This time, the group did not react with the same shock they had shown when Era first spoke. Perhaps some part of them had already accepted that nothing around Cur would remain simple for long. Or perhaps the meaning of what he had said had not fully reached them yet. The words hung between them, strange and heavy, waiting to be understood.
Markus was the first to break the silence, though even his voice seemed quieter than usual.
"What do you mean?"
Cur did not answer immediately. His gaze moved over them for a moment, as if deciding how much of the truth they would be able to bear.
"This body isn't actually mine." He turned his head toward Era, slow and deliberate. "It's his. I'm simply the one in control of it."
No one answered him. The realisation did not strike all at once. It settled slowly, moving from face to face as each of them tried to place Cur's words beside what they already knew. The silence became uncomfortable, not because it was empty, but because it was full of questions no one knew how to ask.
Markus swallowed, then forced himself to speak again before the others could fall too deeply into their own thoughts.
"How do you know?"
Cur and Era both looked at him, and for a brief moment they shared the same faint confusion, as though the answer should have been obvious to them alone. Era turned to Cur.
"Should we show them?"
Cur gave a single nod.
Era vanished.
There was no burst of flame, no sound, no dramatic tear in the air. One instant he was standing beside Cur, his burning form wavering with heat; the next, there was only empty space. The group's eyes shifted toward the place where he had been, slower this time, as if they feared that looking too quickly might make them miss whatever came next.
Then Cur began to change.
It started with his hair. The abyssal black, so dark it seemed to swallow the light around it, softened strand by strand. Silver crept through it like dawn touching the edge of night, catching the sunlight from the window and reflecting it in thin, pale glimmers. No one moved. Even the smallest shift of cloth or breath seemed too loud.
His eyes followed. The golden glow did not disappear at once. It twisted inward, pulled into itself as if caught beneath the surface of deep water. Slowly, the colour was washed away, drawn into a hazy white that spread until his gaze resembled fog lit from within.
Only then did they feel it.
That fiery aura returned, but it was different now that they were forced to look at it properly. It did not roar outward. It clung to him, near transparent and white, wrapping around his body like flame seen through mist. The air around him trembled faintly, and every person in the room seemed to understand, without needing to say it, that what stood before them was not simply Cur.
"This is what this body is truly like."
The voice came from Cur's mouth, yet it no longer felt entirely like Cur. There was something of Era in it, something warmer, older, and harder to place. The group listened, caught between recognition and doubt.
"In this state…"
He raised his left hand before continuing. The movement was calm, almost careful. A small point of black flame appeared above his palm, no larger than a spark at first. Then it gathered itself, folding inward and outward at the same time, until a dark fireball hovered there, silent and dense.
"…we can control all the abilities we know and practise. Cur is the one who has mastered the spear and carries the knowledge of combat, but I am the one who controls his flames."
No one spoke. They merely stared.
It was not fear alone that held them still. Nor was it wonder by itself. It was the struggle to understand something that stood directly in front of them and still refused to fit into any shape they knew. The black flame pulsed once in his hand, and in that brief flicker, several of them took a breath they had not realised they were holding.
Then, just as slowly as it had begun, the change receded.
The silver faded from Cur's hair, sinking back into the same light-absorbing black as before. The fog in his eyes thinned, and the familiar gold returned, dim at first, then steadier. The white flame around him loosened its hold and disappeared into the air.
A moment later, Era appeared beside him once more, his flaming body burning quietly at Cur's side.
Markus stood up suddenly.
The movement was sharp enough to draw every eye in the room. Cur and Era both turned toward him, expecting another question, but Markus did not speak straight away. His brows had pulled together, and the look on his face was not simple curiosity. It was worry, held back only by the effort of trying to sound calm.
"Hold on a minute…" he said, slower than before. "I think I understand what you're saying, but what I want to know is… how do you know which one of you is the real owner? Which one of you is the original?"
The others looked up at Markus as if he had stepped too close to something that should have stayed untouched. No one told him to sit down. No one told him he was wrong to ask. Still, the silence around him changed, tightening just enough for everyone to feel it.
But from Markus' point of view, the question mattered too much to leave alone. Cur was his friend. He had known him, spoken with him, fought beside him, trusted him. And now he was being told that the person standing in front of him might not be the one who had belonged to that body first. That maybe Cur was not a body at all, but a voice, a will, a personality wrapped around someone else's existence.
Cur lowered his gaze. Era remained quiet beside him. For a short while, neither of them answered. It was not because they did not know. It felt more like they were searching for a way to explain something that had never been simple, even to them.
At last, Cur drew in a slow breath.
"You can think of it like this…" Cur turned toward Era, then back to Markus. "Imagine we're both standing before a door. That door has countless locks on it. I can only open one of them, but once it opens, I can use whatever is behind that one lock however I want."
He paused, as if making sure Markus was following, then continued.
"Era is different. When he reaches for the same door, it feels like every lock starts opening by itself. Not one. All of them. Like the door recognises him completely."
Cur's hand curled slightly at his side.
"But before he can step through it, something stops him. Chains, I guess. That's the closest way I can describe it. It feels like they wrap around him and hold him back. Like the body knows he should be able to enter, but something inside it refuses to let him."
He looked down at his own hands, and his voice softened.
"For me, it's like the door lets one lock open because it thinks I'm Era. But when it's actually Era trying to take control, it holds him back because…" Cur hesitated. "Because I'm here too."
For a moment, no one moved. Markus did not sit back down. He stared at Cur as if the explanation had answered him and made the question heavier at the same time.
Era broke the silence first.
"That was a surprisingly good way to explain it, Cur."
The compliment did not lighten the room as much as it might have at another time. It only made the silence after it feel stranger.
Everyone remained still, caught in the same confused weight. There were too many questions now, each one pressing against the next until none of them could be spoken clearly. Anything they tried to say would have come out broken, tangled, and incomplete.
Then the school bell rang.
The sudden sound cut through the room like a hand snapping a thread. Markus, Hariel, Anas, and Calliarna all jolted slightly, pulled at once out of the spiral of thoughts they had been sinking into.
Hariel let out a long breath, one that seemed to take more from him than it gave back. For a moment, he only stared at the floor, his thoughts still caught somewhere between Cur's explanation and the ringing bell. Then he lifted both hands and slapped his cheeks, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to force himself back into the room.
"Looks like we have to get back to class," he said, though his voice lacked its usual ease.
Anas looked up at him and gave a small nod. He stood first, slower than usual, as if his body understood the need to move before his mind was ready to leave. Markus followed after a pause, but not before looking back at Era one last time. His expression held too many things at once: confusion, concern, and the lingering weight of a question he could no longer ask.
Hariel reached the door and rested his hand on the handle, but he did not open it straight away. He glanced back at Cur. A gentle smile settled on his lips, though it looked tired beneath the effort of holding it there.
"I get the gist of it now, Cur. Don't worry, your secret is safe with us…" He placed one arm around Anas and the other around Markus, pulling them close with a faint attempt at humour. "…we might just need a little time to organise our thoughts."
Cur looked at him with a trace of worry still caught in his eyes. He wanted to say something more, something that would make the weight of the room easier for them to carry, but no words came quickly enough. In the end, he only nodded.
"I'm sorry," Cur said at last. "For dumping so much on you all at once."
Hariel gave a short laugh. Anas chuckled with him, though it came out softer than usual. Even Markus managed to let a smile cross his face, small and uneven, but real enough to keep the moment from sinking completely.
"Now that we know what you're going through," Markus said, forcing a lighter tone into his voice, "I've got to say, I don't envy you one bit."
Hariel stepped out first, with Anas close behind him. Markus lingered at the threshold for half a second longer. He raised a hand in a slight wave toward Cur and Calliarna, then turned away before the silence could pull him back in. The door closed behind the three of them with a quiet click.
After that, the room felt larger than it had before. The absence of the others left a hollow space behind, and for a long while neither Cur nor Calliarna tried to fill it. The silence stretched between them, patient and heavy, until Calliarna finally found the courage to move.
Her breathing had grown uneven. She twisted her fingers together as she walked toward Cur and Era, each step careful, as if one careless word or movement might make everything between them break.
"Cur…" Her voice faltered almost immediately. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't know. All this time…"
Cur lifted his right hand before she could force herself to continue. The gesture was quick, but not harsh.
"Don't," he said quietly. "This is on me. I know I shouldn't have hidden it from you guys, but I hope you understand why I did."
Calliarna looked at him, worry settling across her face in a way she could no longer hide. She understood more now. Not everything, but enough to realise that Cur's burden was heavier than he had ever allowed them to see. And still, there was something in the carefulness of his words that told her he was holding more back. Not because he did not trust them, but because he did not want to place any more weight on their shoulders than he already had.
That worry slowly shifted into something else. Not relief, not exactly. Curiosity, perhaps, sharpened by concern. There was one question that had been forming in her mind since Era first appeared, and now that the others were gone, she could no longer push it aside.
"So… all this time, why didn't you use Era during our fights?" she asked. "Why not during Fire Arts class?" Her eyes moved from Cur to Era. "You're the one with the fire abilities, right? Why not help Cur when he needed to show them?"
Era looked down at her. The flames around him shifted quietly, almost as if they had drawn closer to his body.
"Because it's not that simple."
Calliarna did not look away. She waited, saying nothing, making it clear that the answer was not enough.
Era was silent for a moment before continuing. "I can only take over the body for around three minutes while remaining safe. And fire is not my natural ability. It is only something I obtained through our studies." His gaze lowered slightly. "My real abilities cannot be used under any circumstance."
The thought that Era was not truly a Flame Borne pressed hard against Calliarna's understanding, but another part of his answer pulled at her more urgently. It was the word he had used so carefully.
"Why?" she asked, her voice quieter now. "Why wouldn't it be safe?"
Era turned his eyes to Cur before answering. The brief look between them said enough for Calliarna to understand that this was not a theory.
"If I did," Era said, "one of us would disappear."
Calliarna felt the answer land heavily, but it did not feel complete. It sounded too certain, too final, and certainty like that had to come from somewhere.
"How do you know?"
Era did not hesitate.
"Because I tried."
The words were simple, but they struck harder than any explanation could have. Calliarna stared at him, stunned. Then her gaze moved to Cur, expecting to find the same shock there.
Instead, Cur was smiling.
It was not a happy smile. It was small, tired, and familiar, the kind worn by someone who had already lived with the answer long before anyone else heard it.
Before Calliarna could ask what that smile meant, Era continued.
"When Cur was still an infant, I realised I could have taken the body for myself." Era's voice remained steady, but the room seemed to grow quieter around it. "My soul was stronger than his. I had more knowledge, more awareness, more control. The body responded to me more naturally, and at the time, I believed that was proof enough. Proof that it should have been mine."
He paused. The flames along his shoulders trembled once, then settled.
"But despite every part of me telling me to do it, there was something smaller beneath that desire. Something weaker, almost like longing. It told me that if I crossed that line, I would lose something important."
Era moved his right hand slowly, as if even that small gesture required care. He placed it on the young boy beside him, his palm broad enough to nearly cover Cur's entire head. The contrast between them made the room feel strangely still: Era, vast and burning, and Cur, small beneath his hand, accepting the touch without flinching.
"And so we are stuck like this," Era said. His voice did not rise, but something in it grew heavier. "Looking for answers no one seems to have. Trying to hide something that becomes harder to hide with every passing year." He looked down at Cur for a moment, and the flames around him dimmed to a quieter glow. "At first, I wanted him to leave everything behind. I wanted Cur to take us away from this life, to ignore the friends he was making, the memories he was building, and search only for the knowledge that might fix us."
He paused there, and for the first time, the certainty in him seemed to loosen. His hand remained on Cur's head, not possessive, not commanding, but almost protective. "But then I watched him grow. I watched the small moments pass one after another, the kind of moments every parent hopes to witness for the first time. The first steps. The first words. The first time he laughed without understanding why."
Era's gaze softened, though his expression remained difficult to read through the shifting fire. "And I realised he was living something I had no memory of having. Maybe I once had moments like those. Maybe I did not. I do not know. But the fact that I cannot remember my own happiness does not mean he should be denied his."
Only after saying that did Era turn to Calliarna.
"Miss Uls," he said, quieter now. "My words may mean nothing to you. Perhaps all you see when you look at me is the being preventing Cur from living the full life he could have had." He did not look away from her. "If that is what you believe, I cannot blame you for it."
His hand rested more gently against Cur's hair. "But the care you have for him is undeniable, even to my eyes. I have seen enough to know that he is not alone here. And because of that, I am asking you sincerely…"
Era's voice lowered until it was almost a plea. "Please help us. And if you cannot help both of us, then at least help him."
The words remained in the air long after he finished speaking. Calliarna did not answer. She wanted to, but every response that came to mind felt too small for what had been placed before her. The room was not awkward anymore. It was too quiet for that. Too heavy. All she could do was stand there, caught between Cur's tired smile, Era's lowered hand, and the impossible request now resting between them.