“AAAAA—! My eyes—!
My eyes—!”
Instead of the dry crack of a slap,
it was Dimon’s scream,
not Suguri’s.
Crys opened his eyes a crack,
careful—
Dimon was on the ground,
clutching his face,
twisting as if he’d been thrown.
Suguri—?
Crys snapped to her.
Suguri was fine.
She stood there,
almost proud,
her right hand held high.
“Self-defense.”
In her hand
was a compact.
The mirror caught the sun
and flashed.
A silver line ran along its edge.
“My Pirit.
I thought it was for getting ready,
but it works for physical attacks as well.”
For a moment,
Suguri was the hero.
The boys burst out praising her,
laughing that Dimon got what he deserved.
His entourage
only watched from a distance.
No one stepped in.
Only Taref,
his Guide,
hovered close.
Dimon alone was miserable.
Dimon alone was the loser.
Dimon alone was the villain.
He kept screaming,
spitting curses between shrieks.
Maybe the sudden light hurt.
Even so,
he went on too long—
high and shrill like a child
who can’t get his way,
then low, a dark groan,
like he was reciting something foul.
Listening,
it wasn’t just irritating.
It made Crys’s head feel swollen,
deep behind the eyes.
He didn’t like Dimon.
Still—
watching him crouched there
with no one even pretending to worry,
Crys almost felt sorry for him.
He was still deciding
whether to say something
when Rone arrived,
his red mantle snapping behind him.
He shoved through the line
and dropped to one knee
in front of Dimon.
Rone laid his own palm over Dimon’s hands, pressed to his eyes.
“What happened—tell me.”
“She—
did magic to me…
My eyes— I can’t see.”
Even with his eyes shut,
Dimon pointed straight at Suguri.
The boys who’d been crowding Suguri
melted away at once,
as if distance could keep them safe
from being scolded next.
Suguri didn’t flinch.
She lifted the compact again,
let the mirror flash.
“I didn’t use magic.
Physical attack.”
“Rav Valancourt—
please allow an explanation.”
TT spoke,
in Suguri’s place.
“He moved first.
He was about to strike her.
Dimon was ridiculing everyone here
for failing their Yatsar.
Suguri only said the truth—
that he’d done the same.
He got angry,
and tried to hit her.
Suguri reacted.
She called it self-defense.
And everyone here can attest to that.”
While TT spoke,
Dimon clung to Rone’s arm,
still wailing.
Crys felt his body go cold.
Why did I feel sorry for him,
even for a second?
Mocking kids who messed up their magic,
then trying to hit a girl
because he got called out—
The more Crys thought,
the less room there was
for pity at all.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Dimon kept screaming,
as if shouting could make it true.
“They’re lying.
They used magic.
I can’t see.
Maybe I’ll never open my eyes again.”
“Even if that were true,
Emet Echad Olam can heal that too.
So first—calm down.”
“That proves it!”
Rone’s words only fed him.
“How am I supposed to calm down
when my eyes might never open?!
Magic was used on me—unfairly!
They might do it again.
They might make it worse!”
“Dimon.
Breathe first.
Yeah—like that.
Now think.
I’m here, aren’t I?
No one’s going to hurt you.”
Rone tried,
again and again,
different words,
different tones.
It didn’t work.
Dimon kept spilling it all—
how much it hurt,
how terrified he was of blindness,
how even his life would be in danger
if he were left alone—
an endless performance,
begging for sympathy.
It was acting.
Bad acting.
But maybe bad acting
moved people more easily,
because voices rose
from the entourage watching at a distance.
“She commented on me too.
About my looks.
Like I don’t already worry about it.”
“Yeah, maybe we said a few things,
but this is too much, right?”
Dimon’s screams grew louder,
swelling like an orchestra forcing its way toward a climax.
Or like cicadas
at the end of summer—
too loud,
too desperate,
too long.
He writhed,
jerking away from Rone’s hands
as if the touch itself hurt.
It made Crys think of insects.
The kind he hated.
His stomach turned.
“If it really hurt,
you wouldn’t be doing all that.”
The words left Crys’s mouth
before he meant them to.
Dimon heard anyway.
He’d been listening to everything.
“If it really hurt…?
My eyes might never open again!
You can say that
because you don’t mind using magic
to hurt people!”
“I didn’t use magic!”
Crys stepped forward,
heat rushing to his face.
At his footsteps,
Dimon jumped dramatically
and hid behind Rone.
Rone glanced back at him,
scratched his head,
and looked from Crys
to TT,
to Suguri.
“I know you’re not lying.
And I know Dimon’s not really damaged.
But I still have a job to do.
Everyone has to pass
the Initiation of Color.
Until he calms down,
can you step away from here?
Just for now.”
“We didn’t do anything!”
Crys snapped.
It felt too unfair.
“I know.
But I’m asking.”
Rone’s eyes—
a clear, bright blue,
like drops of water—
met Crys’s head-on.
They were trusting eyes.
Eyes that believed
Crys hadn’t used magic,
hadn’t meant harm.
Too earnest,
for someone he’d only just met—
as if it came from trust
built long ago.
If Rone had treated it
like childish fighting,
Crys might’ve argued harder.
But Rone wasn’t.
He was treating them
like people.
Crys didn’t want
to make things worse
just to satisfy himself.
He’d never been good
at holding himself in.
With nowhere for the anger to go,
his fist shook,
out of sight.
“When the bell rings,
can we come back?”
Suguri asked,
sweet as syrup,
as if she couldn’t feel
the edge in the air at all.
“Of course.
If you want to ask something,
even sooner is fine.”
“No.
It’s okay.
I think I’ll know on my own.”
Suguri took Crys’s hand
and started walking.
Crys had been clenching his fist so hard
his nails bit into his palm.
The warmth of Suguri’s hand
made him flinch.
As it seeped into him,
even the ugliness he’d been carrying
felt like it thinned.
Suguri led him upstream.
Then, like she’d remembered something,
she glanced back.
“If you’re fixing his eyes,
fix his arms too.
He only stretched his legs.
That’s why he’s unbalanced.”
“I told you!
I didn’t do anything!”
Dimon shouted back,
eyes wide open,
glaring.
Maybe Rone and the others missed it—
but Crys,
TT,
and Suguri saw it clearly.
Dimon’s eyes were already fine.
Crys let out a tired breath.
From a distance,
what Dimon was doing
only looked more stupid.
He didn’t even feel like
going back to tell Rone.
Suguri lifted a finger
in front of her own eyes,
tugged her lower lid down a little,
and stuck out her tongue.
Then she gave a small,
fearless grin,
spun once
so her skirt flared,
and walked on again,
upstream.
“How long are you planning to keep that up?”
TT’s soft laugh snapped Crys out of it.
He hurriedly shook off Suguri’s hand,
still linked with his own.
Suguri didn’t seem bothered at all,
and walked on ahead at her usual pace.
With her hands free,
Lesamin climbed down from her shoulder to her arm,
settled against her chest and let out one long yawn.
TT, clearly intrigued by Suguri,
spoke to her with that smile
everyone seemed to fall for.
“You were very brave.
Um—Suguri, was it?
And Lesa—right?”
“I’m Suguri Ferris.
Call me Shu.
This is Lesamin.
A pest animal.
I call him Lesa.”
“I’m Theo.
This is Tsek.
Nice to meet you, Shu. And you too, Lesamin.”
“Theo?”
Crys blurted it out.
TT let out a quiet laugh in his throat.
Suguri looked at him,
eyes unreadable.
“Did I forget to mention it?”
“You mean you two were together
without even introducing yourselves?”
“It didn’t feel necessary, exactly…
TT, come here a second.”
Crys tugged TT away from Suguri
and lowered his voice.
“Theo.
Seriously?”
“My real name’s different.
That one was given by my father,
so I don’t use it.
When he’s not around,
I go by Theo.
It’s not that rare a name, is it?”
“The name itself isn’t.
But this feels like too much of a coincidence.
Maybe Arkzen wasn’t waiting for me—
maybe he was waiting for you.”
“Why would you think that?”
“When he called me Theo,
you looked surprised too.”
“Of course I did.
If your best friend,
who you only know by a player name,
suddenly gets called by your own name,
you’d be surprised.
And I wondered something else, too.
If it was really a mistake.
Seder should’ve known
the Talmid’s name—and face—beforehand.
Why would he confuse you for ‘Theo’ at all?”
“What are you getting at?”
Crys clearly wasn’t following.
TT sighed
and lightly tapped beneath his own eye.
“Do you have any idea
how distinctive your eye color is?
You can’t fake that with contacts.
And a Talmid fresh to Emet Echad Olam
wouldn’t have the Yatsar skill
to pull off something that precise with magic.
If Arkzen pointed a Pirit at you on sight,
it’s because those eyes
matched someone he was sure of.
If you were going to hide something like that,
using a false name
would be far easier.
So tell me—
any chance ‘Crystal’ is the alias,
and Theo is your real name?”
“I’m Crys Morion Reed.
People tease me about the spelling,
call me a crybaby sometimes,
but Theo isn’t a nickname,
or a middle name.
And Arkzen called ‘Theo’ his so-called benefactor.
Though, with that attitude,
I’m not sure he really meant it.
Either way,
I’ve never met anyone
as striking as him.
And I’ve never saved anyone like that.
It has to be a case of mistaken identity.”
As Crys spoke,
TT covered his mouth with his hand,
thinking.
Then he looked up.
“You weren’t with Nahal.
That much was obvious.
But was she just not nearby?
Or had you truly never met her—
aside from Tsitsi?”
“That’s the thing.
I’d forgotten until I talked to Soliorbis this morning,
but a Guide named Baal once said
he saw someone who looked just like me.”
“I’ve never heard of either of them.
Do you remember when that was?”
“Let me think…”
Crys closed his eyes,
digging through memory.
“Last year, I think.
I remember first recognizing Tsitsi in September,
but after that,
I don’t remember my dreams at all.
Still,
it didn’t feel like much time had passed.”
“Right.
You talked about Tsitsi before Halloween,
and then stopped mentioning dreams entirely.”
“You remember better than I do.
That’s probably why.
…Wait.
How did this turn into a Guide conversation?
We were talking about Arkzen.”
“Checking a hypothesis.
The real point comes next.”
TT cleared his throat,
then raised a finger,
like a teacher calling on a student.
“Nahal comes to a Talmid
on the new moon before Yom Reshit.
But you met her
almost half a year earlier.
And in human form, no less.”
“It barely lasted a moment.”
Crys glanced at TT’s shoulder.
In the light,
he met the gaze of Tsek,
the great bird Guide.
“Come to think of it,
all Guides look like animals.
Is a human form unusual?”
“Unusual?
Matching Nahal to your own form
is something done
at the third Milu’im.
You skipped two Milu’im
before even arriving here.”
TT smiled,
clearly proud,
the way he always was
when ‘Ad’ differed from everyone else.
Crys tilted his head.
None of this rang a bell.
“What I’m saying is—
maybe your Nahal
used your body
to do something
that made Arkzen call her his ‘benefactor.’
Even if Nahal enters a body,
the appearance doesn’t change.
Your eyes would stay the same.
And if Nahal’s name were ‘Theo’…”
Crys froze.
Arkzen’s instant reaction.
The certainty with which he’d said “Theo.”
If someone else
had used his body
and a different name,
then the mismatch made sense.
Which meant—
without knowing it—
Crys had lied.
The blood drained from his face.
He went stiff,
like he’d been caught in a blizzard.
“TT.
What do I do?”
“I don’t think it’s a problem.”
TT answered lightly,
almost too lightly.
“Arkzen used a Coaf of lie detection.
And you said you didn’t know.
Whether Nahal really used your body,
or it was all Arkzen’s mistake,
if you could say ‘I don’t know’ under a Coaf,
he would’ve concluded
there was nothing more to get from you.”
“So—
that means he also thinks
it could’ve been a Guide?”
TT smiled,
mischievous,
as if to say
of course.
“And that brings me to this, Ad.
How about we go there?”
He pointed
toward the dense forest
Suguri was heading into.
Crys grimaced
and shook his head.
“Forests have bugs.
I’m out.”
“I figured you’d say that.
But hear me out.
That forest’s called the Nahal Woods.
They say the master of Adom Yekitza’s Nahal lives there.
If you want answers about Nahal,
doesn’t it sound perfect?”
“Is it safe to just go there?”
“Nahal are friendly to humans.
Rone even said
you should go ask for advice if needed.”
TT leaned closer,
clearly more excited
about something else.
“Come on, Ad.
You really don’t get it?
Why I want to go there.
TO’s First Island.
This field.
What’s beyond the forest?”
Crys’s eyes widened.
He couldn’t look away from TT.
He’d played it for years.
He knew what lay where.
And yet—
Emet Echad Olam
wasn’t a game.
There were no monsters
in the old castle,
or the hills.
But TT was waiting.
For that answer.
Crys spoke,
his voice trembling—
with excitement,
curiosity,
and a little fear.
“Really?”
TT nodded eagerly,
like urging him
to open a present.
Crys swallowed,
his voice dropping.
“There’s… a dragon?”
