The faint light of evening bled across the training grounds, painting long, broken shadows over the stone tiles. Dust drifted lazily through the air, glimmering like fireflies in the dying sun. The rhythmic whisper of wind brushing against old practice dummies was the only sound that broke the silence.
Flester stopped in his tracks. For a heartbeat, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. The silhouette ahead was unmistakable — tall, unmoving, framed by the orange glow of sunset.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice caught between disbelief and awe.
The figure didn't respond at first. His shadow stretched toward Flester, sharp and long, almost reaching his boots. The air itself felt heavy, thick with quiet authority.
But Flester didn't need an answer. He already knew.Night of the Ruby Pillars.His master.
A jolt of realization hit him."What an idiot I am," he thought, suppressing the urge to groan. "Fey told me already. The strongest mages were gathering to protect Emberhold — of course he'd be here."
The thought gave him a thin thread of comfort. If Night was here, Fey would be safer. Probably. The nobles might despise her for her bloodline, but Night wasn't one to bow to pedigree. Still, Flester couldn't shake off the unease crawling under his skin. Power like Night's was never idle — it always came with purpose.
"I came here to meet you, of course."
The deep, steady voice cut through the silence. Night stepped forward into the light, his tone carrying an effortless calm that made even the wind seem to hesitate.
Flester blinked, taking him in properly. Night hadn't changed. Still tall. Still composed. Still unreadable. His long white hair was tied loosely at the back, a few strands spilling over a face that seemed carved from stone — serene, but unyielding. His black eyes glowed faintly in the fading light, calm yet sharp, like a blade reflecting the moon.
But what caught Flester's attention wasn't his face — it was his attire.
Night wore a long black coat threaded with crimson veins, the embroidery pulsing faintly like embers under skin. Beneath it, sleek leather armor molded to his frame, light enough for movement but sturdy enough for battle. A cloak, deep red fading to black, hung from one shoulder, fastened by a clasp shaped like a ruby shard. His gloves bore faint sigils — the mark of the Ruby Pillars, his order of elite magi.
Even his boots told stories. The edges were worn, the soles scarred — yet polished, maintained, honored.
Flester exhaled slowly. "That's new," he muttered, though his master's faint smirk told him he'd been heard.
Then something moved behind Night.
A slender silhouette — graceful, deliberate. A girl stepped into view, the light catching her figure like it had been waiting for her.
She was around Flester's age, maybe a little younger. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes — dark blue and calm like deep water — gleamed with quiet amusement. Her long black hair, smooth as ink, fell halfway down her back, shifting slightly with each step.
She wore a fitted battle dress, black but edged with silver patterns that shimmered faintly, like threads of moonlight woven into the fabric. A crimson sash cinched her waist, the loose ends fluttering with her movement. A half-cloak draped over her left shoulder, fastened with a crescent brooch that gleamed under the lanterns scattered across the courtyard.
There was something undeniably noble about her presence. Not in her words — she hadn't spoken yet — but in her posture, her gaze, her effortless grace.
"She looks like someone from a noble house," Flester thought, his spine stiffening. Standing next to Night already made him seem like someone worth noticing. The last thing he needed was to stand beside her.
"Who is she?" he asked, forcing his tone to remain steady.
Before Night could answer, the girl moved — quick, silent, bold. She stopped inches from him, her eyes locking onto his, a faint curve at the corner of her lips.
"I'm Aira," she said softly, her voice smooth and teasing, like she already knew the effect she had. "Lord Night's apprentice."
Flester blinked. "Umm… full name?"
"Don't have one," she replied simply. "I'm a commoner, just like you. That's why I wanted to meet you — my fellow apprentice."
She extended her hand, her expression softening just enough to seem genuine.
Flester hesitated, then took it. Her hand was warm — too warm — and firm.
"She doesn't look like a commoner," he thought, eyeing her silver-lined clothes. "She doesn't talk like one either."
Still, when he looked to Night for confirmation, his master gave a small nod.
But something flickered across Night's face. Just for a second. Confusion — faint, restrained — gone before Flester could be sure he'd seen it.
"Another apprentice?" he thought. "He never mentioned anyone else. I thought I was his last student — the exception because of the Flame Elemental Symbol."
Now, she stood beside Night as if she'd always belonged there.
For the first time in a long while, Flester wasn't sure where he belonged.
"So, um… what brings you guys here?" he asked finally, trying to sound casual. The less anyone knew about what he and Fey had discovered, the safer she'd be.
Before Night could reply, pain shot through his hand.
"Hey—!" he hissed.
Aira still held his hand — except now, she was squeezing. Hard. Her grip was deceptively strong, almost unnatural.
She blinked, her expression unchanged. "You're supposed to introduce yourself," she said flatly, loosening her hold — though not letting go.
"Oh, right." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm Flester. From Frosthold. I'm an orphan, and… there's really not much else to say."
Aira tilted her head slightly, a lock of black hair sliding across her shoulder. The corners of her lips twitched — not quite a smile, but close.
"At least she's not crushing my hand anymore," he thought. "But does she have to keep holding it?"
He cleared his throat and turned to Night. "So… why are you here?" he asked again, more direct this time.
Night's black eyes reflected the dying light. "That," he said after a pause, his voice steady and unreadable, "is something we'll discuss soon enough."
A faint smile tugged at his lips — one that carried more knowledge than comfort. His gaze met Flester's, and though he said nothing, the message was clear."I know you too well."
Flester felt a chill crawl down his spine. Night knew. Somehow, he always did. Fey, the rumors — everything.
"Pretty sure you've heard the latest rumor," Night said suddenly. "About the enhanced beasts."
Flester nodded cautiously. "Yeah. It's everywhere."
Aira's eyes darkened. She hadn't known he already knew.
"The rumors are true," Night continued. "The beasts are changing. Something — or someone — is feeding them power. They're evolving faster than anything we've recorded. Stronger, smarter, and far more dangerous."
Flester's jaw tightened. He'd already heard this from Fey, but hearing it from Night made it real.
"The city could be attacked any time," Night said quietly. "A week from now. Or tomorrow."
Flester nodded, expression calm, though his thoughts churned. "So he does know everything. But he's holding back — maybe because of Aira."
The conversation shifted as the sun dipped lower. The lanterns came alive one by one, bathing the training ground in golden light. Night began pacing slowly, his voice smooth, deliberate — teaching again.
"Light magic," he said, "is the fusion of every other element. It is the strongest — and the most difficult to master."
That caught Flester's attention. He straightened slightly.
"The nature of Light magic," Night continued, "differs from mage to mage. Each must discover their own form. It may take years — or lifetimes. Some find guidance from others with similar natures. But such bonds…" He smirked faintly. "Are rare, even among the blessed."
Aira listened intently, eyes fixed on him. Flester, though slightly bored, absorbed every word. Even when he didn't try, he remembered everything — perfectly.
The Flame Elemental Symbol saw to that.
It was more than just a mark. It was memory incarnate — centuries of knowledge imprinted through its past wielders. Flester didn't gain new wisdom from it, but perfect recall of what it already knew. Every spell, every theory, every secret the symbol had once seen — waiting in his mind like a library he hadn't yet learned to read.
"Any questions?" Night asked finally.
Flester raised a hand. "How do you find the nature of your Light magic?"
Night's lips curved faintly. "That is something no one can teach you. You have to wrestle with your Light until it reveals itself to you."
He straightened, stretching his arms as if shaking off the weight of teaching. "Well, enough theory for today." His smirk returned. "Why don't you and Aira have a quick duel?"
Flester blinked. "Now?"
Aira didn't even flinch. She took a step forward, calm and prepared — as if she'd known this was coming.
"Figures," Flester thought, sighing. "They definitely planned this."
Still, he found himself almost relieved. It had been too long since he'd tested himself against someone new.
He rolled his shoulders, flames flickering faintly at his fingertips. "Alright," he said. "Let's see what you've got."