Chapter 15
On volcanic cliffs thrust up from the ocean’s depths—at the southern isles of Luminus, amid Swansea’s expanse—float fragments of an ancient world.
Those small birds… nameless, voiceless, yet carrying the universe’s chilling truth.
He watched them in awe, like a blind man seeing anew. The finches seemed identical, yet strangely distinct. Their beaks weren’t just shapes… they were signatures of each island cluster.
Some had thick, hammer-like beaks—built to crush seeds like weapons.
Others had slender, elongated beaks—designed to sip nectar from flowers.
They were different, yet too similar to be mere chance.
It was nature’s whisper: nothing was “created” perfect, but “forced” to change… to survive in a merciless environment.
In that moment—beneath the southern ocean sky—one man saw “evolution” carving its mark on these tiny creatures.
Those birds were a message from time. A poem of natural selection—a record of endless adaptation.
And Darwin was the one who heard it…
From a few birds’ beaks, he glimpsed a vision of a world in constant flux. A dark, beautiful, brutal dream of survival. He began to feel they didn’t evolve alone, but were “guided” by something.
Not God. Not fate.
But a nameless will—a force woven into nature’s laws.
It didn’t speak. It didn’t show itself. But it “shaped” life to survive through pain, hunger, extinction.
Each bird he found was a letter from a silent god—a god that didn’t create life… but tested it.
And Darwin, unknowingly, became a “prophet”—deciphering the formless.
From that day, he never saw birds the same. They became “shards of a mirror” reflecting the face of evolution’s master—a face humans couldn’t fathom.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Some nights… he dreamed something watched him through those birds’ eyes. Not to communicate, but because it “knew” he was beginning to understand: this world was never humanity’s to begin with.
“Dan… Dan?”
“…”
“Mr. Dan? … Mr. Dan.”
The muffled voice grew clearer as he was shaken awake.
Dan looked up, eyes red from napping face-down on the desk all class.
Nora was the one waking him.
“First period’s over, Mr. Dan.”
Nora seemed uneasy, leaning closer.
“Mr. Fury, did you sleep last night?”
Good question.
“…If I say yes, would you believe me?”
“No.”
“Then you’re right.”
“Don’t tell me you stayed up reading that book?”
“Like you with your textbooks.”
“Mr. Dan…”
Nora helped him sit up.
“Pushing yourself that hard isn’t good.”
“Funny coming from you.”
Dan’s head slumped back onto the lecture table.
“Darwin studied finches in the southern Luminus isles… Swansea waters. I know that place.”
“If I recall, it’s all small islands.”
“Every animal there adapted to survive its environment… Not strategically, but physically, like something controlled it.”
“Controlled by who?”
“No one.”
“That’s impossible.”
Nora shook her head.
“You’re saying one day their wings widen, or they lose an eye, all without a cause? That completely contradicts scripture… God made us perfect.”
“And the whole world believed that when Luminus was the sole superpower.”
“Touchy subject. You don’t fight with Mrs. Casca about this?”
“Just don’t let her see.”
“No surprise.”
“I don’t fully buy this book yet,” he said.
“The idea sounds absurd. Life altering its own species beyond its control? Damn intriguing.”
A pause settled. Both fell silent. Then the prince spoke.
“I need to go to Swansea.”
“Knew it.”
“Why?”
“No reason…”
“What’s wrong with proving this guy’s claims with my own eyes?”
“Didn’t say it was wrong.”
“Know anyone in Mathema in this field, Nora?”
“Nope… It’s outside my scope, Mr. Fury.”
“Figures.”
Casca? No chance. She wouldn’t know people like that.
“Got it.”
Nora: “?”
“I’ll visit the magical engineering department.”
“Freya’s lab?”
“Might be students there into this stuff.”
“You’re just gonna barge in?”
“Why not? Can’t I?”
“Bold, Mr. Fury. I like it.”
Senior Class, 1st Building. Artheris Academy.
Thwack!
A dagger flew into the classroom wall, embedding in the wood, narrowly missing a nerdy male student who scrambled away.
Jenny Vardy, a second-year knight scholar, propped her legs on the desk, clearly annoyed, surrounded by her clique.
“Damn it…”
“If what you said is true, Lady Maximin will visit soon?!”
“If it’s true? Ask Aaron if you don’t believe me.”
As if on cue, Aaron walked by.
“Hey, Aaron.”
Jenny called out.
“You knew that guy had connections this big, huh? No wonder you’re so nice to him… just a Velmount, too.”
“Or maybe you’re just a bigot.”
“What was that?”
Jenny’s eyes flared, glaring at Aaron with displeasure.
“What’s wrong with you all?! That guy can’t even swing a sword, and you’re teaching him! Then he suddenly lands in the lap of luxury? It’s not fair!”
Senior Aaron Rogers turned to her.
“Maybe Lady Casca sees something you don’t.”
“Sees what? No angle makes sense!”
She had a point, though Aaron didn’t want to argue.
“That’s Lady Maximin, Jenny. I’m not that smart, but she might see farther than us. Dan’s potential.”
Aaron asked her,
“I’ve been training him… and over time, I’ve felt something odd about him.”
“Like what?”
“Like what’s behind those eyes isn’t a junior… but someone who’s seen more of the world. Even when he fails right in front of us, the next day, it feels like we’re the ones being looked down on from above. I can’t explain it.”
The same feeling echoed in the third-year magic class, where Chiesa Saint-Germain spoke to Helena in a similar vein.
“Chiesa, he’s leaving soon anyway.”
“Yeah…”
But leaving ambiguously, with lingering unease.
With Casca’s wealth, she could cover Dan’s scholarship penalties five times over. A hero of her stature and deeds? The academy would never reject her request.
The only way the deal would fall through is if Dan refused to go—less than a 1% chance. He had no reason to stay in an environment with Jenny and Rafinya.
