[POV Ivan]
The clash of metal echoed through the forge in a rhythm of iron and flame. I hadn't been doing this for long, but it was a good way to pass the time. A leather apron protected me from the abrasive heat. Sitting in front of the anvil, I hammered what could loosely be called a sword.
"Ho, you're doing well," came a voice. It was Lanús. Arms crossed, he watched me like a midwife overseeing the birth of a child from the womb of fire.
It had been a year since Samo, my son, left home. Since then, I'd lived in a shabby room behind the forge. It wasn't much, but it served its purpose.
Gripping the tongs tightly, I plunged the glowing metal into a vat of dark oil. Steam rose like a spirit breaking free from the steel, wrapping me in a hot breath.
There it was—my first blade.
I had planned for it to be short, simple, and functional. Nothing excessive. The core twist method had worked beautifully. Only the finish and sharpening remained.
I honed it. It could slice the wind itself, two lethal edges running down its sides.
"And now, the hilt..." I took a strip of treated leather.
"This is the hide from Samo's first hunt."
In silence, I wrapped it around the grip, pulling until it reached the perfect tension.
"Samo... I wonder how you're doing."
Each pass of the leather reminded me of the hunting lessons I'd given him. His wide grin when he caught his first rabbit.
I smiled—a silent, bittersweet pride blooming in me.
Once finished, I raised the blade. It gleamed with a faint red hue, warm and reassuring.
"Özlem... that shall be your name."
[POV Samo]
Another six months had passed. Instructor Grant kept me in Team 26. Aside from Merino's petty provocations, nothing important had happened.
I didn't care anymore. I simply endured. My father always said to wait for the prey to come to you, naive and unguarded. That's exactly how I intended to act.
But lucky for him, today it all ends. The Practice Period is over. Now begins the Assignment Phase.
We'll be assigned to the various Orders of the kingdom. Among the most notable:
The Order of the Knights of Aurora
The Royal Guard
The Frontier Patrol
Most cadets dream of joining the Royal Guard—a cushy job with a great salary for minimal effort. The less fortunate end up on the Frontier, fighting demons on the edge of civilization.
But me? I want to join the Knights of Aurora.
The assignments depend on your average ranking over the past two semesters. I used to be ranked 110. But after my secret awakening, I climbed to 46. Aura doesn't just strengthen your body—it sharpens your mind. Studying became much easier.
We sat in the vast White Hall when the Instructor entered, clipboard in hand.
"Alright, you bastards. You know the drill. Time to make your choices.
Rank 01, Layla Darkwood."
"Layla… still at the top. A powerhouse."
She stood—imposing.
"I choose the Frontier Patrol, sir."
Gasps filled the room. Even Grant looked surprised.
"Cadet Layla... Are you certain about this?" he asked.
"Yes, sir!" she replied, loud and proud.
Whispers spread like wildfire. And I understood why. Why would a noble heiress of House Darkwood choose such a cursed place?
The instructor continued, reading off names and their selected Orders. Some were predictable. That bastard Merino chose the Royal Guard, along with Kan. Silas went to the less-known Order of Magical Studies. Oliver stayed with the Knights in Zielitz. Felicia chose Artillery.
"46, Samo Gorynych," Grant called.
My turn. I stood tall.
"Knights of Aurora, sir."
He gave a knowing smile, as if he'd seen it coming.
Once everyone was assigned, he barked:
"Alright, stand up."
We obeyed immediately.
"From today, those who did not choose to remain with the Knights of Zielitz are no longer part of this institution.
The day after tomorrow, carts will depart to take you to your new posts."
His tone, unlike usual, was calm.
"The next six months will be your Qualification period.
You're dismissed—except those who chose to stay here."
Most cadets left. Only a few of us remained.
Tomorrow was departure day. I began packing up my things—not much, thankfully.
"All done."
A small, light bag that weighed less than Fäste, with some clothes I'd bought during patrol.
My next stop: the Library.
I wanted to find a book about the Knights of Aurora—or at least something to keep me occupied during the twelve-day journey to the capital.
I walked through the halls to the far left wing of the Order. A massive room filled with books and tomes—true treasure troves of wisdom. Behind the counter, buried in the pages of an ancient tome, was Professor Cornelius. When not teaching, he doubled as the librarian.
"Good morning, Professor!" I greeted as I passed by. He didn't notice—too absorbed in ink and script. The book's cover was old, smelly leather, with a title stamped in the center:
"The Cult of Artrax."
Quite an intriguing title.
I wandered the aisles. The scent of aging pages filled the air—a strangely relaxing aroma.
The sections were neatly organized: Deities, Spells, Sigil Use, General History... and the one I was after: Orders.
Lots of titles about various orders, doctrines, and their foundations. But I couldn't find anything on the Aurorians.
"Why is there nothing about them?"
While pacing, I got lost. The place felt like a maze of shelves. At the end of one corridor, I noticed a small pile of books on the floor.
Curious, I approached.
The top book was green, old, and untitled—its cover brittle with age.
I opened it—blank. Every page was empty. But traces of faded ink hinted at something once written... and mysteriously erased.
I checked the others. Same thing. Blank pages. Vanished knowledge.
"Weird…" I muttered, returning the last one to the stack.
Then I turned—and spotted something lying on the floor.
"That wasn't there earlier."
I approached. My footsteps grew louder as I neared it.
A book.
"The Forgotten God."
The cover—blood red. The title etched in divine gold. The words within written in dark crimson ink.
I flipped through it. Didn't absorb the contents, but it intrigued me.
"Well... I'm taking you," I whispered, tucking it under my arm.
Hours passed. Still no sign of a book on the Knights of Aurora.
Back at the reception, the desk was empty. Some books lay atop it, one of them open—the same one Cornelius had been reading.
I leaned closer and read the passage:
"...he who came with the meteors, molded the barren rock drifting through space. Master of life, and father of the Three Principles.
All hail the Primordial."
"A book about the world's origin, maybe?"
I stopped reading.
"Well, I was going to ask the professor's permission to borrow these... but since he's not here..."
I slipped out of the library quickly, feeling like a thief. And I was.
It was a cloudy night. The wind howled from the north. Trees swayed violently, and the scent of rain-soaked earth filled my nose.
A storm was coming.