On the seventh of July, Henrikia celebrated the Sacred Day of Fury. Traditionally, people dressed in their favourite Gaverian costumes, joining contests and parties across the country. This year, there were no contests, no parties. Most event centres had gone out of business. Still, many wore their Gaverian uniforms to mark the day, hoping things might improve when Schemel and Hamis’ grandfather returned from Yuna.

  Jenne did not care who claimed the Midder-Lands. He only wanted the war to end. Calimer was cruel for hiring Genevie, and Genevie was cruel for holding Blackwood captive. Stop. Don’t think about that. He refused to dwell on things beyond his control.

  Hamis walked beside him on their way to Ms Class’s lesson. He was in a chatty mood, but Jenne struggled to listen. His mind circled around signs and spells, rehearsing them in silence.

  “Since the towns are empty these days, I’m assigning you a field trip,” Ms Class told them. “Find one system or application in town that uses any hex.” Hex was the term scholars used for triangles. “You’ll return in an hour to present your findings.”

  Jenne thought fast. The capital city was the best place to find a hex. Its buildings served countless functions, each likely bound to some system of magic. The Ring was an easy option, but Ms Class disliked easy answers. He stepped through a portal and entered the open city.

  The contrast to the Home of Heroes was sharp. The Se Fina gardens were replaced by metallic greys. Tinted windows stretched before him, offering plenty to see but little of use. He checked the time. Ten minutes already gone. With no clear destination, he wandered.

  A jogger brushed past him, not stopping to apologise. The man wore a sleeveless green shirt and tight black shorts, the words Blood Storm printed in red across the back. What caught Jenne’s attention was the wireless headset. Violet ripper-hexes pulsed at both ends, sending and receiving signals from a phone he did not carry. Jenne could report on that. Wireless devices had many uses... No. He would not. The Ripper Stream was too complex for him.

  Further along, he passed two mothers in conversation. Both had long braided hair, green shirts and black trousers, with grey shoulder pads to match their shoes. Strollers sat in front of them, faint light glowing within. The babies inside had purple and magenta eyes that shimmered unnaturally. Each drank from an enchanted bottle laced with astaphite. Jenne considered writing about astaphite’s supposed health benefits. But those were myths... dangerous myths. But Father Bliss argued that ascension was powered by the human psyche. Therefore, magic and superstition— No, focus.

  A fleet of boys burst out of a shop, all in green and black. They carried swords and shields, some with helmets on. The shop behind them was crowded with more of their kind. Dozens sat at computers, dressed in costume, playing video games. The familiar sound effects made it impossible for Jenne to mistake the scene. He had spent too much time around Dominus not to recognise them.

  Without realising it, his fingers clutched at his side bag. His eyes refused to pull away. Maselli took Jeromy’s hand and dragged him into the shop.

  “What’s your problem?” Maselli asked. “Do you want to play or not?”

  “I have an assignment,” said Jeromy.

  “Do you want to play or not?”

  “There is no way we can all be like you.”

  7:23 a.m.

  He crossed several streets and slipped through spiral alleyways. When the sun grew too bright for his eyes, he followed interesting sounds instead. The splash of water drew him to a fountain. This part of the city was open and spacious, paved in grey stone and ringed with fountains. Sunlight cut through distant buildings, scattering rays into the spray. Broad stairs bordered the square at one end, crowded with people taking photos, reading, and idling in the heat.

  A statue’s shadow fell across him. It stood in the centre, taller than any fountain. Jenne recognised the figure from his books: Thorel Sorel, Commander of the Sun. One foot rested on a mount, his right hand on his waist. His left hand—unholy, according to the old tales—was stretched outward, palm open. Hovering above it were three revolving rings of light. They spun brighter than the sun itself, at times so blinding he almost reached out.

  His pen clicked. He noticed he was not the only one recording. Dozens of others had notepads too. Some sketched the statue while others scribbled notes, students all, most likely from the university. He caught a few strangers taking pictures of him from a distance. The girl sitting nearest smiled shyly, then shifted away.

  7:45 a.m. He couldn’t be bothered.

  The circles moved in three dimensions. The lowest was the broadest, the middle tighter, and the top the smallest of all. He guessed they could hold as many as five hundred mages each, judging by their spinning speed. The smaller the circle, the faster it turned. He made a few sketches.

  Someone approached from behind. The person’s breathing was regular, and so was their pulse. From the direction of the shadow, the figure would stop on Jenne’s left-hand side. The scent of sweat indicated a male. A tall man stood next to Jenne. He wore a long brown coat, hanging trousers, and a black turtleneck. His hair was messy. It was obvious he was not an ascender. The man focused on the statue, and the swathe of expressions made Jenne think the two were talking.

  “Aren’t you too young to be at the university?” he asked the statue. “Hm?”

  He was actually talking to Jenne, it seemed. “I'm not a student at the university,” Jenne replied. “Don’t you know who I am?”

  “Should I?”

  “No,” said Jenne quickly, leaving it at that.

  “But we both know who that is, don’t we?” said the professor, nudging his chin in Thorel’s direction.

  “He’s one of the greats, Sir.”

  “Really? Why?”

  That wasn’t the response Jenne expected. How do you explain to someone that the sun is bright?

  “That’s because he is,” said Jenne, cautious of the strange man. “Thorel was a feared Seconder during the Great Oppression. And before that, he’d beaten the Swayer’s March. Had it not been for him, we would not have won the war against Arden.”

  “You say that like it’s a good thing,” answered the professor. “An earthen should not appreciate what he did during the Great Oppression. What else did you say? He defeated the Swayer’s March. I would say he was needlessly brutal. Swayers are a rare breed because of him. And Arden was no victory.”

  “Sir…”

  “Yes, my friend?”

  “You can’t say that.”

  “I can’t say what?”

  “You’re saying bad things about the Sorels.”

  “Am I not allowed to think?” the man laughed. “Every individual, earthen or rhen, should be allowed to form their own thoughts. I encourage my students to be free thinkers. You are in New Crest, friend. We practice true freedom here.”

  “But why would you keep Ren Sorel’s statue up if he is not a good person?”

  “We tried to bring it down, but the Assembly refused. Nonetheless, I appreciate Thorel and what he reminds us of. True power.” He exhaled through his nostrils. “When a Sorel casts that spell, no one wins.”

  “What spell?”

  “Are you not a student at Se Fina?”

  “They don’t teach us everything.”

  The man lifted his eyebrows at Jenne, and the earthen quickly apologised.

  “Sovisansel,” he said. “I was a boy when I saw Lord Thorel cast that spell against Arden's forces."

  “You said Arden was no victory.”

  “Sovi gives you the power to command the sun. I suppose you know how powerful the sun is.”

  “How come no one talks about it?”

  “Most are afraid to do so. The Sorels themselves don’t want to remind the world of their power."

  “All this time I thought Ren Arson was the most powerful ascender in the world.”

  “That’s debatable."

  “Where can I learn all these things? I don’t think our library has anything about Sovisansel.”

  “There is so much outside Se Fina, my friend. Look over there, there is a public library you could visit. We keep all the books the Assembly doesn't want you to read. That’s what makes us New Crest.”

  Jenne checked the clock again but did not feel the urgency he once had. What if he failed the test? It was one test of many to come. What was the end goal? He’d become another weapon for Henrikia to use. What did he want? “I want to read,” he told the professor. “I’m heading to your library.”

  It took Jenne three steps before he turned and walked away. There was a trace of a peculiar ascender’s scent in the air, carried by the wind. It belonged to Erisa.

  “I don’t want to read,” he said. He wanted to play video games. Jenne hurried down the stairs and passed the fountains. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t find the game centre again. He ended up lost, stuck at a bus stop, not knowing what he wanted to do.

  A blue bus stopped in front of him. Jacqolin’s face was plastered on the side. MIGHTY JAC ARSON. His blue eyes seemed to stare at Jenne. “You don’t belong here,” they said. Jenne shook it off, grateful when the bus pulled away.

  He took out his phone to check the time, only to find an incoming call from Ashey. She wanted to know where he was, and he told her how his assignment had left him lost, physically and mentally. People came and went, most wearing green and black with colourful shoulder pads. Being alone made him think. What was Erisa doing at New Crest? Was she following him?

  “Jenne!” Ashey called. She hung out of a car window before stepping outside. “What are you doing? Don’t you have school today?”

  “I should ask you,” said Jenne. Glen Jacobs was a school run by the Sodenite community. Despite the Henrikian holiday, students were expected to attend. Oddly, it was the one thing they shared in common with Se Fina.

  “I was going, but I thought I’d check on you first.” She took his hand, but he did not budge. She then pressed both hands to his cheeks and lifted his head. “Are you crying?”

  “No.”

  “Jenne, are you okay?” she asked, sitting next to him. “Why are you here?”

  Why was anyone anywhere? What was the point of his life?

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “I have an assignment, but I haven’t come up with any answers and I have… ten minutes left.”

  “Oh, Jenne,” she said, truly remorseful. “You’ll get it. You always do. Besides, it’s just one assignment. You’ve done a million of them. It’s no big deal if you skip one. That’s it. We’re both skipping school today. You’re too stressed out, and I’ll help you relax. It’s a sacred day, for crying out loud. What business do we have going to school?”

  The car horn beeped.

  “Ashey, let's get moving. We’re running late.”

  Ashey flipped Jenne around and pointed to the SUV. “That’s my friend Don Roy. We go to the same school. His dad bought him a car and I don’t think he’ll mind taking us somewhere nice today.”

  Don Roy called, “Ashey—”

  “We should go see a movie—”

  “I’m leaving,” said Don Roy.

  “Quick, Jenne.” She grabbed him, rushing into the car. The sudden movement snapped Jenne’s neck back. They dropped into the back seat, and the boy behind the wheel leaned over and winked at Jenne.

  “Sira,” the boy said in a deep voice, still smirking.

  “Fe,” said Jenne, unsure what was going on.

  Don Roy pulled onto the road. The windows rolled up, and the air conditioning hummed. Jenne sighed, hitting his head against the seat.

  “I know,” Ashey replied, fanning herself. She leaned over Don Roy’s seat, and the two conversed in Krisi. She was trying to convince him to take them to the mall, but he wasn’t having it. She gave up after a while, smacking her friend. Things grew quieter, and Jenne’s eyes began to feel heavy. The temptation to sleep and let this underage driver take him wherever was strong.

  “Um, Don Roy?”

  “Aster.”

  “Why is your car so quiet?”

  “No engine, Ren.”

  Jenne snorted. “You’re not serious.”

  “I would never lie to a proper Ren.”

  “Knock it off,” Ashey groaned. “Just call him Jenne.”

  “Let the dignified guest from Se Fina tell me how they want to be addressed.”

  Ashey kicked his seat from behind. Don Roy laughed it off. Sniffing the air inside the car, Jenne confirmed his theory: the car was powered by crafter-ascension. Impossible that the Yunnish had achieved such a feat.

  “How? How many mages do you need for this to work? I don’t understand. You can’t spend so much ascension on just one car. Do you have astaphite stored somewhere?”

  “Not if you want the whole vehicle to explode,” Don Roy chuckled. “I take it to a station and they charge it for me. That’s all I know. I can take you there myself if you want.”

  “Can we go there now?”

  “Oh, no,” groaned Ashey. “Don’t do this to me. I don’t want to be caught up in another one of your assignments.”

  “Ashey, I need it,” said Jenne. “I’ve got—” He checked his phone, the hairs on his neck rising. “Six minutes left to present my work.”

  Don Roy stepped on the pedal, and the car rumbled through town. Being a sacred day, no Green Officers stopped them. The empty streets helped a lot. They arrived at the station without incident and pulled into their space.

  The place looked like a regular fuel station. What was absent were the gasoline pumps which had beens replaced by large crafter-triangles on the ground. Don Roy drove onto one of the triangles and turned off his engine. He took out his phone and tapped a button. A beep sounded from the car. He opened the door and hung his head upside down. Heat flushed across his face, but he didn’t mind. As he suspected, the triangle glowed blue. Don Roy showed off the gauge on his dashboard measuring his mage level.

  Jenne poured everything into his notebook, took pictures, and thanked Don Roy a thousand times. He said goodbye to Ashey and darted across the streets, eyeing the closest ring.

  With one minute left, he shot through a portal, returning to Se Fina and to the classroom. Startled, Ms Class confessed she wasn’t expecting either of them back. Hamis had not returned—not after five minutes, not after ten. Giving up on waiting, Ms Class asked Jenne to present his findings, and he did.

  He made a point about not spending so much time and effort digging for dragon fossils for oil when they could use magic instead. Ms Class did not believe him when he said it was possible; she hadn’t seen the station before. In the end, she said it was a well-done project, and the marks he received brought Jenne and Hamis level on points. Either of them could end up as a Gaverian now.

  These were the little things that should make him happy. If not for that, he would have nothing else to celebrate. After finding out Hamis had been distracted by a cosplay gathering during the assignment, Ms Class dismissed the class, and Jenne found himself lacking. Usually, he was onto the next thing, but today he wanted to do something he personally wanted. He couldn’t always learn and train, right?

  Jenne took out his phone and checked his texts. He had two contacts: Malory and Ashey. Malory had stopped texting him in June, and Ashey had sent messages he’d forgotten were there. He decided he would be a good friend starting now. He waited until Ashey’s school closed before calling her. She chirped when she picked up the phone and said she hadn’t left school yet. She asked him to come pick her up. They were nearly done with the day, and it would mean the world to her if he came. Her exact words were: “Hurry, hurry, hurry.”

  He arrived at her school just as the closing bell rang. A wave of white shirts and navy-blue trousers and skirts flooded through the gates. Students stormed the streets, some walking in groups of five or ten, some on bicycles, others lingering on the sidewalks. In no time, big black cars pulled up, and some students boarded them. Imagine not walking anywhere.

  The one thing Jenne would not do was cross over to the other side of the road, where the pupils of Glen Jacobs would notice him. “Aster!” a familiar voice called. Coming right out of the gate was a lanky boy with two friends locked in his armpits. He waved at Jenne. “Sira, Aster!”

  Don Roy. Pained, Jenne lifted a hand and said, “Fe.” That was all it took for those walking home to turn and look at the loner on the sidewalk. Friends whispered into each other’s ears. There was a stir.

  In no time at all, boys and girls from Glen Jacobs came across from every direction. He wanted to dig a hole and hide inside.

  “Is it him?” someone asked. They held hands as if to confirm he was the one they’d seen all over Henrik City. The closer they got, the less scary it became. They didn’t jump on him and tear him to pieces. Instead, they formed a sacred ring around him, where no one got too close.

  There were books, pens, and cameras on hand. Don Roy broke through the crowd and planted his arm around Jenne’s neck.

  “Aster didn’t come here for you. We would like some privacy, if you don’t mind.”

  “No way you know him,” one of the girls at the front said. “You weren’t fooling around this morning.”

  Don Roy scoffed. “I told you, I’m his driver.”

  “Don, get him to sign for me!”

  “Here’s mine!”

  Oddly, they were getting giddy again, but not towards Jenne. He’d become invisible to them, despite being the reason they came.

  “Um, Jenne Aster, hi…” said a girl about Jenne’s age, but smaller in stature. She hugged her notebook tight. Behind her, three other girls, each nervous, followed. “We didn’t think you were real. I mean, you’re too good to be true. But, um, thank you for everything. You’re an inspiration for people like us.”

  “But what did I do?” asked Jenne.

  “Please sign for us.” The girl stretched out her notebook to him.

  “And these too.” The others placed their notebooks on top of the first.

  “Are you really friends with Don Roy?” the girl who had doubted him asked, right near Don Roy’s ear.

  “Of course I am,” said Don Roy. “Would I be able to do this if we weren’t friends?” He forced an arm around Jenne again and pointed his phone at their faces. Don Roy stuck his tongue out and snapped a picture. “Who wants to take one with Aster?”

  Everyone’s phone was out, and Jenne was pulled in a million directions. He grinned as wide as he could, enjoying himself more than he expected. En Gesa had prepared him for situations like this, to be fair.

  When two lips kissed him on both cheeks, his eyes flickered. The surprise only excited them more.

  “Can you try some spells for us?” one of the girls who had pegged him asked. Many supported her. He wanted to refuse, but they were closing in, pressuring him to agree.

  “Excuse me. Out of my way! Move!” The cheers were cut short when Ashey shoved boys aside. The closer she got to Jenne, the further the girls stepped back. She stood beside him, fists planted firmly on her hips, a serious look on her face.

  “Well, what are you staring at?”

  “We took some pictures, that’s all,” one girl said.

  “Have you seen your faces?” Ashey snorted. “I would apologise to Jenne if I were you.”

  “You’re just jealous because you said he’d want nothing to do with us.”

  “He doesn’t. I called him here. Why would he ever hang out with a low-life like you?”

  “Okay, Ashey, we get it,” laughed Don Roy. “You don’t want us stealing your boyfriend. He’s all yours.”

  She flipped back to Jenne, glowing. “Where do you want to take me, Sweetie?” she said, taking his hand in hers. “Just name the place, and we’re there.”

  “It’s pretty warm today,” said Don Roy. “How about you both go get some ice cream?”

  “That’s not a bad idea, and it’s not very far—oh, no, no, no. Nice try, but we’re not going on a date in front of you guys.”

  Jenne eyed the setting sun from the corner of his eye. “You sound pretty excited about this ice-cream place,” he said. “Who cares if everyone is watching us? People do that wherever we go anyway.”

  “Fine,” she groaned. “As long as these idiots don’t ruin it for us, I’m fine.” Ashey could not hear the sniggering behind her. They were bound to follow. At least the boys would. Most of the girls were put off by Ashey and had gone home.

  After a short turn, they arrived at an opening very much like the one he’d visited that morning. The space was smaller here and surrounded by shops. One was a restaurant, where a man in a white shirt and black apron swooshed a large pan from left to right. He tossed the rice he was cooking, then grabbed a bottle of sauce, sprinkling it over the rice. Curry tickled Jenne’s nose, coming from another restaurant on the second floor of a nearby building. Waiters served plates from balconies.

  “What is this place?”

  “Little Soden,” Ashey said. “I know. It’s embarrassing. We shouldn’t have come here. I mean, who takes their friend out for ice cream?”

  “I like it.”

  “You do?”

  Little Soden had a fountain in the middle of the square. Water sprinkled from seven different nozzles into a deep basin. In the centre stood a grey statue of a weeping woman. Beyond that, Jenne gasped at the trailer parked in one corner of the square. The paint job was off Jacqolin, but Jenne was too happy to care. He hurried to join the queue.

  It turned out the man sold more than just ice cream. He had lots of other snacks too. The ice-cream man had that white, crunchy thing people eat at the movies. And he had milk in different colours! Of course, Jenne pretended he knew what all those things were. He didn’t want to embarrass Ashey.

  She didn’t buy ice cream after all. They got plastic cups with juice and ice.

  “Now, let’s find somewhere nice and quiet—God, I knew it,” she sighed when she saw the boys converging towards them. Don Roy led the way, hands in his pockets, shrugging as he walked past Ashey and Jenne to the ice-cream stand.

  “Let’s get out of here,” said Ashey, grabbing Jenne by the arm and leaving.

  “Have you ever had grilled beef, Aster?” asked Don Roy.

  “You have that here?” Jenne asked.

  “Sure we do,” Don Roy chuckled. “Do you want some? You can’t leave Little Soden without trying it.”

  “I miss it so much.”

  “You had that in the south?”

  “Not every day,” said Jenne. “My mouth is watering though.”

  “Jenne,” Ashey called. “Let’s go.”

  “I should visit here sometime,” said Jenne, trailing behind. “I’ve been to Dormitia, but this place tops it.”

  “Dormitia’s got nothing on us, I swear,” Don Roy said. “We have water slides here.”

  Jenne giggled.

  “Hey, Aster,” Don Roy’s friend called. “Ever had one of these?” He tossed a long, red strip Jenne’s way. He pulled away from Ashey and caught it before it dropped to the ground. It was sticky and smelled like candy.

  “What is it?” Jenne asked.

  “You won’t know until you taste it,” he said. Jenne took a bite and his eyes flashed again. He smiled so wide his teeth showed. The boys laughed, nudging each other.

  “You like that?”

  “Mmm,” he mumbled, taking another bite. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  “Uh, Jenne,” Don Roy said, stripped of amusement. Jenne’s senses heightened. He looked behind him. Ashey wasn’t there. His eyes scanned the street until he found her marching towards the fountain.

  “Are you going to get her?”

  “What is she doing?”

  Don Roy sighed. “I have no idea.”

  Everyone in the area stopped what they were doing. Waiters, customers, cooks, and sellers all stepped onto the sidewalk, as if struck by the same spell, waiting to see what Ashey would do. With the same energy she’d strolled with, she climbed the basin, knees muddy, then stood tall, opened her arms, and threw herself into the fountain.

  Silence. That was their response. He could not see her from where he stood. It was as if she were not there at all. He made a move, but Don Roy held him back.

  “Don’t give her what she wants,” he said. Ashey seemed like the kind of person who would drown to death if she saw it as a win. A dreadful minute passed, and she hadn’t surfaced. Jenne dropped everything and cut across space. With all eyes on him, he reached the basin and found Ashey resting beneath the surface, a sour corpse.

  He grabbed her by her shirt and pulled her out. Thumping on her chest, she coughed. As the fit subsided, the crowd returned to their business, some shaking their heads in disgust. Jenne trembled, unsure whether it was the evening cold or something else.

  Ashey, dripping wet, sat in the basin and stared blankly at Jenne. He picked up another scent that drew his attention to her. Fountain water mingled with blood. Ashey’s blood.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked. “Should we call for help?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I hit my head, but I’m fine now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She smiled faintly. “I’m an ascender like you. I heal pretty quickly.” She turned to face him and spread her hair out. Her blood, mixed with water, stained the spot where her head struck the statue. “See? No wound. It’s always been this way.” Her shoulders jumped as she crossed her legs, shivering from the cold.

  Nightlights surrounded them. Soon, the church bells would ring for the Sacred Day rituals to begin. They had to leave. Jenne had no urge to do so until he asked the question that bothered him most.

  “Why would you do this?”

  Her shoulders jumped. “I wanted to distract myself,” she said. “I couldn’t watch them steal you away from me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s okay, I get it now. It’s always the same.” She hopped off the basin and walked around the fountain. “I’m not going to stop you if you don’t want to hang out with me anymore.”

  “Ashey,” he said, going after her. He trembled harder, unsure exactly what he was feeling. Ashey had been excited before he arrived, and he had taken her for granted again. She had hurt herself because of how poorly he treated her. “I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll never stop being your friend.”

  She stopped walking for a moment. Fright gripped Jenne. Had it not been for now, he would never have known how much Ashey meant to him. Despite the chilling winds, he climbed into the basin and doused himself in the fountain. He splashed about in the water, shooting up and gasping for air.

  Ashey gaped at him, her hand covering her mouth.

  “See, now we’re even,” said Jenne. “Whatever you’re going through, I’m going to be there, okay?”

  She giggled, then laughed from deep in her belly. He climbed out of the water, boots squelching. They walked together, their backs to the church bell chimes. Ashey broke the silence. “Thank you,” she said.

  When the church bells rang, Jenne’s head throbbed, pained by the stunt he’d pulled. He felt something—but it was not gratitude.