POV: Greg

  The city emerged from the haze abruptly. Although "city" is too strong a word. It was one gigantic military port, around which residential shacks and warehouses clung to the rocks like weeds. It didn't smell of flowers here. It smelled of rust, tar, and stale burning. They were building ships everywhere—massive skeletons of wood and steel blocked the horizon.

  The cat on my shoulder had completely lost his conscience. Every now and then, he tried to leap into the crowd, aiming for the fish stalls.

  "Sit still, furball," I grumbled, holding him by the scruff. "Fish is all bones. Solid bones. I hate food that takes longer to pick through than to chew."

  "Is fish not tasty?" Aurora asked, looking around the bustle.

  "It is tasty. But dangerous. A bone in the throat is not the kind of hassle I want to experience in this cycle."

  We walked further until someone's heavy paw gripped my shoulder.

  "Hey, kid!" a brute in a worn uniform growled. "What kind of mangy monster is that on your shoulder? Hauling it for a roast?"

  I tried to shake his hand off, but he only tightened his grip, his fingers digging into my muscles. Something hot and dark began to stir inside me, as it usually did. Rage rose to the very top of my throat.

  The brute suddenly yanked his hand back with a shout. He looked at his palm as if he had just grabbed a red-hot poker.

  His buddies immediately surrounded us. About ten of them.

  "Hey, blind bat!" one of them, sporting a gap-toothed smirk, pressed the barrel of a musket right against my forehead. "Do you even know what this is?"

  The cold metal touched my skin unpleasantly.

  "Before you is the greatest weapon of humanity!" the dude proclaimed grandly. "One shot, and your brains will decorate this pavement. Pray, freak."

  I looked at him from under the blindfold.

  "If you think this piece of iron is the 'greatest weapon', then humanity has serious problems with imagination."

  I took a step forward, pressing my own forehead into the barrel of the musket.

  "Come on. Do it. Shoot. Let's test your theory."

  The guy got nervous. His finger twitched on the trigger.

  BOOM!

  The roar deafened everyone within a five-meter radius. A deep crack ran down the barrel of the musket, and flame burst from the breech. The recoil threw the man backward; he dropped the weapon, shaking his bruised hands. The bullet... well, it just turned into a flat pancake and fell at my feet.

  In that same second, bolts clicked all around us. Ten more barrels stared at me and Aurora.

  "What kind of tricks are these, boy?! Who are you?!"

  I felt my lips stretch into a grin. I could smell their fear. It was delicious, almost like raspberry pie. The cat on my shoulder arched his back and hissed viciously.

  Aurora calmly walked up and put her hand on my shoulder.

  "Calm down," she said quietly.

  I exhaled. The rage faded, leaving boredom in its wake.

  "Show your eyes!" the patrol captain barked.

  I ripped off the blindfold. The transformation magic worked perfectly: under my eyelids was nothing but a pure, deathly-white void without pupils.

  "We are just travelers," I said as politely as possible (for a guy who just stopped a bullet with his forehead). "Looking for the magic school. We were told it's in this dome."

  The guards exchanged glances.

  "Mages..." the captain spat. "Didn't finish you off in the last century. Fine, go. Let the magisters deal with you themselves."

  We were escorted to a massive domed building made of gray stone. At the knock on the heavy door, a youth came out—he looked about my age, but was dressed in the latest Academy fashion.

  "What do you want?" he started arrogantly, not looking at us.

  "Someone ought to cut your tongue out for such insolence," one of our escorting soldiers grumbled. "You have mages before you. Welcome your guests."

  The gatekeeper kid finally deigned to look us over. His gaze slid over Aurora and lingered on me.

  "The girl may enter," he declared. "But the boy stays outside."

  "Hey!" I protested. "What's with the gender-based privileges?"

  Zenkhald's thoughts: 'Damn. You are too beautiful. If not for these soldiers, I'd think you were a girl in disguise. Or just a very beautiful boy. You... you overshadow my beauty! My beauty must be the only one in this world!'

  He looked at me with undisguised dislike.

  "Because you..." he hesitated.

  I froze, processing this nonsense.

  "Are you serious? You're not letting me in because you're afraid of competition in the 'beauty' department?"

  "You are obligated to accept anyone capable of casting magic!" the guard barked, losing his patience.

  The gatekeeper grimaced in disgust.

  "And what can this 'blind bat' do?"

  I lazily extended my palm. A tiny, almost decorative spark danced on the tip of my finger.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  "A little fire..." I yawned. "Does that count?"

  The youth sighed heavily, fixing his hair.

  "Fine. Come in. But stay in the shadows, don't ruin the view for me."

  I stepped inside, feeling Aurora barely suppressing her laughter next to me. It seemed she thoroughly enjoyed seeing me humiliated by some self-absorbed narcissist.

  'Right,' I thought, adjusting the cat. 'A school of magic. I hope they teach something more useful here.'

  We walked in, and the door slammed shut behind us.

  "The teachers have left and won't return until the day after tomorrow," my guide informed me. "So I'm in charge here."

  At that moment, a light flared under the dome of the room. He opened one of the doors, where kids my age were already sitting.

  "Shorty, what's your name?" he asked.

  "Zenkhald," I replied.

  "This is your group, they're roughly your level."

  I hesitated at the entrance, but he unceremoniously shoved me into the room and closed the door from the outside.

  Inside, there were beds, occupied by about eighteen people. Some were playing on the floor, others had broken into small groups and were chatting. I spotted an empty bed and sat down on it.

  "For a blind guy, you navigate pretty well," a voice called out. "How did you know the bed was empty? And that it was even here?"

  A guy stood before me: a blond with green eyes. His name was Grit.

  "Just used to it," I replied.

  Immediately, the rest of them gathered around me. A hundred questions poured in: what's my name, where am I from, what did I do before?

  "Listen, who is that guy that brought me here?" I interrupted them.

  "You mean Swan?"

  "Why 'Swan'?"

  "We don't know, that's what the teachers call him."

  "Well, probably him. And who is he?"

  "He's the student of the supreme archmage herself."

  "Do you happen to know where he took the girl who was with me?" I asked.

  The guys started smiling. Someone answered that she went to "test her luck". Everything inside me froze, my heart felt like it stopped.

  "What's the big deal?" they wondered. "Are you two close?"

  "No, just..."

  "And what kind of bizarre beast is that on your shoulder?"

  "Oh, this is a ca-a..." I stumbled, wanting to say 'cat' but catching myself in time. "This is a cat."

  "And what's a 'cat'?" they began whispering to each other.

  I took him off my shoulder. The kids mechanically started petting him, picking him up. Someone even managed to stick his tail in their mouth.

  "Hey! You'll squeeze him to death!" I took him back.

  The kitten, however, looked pleased. I placed him next to me.

  "What's his name? What do you call him?"

  "I didn't give him a name," I cut in. "It's a bad habit to name animals."

  "How can that be? He's a pet! You tamed him, he needs a name."

  They started talking over each other, offering their options. I thought for a moment and interrupted them:

  "Let's call him Shish."

  "What? Shish? What does that even mean?"

  "I don't know, it just sounds cool."

  They took the cat again and went off to play with him, while I stayed lying on the bed. Suddenly, the green-eyed kid silently tossed a small ball in my direction. I deftly caught it mid-air.

  "Are you absolutely sure you're blind?" he said.

  "Let's do this," I said. "I'll tell you a secret, and you help me out."

  He thought about it, but nodded:

  "Alright."

  I carefully pulled back the edge of my mask on one side. Underneath was a pure black eye without whites. I immediately covered it back up. Grit opened his mouth in amazement, but quickly pulled himself together.

  "Done, now fulfill the wish," I said. "Take me to wherever Swan took my acquaintance."

  He nodded, and we stood up.

  "How old are you?" Grit asked, looking me over. "You're pretty tall."

  "Fifteen. Well, no, average."

  We headed for the exit. Grit was about the same height as me, maybe half a head shorter. At the threshold, I asked how old he was.

  "Sixteen," he replied.

  We crossed the threshold. Grit quickly looked around, checking the surroundings, and we moved on. He started something like an improvised tour, accompanying it with the bored tone of a guide:

  "Here we have the basic level teenagers," he waved a hand toward one of the doors. "Over there are the little kids. A bit further is the warehouse, and right there is the evening school for adults. Dining hall, library... everything as usual."

  We started climbing to the second floor. Grit grew more serious.

  "And this right here is the intermediate level," he explained.

  We walked down the corridor, and he knocked on one of the massive doors. A girl opened it. Unfamiliar face, but a look as if we already owed her something.

  "Why are you dragging yourself here?" she said, measuring Grit with a contemptuous gaze. "March back to your room, pipsqueak."

  "Hey!" Grit instantly bristled. "There's only a one-year difference between us, actually!"

  "Yeah," she smirked, "but the difference in power is a whole chasm."

  Grit clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. It was obvious he was fighting the urge to talk back, but self-control won out. A familiar wariness flashed in his eyes—he clearly didn't want any unnecessary trouble or drama, so he just exhaled and delivered:

  "There's a new guy here. There was a girl with him, Swan took her. He wants to see her."

  The girl broke into a wide smile, clearly holding back from laughing out loud.

  "Alright, come in, shorty," she nodded to me, and then glared at my guide. "And you, Grit, get out of here."

  He didn't need to be told twice and quickly left. I crossed the threshold of the room and froze. The scene was interesting: right on the floor, unconscious, lay Swan. Apparently, his "test of luck" hadn't ended very well for him.

  A whole crowd had already gathered around Aurora. The kids were bombarding her with questions, and she, it seems, was thoroughly enjoying the attention and was just telling them about our meeting.

  "And here he is!" she exclaimed, noticing me. "This is my little brother!"

  The crowd parted. Some guy walked up to me. He stared unceremoniously right at my blindfold, and then—before I could even blink—leaned in and started sniffing me.

  "Strange," he stated, pulling back. "He doesn't smell like anything at all. No scent whatsoever."

  I measured him with a returning gaze, as much as the blindfold allowed.

  "Kid, how old are you?" he asked.

  "Fifteen," I answered.

  "So, your name is Zenkhald?"

  "Yeah," I confirmed.

  "You two could use a change of clothes," one of the girls noted, looking over our gear. "You look like beggars from the high road."

  "Yeah, except they only let us go shopping with a teacher," someone chimed in from the corner.

  Two girls and one guy headed for the closet to look for something suitable. At that moment, one of the guys sitting on a bed with a book casually flicked his hand. A small fireball flew in my direction—a clear test for the newcomer. I didn't even flinch. With a barely noticeable movement, I adjusted the density of the air, and the ball, licking the void a couple of centimeters from my shoulder, flew into the wall.

  The one who threw the spell immediately jumped up. He was a two-meter-tall "wardrobe," only very skinny and bony. He held out his hand to me:

  "My name is Trioro. Looks like Swan made a mistake assigning you to the beginners."

  I just shrugged, trying to look as detached as possible:

  "No, he did everything right. I'm just average."

  Trioro frowned, clearly not believing me.

  "Don't play the idiot, I saw how you diverted the trajectory." He sat down next to me and spoke quieter, almost in a whisper: "You guys are from those parts, aren't you? I've heard the rumors about how they grow mages there: take them from childhood, pump them full of junk, and throw them right into the inferno. Don't worry, you're safe here."

  I nodded vaguely. Let him think whatever he wants—a cover story like that actually played right into my hands. Trioro returned to his bed, discussing something with the others and periodically glancing at me. At that moment, a folded t-shirt flew at me.

  "Here, take this, Zenkhald. It's from Swan's things," one of the girls said. "The rest of his stuff is too flashy, for festivals, so it's just this for now."

  Aurora was also handed something from the women's wardrobe. I pulled off my rags. A few approving whistles rang out in the room.

  "Whoa, kid, you're cast from iron," someone chuckled. "Not an ounce of extra fat."

  I pulled on the t-shirt. It turned out to be a bit too big for me and hung like a sack, but after my old rags, it was the height of comfort. While I was adjusting my clothes, Aurora, unaccustomed to human etiquette, calmly started undressing right in the middle of the room.

  The girls immediately panicked, surrounded her in a tight ring, and began explaining the rules of decency on the fly. The guys, who had already prepared for an interesting show, sighed in disappointment and flopped back onto their beds.

  "You guys are probably hungry?" one of the female students asked.

  Trioro nodded, looking at me with some kind of pity:

  "One hundred percent they are. Look at the kid—skin and bones. Let's go, it's almost dinner time."

  Aurora nodded in agreement, and we followed them toward the dining hall.