Chapter 12 CHAPTER TWELVE
AERIS
Rhea gave no comment, no glance, no whisper. Just a brief, instinctive intervention. She had saved me from immediate exposure, letting my magic shine just enough to avoid Vale’s notice.
Vale continued moving through the room, inspecting each student, his eyes flicking past us without stopping. The exercise went on, brilliant colors and sparks dancing everywhere, but I couldn’t stop staring at the orb, still glowing faintly in my hands.
Vale paused mid-step, the echo of his boots fading into the sudden, suffocating silence of the classroom. He let it linger for a heartbeat, eyes scanning each nervous student, reading them like open scrolls. Then, with a tilt of his head, he began.
“Very well,” he said,. “Since my opening demonstration seemed to impress no one beyond themselves, let’s test your knowledge. First question: what is the fundamental law governing all magic? Not sentiment, not tradition, not your tutors’ poetic nonsense.”
A shuffle. A cough. No hands rose.
Vale’s gaze sharpened, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. “Silence? Really? This is the foundation of your very existence here, and no one dares to speak?”
I remembered the dusty pages of my notes, the late-night readings from my parent's private archive…the one Kaelia always mocked me for obsessing over. Resonance.
Vale’s voice rang again. “Correct answer,” he said, pacing slowly along the front row, cloak whispering against the polished floor. “Resonance. Your core must align, even fractionally, with the world’s ley currents, or you will never be more than sparks in a dark hall.”
He stopped abruptly, pivoting to face the crowd. “Next: the Aetherian Academy. Established how long ago, and for what purpose?”
A boy in the front row shifted, lips pressed tight, but no one answered.
Vale sighed, audible and sharp. “612 years ago. After the Collapse Wars. The continent nearly burned itself to ash. The purpose of this Academy? To prevent students of potential from becoming agents of destruction. You may nod, but remember…your power is meaningless without discipline.”
He folded his arms, leaning slightly on one boot. “Final question. Let’s see who has actually read, observed, or retained knowledge beyond the tip of their own nose.” His voice dropped.
“A beast. One many of you have heard of, yet few have studied properly. Tell me: its body is formed of corrupted bone and necrotic ether. It moves without sound but leaves devastation in its wake. It has toppled fortresses, devoured mages, and left villages empty. What is its name?”
The room froze. Some students swallowed nervously; others shifted in fear or confusion. A few whispered to neighbors, but the correct answer hung like smoke, invisible yet palpable.
No one spoke.
Vale’s eyes glinted sharply. “Anyone? This isn’t optional. You will learn, you will recall, or you will fail. And in the field…” His voice hardened. “…failure is fatal.”
I felt my stomach tighten. I knew this.
Slowly, cautiously, I raised my hand.
“Yes, Thalorian?” Vale’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade.
My chest froze. He knew my name.
I swallowed, heart hammering. “The…Gravehowl,” I said clearly, forcing my voice to steady. “It’s created from necrotic ether and bone fragments. It absorbs magical energy from its victims, and it is drawn to unshielded mana. It was destroyed by the Grand Sovereign…Kael Thorne. He struck it down himself, using a combination of elemental containment and purified mana to shatter its necrotic core”
Kael Thorne even before he became the Grand Sovereign, he had been…legendary. Even then, his magic was unlike anything recorded in the archives: disciplined, precise, terrifyingly efficient. The stories told of him standing alone against the Gravehowl, surrounded by swirling necrotic energy, and ending the threat with a single, flawless strike. One motion to shatter the core, one precise channeling of elemental containment, and the beast that had terrorized entire regions was gone.
He wasn’t just powerful; he was strategic, almost surgical. That moment..the destruction of the Gravehowl had set him on the path to becoming the Grand Sovereign. Every spell he’d mastered, every battle he’d fought, every life he’d saved or taken, had built him into the figure of authority and strength that the realm revered. His rise wasn’t merely about raw magic; it was about control, mastery, and a calculated understanding of life and death.
A flicker of surprise crossed Vale’s face not at my knowledge, but at the confidence. “Correct,” he said, pacing closer. “Few of you have read deeply enough to know its habits, and fewer still would have answered without hesitation. Impressive.”
He paused in front of me, the light from the classroom glinting off his dark robes. “And you…you’ve read far more than most will in their lifetimes. It seems, Thalorian, that your evenings are spent wisely.”
I bit my lip, careful not to say anything foolish. My pulse throbbed like a drum in my ears.
Vale turned back to the room. “The rest of you should take note: knowledge is as vital as control. You will need both to survive..not just against beasts like the Gravehowl, but against any threat to this realm. Remember it, because hesitation will cost more than pride. It will cost lives.”
The murmur of students rippled across the hall. Some were incredulous, some resentful, but none dared question him.
Vale’s gaze swept the room one last time. Then, with a precise clap of his hands, he signaled the end of the questioning. “Class dismissed. I expect research, practice, and observation before our next session. Do not disappoint me.”
I exhaled slowly, the tension in my shoulders releasing fractionally.
I slung my satchel over my shoulder and followed the flow of students out of the hall. The corridors were alive with chatter..some students reciting answers to themselves, others whispering critiques of Vale’s questioning but I barely noticed them.
Rhea fell into step beside me without a word at first. When she finally spoke, it was low and impressed. “Aeris…that was…wow. I didn’t think anyone here would know the answers. You practically had Vale eating out of your hand.”
I flushed slightly. “I…read. I’ve read a lot about Virelia, the magical beasts, historical battles, spellcraft. I guess it…helped.”
She grinned, the kind of smile that made her look younger than her years. “Helped? No, Aeris. You nailed it. Everyone else was fumbling around like they’d never opened a book in their life. You—” She waved her hand in exasperation, “you were flawless. I mean it. You could teach half of them.”
I chuckled softly, a little embarrassed.
We reached the courtyard, mist still curling around the edges of the stone paths. Students from every squad wandered about…some discussing their successes, some groaning about their failures. I caught glimpses of familiar faces from the forest trial…everyone looked exhausted, bruised, but also…proud.
Rhea’s expression grew serious as we paused near the fountain. “ What happened back there?” she asked quietly.
“In class. You weren’t able to light the orb at all. Not even a flicker.”
My stomach twisted.
Rhea swallowed, her expression filled with concern
“Aeris… is something wrong with your magic?”
I wanted to brush it off, tell her it was nothing but the truth burned hotter than any flame I could conjure.
I hesitated, gripping the edge of the fountain so tightly my knuckles ached. The water glinted under the afternoon sun, casting tiny fractured lights over her face. It felt… safe, yet impossibly exposing, like standing on the edge of a cliff in front of someone who genuinely cared.
My mother’s words echoed in my mind: Do not draw attention to yourself. Blend in. Survive without being noticed. She had drilled it into me for years, a constant reminder that my magic was dangerous—not in its raw power, but in its unpredictability. If I drew attention, if anyone realized the truth…
But Rhea… she had saved me twice already. Twice
I swallowed hard, tasting the bitter knot in my throat. “I… I am a flamecaller,” I admitted, my voice barely above the water’s gentle gurgle. “But I… I can’t control my magic. It’s… unstable.”
Her eyes widened, and I saw a flicker of surprise then concern deepening like a shadow stretching across her face. “Unstable?” she asked softly, stepping closer. “How… how bad is it?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Sometimes it flares, sometimes it dies before it even starts. I’ve never been able to make it behave the way it’s supposed to”
“You’ve been hiding this?” she asked“All this time? Aeris… why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrugged, feeling small and ashamed. “I didn’t want… I couldn’t risk anyone noticing. If anyone finds out… if they know I’m weak—” My voice cracked, and I bit the inside of my cheek. “I’ll be… nothing. Worse than nothing.”.
“Listen to me,” she said,her voice gentle but firm. “You’re not nothing. You’re… you’re Aeris. And no one can define you but you. Magic doesn’t decide who you are,how you live, how you fight, how you survive…that’s your choice.”
Her words warmed me in a way fire never could. I wanted to believe her. I needed to believe her. But doubt clung stubbornly to me like smoke curling around a flame, suffocating, heavy.
In Virelia…Magic is everything.
“I… I don’t know if I can control it,” I confessed, staring into the fountain’s dark reflections. “I’ve tried so many times… and every time, it just..fails me.”
Rhea’s hand finally brushed mine. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together,” she said. “I won’t let you face this alone, Aeris”
I wanted to speak, to tell her she didn’t have to, that no one ever stayed for someone like me. But the words stuck in my throat, swallowed by the rush of relief, fear, and something fragile that I didn’t quite understand.
So I just nodded,