I landed harder than I intended, the wooden floorboards creaking under my feet.
Mel’s fist whizzed past where my head had been moments before. She was fast—faster than professional martial artists I had seen back on Earth.
“Jumping won’t save you!” she taunted, a wild grin spreading across her face.
—‘She’s open on the left,’ Fern shouted. ‘Now! Hit her hard! Let’s go. We’ll wipe that smirk right off.’
I felt my body twitch like it wanted to dive forward. But I held back.
That was a mistake.
Mel dashed forward, closing the gap between us in an instant. I barely had time to raise my arms before she unleashed a flurry of punches. Each strike was precise, aiming for weaknesses in my stance. Any normal person would have keeled over by now, but I held firm, tanking the blows.
—No, I shot back to Fern. I’m not gonna hurt her; we don’t know just what we’re capable of!
—‘What do you think this class is for, you idiot? Let me hit her!
“Come on, Erik! Fight back!” Mel yelled, frustration creeping into her voice.
Blow after blow after blow, the girl never gave up a moment to break her assault.
She drew back her arm further than before, gathering more leverage.
I took advantage of the extra millisecond and parried as she attempted to slam her fist into my kidney. I sidestepped to create distance.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, hoping she’d ease up.
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t patronize me!” She spun on her heel, delivering a swift kick to my side. Pain exploded in my ribs; I staggered backward and bit my tongue, but I never fell.
—‘She’s not holding back, and neither should you,’ Fern urged. ‘C’mon, hit her!’
I clenched my fists, conflicted. Part of me knew Fern was right. This was a combat class, and Mel clearly didn’t share my reservations.
She charged again, this time feinting high before sweeping low. I tripped, falling hard onto my back. The air rushed out of my lungs.
“Get up!” she commanded, circling me like a predator.
I pushed myself up, feeling my face blush with embarrassment. The room seemed to echo with the murmurs of our classmates. These were the moments where reputations were made.
—‘Enough,’ Fern said firmly. ‘Your way is not working, whatever your way is.’
—I’m trying to figure that out. You’re too hot headed Fern! What happens if we kill her? Did you think of that? We’re a lot more in shape since the training, I thought.
“Are you even paying attention?” Mel snapped her fingers, and my eyes met hers. “Now... fight... back!” She slammed her foot on the ground and raised her fists.
I groaned.
—‘Fine. Fifty percent strength, okay?’
—‘Yeah, like either of us can control that,’ Fern said.
I charged. Mel charged. I pulled back my fist, remembering when I punched that snob back in Corello with Lotrick and tried to imagine doing the same here. I let out a yell and threw my punch. She jumped. My fist collided with the stage.
CRACK
The wood splintered, and the floor shattered where Mel had stood. Gasps and flinched bodies pushed chairs back in the audience. I quickly turned around, and Mel had flipped over me in the air. She was unfazed by my strength and drove her heel into my face.
My nose popped, and blood fell down my face as I fell backward. I landed in the broken pile of wood I had just made, and splinters dug into my skin.
“Ah, fuck!” I yelled, rolling myself out of the piles of sharp splintered flooring.
“Yield?” she asked, standing over me.
I swallowed my pride—and a bit of blood. “I yield.”
She offered a hand, pulling me up with surprising strength. “I respect your strength and endurance, moss head,” she said, before frowning. “But, don’t ever hesitate to fight me because I’m a girl again. If you do, I’ll make sure to rip something off when I get my claw back.” She glared at me.
“It wasn’t that; it was... I mean, did you see what I did?” I gestured towards the broken stage while holding my dislocated nose. She leaned past me and looked at the splintered wood. She shrugged her shoulders.
I sighed and nodded slowly; each movement hurt my nose. “Okay... noted. I won’t hesitate again.”
“Alright! Good work, kids! The winner is Mel! Come on, everyone, let’s give them a hand! What a blazing display of the fury of genders at odds!” Hopsander said, clapping loudly.
The rest of our class slowly clapped awkwardly. Some, like Vahim and the other two Easterners, didn’t clap at all.
“It wasn’t just that she was a girl—“ I started.
“Moving on!” Hopsander continued. “Mel, please make your choice.”
Turning to the weapon cart, Mel’s eyes gleamed as she scanned the options. “Hmm... what to choose?” She settled on a hefty battle-axe, lifting it with ease. “Perfect.”
“Remember, everyone,” Hopsander called out to the whole class, “you’ll train with the chosen weapon for a week before switching. The goal is versatility.”
Mel swung the axe experimentally. “Fine by me.” The massive axe looked ridiculous on the small red-haired girl.
I approached the cart, reaching for a longsword that caught my eye. Was I being generic? Possibly. Did I still want it? Absolutely.
“Not so fast,” Hopsander interjected, placing a webbed hand on my shoulder. “A blade isn’t suited for you. Not after that display,” he said.
“It wasn’t the most elegant fight, that’s for sure,” I heard Lucius say. He was combing his white hair using one of the large glass windows as a very faded mirror.
I frowned, turning to look at the frog-man. “But—”
He handed me a spear instead. “Balance,” he said.
“A spear... sir?”
—Damn, I wanted that sword, but I guess a spear isn’t that bad. Isn’t it technically the best melee weapon? There was a video about it online, I thought half to myself.
—‘I don’t understand what that is,’ Fern said confused.
—A spear? Or a video? Ah nevermind.
Captain Hopsander smiled slyly before unscrewing the spearhead, leaving me with a simple staff. “Now, it’s a tool to teach you balance. You won’t be able to switch weapons until you show no hesitation.”
I felt a flush of embarrassment. “I thought I did okay. Are you telling me the broken floorboards mean nothing?” I raised my voice and felt kind of ridiculous, but my strength was abnormal. Didn’t they see that?
“Your stance was off, and your hesitation was evident. It looked like you didn’t know what to do, even with all the combat basic classes you took during the boot camp, you hesitated,” he said, flatly. “Work with the staff. Earn the blade.”
I sighed, accepting the staff. As I walked back to my seat next to Silas, I sulked back into one of the benches.
“Don’t let it get to you,” Silas whispered. “She’s like a rabid beast.”
Mel stopped mid-stride to her seat, and glared at Silas from across the room.
“Eh? You have something to say, pretty boy?” she said.
Silas flinched, and his mechanical arm started tapping against the desk.
Tap tap tap tap tap tap
Aside from his tapping, the room went silent for a second.
Then, Captain Hopsander broke the silence.
“Alright, recruits, let’s move on. Next is young Ruriel and young Lucius.” He clapped his hands. Mel rolled her eyes and sat down in her seat, isolated on the far side of the room.
Lucius stood up, brushed off his uniform, and headed behind the changing shade to put on his black training outfit. Ruriel who sat opposite Silas groaned as he stood up and went to change on the opposite side of the room.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
A minute later, on the stage, Ruriel and Lucius squared off. Ever since I had seen them interact, there had been some bit of bad blood between them. I still was unsure if they had a deeper history.
“Ready to lose?” Lucius sneered, his bright white hair catching the light.
Ruriel smirked. “Only in your bleeding dreams.”
They moved like dueling dancers; each attack met with a counter. Lucius had his style of precision and grace, while Ruriel moved with fury and heart. The air filled with the sharp smacking sounds of fists meeting flesh and feet striking floorboards. They fought with a mixture of wrestling and striking moves that had been drilled into our heads during the boot camp. Sweat glistened on their foreheads, determination etched into their faces.
The intensity was palpable. Every feint, every parry was equal in terms of strength behind it.
We all leaned forward in our seats, waiting for one or the other to drop. Only the thudding of fists, rustling of clothes, and creaking of the wood filled the air.
They lunged simultaneously, fists colliding on faces. The impact sent both of them sprawling backward. They both fell backward, dazed.
Hopsander clapped his hands. “A draw! Excellent display of skill.”
Hopsander let out a whistle, and footsteps from outside started padding towards our classroom.
Medics rushed forward to tend to them. I watched, a knot forming in my stomach, seeing the bloodied and bruised faces.
Would they be healed quickly? This was more than a martial arts class—it was a battleground. We could hurt each other here. Hopsander wouldn’t let one of us kill each other, would he?
The medics took Lucius and Ruriel out of the room on small cots. Hopsander turned back towards us.
“Not to worry, children,” he said with a wide toothy grin. “Labella will have them in proper shape right quick. Now, next up: Tevin and... Vahim! Come on down, you two. Get changed.”
After they had gotten changed, and Tevin stepped up to face Vahim, the tallest of the Eastern kids, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Erik,” a firm voice whispered.
I turned to see Laska standing above me, her deep blue eyes steady. “Come with me.”
“Now?” I asked, glancing back at the stage.
“Excuse me?” Her tone left no room for argument.
“Sorry, yes, Sergeant,” I said, standing up. I left the brown supply bag, courtesy of the Academy, and followed her out. Everyone was too focused on what would happen during Tevin and Vahim’s fight to see me leave. We knew little about the Easterners given how little time we had to get to know anyone during the hellish training, so it was exciting to see more of what they could do. I was pissed I couldn’t stay.
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I followed Laska out of the classroom. She wore a similar military uniform as we had—black tailored fabric with gold buttons; however, hers had red stitching where ours was gold. Golden shoulder pads adorned with tassels, and on the left side of her uniform she had dozens of service ribbons and medals, each with different colors and combinations.
Laska didn’t look old—no more than late twenties. So, seeing her with so many accolades made me wonder just how active being in the Cinders is. Her short black hair bobbed as she led me through the twisting hallways. We started walking up flights of stairs.
Her blue eyes were still shockingly unreal to me. It looked like light was almost behind the deep blue color. The more I observed her features, the more I noticed they were similar to Vahim’s and the other Easterners, Habr and Amani. They all had high cheekbones and a dark tan, almost rust complexion. Most of all, they shared the same deep blue eyes.
We climbed a spiraling staircase that seemed to go on forever. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“Didn’t the Captain tell you? To see someone who can help with... your situation.”
My chest tightened. “Oh... the whole twin-soul thing. You know?”
She glanced at me. “I knew back at the inn.”
“What, really? How?” I looked at her, puzzled. We climbed up more stairs, and the air got colder.
“Have you heard of the country called Vecla?” she asked. “The large country across the North Sea in the Far East?”
I shook my head and then paused. “Wait, is that where Vahim and them are from? They are Easterners, that’s what Waelid told us. Are you from Vecla?”
She nodded as we passed through a long, high-ceilinged open room, that looked like it used to be an old church. I began to wonder just how high up inside the pillar we were.
“Veclans are special. You see, in our country, our dirt is what gives us the Gift. Anyone born on Veclan soil is given this. Voidblood or Mageblood, we are all given the Gift of the Cobalt Sea. We can see auras, or as you Stylosians call it, ‘One’s Glow,’” she explained. She looked over at me and pointed at her eyes. “Your glow shows two unique soul sources within you. It’s what we call the twin-soul.”
I shook my head. “But Hopsander said I’m not a twin-soul. Fern is still conscious within me.”
“Perhaps you’re a different kind,” she suggested. “An anomaly. Point is, you have two souls within you, which means either you took the original soul and body by force and are the stranger. Or, you are the original and absorbed the soul of someone whose body has died.”
I felt uneasy at her saying that. Was I thrust into some sort of black magic spell when I came through that portal? Is my body still recoverable? What would happen to Fern?
I felt my thumb get slick with warm blood. I glanced down to see I had been scratching it this whole time. I quickly grabbed a black handkerchief and wrapped it around my thumb before sliding my hand underneath the sash across my chest.
We exited another set of stairs and entered a grand hall, the walls lined with intricate tapestries depicting ancient battles and legendary heroes. There were long tables spread about and shorter round tables in the corners. Students bustled about, each absorbed in their own world of books. We passed by a huge set of double doors open to what I had been looking for: The Library.
We were in the lounge area outside the grand chamber of books. I started to walk towards it when Laska pulled my collar.
“Not that way,” she said.
—Noooo, I screamed internally.
At least I now knew where it was. I hoped I could remember this path when I tried on my own.
Laska led me through the grand hall out through another doorway, and we continued to ascend a new set of stairs.
“Who are we meeting?” I asked.
“Professor Pestil,” she replied. “Head of Alchemical and Runic Studies.”
I knew almost nothing about the teachers here, the authority structure, or even the rules of the Academy. Except for Headmaster Thorn, I was ignorant of the other staff, teachers, and officers among the Cinders here.
----------------------------------------
Finally, after what seemed twenty minutes of walking, we reached a set of heavy wooden doors engraved with symbols I didn’t recognize. Laska pushed them open, revealing a vast cavern illuminated by the soft glow of crystalline veins in the walls.
The air was cool; I could see my breath. My skin raised in little bumps from the cold. The air was tinged with the scent of herbs and minerals. Tables cluttered with alchemical apparatus stretched across the giant cavernous room. Hooded students moved silently, their faces obscured by masks.
A tall figure stood at the center, his back turned to us. He wore dark robes instead of a military uniform, his hands deftly mixing substances that bubbled and steamed.
“Professor Pestil,” Laska called softly.
He turned slowly, revealing a gaunt face framed by long, silver hair. His eyes were a piercing gray, analyzing me in an instant.
“So,” he said, his voice smooth yet devoid of warmth. “This is the anomaly.”
I scrunched my eyes at being referred to as such. “My name is Erik.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Names are trivial, recruit. Remove your shirt.”
“What?” I took a step back.
“Do as he says,” Laska urged gently. “He’s not going to hurt you.”
Reluctantly, I pulled off my shirt, the cool air prickling my skin. In the glowing blue and white light of the crystal lab, I noticed just how much more in shape I was. Were humans genetically different here? I had developed an insane amount of muscle growth in such a short amount of time.
Pestil approached and eyed my body.
“Did you inspect him before the training?” he asked Laska.
“Obviously not, Professor. Why would we think to do that?”
“You had your suspicions he was a twin-soul, yes? Even an imbecile would have thought to record data and growth given... its qualities.” He eyed me with disgust and sighed. “Their muscular growth would increase dramtically. Nothing too special now. Maybe a little bit stronger than their average recruit, but give it time…and they could become dangerous.”
I gulped.
Pestil pulled out a thin brush and a small jar and placed them in his hand. After dipping the brush into the jar, the bristles on the brush were coated with a shimmering, finely ground powder. “Pillardust,” he explained absentmindedly. “An excellent conduit.”
—Just how many uses did pillardust have? I thought.
Hopsander used it to ward off enemies like the goblins and wyrms, he used it to stop Silas’s bleeding stump, and now this?
Professor Pestil motioned me to lay down on a treatment chair. He pulled a lamp over and angled it on my chest. I looked down at the contraption and saw no cord, but instead saw a glowing white crystal at the base of the operating room lamp. Almost like it was powered by a battery.
Once I had laid down, Pestil began to draw intricate runes on my chest, the dust leaving a tingling sensation where it touched. Laska stood by, watching over. The other students in the large room continued with whatever duties or experiments they were already working on, all seeming to ignore me.
“Alḗtheia... psychḗ... tópos... chrónos,” he muttered.
Wait... is that...? I twitched my eye to Pestil, whose eyes were now closed as he continued chanting and drawing runic symbols on my chest.
I recognized those words—Greek terms for truth, soul, place, and time. Memories of philosophy books, video games, and action movies flashed through my head.
Pestil was speaking Greek.
—‘You know what he’s saying?’ Fern asked.
—It’s... Greek. It’s from my world. But, how?
Pestil finished chanting quietly and then leaned back.
“Everyone clear the room,” He said loudly.
The upperclassmen put down their tools and left through a side door without a word or hesitation. Almost like they were robots.
He looked up at Laska. “You may leave too.”
She shook her head. “I’ll stay here, thank you. A fellow House Anu alumni should be here to watch over him.”
Pestil sighed. “As you wish.”
As he completed the final rune, a soft glow emanated from the symbols. The light grew, enveloping Laska, Pestil, and me.
The room hummed. And the lights around us faded into black.
We were in some sort of green glowing bubble surrounded by a void of darkness. I was still on the patient’s chair, Pestil still stood next to me with the brush in hand, and Laska stood on the other side of me. She started to shift uncomfortably.
Then I saw it—a flickering image of Fern, his face mirroring my own shock. Looking back at all three of us from the dark.
“Fern?” I whispered.
But the vision shifted. I saw myself—not as I was now, but in my original body. Twenty-five-year-old Erik. Twenty-five-year-old me. My grizzled beard and tired face from working hung down, blood dripped from my body’s mouth. The body—my body—was suspended, arms outstretched in an X-shape, hung up on a wall with my limbs pierced by red swords.
Panic surged through me. “What’s happening?”
I panicked and twisted over, falling off the chair. The void vanished, and the bubble we were in popped. I fell hard on the stone ground and scrambled up onto my feet. The pillardust scattered from my chest onto the floor, and the glowing runes dissipated.
“You fool!” Pestil snapped. “You’ve ruined the calibration.”
I backed away, heart pounding. “What happened to my old body?”
He scowled. “Gather yourself. We must start over.”
“No, I’m done. I don’t need to see any more. Why do you?”
“Boy, you know nothing about what you are. Now get back on the chair!”
I backed away, feeling lost and sick. Why was my body hung up like that?
Laska rushed in, grabbed a cloak from a nearby table, and wrapped it around me. “Erik, breathe. It’s okay.”
I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing. “I... my body.”
She nodded, her eyes understanding. “It’s... overwhelming.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Just keep breathing.”
Pestil sighed impatiently. “Twin-souls are taboo for a reason boy. The soul-binding process is volatile, often fatal. It’s in its nature. You kill one soul for the strength of two. The fact that both the souls in you were Voidbloods is just an unfortunate additional factor. Did you know the soul you took over, or did you choose a random victim?”
Pestil approached me slowly.
“But I didn’t undergo any process,” I protested. “I just... woke up like this. I didn’t do anything!”
He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Curious. Your survival is... unexpected.”
Laska stood up. “That’s enough, Pestil. As your outranking officer, I order you to stand down. This child has done nothing wrong. I have seen him fight with us, and care for his class like we do. He is no threat.”
“Not yet,” Pestil said, eyeing me. “But, fine, if you say so, Sergeant Laska.”
I took a deep sigh of relief.
“However,” Pestil raised his voice, “you will bring him here once a week so I may run my tests. You know my master and you know that The Table will want that information, yes?”
“Agreed, as long as I am present.”
“...Agreed,” Pestil said through gritted teeth.
“Am I in danger of dying? What about Fern, is he in danger?” I asked him, keeping my distance from the man.
“Possibly,” he replied bluntly. “But more importantly, you present a unique opportunity for study.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. “I’m not a lab rat.”
He fixed me with a cold stare. “You are a Cinder of Ash, bound by oath. You will return weekly for testing. Disobedience is... deadly.”
I grumbled. The illusion of this school being like a fun fairy tale adventure slowly faded with every passing moment.
“Good.” He turned away, already dismissing me. “You may go.”
Laska guided me toward the exit. “I’ll walk you back.”
----------------------------------------
As we descended the staircase, I felt a heaviness settle in. “He’s... intense,” I said.
She gave a small smile. “Pestil is a brilliant alchemist but lacks... bedside manner.”
“That’s an understatement.”
She hesitated before speaking. “He will keep this confidential. Only select faculty will know.”
“Why must they all know?” I asked.
“You heard Pestil. The twin-soul ritual is taboo for a reason. I understand you claim you did not perform such a thing. I believe you, but others will be suspicious and want to study you. The fact that you are not dead from soul corruption already is a miracle.
“Soul corruption? I am so confused. What are all these things? These rituals?”
“I understand it’s a lot,” she said softly. “But, you would have found out eventually. The Cinders cannot use magic. You know this. We are all Voidbloods. But, the secret to our strength, our power that the Magebloods can’t gain, is that we enhance ourselves through specialized blood rituals. You’ll learn more in Alchemy class.”
I glanced at her and held an onslaught of questions, except one. “Please tell me Pestil won’t be my teacher.”
She laughed. “No, no. He teaches the upper grades.”
After another twenty minutes, and a much easier walk down the hundreds of steps, we reached the classroom just as the bell rang. Inside, chaos greeted us.
Tevin, Silas, and Sora lay on cots, bruised and bloodied. Medics hovered over them, applying salves and bandages.
I rushed to Silas’s side. “What happened?”
He winced, opening one eye. “Those Veclan students... They’re ruthless.”
Tevin groaned from the next cot. “I thought they were going to kill us.”
Sora lay unconscious, her twin, Rinka held her hand firmly.
Even Mel stood nearby, her usual bravado subdued. “They fight like demons,” she muttered.
I looked around for Hopsander, but he was nowhere in sight.
“Class dismissed,” an assistant called out. “Stealth and Survival are in the west wing classrooms. Room 8 is yours.”
“Maybe I should have stayed,” I said quietly.
Silas shook his head. “Wouldn’t have made a difference; it was our duels. They fight without mercy. And they knew how to fight before they came here.”
Vahim passed by us with Habr and Amani. The intensity in their eyes dug at my soul and made me nervous as they moved past us.
—Can they see you? I ask Fern. He didn’t reply.
We were all silent as they walked by. Except Mel.
“What are you looking at eh? Just wait until we get to fight.” She stuck her tongue out at them as they left the room.
Silas, Tevin, and the knocked-out Sora were carried off to the medical wing. Rinka looked shaken up as her sister was carried away. Zenobia walked up to her and patted her on the back before putting her arm around Rinka’s shoulder.
“She will be okay; don’t worry,” Zenobia said. She had several cuts on her face, and I looked down and saw Rinka had broken nails and blood-stained fingertips.
—Did they duel too? I thought, wondering who won that one. I’d have to ask later.
----------------------------------------
We left the classroom and walked towards the west wing of the Academy, trailing behind the Veclan kids. Between the revelation with Pestil and the brutality of our peers, the path ahead seemed more daunting than ever.\
—‘Erik, we have to get stronger,’ Fern whispered.
—Fern, we need to work together. That’s when we are at our best. Do you remember the kid in Corello?
—‘Yes but that was when you wanted to fight. I cant control you, I am stuck inside. I rely on you to fight for me. I won’t just sit back and follow your every order.’
—I know, we will compromise.
There was a silence for a moment.
—‘Erik?’
—Yeah? I thought. The sound of footsteps of our class and passing by ones echoed around the lantern-lit hallways.
—‘We will get our own bodies back, right? It’s not futile, is it?’
—If there’s one thing I know, it’s that there will always be another way to solve an issue. If Pestil can’t do it, then we will find our own way. I thought back to Fern.
We walked to room 8 in the west wing. The room was different than the combat and tactics room. It was a large dark square room. No windows, just four lanterns, one in each corner. No seats, just mats on the ground. When we all sat down (minus the five sent to the medical wing), the door closed abruptly. The lights in the room turned off, and a slithering voice echoed in the darkness.
“Welcome, Houssse Anu. I have releasssed ssseven deadly sssnakes in this room. Your first quiz is to each kill one in the dark. Oh, and don’t get bit.”