The practice dummy regenerated its smoking cracks, proof of the power of the first-year students hurling their fireballs. Each impact made it rebound; that painted smile would be screaming in agony if it had life. Probably loud enough to rattle the eardrums of every ancient and future god.

  Feralynn heard the gasps of surprise and admiration from the group she had been assigned to. All of them specialized in fire. They took turns, just as Sebastian instructed, in their attacks.

  “Basic practice,” which Sebastian knew actually translated to, “The kids need to burn off energy outdoors.” No one complained—they all awaited this moment eagerly.

  They let the girl take a shot. They admired how the flames formed like a baseball in her hand, which she then threw as naturally as an experienced player.

  “Amazing!” one of the group shouted. “Fer, you’re so fast!”

  Feralynn scratched the back of her neck, embarrassed.

  “Thanks… I guess…”

  She didn’t understand why they didn’t treat her with fear. The boy who shouted was a half-beast, human otherwise like her. Ears and a canine tail that wagged energetically.

  One of them, an elf girl, stood with her arms crossed, analyzing her.

  “It takes you less than five seconds to form a fireball…” she said. She swallowed to push her envy aside. “…How do you do it?”

  “Well, she’s a prodigy, duh,” someone mocked.

  “Jax, shut up,” replied the elf. “We already know that. I just want… to know how she does it.”

  Feralynn stopped throwing. She lowered her gaze to her hands. Soft flames sprouted, and she began to toy with them, molding them as if they were heavy clay.

  “I don’t know… it just… comes naturally.” She stretched the uniform mass of flame with utter disinterest in what she was doing. “I just don’t think about it too much.”

  Jax pumped his fist in triumph.

  “That’s it—the secret is not thinking!”

  The elf facepalmed.

  “If that were true, then you’d already be an archmage…” she muttered. She turned back to Fer. “Do you know any tricks?”

  Fer’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “…Tricks?” she asked, stunned. What she saw as a tool for killing, they, in complete ignorance, saw as tricks. “…Do you really want to see… more?”

  The rest of the group joined in, waiting in smiling silence. Feralynn swallowed. She couldn’t tell if those grins were mocking at witnessing a freak show or if they were genuine curiosity. What calmed her was Rose, the elf girl, nodding and gesturing toward the practice dummy with her chin.

  What she once used to kill adults, she now used to impress kids her age.

  She began compressing the mass of fire, shrinking it.

  “This is a spell I learned long ago…” she started, her voice low at first.

  Now with only one hand, she compressed it more and more. It shrank to the size of a tennis ball. Just as he had taught her years ago on that snowy field.

  “What’s it called?” Jax asked, trying to lean closer to see the fireball shrinking. Rose yanked him back by the collar of his uniform, keeping him at a safe distance. It seemed the two were close, and she had to babysit his clumsy curiosity.

  Feralynn didn’t look at them, continuing to shrink the ball with casual practice.

  “It doesn’t really have a name…” she said, faking a smile that never fully formed. “At least I never cared to give it one…”

  Suddenly, the fireball was tiny. Minuscule. She levitated it over her right index finger. The kids were stunned; students from other elemental groups leaned over to watch. Fer didn’t realize she now had nearly the entire class behind her. Sebastian and Romina watched from afar.

  Sebastian tossed his notebook and pen into the air, vanishing them. His gloved hands free, ready to intervene. To form a protective barrier between Fer and her classmates, or to absorb any mishap that might erupt. Romina stopped him with her arm across his stomach. They locked eyes. Romina shook her head, smiling silently. Sebastian held his breath.

  Among the crowd was Annya, pushing her way forward to stand in the front row, proud to see her dear friend. Miria had just finished hurling an ice stake at her group’s dummy. She turned, confused by the sudden swell of attention.

  “Ugh, don’t go,” spat one of her supposed new friends, dripping venom. “It’s the fire freak again.”

  Miria hesitated, but inevitably, like a moth to flame, she followed the gasps of wonder.

  Feralynn kept her eyes shut. Everything in her mind went dark. She was no longer in the schoolyard. She felt those hands helping her compress it—hands of a ghost from her past that, with a wordless love, reminded her how to survive. How to win.

  She opened her eyes slowly. In front of her stood an unarmed soldier, tied to a tree. She raised her thumb, index finger extended, aiming. A pistol in her hand. An arm stretched out, an executioner channeling more power into that tiny sphere.

  Silence fell. Sebastian’s brow furrowed as he saw that the ball Romina described yesterday was real: a bullet. Tiny, condensed, lethal. Flames circled the bullet, feeding it.

  Feralynn felt the ghost of a hand on her shoulder.

  “Steady,” said the male voice she would recognize all her life.

  “At the neck,” she answered aloud, still unaware of the eyes locked on her.

  Daylight itself was swallowed whole. Only darkness remained. Until…

  Click.

  …

  BANG!!!

  The bullet roared on its path before exploding the dummy, cracking the sound barrier like a whip and detonating like thunder in a storm. Everyone ducked instantly. Dirt mixed with smoky dust threatened to kiss them. A blue barrier flared into place, Sebastian’s hand extended, his shield holding.

  Fer’s heart hammered her ribs; she gasped for breath. She stood frozen, staring as only the base of the dummy emerged from the smoke—the rest hurled into the abyss. A few seconds later, the dummy’s head landed, its smile intact. As if it had found eternal relief, and thanked her.

  She turned to see why everything was silent. She flinched, struck by the sight of her entire class watching. What was meant to be a small display had once again stolen the stage. Just like yesterday.

  “Damn…” she muttered. “…not again.”

  The urge to run and hide jolted her trembling legs. That silence was louder to her than the blast of her own spell.

  …

  “THAT WAS AMAZING!”

  Jax’s roar at full volume broke the tension, sparking cheers and whistles.

  “Eh…?”

  She looked at Annya, who smiled shyly and raised both thumbs. Sebastian lowered his hand, dissolving the barrier. The students closed in around her.

  “There’s nothing left…! Did she really destroy it with a single spell?” murmured a pair who went to inspect the smoldering remains.

  Feralynn was surrounded, her classmates desperate to ask what had happened. How she did it, who taught her, what the spell was called. Especially Jax, who nearly pounced on her like a puppy. She struggled to breathe with so many eyes and faces pressing close. She wondered if fleeing like yesterday might have been the better choice.

  Her classmates quickly recoiled, stepping back in fear. Without realizing it, her hands had ignited. She rose into a combat stance, breath caught, eyes wide. The air itself shimmered with heat. Before any misunderstanding could spark, one girl shoved her way forward from the group.

  “Don’t crowd her so much! She gets nervous!” she shouted, stepping in front of Feralynn. “That’s just how she is, she just gets scared easily.” She stammered with a clumsy laugh.

  It was Annya, who, turning to her, whispered,

  “Fer, put your hands out, you’re scaring them!”

  She swallowed, took a deep breath, and the flames on her palms hissed out. She rubbed one palm, staring at the ground, pretending the dirt on her boots was more interesting than the stares of the whole class to camouflage her shame.

  “All right, all right,” Romina said, stepping closer to shift the focus. “Nice show, but class isn’t over yet. Come on, let our fire-girl breathe.”

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  With murmurs of awe and sideways glances, they left. Rose had to tug Jax by the collar of his armor to drag him out of the scene.

  “Looks like you do need me as your bodyguard,” Annya said with a chuckle. “Funny, a chihuahua guarding a bulldog, heh!”

  Feralynn blinked, growled to keep the blush in her cheeks from deepening.

  “It’s not my fault. They all rushed me at once and… I was just caught off guard.”

  Her gaze strayed toward the group returning to practice. Only to freeze at the icy weight of a pair of eyes on her. Miria—freezing her without a spell. Just with her stare. Annya noticed the change in Fer, followed her line of sight, and realized the two were staring at each other from afar. Again. No words, no gestures exchanged.

  “…”

  Miria’s mouth was sealed. Her eyes fixed. Fer couldn’t decipher what they conveyed. Envy, jealousy, admiration, or simple curiosity? The uncertainty gnawed at her in the microseconds of their eye contact until Miria’s group called her back to continue class.

  It broke her trance, but as she followed them, her eyes never stopped looking back—until she finally turned away to leave. Annya opened her mouth to ask, but—

  “For someone who doesn’t like being seen, you sure know how to get noticed.” Romina stood beside them. “Keep that up and the whole school will know your name.”

  Fer sighed, scratching the back of her neck, eyes averted.

  “Your hand. Give it to me.”

  Feralynn obeyed, extending it. Romina took it gently to inspect. The girl felt the leather and metal of her teacher’s gloves.

  “Mmm… tsk, tsk, tsk…” she muttered, shaking her head. “Too much negative energy.” She took the index finger Fer had used to fire: it trembled, its tip scraped raw, as if clawing concrete.

  “Professor, is Fer okay? What does that mean—why is her finger shaking?” Annya asked, worried.

  Feralynn tried to pull her hand back, but Romina held it firm.

  “It means our dear young lady needs to calm herself more.” She enclosed the hand between her palms. The runes on her gloves began to glow, wrapping Fer’s hand in white light.

  “Miracle Style: Soothebind.”

  Fer gasped at the sting, biting her lower lip. A searing burn shot through her hand. She yanked back but Romina didn’t allow it. Annya watched in mute astonishment as the light closed the scrapes on Fer’s finger and other older wounds.

  When Romina finally let go, Fer snatched her hand back, turning her back to them. She rubbed it furiously, muttering curses under her breath. Tears welled, which she wiped away quickly.

  The teacher noticed the worried friend still staring. She chuckled softly.

  “That’s a miracle,” she said with a wink. “Binds the fibers, calms the flow.” She glanced at Feralynn, still facing away, drying her eyes. “But it burns like alcohol on a fresh cut, hah.”

  “A miracle…” Annya repeated, staring at the fading ghost of the healing spell’s light. She touched her chin, thoughtful.

  “More like a curse,” Fer muttered, finally turning back.

  Romina stopped her, serious.

  “Hand. Again.”

  Fer clutched it to herself, hiding it in clumsy desperation.

  “What?! Professor…”

  Romina frowned, closing her own outstretched hand in a gesture of command. With a growl, Fer had to yield it. Thankfully, she didn’t have to endure the same searing pain again. Focused, Romina inspected her fingertips, her palm, the weight of her wrist.

  “Hm. All in order, lioness.” Satisfied, she released her. “No more of those bullets,” she warned with a wink, ruffling her black hair affectionately. “Or you’ll blow a finger off.”

  She clapped her firmly on the back, armor rattling. Finally, Feralynn and Annya returned to their drills. Fer glanced back over her shoulder as she walked with her friend; Romina winked and raised a thumb.

  “…”

  Unconsciously, Fer smiled. Just a faint smirk, before following the distant calls of her classmates to keep tearing apart dummies.

  Left alone, Romina crossed her arms. She let out a long sigh, which Sebastian heard as he stepped beside her, following her gaze on the sparks of the students’ spells.

  “You don’t sigh like that,” he said, pushing up his glasses with one finger. “Not unless something worries you.”

  “I know…”

  A pause. Sebastian watched Feralynn showing her group how to form a small fire disc, floating between her hands. Jax and the others tried to copy; the half-beast’s disc shot out of control and crashed into a tree, setting it ablaze.

  Annya and her group of hydromancers rushed in, flinging water bubbles wildly to extinguish it. Laughter erupted—Fer’s the loudest among them, while Rose scolded Jax as he fled from her.

  “Let me guess—your lioness,” Sebastian said, rolling his eyes. “You really do get attached to the misfits.”

  “She’s not a misfit,” Romina corrected quickly, unblinking at the chaos. “Just… someone who needs another perspective.”

  “Same thing,” Sebastian chuckled. “What’s she been here, less than a week, and already you treat her like your daughter?”

  “I used a miracle to heal her finger.” Romina lifted her index finger, eyes still forward. “…But the real miracle is that she still has her whole hand.”

  The wind swept the yard, stirring dust and dry leaves.

  “Negative energy, huh?”

  “Too much.”

  Another silence. Sebastian glanced sideways at her.

  “I can imagine what’s already on your mind.”

  “Well?” she asked, already knowing she didn’t need his permission. “What days, Sebi?”

  “Thursday. Tuesdays too, but only if the third-years are tied up in their clubs.”

  Romina smiled. She gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.

  “That’s my nerd. Thanks—I owe you one.”

  Sebastian groaned, “Hey!” and rubbed the spot of her affectionate blow.

  He adjusted his glasses again. Noticed a peculiar bird on a branch—soft brown, but with an inorganic sheen.

  “Looks like you’re not the only one watching,” he said, discreetly gesturing with his head. “Call me paranoid, but I think ‘Smiles’ is keeping an eye on us.”

  Alert, Romina fixed her eyes. She raised an eyebrow, glaring at the bird that, a few seconds later, flew away, its rigid wings flapping.

  “I feel like he’s hiding something from us,” she said, frowning now.

  “He always hides things,” Sebastian clarified. “From me, from you, from the school, from the ministry. Everyone.”

  “Ugh, I know. It’s just that…” she paused, forming her doubt carefully. “…Hey, Sebi, don’t you feel like you already know her?”

  “Eh?”

  “No, not her. But…ugh. I don’t know. I feel like I’ve seen someone like her before.”

  Sebastian looked again at Feralynn, who was guiding Rose and Jax in forming fire spheres faster. He stayed fixed, silent. Swallowed very, very slowly.

  “Nope!” he said quickly, abruptly. “Not a single human I’ve seen has red eyes. Only orcs and homo-lycosapiens have that kind of iris pigmentation.” He laughed nervously, adjusting his rectangular glasses again. “And as far as I know, she doesn’t look like she howls at the full moon, heh…”

  Romina didn’t respond, only looked up at the sky, watching the birds pass by, listening to the magical bursts of her students, their laughter and awe. Remembering when her own spells made autumn leaves dance when she was just a student, decades ago. And for a second, she allowed herself to forget that now she was the one responsible for all of them.

  …

  …

  …

  Noon. Outside of the cafeteria.

  “Ahh~ finally, I’m starving.”

  “Don’t eat so fast. You’ll choke.”

  “Guys, I brought cookies to sha—”

  “COOKIES! THANKS ANNIE, YOU’RE THE BEST!”

  NOM. NOM. CRUNCH. NOM—COUGH-COUGH-COUGH!

  Rose pushed up her glasses with resignation. “Told you…”

  “Jax! Fer, Fer!” Annya waved her hands as if he were about to die.

  Fer huffed, still unwrapping her sandwich calmly. “What now? I haven’t even opened it yet.”

  Jax’s tail pounded against the chair like a desperate drum. COUGH–COUGH!

  “He deserves it. He doesn’t eat, he swallows it down like a brute,” Rose commented, used to her half-canine friend.

  “All right, come here.”

  Fer finally stood up, gave him two sharp pats on the back—THUD, THWACK!—and a chunk of pizza with cookie flew onto the grass, now at the mercy of greedy ants.

  Jax gasped for air, breathing exaggeratedly deep until his tail and chest calmed.

  “Fer… you’re my angel… thank you, thank you…”

  “Mhm-hm,” she muttered with sandwich in hand, mouth full.

  Rose rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Without thinking, she handed Jax her water bottle. The four ate in peace, surrounded by several groups like them on the grass. Some even chose to sit on the branches of the sturdy trees to eat.

  Annya sipped her peach juice box with both hands, taking small sips through the straw, watching a group of fourth-years practice anti-gravity spells. They ate sitting upside down on the roof like bats. For her, the wildest thing in her blank elementary school was a food fight or a bully brawl. Nothing like this, nothing where floating apples or slices of pizza were just another day at school.

  Fer watched her out of the corner of her eye, chewing her sandwich slowly. She didn’t understand how someone could smile just by seeing apples float.

  Her juice finished, but not her smiling gaze on everything around her. She imagined levitating ingredients in her kitchen, making the dough float and shape without ever pressing it with her thumb into stainless steel molds. She could even avoid the careless wrist burns from trays when she wasn’t fully focused. She squeezed her empty juice box and smiled to herself, as if the dream alone already tasted sweeter than her desserts.

  She snapped back to reality. Noticed that Feralynn was watching her. Annya smiled, closing her eyes. Fer swallowed her sandwich and returned a soft smile, almost imperceptible.

  “So, what name are you going to give it?!” Jax asked, his tail sweeping the grass behind them.

  “Uuuhhh…what?” Fer didn’t understand, nor did Annya.

  “To your spell, dummy! Oh, oh! How about… ‘explosive-small-bomb.’”

  Annya let out a soft laugh. “Sounds good.”

  “It’s awful,” Fer cut in.

  “Ridiculously long,” Rose said, pushing up her rectangular glasses. “And you already said ‘explosive,’ why include ‘bomb’?”

  “Duuhh, so it sounds more aggressive, genius.”

  PINCH!

  Jax whimpered like a wounded puppy at Rose’s cheek-pull.

  “Come on…” Annya smiled, a little worried at how firmly Rose treated him. “You’ll leave his cheek marked…”

  Rose let go, and a panting Jax sat behind Annya, using her as a shield, peeking out with sad puppy eyes.

  “You’re cruel. Not like Annie, who gives me cookies…”

  “Ah! I… um.” Annya laughed again, a little nervous at being between two clashing stares. “Easy now…It’s okay!”

  “Don’t let him manipulate you,” Rose said flatly. “Or he’ll be begging cookies from you all the time.”

  “Um, I think I’ll… sit next to Fer… hehe!”

  Feralynn kept thinking, ignoring the rest.

  “A name for my spell…?”

  Dad never said a name. He just fired depending on distance.

  “I don’t think it needs one.” She bit into her sandwich again, disinterested. “What for?”

  Rose adjusted her glasses, raised an index finger.

  “When a wizard speaks their spell’s name aloud, it makes it stronger.” Jax copied her gesture, both nodding at the same time.

  “What do I know… I’m not good with names…”

  “It can be something simple.” Annya’s soft voice, accompanied by a chocolate-chip cookie she offered to Feralynn. “What about something easy, like ‘Gun’?”

  Jax and Rose nodded again, silent and with utterly unnecessary solemnity.

  “Brutal and direct.”

  “Yes, yes. Brutal and direct,” Jax echoed.

  Feralynn froze, staring at the cookie in Annya’s palm. She looked up. Annya smiled.

  “Imagine it.” Annya lifted her free hand in a pistol gesture. “Gun, bang!” She mimed a shot with a giggle, her cheeks pink as strawberry ice cream.

  Feralynn was speechless. Her lips slightly parted. It felt like everyone was waiting for her answer, but only Annya’s smile really weighed on her.

  "Gun, huh...?"

  She took the cookie, stared at it in her hand. “…Doesn’t sound bad.”

  Crrrunch.

  “Not bad at all…”

  ?