Feralynn didn’t dare start the conversation. Romina kept smiling with that calm kindness that was at once comforting and suffocating, while the girl, brow furrowed, kept her eyes fixed on the elf’s perfectly polished shoes across from her.

  Her fists were still tense. Her cheek bitten from the inside. And the damned tick-tock of the clock on the blackboard did nothing to help.

  What the fuck am I even supposed to say? Should I speak first or should she?

  It wasn’t until her teacher finally broke the ice.

  “How are you today?”

  The question snapped Fer’s gaze up. It surprised her, like a touch spell. Mouth open, she felt her throat close, choking off words. She swallowed, trying to make room in her esophagus.

  “Fine.”

  Only an adjective. Short, dry. Hard. Like a kitchen knife entering soft, living flesh.

  Romina kept her serene, pacifying expression. She smiled with the patience of a saint. Fer noticed the detail: she no longer called her lioness. Only by her real name.

  “That’s good news, Feralynn. Tell me, what made you feel good today?”

  The girl’s sweaty hands fidgeted anxiously with the edge of her uniform sleeves, twisting the dark navy fabric without realizing.

  “Well… nothing bad happened today.”

  Romina nodded. She didn’t take any notes. She didn’t need to. Her brown eyes never stopped studying her pupil’s confused, nervous face. She barely moved a leg, expectant of the person assigned to her and who had voluntarily sought to guide.

  Fer had never been in a talk like this. Her only reference came from shows and movies reflected in the mirror at home, where interrogators wrote frantically as the other spoke—cold, clinical, distant.

  “Do you mean a day can only be good if nothing bad happens?”

  Feralynn looked away, unable to sustain the conversation. The room felt too quiet, without distractions, without music, with nothing but the sound of her own pulse. The static of her thoughts was the only thing filling the air.

  “I… I don’t know.”

  Romina tilted her head a fraction, patient.

  “What about your friends? Did you hang out with them today?”

  “Yeah. I’m always with them.” She smiled, vaguely. “Well, except when I’m at home. Although I usually spend the afternoons with—”

  “Annya, right?”

  The interruption left her speechless for a second. She frowned and nodded in a silence that cost her to hold; Romina smiled with nostalgia, letting out a nasal sigh.

  “You’re very lucky. Many would kill to have a friend like her at school. Or in life.”

  At last Fer could hold her gaze and noticed in the teacher’s eyes the same feeling that ran through her: a shared, warm, sharp melancholy. She swallowed and shifted focus, curiosity taking over completely.

  “Did you… have friends?”

  “Haaah~…” Romina exhaled, and memories of the years she wore the same uniform as the girl before her came flooding back, with tastes and textures that overwhelmed her. “Yep! Sure I did. A small group. We were the messiest in class; I’m sure Smiley and Tony punished us a hundred times.” She let out a low chuckle. “Some are still working around in the school.”

  Lighter inside, Fer asked again, forgetting for a moment that the questions ultimately spoke about herself.

  “Like Professor Bernt? I’ve seen him flirting with you in the halls.” She smiled before she meant to. “I love seeing his defeated face when you slap him.”

  They both laughed, a brief shared sound.

  “Oh, don’t you dare mention that scoundrel now.” Romina feigned annoyance, twisting her face into an anger that quickly softened into a smile. She decided to change the subject, like clearing a window so an unpleasant memory wouldn’t slip through.

  “You know, I’ve seen you a lot with your pastry friend. How do you feel when you’re with her?”

  Feralynn’s cheeks flamed: first a pastel pink, then an intense red, like the color of her eyes.

  “I, uhh. I feel… good?” she stammered, bewildered. “I-I mean—I like being with her. I don’t feel alone when she’s around.”

  She looked away; her fingers tugged at the sleeve, stretching it between her fingers by reflex. Romina fixed her gaze on that tiny gesture.

  “Do you often feel lonely?”

  Another question landed on her like a spotlight turning on: it set her in the middle of an empty stage that nevertheless felt full.

  “Yeah… at home. When I don’t help Mom in the flower shop, or when I’m not with Annya I feel lonely. I try to sleep but…everytime I get ugly nightmares. Sucks. A lot.”

  “What do you do in those moments?”

  “I like to go to the woods and train. But I have to go far; I don’t want my fire to burn the trees. Mom would be very angry if it happened again.”

  Romina nodded slowly.

  “You could do it in the combat arena. It’s big, and I doubt Sebastian would refuse you some practice dummies. Tell me, what else do you like to do when you’re alone?”

  Fer blinked. Hesitated. Then she reached for her backpack beside the chair and, shyly, pulled out three mangas. Their covers gleamed under the golden afternoon light.

  “When I feel lonely, I… also read mangas.” Her voice grew smaller, almost timid. “I don’t like doing it in class. I don’t want people to laugh at me. Annya doesn’t like the ones I pick.”

  She ran her thumb over a cover where the protagonist, sword in hand, decapitated a monster amid red stains.

  “But Jax loves them; we read them at recess or on the bus.”

  Romina made a kind gesture for her to hand them over and took them one by one with a smile mixing surprise and affection.

  “Berserk, Fire Punch, Jujutsu… Kaisen?” the teacher murmured as she flipped through the colorful covers. “They sound like powerful spell names.”

  “They do, right?!” Feralynn flailed in the chair, excited like a kid showing a drawing. “They’re fucking brutal, I love ‘em!”

  Romina looked up, seeing her student happy for the first time since she’d entered. She opened one volume and raised her brows at the illustrations: characters dismembering demonic creatures, explicit panels of entrails, battles in the open with blood everywhere.

  “I see you really enjoy action.” she noted, closing the mangas and placing them on the next chair. “Tell me, are you afraid they’ll mock you for reading them?”

  The light in the girl’s face went out instantly; her broad smile turned into a pained frown. She nodded slowly and heavily.

  “Yeah... I, um… I noticed a lot of people don’t come talk to me.” She clenched her fists. “Once, walking with Annya in the yard, I heard someone call me ‘freaky fire girl.’ I wanted to smash that fucking idiot’s face.”

  Romina nodded, serious, recalling the small incident from the first class she’d witnessed: the uncontrolled fire, Fer in the bathroom with eyes full of rage and pure terror. The tears on her cheek, the muffled sobs in her chest when Romina hugged her to calm her on that first day of school.

  She opened her mouth to ask again but was interrupted.

  “Professor.” Fer said firmly, dragging the words. “I have these sessions with you because I did something bad, right?”

  “Feralynn, you haven’t done anything—”

  “Don’t lie.” the girl cut in, holding back her anger with great difficulty. “Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen how Astera looks at me sideways when I pass her, how you pay more attention to me in class. You all think I’m stupid? Huh?! Even the twin clowns observe me sometimes.”

  She stood up, almost jerking the chair back, lifted her shirt and school satchel to show the burnt mark at the edge of her abdomen.

  “Smiley didn’t put this crap on me for nothing!” she nearly shouted, face furious, eyes on the verge of tears.

  Silence. The clock kept devouring seconds. Romina did not speak. She only looked at her, with something between fear and compassion. The afternoon light seemed to gray.

  “...”

  “I want you to tell me the truth.” Fer ordered her teacher, hiding the burned tattoo on her young skin. “What did I do wrong…?”

  Her question escaped with the pain of someone who no longer knows where they belong. She carried the shadow of being a loaded weapon, feared even by those who claim to help her. She couldn’t enjoy the warmth of her new life without feeling the cold of the old. Every morning, in front of the mirror, the impotence of not being able to shed the past looked back at her.

  Serious, Romina knew that if she wanted to help she had to stop hiding. The temptation to lie flickered through her mind—the old reflex to spare her problematic students the weight of truth. However, this girl was not just another pupil; none had ever borne a mark like that branded into living flesh.

  Cornered, as if the ring were closing around her, the teacher let out a heavy sigh. Her voice, once gentle, dropped in temperature—cold. Cutting. She had run out of excuses that could make sense.

  “Sit down. Please,” she ordered.

  Feralynn noticed the sudden shift. She knew she was finally going to get answers. She obeyed, leaning forward in her seat, unblinking. Romina closed her eyes, shaping her words. When she opened them, the truth came out.

  “In your first demonstration with young Miria, there wasn’t an accident with Smiley’s giant dummy. You both worked fantastically well together to defeat it.” She looked away slightly, remembering what the headmasters had told her. “I’d never seen two first-years with such powerful mana and skill in battle…”

  “Then tell me. Tell me what really happened,” the angry girl demanded, her voice cracking under the tension. “I don’t want to waste any more time with this ridiculous talk.”

  Romina studied her with surgical precision, as if choosing carefully the exact wound she needed to open.

  “You nearly murdered Miria Frostweaver in cold blood, with your bare hands.”

  The revelation struck her like an icy spear. Feralynn went silent.

  The color drained from her face. Nausea rose in her throat. A cold cascade of sweat ran down her forehead as the air scraped at her throat. Her mind spun wildly, searching for a place to hide. She remembered Miria’s smile in the infirmary, the trembling voice of the girl she’d wanted to approach, even if she never knew how.

  “I… what?”

  The question came out broken, hollow. She froze, eyes wide, gaze lost in a point that didn’t exist. A sharp pain tore through her skull; a piercing migraine spreading like fire behind her eyes. She screamed, clutching her head, trembling.

  The images returned: the training hall, the air thick with heat, her fists blazing red, Miria’s body collapsing, the thin trickle of blood running from her brow. And above all, Smiley’s golden threads glowing in the half-dark, holding her back before she struck the final blow.

  She wanted to vomit. Run. Erase herself from the world. Romina watched her with restrained anguish, unsure whether to approach or let her break apart alone.

  Fer’s breathing turned chaotic; her chest heaved in waves of panic, her heart pounding against her ribs, her ears ringing as if all the air in the room had vanished.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “N-No… no, no, nonono—NO!” she screamed in horror, voice torn to shreds. “I–I WOULDN’T HAVE DONE SOMETHING LIKE THAT TO HER!”

  The echo of her scream bounced against the walls, shredding the silence. The mark on her abdomen burned alive, as if the cursed fire inside her remembered better than her mind what had happened.

  She grabbed her stomach, doubling over. Pain shot through her like electricity, and a loud cry tore from her throat. The mark burned brighter, glowing beneath her uniform, pulsing to the frantic rhythm of her heart. Her energy drained away. Nausea, dizziness, her body’s strength cut off by the seal.

  She collapsed to her knees. The floor caught her with a dull thud. Her breath broke into ragged gasps, her chest convulsing out of rhythm, the air refusing to enter.

  Romina shot to her feet, heart in her mouth, and dropped to her knees before her.

  “Hey, hey. Breathe. Look at me– Fer, look at me. Breathe—”

  Her voice was soft but trembling, trying to pierce through the storm. Feralynn barely lifted her gaze; glassy eyes, tears quivering on the edge.

  “Hey—it’s okay. Everything’s okay. Look at me. Breathe, sweetheart, breathe…”

  Fer tried. She gasped. Coughed. The air wouldn’t come.

  Her pulse hammered in her ears like a drum. Her vision closed into a dark tunnel, leaving only the memory: bloodied fists striking again and again and again at the white-haired girl fighting for her life.

  She couldn’t think. Couldn’t stop. Her body shook, her stomach tightened, the metallic taste filling her tongue. Her palms tried to summon fire, but all her mana was being drained away.

  Romina cupped her cheeks with both hands, forcing her to look. She smiled faintly, with a tenderness made of panic and tears running down her face.

  “Sshhh…Sweetie. Hey, you’re okay. Miria’s okay. Sweetie, look at me, okay? Please, please just look at me. We’re fine, everything’s fine. I’m here. Fer, I’m here.”

  But the teacher was crying too. Her tears fell freely, sliding down her face as she tried to hold the girl together in that ruin of broken breaths.

  At last she hugged her tightly. Feralynn collapsed into her chest, sobbing, soaked and inconsolable. Her body convulsed with every sob, every electric jolt from her abdomen. Her fingers clung to the teacher’s coat as if anchoring herself to the world.

  Romina held her in silence, feeling the tremors coursing through her, the fire beneath her skin, the raw fear of a girl who remembered too much—who hurt too much.

  Minutes passed in silence, bathed in the light of late afternoon. Romina stroked Fer’s black hair, her fingers tracing gentle circles on her scalp, patting her back in rhythm. The front of her blouse was damp, warm with each exhalation from the girl.

  She began to hum a lullaby. Slowly, Feralynn’s breathing started to ease.

  “That’s it… let it all out. It wasn’t your fault.” She lifted Fer’s shattered gaze, smiling softly, wiping away her tears. “It wasn’t. It’s over now, dear. It’s over.”

  Fer could only sniffle, hiccuping through the remnants of her sobs. She closed her eyes when her teacher dabbed her cheek with a silk handkerchief. Romina held it to her nose and made her blow hard.

  The teacher wiped her own face with the sleeve of her black coat. She smiled, relieved to see the girl calm.

  “Better?”

  Wordless, Fer only nodded. She let her face rest again against the woman’s chest.

  “I didn’t mean to… I really didn’t mean to.”

  “Ssshhh, I know. I know you didn’t. It wasn’t your fault—”

  “I’m a… I’m a fucking monster…”

  “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t say that—”

  “IT’S TRUE! I DID TERRIBLE THINGS, SO MANY! I DON’T DESERVE THIS, I SHOULDN’T BE ALIVE!”

  Once again, Romina held her tightly, bracing for another storm.

  “We’re here to help you—”

  “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I’VE FUCKING DONE! ALRIGHT?! I DON’T DESERVE TO BE ALIVE!”

  “Yes, Fer… I know what you’ve done. Astera and Smiley already told me everything. You’ve been through so much, dear…”

  Feralynn pulled away from her, horrified.

  “How… how do they know?”

  Romina tried to reach her face to caress her cheek, but Fer flinched back instinctively, her wide eyes still frozen in terror. The teacher sighed.

  “They spoke with your mother. We agreed that you’d have these sessions so we could help you. We didn’t tell you because we knew you’d refuse to come.”

  She took advantage of the girl’s stunned stillness to hold her cheeks, lifting her gaze.

  “What happened was an accident. They won’t expel you, and no one else needs to know what happened.”

  She paused to let the words sink in.

  “You’re not alone… you have your mother, you have Annya, Rose, Jax. You have me. And you have Miria too. You do deserve to live. You do deserve this new chance.”

  Feralynn let her head drop completely as Romina released her. She stayed still, kneeling on the floor in silence for a couple of minutes.

  “…How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you won’t tell anyone else?”

  Romina blinked. In that instant she understood the fear behind the question: the girl wasn’t only afraid of being judged—she was afraid of being exposed. She was already the quiet student, the odd one out, the girl almost everyone watched from the corner of their eye. If her past came out, nothing would be left of what little she’d built by now.

  The elf smiled gently, leaning closer. Her fingers rose to brush aside a stray lock of hair before letting it fall softly over her forehead.

  “There are special spells that don’t need a catalyst or scrolls,” she murmured. “They’re called oaths. And they last a lifetime.”

  She took Feralynn’s wrist delicately in her hands. The warm, scarred skin trembled at the touch.

  “When two souls swear an oath, their bodies are bound by an invisible contract. And breaking it… brings harsh punishment. Mages and blanks have used them for centuries to enhance their magic or their physical strength, paying an equal price in return. But what most don’t know… is that they’re also used to keep secrets.”

  Romina ran her thumb over the girl’s scars, tracing them as though drawing an ancient sigil.

  “I’m willing to make an oath with you,” she said quietly, her tone low and solemn. “I promise to keep your secret safe. And if I ever break it…”

  She raised her gaze. In Feralynn’s tearful, attentive eyes, the golden light of the classroom seemed to burn with the same intensity as her vow.

  “...I’ll lose all my magic. Forever.”

  Fer gasped, disbelief catching her breath mid-chest.

  “What—? You’d do that… for me? But why?”

  Romina let out a soft laugh, just a breath of warmth cutting through the silence.

  “I want you to trust me. If this is what it takes, I won’t hesitate.”

  She gave her a light tap on the shoulder with her fist, the smile both gentle and firm.

  “Come on. Lionesses look after each other. I want you in the pride.”

  Feralynn lowered her gaze, wiping away what was left of tears and snot with the silk handkerchief. She took a deep breath, coughed to steady her voice.

  “I want to make the oath with you.”

  Romina nodded, eyes bright with resolve that needed no words.

  “Give me your hand. Take and hold my wrist. Do not drop it.”

  They clasped their right wrists together, a firm, warm hold. Under the golden light spilling through the windows, Romina began the ritual.

  Her voice deepened—graver, resonant—with an ancient power that seemed to hum through the room’s very foundations.

  “By the fire that forges and consumes, by the blood that binds and remembers, I, Romina Aurora Dove, place my magic upon the edge of this oath. Before the sight of the gods, I vow to guard the secret of Feralynn Blackwood.”

  As she spoke, a faint glow began to bloom between their joined hands. Gold turned to scarlet, then white—the ancient technique taking form.

  “If ever I break my word, let my power fade into the void, let my name lose its echo, and let silence claim my voice.”

  The air vibrated. The clock on the wall seemed to stop.

  “For, and forever. I swear this oath.”

  Feralynn felt heat spreading across her skin, a pulse running from her wrist to her chest. The mark on her abdomen flared, burning for an instant before easing, as if recognizing the pact.

  Romina gave her wrist one last squeeze before dropping it.

  “It’s done.”

  The glow faded slowly. Only their breathing remained. The woman showed Fer her wrist, turning it slightly. A symbol—sealed lips pierced by a sword—flared for a second over her skin before vanishing completely.

  “Now,” Romina said softly, solemnly, “your secret is safe with me.” She gave her a playful wink.

  The girl stood speechless, staring at the rune for what felt like a stretched-out moment. Without thinking, she smiled and threw her arms around Romina.

  “Thank you… thank you…” she murmured, her voice trembling between sobs.

  Romina let herself be caught, her face softening with quiet affection. She held her gently, and when they pulled apart, she glanced at the clock on the wall, remembering time.

  “We’re not done yet. I’m afraid the questionnaire is not over. In later sessions I’d like us to try a special exercise—but only when you feel truly ready.”

  “Whatever it is,” Fer said, resting her chin on her shoulder. “Let’s just finish this. I don’t think my eyes are fucking dried.”

  They both laughed—a broken sound, but it lightened the air. Romina released the embrace and met her gaze again, serious now.

  “Have you heard of ‘Final Style’ spells? It’s something taught in later years.”

  Feralynn frowned, confused.

  “I’ve heard a bit, yeah. I just know they’re like ‘ultimate’ attacks or something weird.”

  Romina shook her head, a half-smile on her lips.

  “Sort of, but they’re not just attacks. Every Rank-A mage or higher has their own Final Style. Each one is unique. Do you know why the headmasters put me in psychopedagogy section?”

  Fer raised a brow, expectant. She smirked.

  “Because you know how to make people cry like babies?”

  The woman gave a short laugh through her nose.

  “Yeah, I’m good at it. Not just that. My Final Style lets me travel into someone’s soul and mind. It’s… a kind of mental portal to the past.”

  Feralynn fell silent. The idea landed with weight and clarity; she already knew where her teacher was leading.

  “So you want us to travel into my past…”

  Romina nodded three times, the motion heavy with caution.

  “Yep! Bingo. It’s something I’ve been planning for later sessions with you. Feralynn, I know you carry deep wounds and unbearable guilt. When you’re ready, I want us to try it.”

  The girl’s shoulders tensed. Her breath turned short, measured, contained; her fingertips trembled at the thought of going back. She inhaled deeply.

  “I want to try it right now.”

  “Hooold on, lioness. You just went through something critical some minutes before, and I don’t want—”

  “Professor,” Fer interrupted, firm. “If I don’t do this now—if I–I don’t face what happened…the accident with Miria could happen again. I could hurt Annya… I’d never forgive myself if I did it.”

  Romina bit the inside of her cheek. The worry in her eyes was heavy. She knew what she’d been told: Feralynn had grown up in a country at war. Raised by a man wanted by the law. But stories and words never reach far enough; nothing compares to what’s carved into the flesh and memory of the one who lived it.

  “We’ll be inside your soul. Your psyche,” Romina warned, voice low. “It won’t be a pleasant journey, you know.”

  Feralynn’s heart pounded inside her chest. Her legs trembled; the floor felt too unsteady to hold her.

  “I’m tired of running away."

  She lifted her chin to speak up.

  “Take me.”

  Romina swallowed hard. She looked closely at the student standing before her—trembling, but with eyes firm, blazing with a resolve she hadn’t expected so soon. She’d planned this exercise for weeks later, when the girl’s spirit was calmer. But the look on Fer’s face was that of someone who could no longer bear the weight of the past.

  In a flash of memory, Romina saw Miria’s bloodied face, Astera’s furious eyes, Smiley’s dark silence—the puppet that rarely stopped smiling. She remembered the golden threads, taut, warning her of what had truly happened.

  “All right…” she whispered at last.

  Feralynn watched as the woman turned to her bag and drew out a pair of catalyst gloves. She slipped them on calmly, the etched symbols lighting up at contact with her skin.

  “I’ll need you to stay still,” Romina said, clasping her hands in an arcane gesture. Her voice changed—lower, solemn. “Last warning, lioness. Are you sure you want to do this now? No one is forcing you. I won’t judge you if you walk away. As I repeated, this is a deep exercise planned for you in later weeks, or months.”

  Feralynn’s lower lip trembled. For a moment, fear threatened to break her. But she clenched her teeth, stilled the shake, and took a step forward.

  “…I’m sure.”

  Romina nodded slowly. She closed her eyes. The air thickened—heavy, unmoving.

  “Final Style.” she murmured.

  The wall clock’s hand quivered, then froze. Silence turned absolute. Feralynn felt energy gather in the air, an invisible pressure making the windowpanes tremble.

  A surge of mana burst from the center of the room, rippling outward. Feralynn shielded her face, her hair whipping in the ethereal wind as the whole classroom shook. The mangas flying away. The wave passed. Silence again.

  She opened her eyes. Nothing had changed. The room looked the same. Her backpack still lay on the floor. Romina stood before her, motionless, hands joined, as if time itself hadn’t touched her.

  “Uuuh… Professor? What’s supposed to—?”

  She didn’t finish. The moment she stepped forward, the floor turned liquid.

  The air shattered with a crystalline shriek as the room began to dissolve. The walls dripped darkness. Romina sank first, her body swallowed by an unseen whirlpool

  “PROFESSOR!” Fer cried, stumbling back—but the void claimed her too.

  The classroom vanished. The light vanished.

  Feralynn fell.

  An oceanic abyss swallowed her whole. Darkness without bottom; her body sank effortlessly, weightless. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped the bubbles in the water. A pale glow rose from the depths—like a dead moon at the bottom of the sea. She fell toward it. Closed her eyes just before the imminent impact.

  SPLAAASSHHH!

  The crash of water ripped her from silence. She coughed, gasped again and again for air. She surfaced through a thick black pool that faded away as she climbed out—drenched, yet dry. Not a single strand of hair wet. Not a wrinkle in her uniform.

  She blinked. Everything was white. A place without horizon. Without sky. Without ground.

  Crawling, she managed to stand. The air smelled of nothing. There were no shadows.

  Before her stood Romina, hands on her hips, unmoving—as if she had been waiting there forever.

  Feralynn took a step toward her, confused. And then she saw it.

  A colossal heart loomed behind Romina. Dark crimson, cracked, carved with wounds still bleeding a black, ink-like liquid. It pulsed slowly, each beat trembling through the void.

  “What the hell is… that?” she stammered, unable to look away.

  Romina rested a hand on her shoulder, eyes fixed on the throbbing giant.

  “That, lioness,” she said softly but with quiet force, “is your soul.”

  "To be honest...I expected something way worse than this." Feralynn exclaimed. "Not gonna complain about it, tho..."

  Mouth open, Feralynn dared to touch a glowing fissure that was shining. As her fingers neared it, the light flared—blinding her completely.

  She opened her eyes. Only to see snow, ruins, the echo of a collapsing city. Nearby, a small girl was crying loud enough to break glass.

  “Easy, easy. The bombings are over…”

  A deep male voice she knew froze her in place. Slowly, she turned.

  A man held the small girl in a narrow alley, both with the same color in their eyes, the same dark hair.

  “Dad?”

  …

  …

  …

  ?