Damyon Velya

  The walk back was unusually silent.

  Arda always had something to say, whether it was a question, a sarcastic remark, or some kind of commentary. But today, he was uncharacteristically keeping his thoughts at bay.

  A quiet sigh escaped me. There was an irony to all of this.

  Just this morning, not only had he summoned a Mirror Ghost from a book and survived to tell the tale, but I’d also had to scold him for his reckless words about the Great Demons.

  That sure backfired, I smirked wryly. Had I not seen with my own eyes the turn today’s events had taken, I might as well have waved off the matter as nonsense.

  Twelve years had already passed since he was born, and there had not been a single day I hadn’t wondered how to balance the roles of father and mentor.

  My father’s past mistakes felt like a sword looming just over my head, patiently waiting for its time to come down on me. Burying his love for our family beneath a mask of duty and responsibility had the sole effect of making him look distant.

  I probably owe him an apology, I mused, still deep in thought as we stepped into my study.

  Aside from the few heaps on the floor caused by Astel’s anomalous response to the ritual, my study was perfectly tidy, just as I liked it.

  “Have a seat,” I said as I locked the door behind us. “As I said earlier, we have things to discuss.”

  “Yes, Father,” Arda replied, keeping his eyes down.

  “I suppose I should reprimand you for eavesdropping, or for your poorly chosen words earlier today,” I began tentatively, unsure how to address the situation, assuming there even was a correct way to do so, that is.

  Holding up a finger, I let out a resigned sigh. “Just for this once, I’ll let it slide.”

  Arda’s head snapped up in surprise. He blinked several times as if making sure he’d heard that right.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” I continued. “Your actions were very… unbecoming, to say the least. However, given the circumstances, I can understand why you did what you did.

  “That said, I advise you not to repeat it in the future.”

  Arda nodded quickly. “So… am I not in trouble for the Mirror Ghost?”

  “No, son, you’re not,” a small smile tugged at my lips. “Speaking of which, congratulations for your awakening, Arda. You’re officially a mage now.”

  He dipped his head in a polite bow. “Thank you, Father.”

  “We will discuss the details of your future training later,” I continued. “I have already arranged something with Baryon, but feel free to bring up any requests with him. We’ll do our best to accommodate them.”

  Arda’s gaze drifted off for a moment, deep in thought, but he returned his attention to me almost immediately. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”

  “Good,” I said, lacing my fingers. “Now then, I believe it’s time we take a look at the parchment the priests left us. Shall we?”

  With a simple flick of the wrist, the sealed scroll materialized between my fingers.

  Arda’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “How did you do that?” He asked, his gaze studying curiously the parchment.

  I smirked. “Let your old man keep a few secrets to himself.”

  He put on a pout. I chuckled and extended the scroll toward him, only to pull it away at the last second.

  “Arda,” I began, my tone serious. “No matter how extraordinary or unprecedented the contents of this scroll may be, you must understand that,” I met his gaze, “a great responsibility now rests on your shoulders.

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  “How you wield the power you’ve been given can either bring prosperity to the Empire… or lead it to its premature demise.”

  Arda’s expression hardened. “I understand, Father.”

  I felt my expression relax as a weary smile tugged at my lips. “You were expecting me to say something like that, weren’t you?”

  “Maybe a little,” he shrugged.

  “Old age is making me predictable,” I said, shaking my head.

  Arda rolled his eyes, but there was a small, satisfied smile on his face. “Or maybe I’m just getting better at reading your thoughts.”

  The scroll came down onto his head in a light smack. “Not in a thousand years,” I retorted.

  “If you’re done teasing me, can we take a look at my emblems now?” His eyes shone with anticipation, the puppy eyes he’d inherited from his mother almost sparkling.

  I really can’t say no to him, can I, Ary? I couldn’t say no to you, now I can’t say no to him.

  “Sometimes, I forget you’re still twelve,” I commented as I unsealed the scroll and unfolded it between us.

  My eyes skimmed through the introduction, sparing it but a cursory read, and scanned the parchment, looking for the important part amongst the embellished ceremonial words. If he wanted to, Arda could read the text by himself later; however, I was under the impression that it wouldn’t be telling him much more than what the priestess had already said.

  My gaze was drawn to the bottom of the page. “The Crest of the Dragon and the Two Moons, huh?” I read aloud.

  Arda’s ears jumped up, soaking up every bit of information. “Do you know them, Father?”

  I could see impatience and excitement growing on his face.

  I shook my head. “Never heard of them, but considering you awakened as a magus, one of them may be attuned to—”

  Unfortunately for me, he was the faster reader; his eyes had already spotted the answer on the parchment, spoiling my revelation.

  “The Art of the Sword!” He blurted.

  “Exactly,” I confirmed, trying not to sound too exasperated. “This emblem belongs to Gladia, the family of emblems embodying the Art of War, in your particular case the Art of the Sword.”

  Leaning back into my chair, I let myself sink into the cushions. “Does it say anything about the Crest of the Two Moons?” I asked, closing my eyes for a moment.

  How long has it been since the last Binary? I let my mind wander in thought. As far as I remembered, there had been only another Binary being born in the Empire in recent times, and her existence had been promptly made a secret to protect her from probing eyes.

  I don’t like the odds of two Binaries being born within a decade.

  Still, it had been a long time since I had felt this kind of nervous uneasiness.

  I’ll need more time to intensify his training with the sword. But first…

  Arda’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. “Are you alright, Father? You were making a weird face,” he said. “Like… satisfied, almost.”

  “You must have imagined it,” I replied, shutting my eyes again. “Did you find anything?”

  “Um… I think it doesn’t know,” his voice was laced with confusion.

  I opened my eyes again. “Are you sure you read that correctly?”

  “Yeah. But there’s a blank space where the description of the emblem’s supposed to be,” Arda hesitated before continuing. “Father, can the goddess not recognize this emblem?”

  I frowned. “That would certainly be… strange,” I admitted. “But not unheard of, I’m afraid.”

  So much for the ‘infallible’ ritual, I let out a mental scoff.

  “That’s the beauty of magic. Sooner or later, you’ll find the answer yourself. So be patient,” I said, standing up. “But it’s rather likely it is connected to your conjurer path. Usually, when the description is left blank, the emblem ends up belonging to the Arcana, the family of unconventional emblems.”

  “I’ll go inform your mother,” I continued, unlocking the door. “You should head to Baryon for your next class. I’m sure he’s waiting for you, already.”

  Anticipating his next question, I raised a hand to stop him. “You may tell him about the results, but make sure he swears to keep them to himself. For the time being, it’s best if this information stays within the walls of this house.”

  That is, assuming that the old priest is even able not to spill the tea.

  “Arda,” I stopped him before he could take his leave. “I’m… sorry for this morning. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

  His head tilted in confusion, but a smile still found a way onto his lips. “I guess I deserved it.”

  With a chuckle, I shooed him away. As he got out, he made sure to properly close the door behind him before starting to run.

  A Mirror Ghost, huh? As I slumped back on my seat, my fingers brushed against the decorated spine of a book. What were the odds?

  “Lively days await us,” I muttered with a small smile, locking the book into a drawer.

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