet crossed her arms, chin raised. “If you’re so sure my daughter is lying, why don’t we call for a competent mage to inspect the scene for traces of fire magic? The temple must have a couple on duty, right?”

Burtin sputtered. “Inconceivable! You want to bother–” Thomas pulled at his father’s robes to get his attention, but the priest slapped his hand off. “Don’t interrupt adults, Tom. You’ve already done enough as is.” He shooed the boy with a glare, then turned back to Annet. “What you’re suggesting is preposterous, Miss Templeton! I’m not calling Brother Foher away from his duties for a children’s quarrel.”

Dismissed by his father, Thomas looked down at his feet, face red in humiliation. After a last glare at Kaydence, completely ignoring Sarmin, he stomped back to his little gang, where his girlfriend was quick to fawn over his inexplicably healed, yet still bloodied hand.

Annet smiled innocently at the irate priest. “So we agree to leave this at a children’s quarrel?”

“That’s not what I m–”

“You’re right, of course. We wouldn’t want to take precious time away from an illustrious clergy member like Reverend Foher, who I’m sure is very busy with preparations for the festival and has no time to waste fussing about children being children.”

“You–”

“Although… I do concur it is a bit far-fetched for my Kaydence to accuse your son of using magic against a schoolmate. Thomas might be twelve and a very talented, smart boy, but he has not yet gone through his Appraisal.” She giggled sweetly. “Why, if my daughter learned to do magic on her own so young, I’d be bragging to everyone I know. I couldn’t help myself!”

The priest was fuming but said nothing in return.

Annet curtsied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must take Sarmin to a healer. Have a wonderful day, Reverend.” Without waiting for an answer, she took the half-elf’s hand and started walking away. Kaydence fell into step behind them without a word, looking deep in thought as she often did.

Letting himself be led by the hand, Sarmin looked back to Thomas and his friends. The large boy was pushing away the girl, Lyra. “This is all your fault, you stupid bitch,” Sarmin heard him grumble. “Come on, guys. This place is lame. We’re going to the secret hideout.”

“Can I come too?” the other girl asked.

“No. You know the hideout is for boys only,” Thomas huffed. “No girls allowed. Let’s g–”

“Thomas. We need to talk.” Burtin’s threatening voice was the last thing Sarmin heard before their group walked out of earshot. Stepping out of the sanctuary, Annet took the path towards Neela’s home instead of her own.

“Auntie… I’m fine.” Sarmin disliked being made a fuss over. “We can go home.”

“I’m sure, love,” the brunette smiled indulgently. “I’m just doing this for my own peace of mind. Don’t sweat it. Oh, and Kaydence, you’ll be doing Sarmin’s chores for the duration of the festival.”

Kaydence’s head snapped up from her brooding. “What?! But I– They did– How is this my fault?!”

“No buts, sweetheart. Listen to your mother.”

The scary girl’s mouth opened and closed several times like a fish out of water. Eventually, her shoulder slumped. “…whatever…”

Sarmin might not understand a lot in life. There were many things he could not make up his mind about. But he decided, there and then, that out of everyone he knew, Auntie Annet was undoubtedly the scariest.

* * * * *