“What are mana beasts?” asked Professor Aria during our first-ever class.

She was a small thing, no bigger than Ellie in size, yet everyone in class knew better than to mess with her despite her appearance. Although humanlike, the woman wearing the strange feathery dress was actually a royal harpy, a vicious creature capable of charming humans with their songs before tearing them to shreds. I’ve heard stories before of harpies that would capture their prey and play with them like a cat and mouse before finally deciding to put them out of their misery by eating them while still alive. It was hard to believe that one such creature was not only at the academy but also a professor at that. Being a royal harpy must’ve played a huge part in her acceptance.

Pushing her brunette shoulder-length hair behind the ear, revealing a violet diamond-shaped earring hanging loosely by her humanlike ear, she approached the board and began writing.

“Open your books to page seven,” she instructed, taking a step onto a wooden box to reach the top of the board easier, admittedly a funny sight. “Four years is what they gave me to teach you the best I can about mana beasts, a subject that takes decades to master. We’ll be learning about different types of mana beasts, what they are, and how best to deal with them. Those vicious creatures were responsible for more than a few deserted settlements.”

She put the chalk down after writing out the class name before approaching the table and sitting atop, her barefoot feet swinging back and forth.

“However, with so many out there, it’d be impossible to teach you everything, so I’ll focus on those you might encounter here at Grimhold.” She paused, looking behind me before asking, “Yes?”

“Umm. . . Professor. Does that mean that we might be in danger strolling around?” asked one of the students who held their hand up.

“You’ll be fine so long as you don’t provoke it. Grimhold took care of all the dangerous ones back in the day. Any more questions?”

The classroom fell silent.

“Very well. Turn to your books,” Professor Aria instructed, waiting patiently.

Quite chunky for a book, around six hundred pages that convey almost anything you’d need to know, with the first few being mere introductions that I skimmed over before class. It had drawings, detailed breakdowns of their appearance, species, abilities, personality, and how to slay it.

She went on a rant explaining how we should avoid any encounters we might stumble upon, even if we believed we were ready to face them. Although her intentions were kind, I zoned out for a bit, intrigued by the book. However, that was when I stumbled upon something interesting – something familiar, although odd since it clashed with what I’ve seen myself. And without thinking, I raised my hand.

“Yes?” Professor Aria asked, understandably sounding somewhat annoyed as I interrupted her speech halfway.

“Pardon, Professor. . . However, I had to ask, are these ever wrong?” I slightly lifted the book, turning it toward her. “Here. . . it says that the Vuklov are grey guardian spirit wolves who live in forests, claiming they’re friendly toward humanoids, but more importantly, while it describes them as large wolves, it specifies they never grow to match a dire wolf which is as big as a horse. However, I’ve met one of these in a cave, and although I survived, it definitely wasn’t friendly, much less the size of what’s described here.”

Even the memory of the beast I encountered back then with the redhead whose name I had sadly forgotten sends a shiver down my spine. Its piercing eyes were unforgettable as they stared back at me, contemplating if killing me was worth the time.

“To claim a book is always right is to claim that whoever wrote it knew everything – an impossibility.” She jumped off the table and slowly walked over, taking a good look at the page. “Although rare, oddities always exist, even among us.” Her eyes wandered up, meeting mine halfway. “Whatever it is you think you saw, an encounter with any mana beast, regardless of how friendly, can turn south. Stay clear of mana beasts.”

“U–understood. Professor.”

“Good. Now then, where were we?”

She continued with her lesson.

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ISABELLA KALLIS:

Standing before the gallery entrance, I waited for Sir James, who slowly approached, bearing news of my husband’s departure for the Capital.

“Milady,” he said, bowing respectfully.

“Sir James. Have they left?”

“Yes, milady. The Duke and his envoys left not long ago and will be back within a week or so. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Hmm. I may finally have the time to dedicate to my art. Make sure I’m not disturbed.”

“Yes, milady.”

Turning around, I entered the gallery, locking the door behind me.

Although anxious and haunted by the memories my son shared, my work needed to be done before I could rest. Approaching the canvas covered by white cloth, I grabbed hold and pulled it off, revealing a painting I had worked on the past few days, looking identical to the cave entrance that led to Tartarus.

I picked up the brush, adding finishing touches that took about an hour to complete, and although finished and impressive, looking at it made me feel nothing but anger.

“It’s time, huh?” I muttered, turning to the door and making sure it was locked before approaching the painting again, pressing my palm against the canvas and closing my eyes. “Open.”

Mana gathered around me as the painting began to move, creating a ripple before a bright light flashed along the surface, swallowing me whole. The next thing I knew, I was standing before the cave entrance, far from home.

Clasping my hands together, I took a deep breath and wandered inside, a spectral ball of light conjuring next to me, illuminating the way forward.

It was damp and hard to move around without risking slipping, and the pathways were numerous enough to deter anyone from exploring for fear of getting lost; however, I knew exactly where I was going.

How could they? I’ve asked myself so many times. How could they hurt others without just cause? How could they stand by and watch others suffer without guilt or desire to help? Though regardless of what their answer was, my anger wouldn’t quell.

It wasn’t long before I heard much anticipated footsteps, followed by a low growl. The Vuklov that spotted my son had found me.

“Why have you come here?” echoed the grey wolf’s monstrous voice as he slowly stepped closer. His amber eyes stared directly at my soul. “What is it you seek, witch?”

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He dwarfed me in size yet kept his distance.

“So it is you,” I said calmly, dropping my gaze.

“You disturb my rest, what–”

“They hurt him,” I cut him off, glancing back at those amber eyes. “They hurt my son.”

The beast fell silent for a bit, a somewhat frustrating response, but I bit my tongue.

“The world is cruel.”

Bravery wasn’t what made me step forward, but I still did. Each step heavier than the last before I had finally gotten within arm’s reach. The beast didn’t move away, so I dared raise my hand, reaching for the snout.

“Although you don’t owe me anything, and I’m in no position to ask, I still plead for your compassion.” My eyes teared up as I gently stroked its large head.

“He is not our Lord.”

“Yes, you’re right.” I walked to his side and pressed against his body while he kept an eye on me. “I’m not asking you in his name but as a mother. They hurt my child!” my voice refused to stay low.

He fell silent again for a bit.

“What is it you seek?”

My eyes widened before I turned to look at his face.

“Why ask such a silly question?” I mumbled, gripping his fur with my right hand. “What I want is retribution.”

He let out a low growl before facing away from me, stepping toward the darkness. “Very well.”

Following side by side through the countless tunnels, we stayed quiet, not saying a word to each other.

“What is it?” he asked. “You keep staring at me.”

“If I may ask, why stay here? Why are you hiding in the caves far within the Beast Lands?”

“I grow tired of conflict.”

“Really?” I asked and immediately regretted it, covering my mouth despite knowing he had heard me well. “Sorry. . .”

“Unbelievable, isn’t it? My kin would laugh had they heard me.”

“Who’d dare–”

“Many. Fools mostly.”

He sounded annoyed, so I changed the subject. “My son unsealed his core.”

“Hmm. . .” He took his time responding. “Maybe there’s still hope for him yet.”

“Will– will you ever give him a chance? A chance to prove himself.”

“Perhaps. It’ll depend on how he manages the faulty heart of his.”

“Faulty heart?” I asked, worried by his statement.

Although I knew more than I led others to believe, a faulty heart was a novelty.

“His father told me before passing, a kid born from a human mother. His dragon heart so unstable that it formed a core and needed to be sealed away, or the chaos would kill him.”

“Is he in danger?” I asked, obviously worried.

“If he’s alive and using magic, then clearly not. However, taming such contradicting power with a mere mortal body will cause many hardships along the way. So unless he learns to dominate chaos, his path as a mage will be gruelling.”

“They believed the seal to be a curse and now think the core was his gift.”

“Unsurprising. Mortals always lacked an understanding of true power. Unfortunately, it would appear only a miracle could save him, and even if he were to ever learn of the truth, I’m doubtful he’ll find a way to complete it – the power that lays dormant.”

“But why must I still keep it secret?” It frustrated me to lie to my own son, even more so now that I knew something was wrong. “It doesn’t matter what happens to me anymore.”

“You think they’d stop at lynching you? Someone who formed a pact in search of freedom?” He stopped in place, finally turning his head to look at me. “Those mortals dare attempt to hunt my kin. Do you truly believe they wouldn’t band together to capture your son and tare him open in search of answers? Even I would consider twice before declaring war on the whole world.”

“But I’d tell him in private!” I argued. “Nobody else would know.”

“It’s pointless to argue. The geas placed on you already ensures you don’t tell.”

“Geas?” I furrowed my brows. “What are you talking about?”

“Perhaps a cruel thing to do, but to ensure his child’s safety, the young lord placed a spell on you which deters any desire from telling the truth or helping him so long as he doesn’t know.”

“Then that would mean. . .” my lower lip trembled. “–it wasn’t me who chose not to save him. It wasn’t me who allowed her son to feel helpless.”

I collapsed to my knees, eyes brimming with tears that refused to escape.

“Do you hate him?”

“Ha?” His question stunned me.

“Do you hate his father for what he had done?”

It took me a second to process, but I inevitably shook my head. “I only wish he told me the whole truth.”

“He had no time.”

“He had enough time to tell you. . .” I argued.

“I was his closest friend, and it was paramount that I knew.” His words were contradictory, but I decided not to ask any more questions. “We’re close. I suggest you stay here for a bit.”

He turned his head and ran straight into darkness, leaving me kneeling on the ground in a cave. Not a minute passed before a terrifying roar echoed, followed by countless panicked screams. Of course, I had to get up and see it for myself – to see the retribution they so deserved.

Walking through the secret passage through which my son escaped that was now a gaping hole in the wall, I saw a dozen men torn to shreds while hearing signs of fighting beyond the room. Letting a dragon do the killing assured none would escape. Even countries would pray for salvation had he taken to the skies.

“H. . . Help – me,” I heard a cowering whisper from behind the table, and when I walked around, I saw a man lying on the floor with his right arm torn and left clearly broken, covered in his blood. “. . . help. . .”

Taking a step closer, I knelt and looked deep into his brown eyes, reaching with what seemed to be a helping hand before pulling on the dagger strapped to his belt.

“What–” he tried muttering but was soon silenced by agonising screams as I drove the dagger into his stomach, stabbing him repeatedly with frustration and wrath. It was no different to cutting fruit, sliding in and out with relative ease.

Letting go of the dagger, I stood up and looked at my bloody hands, having killed for the first time. They were trembling, and I wanted to puke from the strong smell of iron, let alone the sight. However, a part of me felt relieved knowing not a single one of those bastards would ever get a chance to lay their hand on another.

Life wasn’t letting us live in peace, and the freedom I sought ended up just as another invisible chain holding me hostage. But even if the skies themselves stood against us, I’d do anything to protect my children.

Chapter End.

Thank you for reading.