Luten Caers

  White ceiling, again.

  A month. I'd been unconscious for an entire month. I tried to sit up—my body wouldn't obey. My muscles had atrophied, my hands trembled from weakness. Even breathing was difficult, as if my chest were clamped in a vise.

  And emptiness in my head. No, not completely. Where Elliot's thoughts used to hum, there was now only a dull echo. Like someone had yanked a cord from a socket, but static electricity still crackled.

  I forced myself to stand. My legs buckled, and I had to grab the bed frame. The room swayed, but I held on. I needed to get to the window. I needed to make sure the world still existed.

  A crystal chandelier hung in the center, softly shimmering in light from the panoramic window. The room was simple but cozy. Cream walls, a couple of vases with fresh flowers, a soft large bed—everything seemed created for rest. By the window stood a writing desk with a wooden gryphon figurine. Light curtains let in sunshine, illuminating the room. I approached closer and froze: from the window opened a view of the entire city.

  Below stretched the city with its busy streets, people and transport that looked like tiny figures against this grand landscape.

  Right before me, a couple blocks away, rose the majestic royal palace. Its massive towers and domes, decorated with gold and intricate carvings, stood out against the sky. The palace shone in sunbeams, inspiring admiration and respect. Long avenues led to fountains and flower beds before the palace. From this height they looked like neat patterns interweaving with green trees. Dense crowns softly framed the architecture, emphasizing the palace's grandeur.

  In the background rose sharp mountain peaks. Their snow-covered summits reflected morning rays. The sun painted the mountains and palace in golden-pink tones, as if dawn itself strived to make this world brighter.

  The city looked so peaceful. People went about their business, not knowing that a couple hours' drive away, an entire village had turned into a graveyard. Not knowing that demons walk among us.

  I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. The Waldbergs... A lump formed in my throat. A month ago they were alive. Laughing at dinner, telling stories. The Countess taught me how to brew tea, and the Count showed me how to properly hold a sword.

  Now they're gone.

  It's your fault, whispered a voice in my head. Not Elliot's, my own. You knew something was wrong. Saw blood on the steps. But didn't warn them.

  The thoughts broke free.

  "They wouldn't have had time. The demon was too fast."

  What if they had?

  Who were those people who attacked? The demon... Why did it obey people? It seemed they controlled it like an obedient beast. But how? What could give them such power over that monster?

  I also remembered that strange guy with gray hair. He appeared at the very last moment, as if he knew we were there. But who is he? And where does he get such power? He dealt with the demon easily, too easily. I didn't sense threat from him, but something in his eyes troubled me. There was something... strange in them.

  I looked at my hands. They looked ordinary but felt foreign. Could I protect Elliot if I don't understand who I am myself? I'm like a stranger in this world. Everything around seems real, but I myself... I seem to stick out from the overall picture.

  But I can't just sit idle either. If I remain weak, we'll simply be crushed. I approached the desk and picked up the figurine:

  "Very similar to the one hanging around his neck."

  "Around whose neck?"

  I startled slightly, nearly dropping the figurine. It was Alice.

  "Come on, since you're awake, you'll have breakfast with us. I'm glad you're all right."

  We left the room into a wide corridor flooded with morning light. Tall windows let in rays playing on paintings and tapestries depicting great battles and historical scenes. The floor was carpeted with soft rugs that muffled our steps.

  Soon we found ourselves in a spacious living room. High ceilings, large windows, a fireplace where coals still smoldered. Everything in this room breathed warmth and peace.

  "Come on, breakfast is ready."

  As we approached the doors, the aroma of freshly prepared food became more obvious.

  We found ourselves in a cozy dining room with huge but narrow floor-to-ceiling windows. In the center of the room stood a long dining table already set for breakfast. Various dishes were arranged on the table. The morning sunlight made the room even more welcoming.

  Alice pulled out a chair for me.

  "Sit down. We're glad you joined us."

  Elliot was already waiting for us.

  "Elli, how are you? Does anything hurt?"

  "Brother! I'm so glad you're all right, we couldn't find a place for ourselves."

  He hugged me, and in the moment of contact I felt the connection was still alive. However, it was too weak. I couldn't make out anything even during the embrace.

  "But what happened? We were by the stream."

  Alice spoke up.

  "I received your signal. We came and took you, you were unconscious, with a hole in your body, we thought you couldn't be saved. You lay in bed for a month. Let's eat, and I'll tell you everything?"

  My voice wavered.

  "What about the Waldbergs?"

  Alice paused, choosing her words:

  "We found them in the basement. The Count was trying to hold the door while the Countess... They fought to the end, Luten. Defended the house. Perhaps they were buying you time to escape."

  I stared at my plate. Oatmeal. The same kind Elliot hated. That I now hated too.

  "It's my fault."

  Alice placed her hand on mine.

  "No. The fault lies with those who attacked. You saved Elliot and Aura. That's more than many adults could have managed."

  I looked up.

  "Aura... How is she?"

  Alice's expression hardened:

  "At Saint Margaret's Hospital. Physically recovered, but... she doesn't speak. At all. Doctors call it selective mutism. Traumatic shock."

  "Can I visit her?"

  "Not yet. Doctors are against it. But I'll tell her you asked about her. Maybe that will help."

  "Elliot, finish eating—and off to training."

  "What kind of training, Elliot?"

  "Auntie Alice undertook to teach me."

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  "Becoming a policeman? Isn't it too early?"

  Alice's voice carried a sharp edge.

  "You can enter the Academy from age eight, and hereditary military often barely know their own parents. And stop calling me auntie!"

  Apparently the nickname really angers her. I didn't ask him again, and after breakfast he left with the butler.

  I went with Alice to her office. The walls were painted deep burgundy, and along them hung photographs with the king. In the pictures Alice smiled, shaking his hand. In the center of the room stood a massive dark wood desk covered with maps and papers. Alice pointed to an armchair by the fireplace:

  "Wow, everything's so beautiful and rich, are you sure you work in the police?"

  "What, a policeman can't afford a nice apartment?"

  "Well, considering you have many subordinates, you have such a huge house a couple blocks from the palace, with servants. Plus photos with the king, I'm at a loss: who are you?"

  "Aren't you too observant for your age? Yes, you're right: I'm not from the police. I hold a position in the king's entourage. Maybe when the time comes, you'll work there too."

  "Why should I work there? I don't know anything about this craft and generally only recently came into existence."

  "Let's stop there for starters. As I promised, I'll tell you what happened by the stream. I received your signal and gathered a group..."

  Alice began her story. Upon arrival, the squad cautiously advanced through the village by the estate. Darkness enveloped every street and alley, the air was saturated with the smell of metal and burning. Houses stood destroyed: charred walls, collapsed roofs. Equipment was destroyed, and bloody puddles gleamed in the mud.

  When we entered the village, it became clear: there had been a massacre. Bodies of residents lay everywhere. Faces frozen in grimaces of horror. Many were literally torn to pieces. In the village center rose an old temple. Its doors were smashed out, and darkness reigned inside. Even flashlight beams died, as if something absorbed them.

  We searched for you and Elliot. While others checked houses, I heard the beacon signal. We headed to the stream. There we found you. You lay unconscious. A hole in your body, blood around... We thought you couldn't be saved. But you survived. You seem to have talent not only for magic.

  "What now? What should I do?"

  "Don't worry, now you'll live with me, so your safety is assured. All that remains is for you to choose what you want to do in the future. But first tell me everything you remember: how did you end up in that laboratory?"

  I decided to briefly tell her my dream before appearing in this body.

  "Alright, Luten, I have guesses, and they need to be checked. Most likely, we'll never know who you really are. In any case, you don't need to think about it now."

  Alice leaned back in her chair.

  "Tell me, would you like to enter the Academy?"

  I looked at her, frowning mistrustfully:

  "The Academy of Magic?"

  "Yes. If you're interested in magic, Arcanum is the best place. They teach everything: from basic aura control to combat magic."

  "But isn't magic losing popularity?"

  "Unfortunately, yes. Many now choose technology. But this makes mages even more valuable."

  I thought. Before my eyes again rose the image of that guy with gray hair who defeated the demon.

  "Does the Academy teach how to defeat ones like him?"

  Alice laughed, but abruptly shifted to a more serious tone.

  "Why do you want to enter the Academy?"

  I thought. A month ago I would have said "out of curiosity." Now...

  "Because I'm weak. Because I couldn't protect anyone. The Count and Countess are dead, Aura is broken, and I... I couldn't even stop the demon. If it weren't for that guy with gray hair..."

  "And you think magic will solve these problems?"

  "No. But without it I won't solve anything at all. I saw how easily that guy dealt with the demon. I want to become like him."

  Alice nodded:

  "That's an honest answer. But remember: power without understanding is the path to catastrophe."

  The next day I found myself in the training hall. Elliot was already there, swinging a wooden sword.

  "Posture straight, legs wider. Stronger swing! With each strike the force should grow!"

  We went to the very end of the hall.

  "For starters let's determine what kind of magic you have. I'm even curious," Alice said.

  She raised her hands and closed her eyes in concentration. Gradually a weak aura began appearing around her, like a soap bubble. I felt invisible force enveloping my body, slightly tingling my skin.

  Alice breathed deeply, then slowly, gracefully, began moving her hands around me, as if feeling invisible threads of magical force.

  Something strange happened in the process. Her energy touched the place where my connection with Elliot used to be, and I cried out in pain.

  "What is it?"

  Alice jerked her hands back.

  "There... there's something severed. Like an open wound."

  Elliot winced too:

  "I felt it. Like being stabbed with a needle."

  Alice frowned:

  "You were connected? Mentally?"

  We exchanged glances. How to explain what happened in the laboratory?

  I answered.

  "Something like that. But now the connection is almost dead."

  "'Almost' is the key word. Such connections don't disappear without a trace. They either heal, or..."

  She didn't finish, but I understood. Or they kill both.

  After a pause, I agreed to continue and Alice began her test again.

  "This is... really... unusual. I sense magic flows, but they're unlike anything known."

  Her fingers, moving in the air, outlined thin lines of energy that intertwined and disappeared. Suddenly one of the lines shone brighter than others, and Alice stopped.

  "It seems this is connected to souls. You can sense and possibly manipulate souls. This is very rare and, as was thought, lost power. I can't precisely determine its nature."

  "What will it allow me to do?"

  "That depends on you. Too few people possessed such magic, consider it an anomaly. I think you're capable of not depending on absorbing magic from outside your body. Now let's begin training."

  Alice stepped back, giving Elliot and me space to maneuver, and explained:

  "We'll start with basics of controlling your powers. You must learn to feel and analyze auras of surrounding people and beings. This will help you understand their strength and intentions. Let's start with the simplest: feel my aura."

  I breathed deeply and closed my eyes, concentrating on my senses. Beside me Elliot also closed his eyes, immersing in meditation.

  I stretched my hands before me, trying to sense Alice's energy. At first nothing happened, but after half an hour I began feeling weak tingling in my fingertips, as if an invisible thread stretched from me to Alice.

  "Good, Luten, Elliot. Feel my energy, let it guide you."

  Gradually I began sensing Alice's powerful and stable presence. Her energy was warm and enveloping, like a warm breeze on a summer evening. I tried to visualize her power, imagining it as a glowing sphere. Nothing worked: I couldn't keep track of it.

  "You won't succeed by rushing, be patient and train."

  We continued training, but on the fourth day I noticed something strange: books on the table seemed slightly more "alive" than the furniture itself. Something seemed to stir in them, as if they were saturated with stories.

  "I did it!"

  Alice only nodded.

  "Good. But this is just the beginning. Don't rush."

  Elliot also tried, but disappointment could be read in his eyes.

  "Why does Luten succeed faster?"

  Alice touched his shoulder.

  "Everyone has their own pace. The main thing—don't compare yourself to others."

  After a week we returned to Alice's aura. This time I began feeling something, like light tingling around her figure. Her energy was warm and calm, like a summer breeze.

  "Feel deeper. Try to determine what I'm feeling now."

  I concentrated and noticed small fluctuations. The energy changed—there was not only strength, but hidden anxiety.

  Elliot opened his eyes.

  "She's worried."

  "Well done. You're beginning to understand. Now that you can sense auras, try analyzing the environment. Identify energy sources around you and assess their potential."

  I began slowly moving around the room, closing my eyes and concentrating on every detail. Elliot followed me, and I felt his tension. My consciousness expanded, catching every detail. Elliot tired first.

  By the end of the month we could easily distinguish simple auras and even their shades. I learned quickly, while Elliot slowly caught up to me. But he had an advantage in fencing.

  "Luten, you're as if born for this."

  "Just training."

  Though inside me remained the question: why did all this come so easily to me?

  Alice couldn't always teach us, then the servants came into play. They were surprisingly strong and easily beat us in sparring.

  On one such day we stood on the training ground, holding wooden swords. Elliot tried to make a sharp lunge, but his strike was skillfully deflected by one of the servants—a tall man in simple uniform.

  "You're too predictable. Try again."

  Elliot frowned and made another lunge, but missed again. The servants moved so easily it seemed natural for them.

  "Why do they fight so well?"

  Alice, watching from the side, nodded.

  "Most people learn this from childhood. Even those entering the magic academy undergo preparation in schools where they also teach combat skills. This will be useful for you too."

  I gripped the sword in my hands.

  "But we're mages. Isn't magic enough for us?"

  Alice smiled.

  "Magic is good when there's distance. But what will you do if an enemy gets too close? You can't rely only on spells."

  The servant took a fighting stance again. I tried to copy his movements, but everything looked clumsy. He laughed, but not maliciously.

  "Come on, boy. Hit me so I feel it."

  Elliot and I trained day and night. Swords slipped in our hands, and muscles ached from fatigue. Over time I began noticing our movements became smoother.

  "You're making progress. But this is just the beginning. Maybe at admission you'll be equal to peers, but later you'll meet much more experienced mages and swordsmen."

  Elliot plopped to the ground, breathing heavily.

  "Why didn't anyone say swinging swords was so hard?"

  I crouched beside him, stretching my shoulder.

  "Possibly because it's obvious."

  Elliot snorted and, despite fatigue, smiled.

  In the evening, before the exam, I sat by the window and wrote a letter to Aura. I knew she wouldn't read it—maybe couldn't read at all. But I needed to speak my mind.

  "Aura, forgive me. I couldn't save your father. Couldn't protect you. But I'm learning. Getting stronger. Someday I'll find those who did this. And they'll pay. For everything. I promise.

  Your friend (I hope, still a friend), Luten."

  I folded the letter and gave it to Alice. She promised to deliver it at the first opportunity.

  Before leaving, she asked.

  "Ready for the exam?"

  "No. But that doesn't matter. What matters is becoming stronger."

  "Revenge is dangerous motivation, Luten."

  "This isn't revenge. It's... duty. To those I couldn't protect."

  She sighed but didn't argue. We both knew: some lessons can only be learned through one's own mistakes.

  Tomorrow is the exam. The first step toward power. Or toward a new catastrophe. Time will tell.

  Finally, after months of training, I can show what I've learned. The entrance exam to the great Arcanum Academy.