Midday sunlight poured softly through the infirmary windows, pale and warm, spreading across the clean floorboards before reaching the single occupied bed. The room was quiet in the careful way places of healing often were, with every sound softened by white sheets, closed cabinets, and the slow breathing of the sleeping child beneath the blanket.
For a while, nothing disturbed him. Then the double doors at the entrance slid open with a gentle whisper. Evelyn stepped inside and paused just beyond the threshold, as though afraid even her footsteps might wake him. Her eyes found Cur almost at once, lying in the bed to her left, small beneath the covers and too still for her liking.
She closed the doors behind her with the same care and crossed the room slowly. At his bedside, she stopped and let herself simply look at him. His face was peaceful, but not entirely. A strand of hair had fallen across his eyes, and when she brushed it aside with the backs of her fingers, she noticed the thin, shining track of a tear trailing down his right cheek.
Evelyn's smile faded into something softer. She wiped the tear away with the lightest touch she could manage, then lowered herself into the chair beside him. For a moment, her hand remained near his face, hovering there, before she drew it back into her lap and waited.
Thirty minutes passed in fragments: the faint creak of the building settling, the distant murmur of people beyond the walls, the shifting glow of sunlight across Cur's blanket. Evelyn did not move except to breathe and, now and then, to look from his face to the window and back again.
At last, Cur stirred. His fingers twitched against the sheet first, then his brow tightened. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the warmth of the sun. For several seconds, he only stared towards the window, as if trying to remember where he was and why everything felt so heavy.
Then he turned his head. His gaze found Evelyn beside him, and whatever strength he had gathered seemed to loosen all at once.
"M-Mum..." he whimpered.
"Hey, kiddo..." Evelyn answered, keeping her voice low and steady.
Before she could say more, his face crumpled. Tears gathered quickly, spilling over before he could stop them. Cur turned into the pillow as though ashamed of being seen, but his shoulders shook beneath the blanket.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Mum..." His words came out uneven, broken by small breaths he could not quite control. "It's my fault, isn't it?"
"Oh, darling." Evelyn rose from the chair and sat carefully on the edge of his bed, close enough that he would not have to reach far if he needed her. "There is nothing to apologise for. You did nothing wrong." She smoothed the blanket near his shoulder, her touch calm despite the tightness in her chest. "Your teachers made a mistake. The fault lies with them, not you."
Cur sniffled and looked up at her through blurred eyes. He seemed to search her face for some sign that she was only saying it to comfort him, but Evelyn met his gaze without looking away. With her thumb, she wiped another tear from his cheek.
"You were very brave," she said.
Cur swallowed. His fingers curled into the sheet. "A-am I in t-trouble?"
"No, kiddo. Nothing like that." Evelyn gave a small shake of her head, then rested her hand over his. "You did something dangerous, but it was not your fault. Do you understand me? Not yours."
Before either of them could say more, the air at the foot of the bed seemed to grow still.
A pale glow gathered there, faint at first, then brighter, until a silhouette took shape within it. White flame curled and folded in on itself, forming shoulders, arms, and a head without ever becoming flesh. It was the same figure that had saved Cur from the explosion, nearly two metres tall, silent and imposing despite the soft flicker of its form.
Cur saw it and went rigid. For one breath, he only stared. Then he pulled the covers up over his head, hiding beneath them as though the blanket could place a wall between them. Evelyn glanced from the trembling mound of sheets to the figure. Her expression tightened, but after a moment she closed her eyes and stood.
"I'll give you two some time," she said quietly.
She lingered for half a second longer, as if part of her wanted to stay. Then she turned and left the room, closing the door with a soft click. The figure did not move until her footsteps had faded beyond it. Only then did it turn its burning gaze towards the bed, where Cur remained hidden.
"Uncover yourself, child," it said.
It was not shouted. It did not need to be. The command settled over the room with enough weight that Cur obeyed before he could think of refusing. Slowly, he lowered the blanket just far enough to show his eyes, then his nose, then the pale, frightened line of his mouth. He kept the covers clutched beneath his chin.
The figure watched him for a long moment. The white flames around its shoulders bent and rose, soundless, like fire caught in a wind Cur could not feel.
"You nearly got us killed."
Cur flinched as though the words had struck the bed beside him. "I-I know... I'm sorry—"
"I do not want apologies." The figure's voice was coarse and mature, heavy with an authority that made the room feel smaller. "I want you to do better. Had I not been there, you and that woman would have died."
It moved closer, not with footsteps, but with a slow, deliberate drift across the bed's edge. The flame of its body gave off no heat that Cur could feel, yet he shrank back all the same until his shoulders pressed into the pillow.
The figure stopped close enough that Cur could see the flame shifting where its face should have been. "You may possess my body, but that does not give you the right to waste it."
"It wasn't on purpose!" Cur's voice cracked, louder than he meant it to be. He swallowed and tried again, smaller this time. "I... you heard Mum. It wasn't my fault."
The white flame stilled.
"Are you blaming others for your incompetence?"
"N-no..." Cur whispered.
The answer hung between them. Neither of them spoke. Cur's fingers tightened in the blanket until his knuckles began to ache, and the figure slowly drew itself away from him, rising from the bed and moving towards the windows.
There, in the pale midday light, its flame almost blended with the sun. For a brief moment, it seemed less like a person and more like a warning given shape. Then it looked back at Cur and held his gaze.
"Next time... I won't interfere."
Cur did not answer. He lay perfectly still, staring at the place where the figure stood, while the words sank deeper than he wanted them to. His chest felt tight. Even after the figure's flame thinned and faded from the room, the warning remained.
Only when his thoughts began to clear did he turn his head towards the door his mother had left through. Through the fogged glass, he could make out her silhouette standing beside another person. They seemed to be talking, but the thick walls and closed door softened their voices into little more than a murmur.
Cur swallowed. His voice came out small.
"Mum..." he called.
The conversation beyond the door stopped almost immediately. For a breath, there was only silence on the other side of the fogged glass. Then Cur heard a soft shift of movement, and he knew his mother had heard him.
The door opened without haste, though Evelyn stepped through quickly enough that he could tell she had been waiting for his call. She came to his side first, lowering herself into the chair beside the bed and reaching for his hand. A moment later, Professor Slaine entered after her and stopped at the foot of the bed, keeping a respectful distance.
Slaine looked at Cur for a moment before speaking. When he did, his voice was gentle, stripped of its usual classroom firmness.
"I'm glad to see you are all right, young Cur."
Cur lowered his eyes to the blanket. The apology rose in him before he could stop it. "Mr Slaine... I'm sorry for causing trouble..."
"Nothing of the sort." Slaine's reply came at once, but not sharply. He took one slow step closer, then folded his hands before him. "The responsibility lies with us adults. We failed in our duty. From the bottom of my heart, please accept our apologies."
With that, Slaine bowed deeply. He did not rush it. His head lowered, his shoulders followed, and for several quiet seconds he remained that way at the foot of the bed.
Cur stared at him, uncertain what to do with such an apology. He did not want his professor bowing to him, and yet the sincerity in the old man's posture made it difficult to protest. His fingers curled lightly around Evelyn's hand. Only after a brief moment did Slaine straighten again, and Evelyn gave Cur's hand a small, reassuring squeeze.
"Now then," Evelyn said softly, easing the weight in the room without dismissing it, "shall we continue our talk?"
Cur looked at his mother, puzzled by the sudden shift.
She gave him a gentle smile and placed her free hand on his head. Her fingers moved slowly through his hair, not quite a pat and not quite a caress, but something familiar enough to steady him.
"Professor Slaine wants to ask you a few questions."
Cur turned his attention back to the professor.
"Young Cur," Slaine began, choosing each word with care, "as you know, I will be your Fire Carer. That had already been decided before you arrived today. Thanks to your mother, we knew something of your abilities and the potential you hold, so I was assigned to you ahead of time." He paused, letting the explanation settle before continuing. "However, after what happened, I will not force anything on you. Would you still like to attend the Academy?"
Cur stared at him. Until that moment, he had not realised not attending was even something he could choose.
He looked down at the blanket again, thinking carefully. His parents believed the Academy would be best for him; he knew that much. But beneath their hopes and the professor's expectations, what Cur wanted was much simpler. He wanted somewhere he could belong. He wanted people his own age to speak with, laugh with, and perhaps one day call friends.
"I do want to..." he said slowly. Then his voice faltered. "But—"
"Young one," Slaine said, raising a hand slightly, "if you are hesitant because of what happened, let me reassure you. Nothing like that will happen again."
Cur shook his head, though not with much force. "No, it's not that. I just..."
He glanced at his mother first, then back at Slaine. The question waiting in his chest felt small compared with everything that had happened, but it was the one thing he could not stop thinking about.
"Is Calliarna Uls as powerful as you said?"
The question seemed to catch both adults off guard. Evelyn's hand paused in his hair, and Slaine blinked once, as if he had expected fear, anger, or refusal, but not curiosity.
Then the professor's expression softened into a smile.
"She is," he said. "As you may have noticed, being the Headmistress's daughter has blessed her with extraordinary talent. She may be the strongest student in my class." His smile grew faintly warmer. "But if you join us, I assure you, you will meet many others who may amaze you just as much."
Cur let those words sit with him. Others who might amaze him. Others he might stand beside, learn from, and perhaps laugh with.
In the end, that was all he truly wanted: friends to share experiences with, memories to keep, and happy moments that belonged to him.
After a while, Cur looked down at the blanket covering him and gripped it with both hands. "May I be excused for the day?" he asked. "I need some time to think."
Slaine opened his mouth as though to answer, but Evelyn spoke first.
"Of course," she said. "Take as long as you need."
Cur did not have an answer yet, not fully. But for the first time since waking, the thought of tomorrow did not frighten him quite as much. He looked at his mother, then at Slaine, and managed a small smile.
----
That night, after Cur had eaten dinner and finished the last of his chores, he made his way upstairs to his bedroom.
The El family home was luxurious, though no one who knew his parents would have found that surprising. Both Adurn and Evelyn held positions of great influence, and because of that, Cur had grown up with nearly everything a child could need and most things a child could want. His life had always been comfortable. Safe. Full of books, lessons, fine meals, and rooms large enough to feel quiet even when occupied.
And yet, when it came to people his own age, Cur had very little. That absence followed him more clearly at night, when the house settled and there was nothing left to distract him from it.
He lay in bed with a book his father had given him propped open against his knees. For a while, he tried to read. His eyes moved over the lines, but the words refused to become a story. After the third time he reached the bottom of the same page without remembering a single sentence, he let out a small sigh and lowered the book onto the blanket.
Around him, his room carried all the signs of a wealthy child. It was expansive, with enough space between the furniture that his footsteps sometimes sounded too loud against the floor. Shelves lined one wall, crowded with histories, bestiaries, old myths, and adventure stories other children might have begged for. Toys lay neatly arranged rather than scattered: wooden soldiers, model fortifications, training sticks, and pretend military equipment placed with more care than playfulness.
By the window stood a table covered in papers, maps, and sketches of creatures Cur had copied from books or imagined himself. Beyond the glass, the upper city spread out beneath the night, its rooftops and towers marked by small points of firelight. Simple fire candles burned throughout the room, steady and bright, filling the walls with a warm orange glow.
Despite belonging to a nine-year-old, the room was surprisingly tidy. Perhaps too tidy. Everything had a place, and almost everything stayed there. Cur stared at the ceiling for a while, then stretched both arms above his head until his shoulders pulled pleasantly. When he let them fall, his whole body sank deeper into the mattress, and his head settled against the pillow.
Professor Slaine's words returned to him then, quiet but persistent, circling through his thoughts in the space where sleep should have been.
Plenty of people who may amaze me, huh...
Cur lifted his hands in front of his face. The firelight caught on the two rings around his fingers, glinting softly each time he turned them. He studied them for a long moment, flexing his fingers open and closed.
I wonder if she would spar with me.
The thought brought a small smile to his face before he could stop it. Calliarna had been frightening in the way strong things sometimes were, but she had also been incredible. The idea of standing across from someone like that, not as an enemy but as a classmate, made something bright and eager stir in his chest.
Then another thought softened the smile.
Oh... that means Hariel will not be in my class, will he? Since Miss Grey is his Carer.
For a moment, Cur lay still with that disappointment resting quietly beside him. He had only just met Hariel, but the thought of not sharing a class with him made the Academy feel larger again, and a little less certain.
But the sadness did not last long. They were friends now, or at least Cur hoped they were. They could still meet during breaks. They could walk together after school. Maybe, one day, he could even invite Hariel to his house, show him the maps by the window, and let him choose which wooden soldiers should defend the fort.
That image helped. Cur drew his hands into fists beneath the blanket, not tightly enough to hurt, but enough to feel the decision settle through him.
He wanted to keep attending the Academy. He was curious about the world, about fire, about the creatures in his books, and about all the mysteries adults only half-explained. He was curious about himself too, though that thought felt stranger and harder to hold. More than anything, he did not want one terrible day to be the reason he lost the chance to find out what waited for him there.
Tomorrow. I'll meet them all tomorrow...
The thought lingered with him as the fire candles burned lower. His eyes grew heavy, and the ceiling above him blurred into warm shadow. Little by little, the room quietened around him, and Cur slipped into sleep with that small hope still held close.
----
The next morning, Cur walked to the Academy with his mother at his side.
The air still carried the coolness of early day, and the streets felt brighter than they had the morning before. Cur held himself a little straighter as they walked. He was not entirely free of yesterday, not really, but he wanted to be. He wanted today to begin properly, without fear clinging to every thought.
As they neared the gates, his attention caught on a familiar figure ahead. Hariel stood near the entrance, one arm raised high as he waved. Around him, students passed in loose streams, some Cur's age and others much older, but for a moment the crowd seemed to blur away. Cur's eyes widened, and a smile spread across his face before he had time to hide it.
He glanced up at Evelyn, as if asking permission without words. She gave him the smallest nod. That was all he needed.
Cur left his mother's side and hurried towards Hariel, slowing only when he realised he was nearly running.
"Yo!" Hariel called, bright and easy, as though nothing at all had changed.
"Hey!" Cur replied, a little breathless.
Hariel grinned. "Wanna walk together?"
Cur nodded at once. The answer came too quickly for him to make it sound casual, but Hariel did not seem to mind.
Before they set off, Cur looked back over his shoulder. Evelyn stood where he had left her, watching him with a soft expression. When she raised her hand in farewell, Cur lifted his own and smiled back. For the first time that morning, the smile felt natural.
Then he turned and followed Hariel through the moving crowd.
They walked side by side for a little while before Hariel tilted his head towards him.
"So, did everything go well yesterday?"
Cur's steps slowed by half a pace. Hariel had not seen what happened. He had not seen the explosion, or the infirmary, or the strange white-flame figure that still sat somewhere cold and heavy in Cur's memory.
He did not want to bring any of that into today. Not yet.
"Sort of," Cur said, giving a small shrug. "Something happened, but it's all right now."
Hariel accepted the answer with a nod, though his expression softened for a moment.
"Cool. I waited for you outside the gates, hoping we could walk home together, but you never showed up."
Cur stopped for a moment.
He looked at Hariel, and the guilt that rose in him was small but sharp. Someone had waited for him. Someone had expected him.
"Yeah... I'm sorry." Cur rubbed at the side of one sleeve with his fingers. "I had to leave early because of some complications. But if you're okay with it, we could walk together today."
Hariel's smile returned as easily as sunlight through a window.
"Of course!"
Warmth spread through Cur's chest. It was a simple answer, but it mattered more than he wanted to admit.
Before long, they reached the Academy gates. This time, Cur let himself slow down and look properly.
The campus was far larger than he had managed to understand the day before. At the back stood the enormous glass dome, rising over the grounds like a giant cage or greenhouse made for something too strange to name. Though its walls were transparent, the glare of morning light made it difficult to see what waited inside.
To his left rose several grand marble buildings lined with rows of tall windows. Classrooms, he guessed, though the thought that one of them would soon be his made his stomach twist with nerves and excitement both. Ahead, a garden spread out around a large fountain, its water catching the light in thin silver arcs. To the right stood the building he assumed was the gym, wider and sturdier than the rest.
Other beautiful structures dotted the campus, each impressive in its own way, but Cur's attention kept drifting back to the flow of students passing through the gates. There were so many of them. So many possible classmates, rivals, friends.
Then he noticed Lady Uls standing ahead, watching the morning arrivals with calm attention.
Cur considered greeting her, but his gaze flicked to Hariel beside him. He had only just found him again, and he was not ready to be pulled away so soon. Before he could decide what to do, Lady Uls seemed to notice him and began making her way towards them.
"Good morning, Mister El. And to you as well, Mister Dohus."
Her voice was warm and gentle, carrying easily over the noise of arriving students without needing to rise above it.
Both boys returned her greeting.
"Cur, please come with me," Lady Uls said. "I'll show you to your classroom, and I would like to speak with you on the way."
Cur's heart dipped. He had secretly hoped Hariel would be the one to guide him, or at least that they would walk a little farther together. He looked at Hariel, trying not to show too much disappointment.
Hariel lifted a hand and waved as he stepped back into the stream of students. "Well, I'll see you during break!"
"Yeah! See you later..." Cur called after him.
His voice carried a trace of disappointment, but it faded as Hariel turned once more to wave. Cur held onto that promise instead: break. They would see each other again at break.
Lady Uls waited until Hariel had gone, then gestured for Cur to follow her.
"How are you feeling?" she asked as they began walking side by side.
Cur took a moment before answering. "Much better, thank you."
Lady Uls glanced down at him. "Cur, I would like to apologise for—"
"Please, Lady Uls." Cur spoke gently, but firmly enough to stop her. "There is no need. Professor Slaine has already apologised, and there is no reason to linger on the past."
Rhea Uls stopped mid-sentence. For a moment, her expression gave away only surprise. Cur's formality was not what she had expected from a child his age, especially not after the previous day.
Then she seemed to accept his answer. "Speaking of which," she said, letting the subject change without resistance, "as you know, Professor Slaine will be your Fire Carer. I'll show you to his classroom now."
Cur walked a few steps in silence before curiosity overcame him.
"If I may?"
Rhea Uls looked down at him. "Of course."
"What exactly is a Fire Carer?"
Lady Uls slowed slightly, as though wanting to give the explanation proper space. "The Academy teaches many subjects, but your Fire Carer handles your core Fire studies. They also serve as a private mentor who stays with you throughout your time here."
"We find students learn better when they begin with one trusted teacher and remain with a familiar group," she continued. "It makes lessons steadier, and it also makes it easier to form connections with classmates you see often. Wouldn't you agree?"
Cur considered that carefully.
So my classmates will stay with me until I graduate, and Professor Slaine will remain my mentor.
The idea settled slowly in him. A familiar group. Faces he would see again and again. People who might become more than strangers if he gave them time.
Lady Uls watched him think, then added, "We place students where they can grow together and benefit from friendly competition. Since Calliarna Uls is in your class, we expect great things from you as well."
Cur was unsure how to take that. Was she trying to encourage him, or reassure him that someone familiar would be there? Either way, the mention of Calliarna made the nervousness in his stomach shift into something brighter.
Before long, they reached a quieter hall in one of the classroom buildings. The sound of the courtyard faded behind them, replaced by the soft echo of their footsteps. Only a few doors lined the walls, spaced far apart, which made Cur imagine large rooms beyond each one.
Lady Uls stopped before one of the doors and knocked twice.
Cur swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was to meeting the class that might stay with him for years.
Slaine's voice answered from within.
"Come in."
Rhea Uls slid the door open and led Cur inside.
For a moment, Cur forgot to look at the people.
His eyes moved first over the classroom itself. Rows of joined tables rose to his left in gentle tiers. Two large windows looked out over a small garden, spilling pale light across the room. The washed-red walls looked overdue for paint, and several dark wooden desks carried old burn marks that made him wonder what kinds of lessons had taken place there.
At the front stood Slaine's desk and, to the right of it, a fire-resistant writing board. The centre of the room had been left open, creating a wide space between teacher and students. It looked less like an empty gap and more like a place where something was meant to happen.
"Ah, Headmistress Uls. A pleasant morning."
Slaine greeted her warmly, stepping away from his desk to meet her halfway across the room.
"And to you," Lady Uls replied. "I've brought you a new student."
Slaine looked past her. When he saw Cur, his face brightened with recognition.
"Ah, young Cur. I'm glad you decided to join us."
Cur bowed slightly in greeting, feeling the attention in the room begin to shift towards him.
"Well then, I'll leave him to you," Lady Uls said.
She left soon after, closing the classroom door behind her with a quiet click. Cur watched her go, and for a brief second the sound made the room feel very final.
Slaine placed a gentle hand against Cur's back, not pushing him forward, only guiding him enough to remind him he was not standing there alone.
"Class, please welcome our newest member. Cur, would you like to introduce yourself?"
Cur looked over the room properly then. Though the classroom was large, it held only fourteen students. They watched him with open curiosity, some leaning forward, others whispering behind their hands. The attention did not frighten him exactly, but it made every breath feel a little more noticeable.
He folded his hands in front of him and bowed slightly.
"H-hi. I'm Cur Ynha-El."
For half a heartbeat, the room held still.
Then gasps and murmurs rippled through the class.
Cur flinched despite himself. The reaction came too quickly and too loudly for him to understand. Was this what Anas had meant yesterday?
Slaine clapped his hands once, firm but not angry, and the room quietened.
"Quiet down. Cur will be your classmate for the foreseeable future, so welcome him properly."
Before anyone could respond, a boy near the back raised his hand.
Cur noticed him almost immediately. The boy had hair much like his own, but it was his dark-blue eyes that drew Cur's attention first: alert, curious, and bright with interest rather than judgement.
"Yes, Markus?" Slaine asked.
"Are you an El?" Markus asked, sitting a little straighter. "As in Adurn and Evelyn Ynha-El?"
Cur hesitated, then nodded.
"That's right. They're my mum and dad."
This time, the classroom truly erupted.
Voices rose over one another, too many for Cur to separate. Some sounded amazed, some excited, and one or two simply confused. Cur stood very still beneath it all, suddenly aware of his name in a way he had never been before.
Slaine clapped his hands again. The sound cut cleanly through the noise.
"You'll have time to know him later. For now, remember Cur missed his first year, so we may revisit some basics over the next few months. Help him if he needs it."
The students answered together, their energy settling into something warmer.
"Okay!"
"Good. Cur, choose any seat you like."
Cur looked across the room, uncertain where to go.
Before he could decide, Markus jumped up just enough to be seen and waved, pointing eagerly to the empty seat beside him.
Cur recognised the invitation for what it was. A place to sit. Maybe something more.
Cur took a small breath, then began climbing the centre steps between the rows. The classroom seemed quieter now, though he could still feel several pairs of eyes following him. He passed two students who shifted their books aside to give him room, and he murmured a soft thanks before stopping beside Markus near the window.
For a moment, Cur only stood there, one hand resting against the back of the empty chair. The seat was ordinary enough, worn smooth at the edges like the others, but to him it felt strangely important. A place offered freely. A place beside someone who had chosen to make room for him.
Markus looked up at him with an easy smile, bright but not overwhelming.
"Good to meet you, Cur," he said, keeping his voice low enough that it belonged mostly to the two of them. "Name's Markus."
He held out his hand.
Cur looked at it for half a second longer than he meant to. Then he smiled, small at first, and took it.
"Good to meet you too," Cur said.
Their hands shook briefly, but the warmth of it lingered even after Cur sat down. He settled into the chair beside Markus and placed his hands on the desk, trying not to look as relieved as he felt.
At the front of the room, Slaine waited until the small rustle of movement faded. Then he lifted his head and let his voice carry calmly across the class.
"Let's begin, shall we?"