***

  Only remnants of the initial euphoria left, his priestly garments itched and he was wrestling with the temptation to feast upon the shining yellow delight nestled in his pocket.

  His dagger of phoenixash was well-hidden beneath the priestly brown flowing robes. The city was a dangerous place at night. And his employer, Jayson Janus had no doubt, was more dangerous still.

  During this late hour, not much was roaming through the red night. A drunkard here or there, a rat now and then.

  After he had skillfully left the temple at night—a collection of tall marble columns painted blood-red and located in the northwestern part of the city—he moved through a large circular clearing that was the Lartia Plaza.

  Jayson walked with a confident stride, slowly through a myriad of streets, past theatres, public baths, temples, and grand estates. And thrown in between them all, he passed the many saddleries, bakeries, and shops closed at this old age of night. The tympanums of most temples he passed next to had statues whose usually bright, gleaming colors of red, yellow, green, and blue were now all cast by the red light of Sol.

  He was careful not to wake the two sleeping beggars opposite a nearby villa. Like most living in the dotting settlements or tiny villages in the Valley—to the north and south of Lodestar—they wore grey, roughly spun wool. A ragged hole or two on each of their lead-grey cloaks served as the only adornment on these two poor forgotten souls.

  A priest from the temple of Theia walking at this hour was a little unusual but not unheard of. And since most of the clergy wore brown garments Jayson could always state he is of the temple of Acrona visiting some dying old man.

  Jayson looked upward and into the distance and toward the annoying mosses: rock behemoths that made the city stretch wide and clumsily, especially northwest to southeast, making walking a thing almost undesirable.

  Mosses often had their flat tops glazed with many glowing dots of crystal light. And bursting outward were those limbs long and thin: sky-bridges spread far above Jayson, their light of Cobalts and Crimsons cutting across the night sky.

  Some main roads—covered in long shadows cast by these ugly hills of rock blocking the red light of Sol—had poles with small, glowing Cobalts or Ambers gracing their tops. Just beneath them were spikes designed to prevent theft. Obviously, to Jayson, this was no obstacle at all, and on more than a few occasions during his trek, he stopped to gaze at them.

  He looked up at one such light pole. It was moments such as these that made his grip on the hidden treasure in his pocket tighten almost to the point of drawing blood. He exhaled and after releasing his grip Jayson stared at the shadowy etches. He continued striding upon his dark road until the red orb in the sky became visible again.

  Each night the color of dried blood descended all over the flat white and grey roofs of Lodestar. Most households placed a plank, curtains, or closed their shutters. Covering many windows across the city, reed screens blocked the eternal red light as well. This served him nicely. The crimson dot had undone the night by half, with only the furthest outskirts of Lodestar almost completely in the Void—together with most of the Valley.

  Even combined, all the light of crystals in the city would still pale to the glory of Sol. On occasion, he could see the red orb flicker: one or several Winged crossing in front, flying somewhat low.

  Hundreds of Winged were circling Sol at night. At the moment, walking through the city's ground level, Jayson could not see them, but he knew they were there.

  Jayson favored the winged crystalborn the most and was often disgusted at how they were used as but a mere utility. Wings are not for moving in circles but for the faraway horizon, Jayson thought. He often thought how all these magnificent beasts should leave this ugly canyon and traverse Alldora, flying far away on her merciless winds.

  Years back, his brother had borrowed him beautiful-looking books to read. Some spoke of long-dead empires and huge caravans of mighty beasts hauling goods across unimaginable distances. Earning some hex while seeing the world. Was such a beautiful thing ever true? Jayson pondered, marching on.

  Even years after his brother's disappearance, the not knowing still irked the priest greatly.

  In his heart, Jayson knew.

  His brother was gone.

  Set in the narrow alleyways between simple houses of brick and stone, the stench of the public latrines was almost overpowering. Only after some time did it become less noticeable.

  Politicians, poets, and merchants often sang their contrived praises about the beauty of Lodestar. Jayson saw none. He saw fake smiles and the hypocrisy of man. At least the latrines didn't hide their vile stench. Empty at this time of night.

  He entered one cubicle and quietly removed a stone plate.

  Surprisingly the sewers somehow smelled a little less vile than the world just above. Finally, he could bring out his yellow joy from the pocket. The light of the small yellow crystal was bright here.

  Not too fast, he ran the underground maze toward his meeting point, all the while holding the Amber in front. Simple hexagonal shapes were etched across the tunnel ceilings. The formed lattice continued, stretching endlessly. He could feel the heavy triquetra chain of pure iron bouncing against his chest, hidden underneath his priestly robes.

  Jayson was a little early and he waited impatiently. It was not long until, out of pure darkness, a heavily hooded figure emerged. Its coalescence made no sound at all.

  Her skin was covered and her face hidden. A black mask across the lower half. Cloak and strips of linen everywhere. Expensive-looking leather gloves covered her hands.

  The cloaked form was that of a woman of unremarkable height, about six and a half feet. Yet Jayson's instincts screamed at him to run, to not go near her. There was no scent to her. Even down here, his partly-heightened senses should be able to distinguish it. And there was something else. The way she moved. Predatorial, calculated, and elegant.

  ''Greetings, sweetie,'' the figure giggled bizarrely, almost in a child-like manner.

  Jayson nodded once. ''Well met.''

  She outstretched her arm, giving him what he knew was a hefty sack filled with hex and small crystals. ''My boss is a very rich man. He will make you rich as well. Short tongue and loyalty will always be rewarded.'' Her voice was pleasing to the ear, seductive even.

  He nodded, taking the bounty. When he did so, for the briefest of moments his eyes saw a flash of dark-purple skin at the wrist.

  A skin condition? Jayson thought.

  He proceeded to give report. Unremarkable things. Rumors on the street, his perceived mood of the populace toward the Senate, and the Academy intelligence. She was particularly interested to hear about the recent Harvesting tragedy and how many Breakers perished.

  The fact that she had paid him fully before he gave the report did not escape Jayson's notice.

  He was wider and taller than her yet he felt but a big bug about to be struck and devoured by a slender praying mantis. Is she like me? Or maybe she's not alone. No, she is alone. She must be like me.

  She was young, he was sure, but her cadence spoke of a well-read individual and there was more. A childishness, playfulness to her voice that Jayson found deeply unsettling. An image came to his mind, an image of a child deciding whether or not to stomp on hundreds of ants.

  Her intonation was strange—she tried to hide it and did it well—something Jayson never heard before, even from those living in hamlets, to the south and north of Lodestar.

  ''Good work, my sweetie,'' she giggled dulcetly. ''I hope we will meet again. Until next time.'' She waved at Jayson.

  He nodded subtly.

  Immediately after his employer had left, Jayson exhaled long, sat down, opened the bag, and grabbed a few shiny delights. A beautiful Viridian, Cobalt, and even a few small Lilacs, all stared back at him.

  Their light flickered and waned in his big palm and then they cracked, slowly turning to shiny dust.

  Jayson felt a massive boulder fall from his entire body.

  He was vigor.

  The travel back to the temple will be swift now. He saved a few crystals for later use. His garments had several hidden pockets.

  He no longer needed the light of the Amber he had brought with him so he absorbed its light into him as well, soon clapping his hands off of any remnant shiny dust.

  Jayson pulled out a small blue crystal, the light weak, weaker than a glowing candle. And yet more than enough for his enhanced eyes whose gaze now fell along the dark path back.

  As he ran faster than the fastest of horses he felt an enormous kinship with the Winged. This is how they must've felt when spearing through space.

  This is freedom.

  ***

  I volunteered to clean the entire Herbology classroom.

  We won't have much time.

  Since there was no one around I was quick, cleaned everything fast-fast, and for the last oblivion of time I've been making a hole in the floor with my nervous pacing. Where is he? We've agreed he would keep his visitation home brief; a small sacrifice for his family from my understanding.

  I can hear steps and clothes shuffling, so I quickly grab a broom and pretend my labor is not finished. I lift my head and see Gabriel. I should strangle him. I storm towards him a few steps before stopping. ''Where the fuck were you?''

  He gives me a boyish smile. I hate-love when he does that. ''The Winged they gave me was sluggish.'' His eyes are dark blue, the color of the darkest of Cobalts, and always look so innocent as though he could never tell a lie.

  Perhaps he overstayed because he clings to his family's notice so desperately.

  Gabriel stops a few steps short from me, regarding me with a dazed look and sparkling eyes.

  ''What?''

  At first, he says nothing and just gawks at me. ''Allmother; you are ravishing.'' He stays slack-jawed like that for a few heartbeats before moving toward me.

  ''You will say anything to bed me.''

  ''And you will do everything to not hear my truth.''

  We meet in the middle of the classroom, his hug thawing most of my anger.

  ''What is this for?'' I ask when he gives me a beautiful fuchsia flower. My eyes feast on the gentle, purple-red bloom.

  ''I know you like those.''

  I smile.

  Gabriel puts his hand on my cheek, his thumb caressing my eyebrow, skimming my bangs. His hair falls over perfect, high cheekbones and I can't resist but to move it away. He didn't shave for about a week, probably to the scorn of some grandmasters, giving him a perfect stubble.

  We taste each other with haste for chronos is never kind to the likes of us.

  I lick his chin. His midnight-black beard is rough, short, both well-kept and not.

  He gently cups my cheeks, looking deeply into my eyes. The gesture completely at odds with his powerful hands, his calloused palms.

  ''What?...'' I whisper.

  Gabriel exhales slowly. ''Your eyes. Every time I look at you, they freeze my stomach. No woman has your eyes.''

  I arch my brow. ''And how many womanly eyes have you been looking at?''

  He grins. ''I love it when you're jealous for no reason.'' He puts his hand on the back of my head, pushing my lips hard against his.

  I moan when he tries to devour my neck.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  ''My...Ann,'' he mumbles while sating his hunger. The pleasure-exhales I make seem to encourage him greatly.

  I drag him to the pantry. It is not the biggest of rooms but it is more secluded and will serve us well enough. I leave the flower on one of the shelves.

  Immediately, Gabriel's strong arms coil around my back while my fingers dig into the back of his head.

  He roughly kisses my neck, again and again and again, taking in my scent. I've used attar of roses, applied it on wrists and sides of my neck—the scent is sweet, delicate, subtle, with a touch, a hint of earthiness hidden within the floral notes.

  His strong fingers plunge into my ass. I do the same, grabbing his.

  We are two starving wolves consuming each other.

  As I rush to untie my cord belt, a knot is formed. Crimson tits. It had to happen now! I breathe in deeply to calm myself while patiently loosening it.

  I lift my tunic over my head and he lowers himself to kiss my ribs and stomach. Earlier today I bathed using lye soap scented with sweet alyssum that Hebe gave me, and days prior I utilized the smelly classroom out there to make eyelid paint with crushed lapis; using mortar and pestle I ground it to dust, then added beeswax as a base. Now blue dust covers my eyelids while the kohl that outlines my eyes is borrowed from my mother. I wonder if he even noticed any of that.

  We've wandered the desert for years and now, finally, an oasis is found. What was before were only drops, a trickle, not enough to sate our thirsts.

  He throws his cloak across the floor and quickly adds his own tunic to the pile.

  I lift my arms, my eyes not leaving his. He pauses for a moment and then hurriedly he unwinds long lengths of linen covering my breasts.

  He looks deeply into my eyes, ignoring my nakedness for a few moments. And then he...

  He's like a newborn cub.

  His breaths are short and fast, small puffs of warmth hitting my left breast, powerful fingers kneading the right and then pinching and gently pulling and twisting the pink crown. I think he mumbled my name although, at this very moment, I'm unsure if he can remember his own.

  A giggle escapes me. My nipples were always extremely sensitive.

  My hand roams across his corded back. His body is carved marble.

  His lips jump to my neck, and before long mouths and teeth are thrown into a messy mix. His stroking tongue inflames the ache between my legs.

  He is clumsy in all the best ways. We both are.

  As my hands roam his chest I can feel his rampaging heart. And I can certainly feel something big jabbing at me through his clothes.

  Our arms clash as we further undress each other, making us giggle quietly.

  The blood of my cheeks threatens to boil over when I look at his my-wrist-thick cock—a gentle curve to it. His spear does indeed matches his spear.

  I gently touch his huge manhood as though it might bite me or something. He takes my hand, firmly putting it on his middle part.

  His silent pleasure-filled exhale happens just as I inhale at the feel and warmth of him.

  More veins than his forearm.

  Both hesitant, we lower ourselves to the cloak-covered ground and lie on our sides.

  Our heads bump several times and a few jars near the bottom spill over with what my ears perceive as loud treacherous shattering.

  We do not care.

  My fingers gently squeeze his large stones.

  His breath tickles my cheek.

  Blessedly dazed, I smile.

  I notice him staring at my mouth, a puzzled look on him. Shit! Is there a bit of food on my teeth? ''Is there something on my teeth?''

  He smiles. ''Your teeth are perfect, whiter than any cloud.'' He looks at me as though seeing me for the first time. ''Everything about you is. There is no woman like you.''

  A stupid smile escapes me. ''And how many women have you known?'' I raise my chin a bit, squeeze just a little harder.

  He inhales quickly and then laughs. ''I have eyes, Ann.''

  My hand now cups the head of his big cock.

  Gabriel grunts, almost stops breathing. ''Besides,'' his voice a serious whisper, ''were I to know another you would kill me.''

  He knows me too well.

  My finger glides across the groove—a tiny bit of moisture on it. I put the same finger in my mouth, tasting, looking at him plainly. My eyebrows jump at the unexpected saltiness on my tongue.

  He makes a sound.

  He then kisses my shoulder, his lips traveling toward my throat.

  Suddenly he stops the many small kisses and looks at me, sending Void-cold winds through my stomach. ''I love you.''

  I just smile at that. ''No need to overdo it,'' I run my hand across his cheek, ''we are already committed.''

  ''I say it how I mean it.'' He releases a strange, deep sigh and puts his thumb on my lower lip. ''We have to hurry,'' he whispers.

  ''Do you know what to do?'' I ask.

  He reluctantly nods. ''I've seen some drawings.''

  ''Drawings!'' I scorn myself at my loud voice.

  ''It's really nothing complicated.''

  I push him on his back and move on top. Hebe told me I may hurt at first but then the pain turns to flowering pleasure.

  He eats my thin, sinewy body with his eyes.

  If caught, we will probably not get expelled—I think—but since this place is so voidheld on control there would be disproportionate retribution inflicted upon us.

  I grab ahold of his thick manhood, stroking him several times, and then I am putting the top of him against myself.

  Something is wrong. Gabriel's eyes widen for a moment. He fakes a smile and grinds his jaw. While his hands are on my thighs I continue to use both of mine to try and guide him inside. Is it supposed to be like this?

  With deft fingers I spread my lips a little, lowering myself slowly, helping him to finally slide inside.

  Fuck....

  After some initial troubles, we are finally joined as I fully lower myself onto him; with some difficulty.

  He almost roars, prompting me to place a hand over his mouth. He does the same to me, allowing only a muffled moan to escape. We stupidly stare at each other for a few heartbeats. He nods slightly, his nostrils flare and a vein on his temple threatens to explode.

  I start to rub myself on him. Slowly.

  Shit...

  A fat rod of pure iron, covered by taut skin and many veins, grinds the pieces of my insides away.

  It hurts but the pain is not overwhelming.

  Our hands remain at each other's mouths a bit longer, hushing our treasonous grunts and moans.

  I move upright, throwing red tresses behind, exposing my body more.

  His breathing steadies, his fingertips move across a small, roughly circular patch of pale blue skin on my right upper arm. A birthmark that looks a stain on my pale skin.

  ''Acrona's cunt...'' I whisper through labored breaths.

  His breathing still a little heavy, he moves his hand downward, across my stomach, until his large fingers become lost in my big flaming bush: a redness that had spread on me in the years since I had come to the Academy.

  ''Lift your arms,'' he says.

  My eyes locked to his I do so.

  He begins licking one of my hairy armpits avidly and with glee.

  I gently bite at the side of his head, tasting his thick hair—its scent strong, camphorous, and little sweet, there is a hint of pine; bay leaves and rosemary.

  For a while, I ride him slow—my hands demanding to feel each muscle of his powerful body. I pause my motions here and there when his pleading compels me to do so. The smell of blood, a lot of blood, dominates the small room.

  I grab his neck with force, my lips tickling his ear, my voice a whisper, my wavy hair everywhere, ''Some other time I'll taste you properly,'' my voice lowers further, ''I'll swallow all your seed, every droplet.''

  He clears his throat, says nothing, says everything.

  I straighten up in my wonderful saddle.

  I lick my middle finger and then use it to make tight circles over my swollen bud—my hips know only up and down. Fuck... A beautiful flower of ecstasy whose long petals are a thousand in number blooms through my brain. Pleasure beyond unfolds, explodes across my mind, and I moan loudly, screaming his name several times.

  He growls for a moment.

  I lock my eyes to his. ''You. Feel. So. Good.'' I punctuate each word with a downward movement, slamming onto him with delicious force.

  I slowly put the same finger into his mouth.

  He sucks it while looking at my nipple.

  I pull it out and place myself so that my breasts are just above his face. His strong fingers gently slide across my back as he suckles.

  A ticklish feeling beneath my skin makes me grin.

  I rise, move my head back, looking at the ceiling. ''Give, give, give,'' I murmur. His cock stirs inside me, prompted by my lively pace.

  When I lower my head I notice his broad chest is glazed with sweat. I throw my hair back and lick it all.

  I look at the lower part of his stomach. My saddle is clean and beautiful.

  I'm on top of hard muscle and smooth light skin, riding it all.

  My fingers are claws that plunge into his wide shoulders as I continue riding him, my eyes rolling to the back of my skull.

  Weak. Everyone is so weak. But not you, my Gabriel.

  ''My Gabriel! My Gabriel! You're my Gabriel!'' My panting speeds up, my hungry hips unleashed.

  He makes sweet sounds of pain and then nuzzles my breasts, taking time to taste both blush-pink crowns. His dense whiskers...prickling.

  I chuckle.

  Time is not our friend.

  I speed up.

  FuckFuckFuckFuck.

  ''No...Ann, slow. Ann...Ann...please...Ann.'' His mouth says one thing but his eyes say the opposite.

  I can't say no to those beautiful eyes.

  ''Ann...Ann...''

  Yes...

  Nearby shelves shake. Jars and pots clatter rhythmically. A jar of red chrysanthemum oil spills across the floor. Our eyes see nothing of the outside world because there is nothing else but me and him. Peachy and coppery smells fuse. My apotheosis nearing.

  ''Allmother!!'' I scream.

  ***

  Year seven

  This test supposedly teaches you patience. Hebe and Michael already passed it.

  Blade Grandmaster guides me into a small room with a weird-looking chair inside. Two female caretakers standing there.

  ''All you need to do is last one day strapped in place while water drips on your forehead. Simple.'' He grins at me. ''You will be released whenever you wish, but if you can't last until the water level passes through all twenty-four markings you fail.''

  He leaves me there.

  This seems child's play.

  I gave up after one hour. I was almost ready to tear all my bonds in front of the caretakers monitoring me, just to scratch my nose. The test is so easy, but it's not.

  It takes me weeks of intermittent trying to pass it. I focused on my breathing and learned how to numb my tactile perception around the forehead. It wasn't easy. Is it cheating? Yes. Well...it's only really cheating if you get caught. And I've used my own ability. So not really cheating, I think.

  ***

  While using Twilight, Vidar makes me wear special vambraces with lead weights and annoying from-knee-to-ankle greaves with bars of lead attached.

  I will admit this gave results. I was fast before, faster than anyone can be. But now the double-bladed polearm is a feather, and when there is no one around I slash through the Void itself.

  I really wanna scratch my eyebrow.

  ''Define what is a crystalborn made by a Black Breaker,'' Vidar says.

  Everyone knows this, of course. But he is asking for a formal definition—stuff a student of year seven would say. ''A crystalborn made by a Black Breaker is the extension of that Breaker's mind and continuation of their muscle.''

  Vidar smiles, stretches his arms like he just got out of bed. ''According to Plotinus what are the greatest values an individual should always strive to give to the state.''

  ''Loyalty, virtue, and honor,'' I answer.

  My arms are in front, holding Twilight parallel to the ground as he resumes questioning me, probing, searching for gaps in my knowledge. This continues for almost an hour...did I mention the vambraces?

  ''Strength through pain, Red,'' Vidar says.

  ''Yes, Grandmaster.''

  ''Now, Red, why do you think I'm putting you through this...again?'' He points at the weights on my wrists and legs.

  Because you want to see me suffer. ''No, Grandmaster.''

  He walks around the gymnasium jovialy. ''Because speed beats brawn. Like luck beats skill. And the longer the fight continues brawn beats it all.''

  Almost all irrelevant advice in my case.

  He scratches his beard. ''You are unusually strong for a woman. And tall. You have reach and speed but so, oh so little patience. Tiny bit. Tiny.''

  Did he just compliment me?

  ''And your temper is...Well...'' He crosses his arms and dramatically exhales.

  My arms still in front. ''I'm sure to remember that when a Wraith challenges me to a blade fight.''

  He stops moving. Shit. I almost chuckle. The annoying look on his face. I think I've just confirmed his words. ''Wraith spawn can be a devious thing. Suppose one of them attacked your camp. You are on the ground with your squad. Suppose one of the beasts ended up on top of Hebe, about to rip her throat out.''

  I raise my polearm a little, instinctively.

  ''There we go. Anger. Anger is good. If you can control it.''

  ''I have control.''

  He ignores me. ''Even a Wraith's youngling, though far smaller than its parent, is still stronger than a man. But they are often not much fast.''

  ''I could probably kill it with my bare hands,'' I say honestly.

  He thinks it's a jest. ''Yes, you'd probably strangle it with your hair.'' He looks at my thick braid. I'd point out that the Chairwoman also wears a similar style, but then I think better of it.

  He sighs deeply. ''You have grown, but the mind often takes much, much longer than the body to grow fully. In blade, I have taught you everything I know. You are clever but not wise. Strong but not patient. Fast yet irascible.''

  I give him a tiny smile.

  ''And yet I would mind not having you by my side in the Wastes.''

  I nod.

  ''We are done.'' He gestures for me to lower my arms.

  My exhale is genuine joyful relief.

  He looks at me as one might a child. ''Four to five times a week repeat the regiment I showed you.''

  ''Yes, Grandmaster.''

  We talk about the Wastes and he touches a bit upon his expeditions there. He seems to have sloughed off his sardonic layer. He never mentions how he got those scars on his left hand. And I don't press.

  He smiles almost warmly. ''Goodbye, Red.'' He clasps my forearm.

  Vidar moves to leave, his back already a distance.

  ''Thank you, Grandmaster.''

  He pauses his confident stride. Does not turn back. Hesitates. ''Your mother is a formidable woman. Terrifying woman. After your flogging she tried to take legal action against the Chairwoman. Even threatened Amina in her own office. Later, Amina said to me, when mentioning you, Now we know who she takes it from.'' He continues walking. ''I did not tell you any of this. Ta-ra!''

  He leaves the gymnasium.

  ***

  I walk alone through the huge entrance corridor of the Academy, toward the Great Chamber: the central hub of the entire Academy. Lion brooch clasps my red cloak, my long red hair falling free across.

  The younger students who pass nod at me. I do the same toward them and toward the caretakers soon following in their trail. The Breakers I saw prior mostly ignored me, as they often did ignore all students.

  I hasten my steps, focusing my hearing on the commotion a good distance ahead of me. Two figures are almost hugging the side of the well-lit corridor, very close to the pilasters: the shallow-carved, decorative pillars.

  ''They get stolen!'' Master Keeper of the Great Library clamors. ''And then someone returns them back.''

  Vice Keeper Sabina Sabinus shakes her head sadly. Her spotless face a complete contrast to the old man next to her. A man who I've heard was once deeply respected but nowadays is mostly ignored. ''Sir...sometimes some of the students forget to return them. And our records could be flawed. Students are searched for such things when leaving the Academy grounds.''

  ''They get stolen!'' the half-deaf, stubborn old man repeats loudly.

  With deference, Sabina gently guides the shriveled form of Master Keeper further through the corridor, her pink-tinted glasses reflect the fat lines of polished bronze above.

  I curl my fingers instinctively. ''Vice Keeper, Master Keeper,'' I say respectfully, smiling and nodding as they are about to pass by me.

  Sabina barely nods in my direction. The old man seemingly ignoring me at first. Then stares at me.

  He points at me. ''Face of Acrona, and body of Theia! The things I'd do to her were I forty younger,'' he chuckles to himself.

  I walk on, pretending not to have heard that.

  My mind wanders off toward the Great Library.

  Over the years I've read what I could about Vorzas and I still don't know what is ''wrong'' with me. There are many contradicting texts and hard-to-believe tales. However, many sources agree that Vorzas were unable to perform Genesis, but were, however, able to have children. Also I'm fairly certain I'm not inclined to worship the Void in any near future. Frustratingly there was no relief since I'm no closer to understanding why I'm not like the others.

  There is a part of me that would sometimes feel guilty at seeing my classmates suffer during training in gymnasiums and all the while I would seldom feel tired. Or when one of them gets sick or hurt. But it's not my fault they were born weak. I constantly need to be careful not to crush someone's wrist during greeting or snap someone's neck during wrestling. They are all so fragile.

  The layout of the Great Library, the area allowed to students, resembles an open book, but the place itself is anything but.

  I've memorized the diagrams and used the maze-like air tunnels to sneak into the cold, forbidden parts of the library—but only during certain rare nights and only moving among the darkest of shelves. Early on, I found the book register. Things went a little faster after that. It was all interesting yet tedious work. Found nothing concerning my issue.

  Only...

  So, during one of such outings I perused through some texts—texts forbidden to all students, to most people probably—that claimed how Vorzas were connected to an ancient cult called Worshipers of the Void.

  Ouroboros was their symbol. The cultists mocked and rejected the teachings of the Faith, supposedly chanting Void is one Void is all at their unholy gatherings. Weird sort of stuff. They believed all life started with the Void and that it must end in the Void. The texts spoke about how they were known to embrace death.

  Although I'd need thousands of lifetimes to read all the books in the Academy's huge library, I will never stop searching. Maybe there were others like me. Legends always have a grain of truth.