The sun's heat hadn't yet settled over our heads. The morning air carried the dampness of dew still covering the training field's grass, and the shadows stretched long under the pale light of dawn.

  "I was tired of staying still for so long," I said, stretching my arms above my head and feeling my shoulder muscles protest softly with the movement.

  Katia, beside me, tilted her head, her lavender eyes examining my bandaged shoulder under the uniform with a concern I already knew well.

  "Is the injury really okay?"

  "Yes."

  "Mio, it's only been five days."

  "The doctor was also impressed with the speed of my recovery."

  Katia sighed, a long, exaggerated sound that seemed to carry the full weight of her disagreement.

  "I don't agree with this," she murmured, but soon her shoulders relaxed into resigned surrender. "But if you say you're okay... then you're okay"

  It was more a question than a statement, as if she needed confirmation to convince herself.

  I tested the weight of the wooden sword in my hand, rotating my wrist in slow circular movements. The wood was smooth, well-crafted, an almost comical contrast to the real blade I used to materialize.

  "There won't be a problem," I assured, letting the sword cut through the air in a short thrust. "How long is the reservation for this space?"

  "One hour."

  "That's quite short," I tested a wider spin with the sword. "How long has it been since we last did this?"

  "There's competition for the training fields, especially this early. Everyone wants to enjoy the cool before classes," she explained, her lavender eyes wandering over the empty lawn around us. Then, she frowned in concentration. "Last time... I think it was two weeks before the entrance exam."

  Two weeks. — The thought echoed silently. — In two weeks, things have changed a lot.

  Katia rested the sword on her shoulder in a casual gesture, but her eyes already sparkled with that competitive gleam I knew well.

  "So? What's the score?"

  I thought for a moment, mentally revisiting each training session, each combat, each victory and defeat recorded in memory with the automatic precision of someone accustomed to cataloging information.

  "I believe it's 24 to 8."

  Katia threw her head to the heavens as if pleading for something. The training sword that was stuck in the ground returned to her hand with an enviable familiarity.

  "15 wins to a tie, then." — Her tone of voice bathed in determination.

  15? Wouldn't it be 16? — "You know there's no need to care so much about that," I said, a habitual offer I knew was useless.

  "Yes, there is," she retorted immediately, her lavender eyes fixed on me with an intensity that belied the lightness of the moment. "It's frustrating to lose to someone who started training less time ago than me."

  "Fair point, but you know I only won because I was in an advantageous situation, besides it wasn't easy at all."

  "Advantage, huh?" — Katia tilted her head, processing the statement. — "I don't care about that." — A challenging smile appeared on her expression. — "Same as always?"

  She says that, but in the eight times I lost, I couldn't ever touch her. — My hands were already firm on the sword's hilt. — "Same as always!"

  Before Katia's ice coin could hit the ground, the last words hit the air.

  "One more thing: It'll be 17 wins until you catch up; you're not getting this one."

  Katia's smile widened, a dangerous gleam in her lavender eyes. We both adjusted our posture at the same instant — feet firm on the damp grass, swords forward, the fresh morning air suddenly charged with tension.

  She moved first.

  “Frontal attack aiming for the abdomen, small ice spheres aiming for the face.”

  Katia closed the distance quickly, followed by the horizontal swing of the sword targeting my ribs. In the same flow of movement, small ice balls were already forming around her free hand, thrown in my direction with surgical precision — all aiming for the forehead.

  The sword met hers midway, blade against blade resulting in an echo across the empty field. Before Katia could exploit the opening, my forearm was already pressing against my own blade, using the force of the contact to tilt the sword at a calculated angle, causing the sword's hilt to intercept one of the ice balls.

  While the swords remained locked in the clash, my body weight was thrown to the left side, a sudden transfer that displaced Katia's balance before she could react.

  The body movement transformed into a diagonal attack as Katia recovered; she brought her blade to meet the strike, which pushed her two meters backward.

  "This opportunity can't pass." — Some options unfolded in my thoughts. — "If I attack directly, she'll block; magic fragments hit my back. If I go forward and don't attack, she'll overwhelm me with attacks."

  I advanced before Katia could fully recompose herself, the tip of my sword dragging against the ground in a harsh sound of wood on grass.

  She adjusted her posture in a quick movement, her lavender eyes fixed on the trajectory of my blade. — "She's expecting an upward attack."

  As soon as I covered enough distance, I attacked. The sword rose in a precise arc and met empty air half a meter from her body. There, tiny and newly formed, an ice ball was beginning to crystallize — the beginning of the next attack she was already preparing.

  The thrust came fast, direct, exploiting what she imagined to be my maximum reach after the attack. My sword was already in motion — a wrist spin, the base of the blade meeting hers at the exact angle to parry the thrust.

  Her right foot dragged on the ground, closing the distance even further, the movement already announcing the intention — an ice spell on the ground, created close to my feet to unbalance me.

  A slight change in the position of my right foot was enough to prevent the spell from forming. Katia's moment of disbelief was enough for me, in the same movement, to strike her heel.

  She didn't fall completely, but the opening granted me victory. The wooden blade against her neck signaled the end of that duel.

  "I lost," the word came out between breaths. "You're impossible. Wasn't your mana detection terrible? Did you bet that I was going to conjure a spell on your leg?"

  "Almost a bet," I said, adjusting my posture. "If I had been wrong, I would have lost right there."

  She sighed, a long sound that seemed to carry all the exhaustion of the combat. "So, what do you think?"

  "Honestly, I don't know. I can't put myself in your place. All I can say is that if you had landed the final attack, you would have won."

  The wind hit the field hard, sweeping away the last traces of dew from the grass and making the leaves of nearby trees whisper in protest.

  Katia sat on the ground without ceremony, her lavender eyes fixed on the horizon. Her expression was distant, processing the sequence of the combat, and perhaps her own limitations.

  I looked at the sky. The sun was already partially visible, a golden slice over the treetops.

  "Maybe it's time to tell her..." — I took a step forward and tried to call her name, only to be interrupted by a constant sound beating through the air.

  "It was incredible to watch that." — The voice in the background became reality.

  Varis was approaching, her hands joined in slow, sarcastic clapping. Her smile was wide, the kind of expression that could mean genuine pride or devastating criticism.

  "Professor Varis," — The title came in unison from our side. — "What is she doing here?"

  "Do you always train like this?" — Varis stopped in front of us.

  "Yes," Katia replied, adjusting her uniform. "Why?"

  Varis slid her gaze to me for a moment — brief, but laden with something I couldn't identify. Then she turned back to Katia.

  "And do you think you could have won?"

  Katia snorted, crossing her arms. "No. It's impossible to catch Mio by surprise."

  Varis's eyebrow rose slightly. She turned her face in my direction. "Mio. Could Katia have won?"

  "Yes."

  "I see," she continued, approaching with languid steps. "Let me give you some advice, Katia. You need to prepare multiple lines of attack. Not just one or two."

  She then turned her body toward me. The smile remained, but there was something different in her eyes now — an evaluating gleam, almost clinical.

  "Mio. How many openings do you see to attack me right now?"

  The question hung in the air. I assessed her posture — apparently relaxed, arms still crossed, weight distributed equally between both feet. The angle of her shoulders, the position of her hands, the distance between us.

  "Several attack possibilities," I replied.

  Varis's smile widened.

  Six flames appeared around her, materializing from nothing like small fire flowers suspended in the air. They floated in an irregular circle, some near her shoulders, others at waist height, one hovering close to the ground behind her heel. Varis maintained exactly the same posture, arms still crossed, weight still equally distributed.

  "And now?" she repeated the question.

  “I understood. Even motionless, Varis multiplied the variables I would need to consider before any movement.”

  "Katia, you don't need to surprise Mio. Sometimes, the threat of an ability is more effective than its actual use. But of course, that only works specifically in this situation; maintaining multiple active spells while fighting increases the complexity of the situation exponentially."

  Varis checked her pocket watch in a quick gesture. "Well, my role as morning mentor is fulfilled. Don't be late for class."

  I looked at Katia and saw that her eyes were sparkling. "It's over..." The sentence came out without me wanting it to.

  Katia was already moving, picking up the training sword from the ground with a speed that defied the exhaustion of the previous combat.

  "One more round," she announced, her voice tinged with renewed determination.

  "Alright, but I won't let you win with freshly learned tactics."

  The sun continued its slow ascent over the treetops. The grass still held the freshness of the morning. We trained until nearly seven.

  The stones of the main path were beginning to reflect the morning heat, and the Academy corridors were already filling with the familiar buzz of students heading to their first class.

  Katia walked beside me with slumped shoulders and an expression I had learned to recognize over the past months: She was pouting.

  "Next time," she murmured, eyes fixed on the ground ahead. "You could agree to train in an environment favorable to me."

  "Next week," I replied with a neutral tone. "It'll be good to vary the challenge."

  She turned her face toward me with suspicion. "Was that a promise or just a 'yes' to shut me up?"

  "Both? Maybe?"

  The corridors opened into the classroom entrance. The buzz of conversations filled the space, groups forming and disbanding as students took their seats.

  As soon as we entered, we spotted a group of students. Lira was among them; when our eyes met, she gave a brief nod in my direction.

  Elian passed by our desk on his way to his seat, an easy smile on his face. "Good morning, snow girl."

  Hadrian came right behind, his gray eyes meeting mine for an instant, presenting a nod of the head. I reciprocated with the same movement.

  When did he hear Varis call me snow girl? Well, things are finally getting back to normal.

  The thought came accompanied by a strange feeling — relief mixed with something I couldn't name. The pieces were fitting together, relationships stabilizing. After everything that had happened, routine had its own kind of comfort.

  Varis entered with quick steps, her scarlet hair vibrant under the room's light, a stack of papers balanced in one hand. The buzz of conversations died instantly, replaced by the sound of desks being adjusted and students settling into their places.

  Varis deposited the papers on the desk and turned to the class, a wide morning smile on her face. "Good morning, class. How is everyone?"

  The room protested positively, each in their own tone and volume.

  "How wonderful. Everyone is so willing... maybe it's time to increase the week's practical activities."

  A wave of discouragement swept through the room like a cold wind. Bodies slumped, expressions fell, muffled groans echoed from the back rows.

  "Joke. It's a joke." — A surrender on Varis's part. — "But not completely; today you'll have a special practical test."

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  A student in the front row raised his hand even before Varis finished the sentence.

  "What's the test about?"

  "It'll be a physical test on reaction time. Nothing complex or requiring worry," she made a dramatic pause — "but it's scheduled for the last class. So it's good for you to be aware."

  Katia let out a poorly disguised yawn, her hand covering her mouth in a belated gesture of etiquette.

  "I've had enough physical tests for today," she murmured, her tone laden with the exhaustion of an entire morning of training.

  "This test is my last concern," the voice came out low so as not to carry beyond our row. "If there's a test on history, then I'd be completely lost."

  "Want help studying later?"

  "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

  Varis filled the following hours with explanations about geography and commerce — land routes connecting Fontana to neighboring kingdoms, products crossing borders, economic treaties dating back centuries. Her voice filled the room in a constant flow, interrupted only by occasional questions and the scraping of chalk on the board.

  Page after page, I filled the notebook with notes — city names, goods, trade agreements, everything recorded with a redoubled care that Katia noticed beside me but kindly chose not to comment on.

  The unforgiving clock hand kept advancing; each minute seemed to have half the original time. The clock continued until it reached the last class.

  I stood up quickly, the abrupt movement making the desk screech against the floor. Katia raised an eyebrow, her lavender eyes examining my expression.

  "In a hurry? And that serious face?"

  "I don't want to be prevented from leaving the room again," — the urgency in my voice was absolute.

  Before Katia could respond, Elian appeared beside the desk, Hadrian right behind with his hands in his pockets.

  "When did that happen?" Elian asked, curiosity stamped on his face.

  "Yesterday," — No hesitation in my voice.

  Katia crossed her arms, a lazy smile curving her lips. "Mio is a star. It's normal for people to want to be around her."

  She turned to me as soon as she finished the sentence, averting her gaze the moment she saw my expression.

  "It's a joke... Jokes," she corrected herself automatically, the speed of the correction almost comical. "I won't repeat that again."

  Hadrian laughed, a low, surprised sound. "If people found out the ice princess is like this, they wouldn't be afraid to talk to her."

  "I agree," Elian protested. "Lira needs to see this."

  Ice Princess? — My eyes moved sideways, looking for the figure to which the nickname could belong. A princess? Where?

  I noticed that everyone was staring at me. — "Is there time to go back to 'snow girl'?"

  "Since we're here, why don't we go together?" — Elian stepped forward, extending the invitation.

  Katia and I agreed, and we began moving out of the room. Thanks to Elian or my unwanted fame, I managed to leave without further interruptions. Elian was the first to speak as the corridor windows fell behind.

  "About today's class, which region would you like to visit?" — The tone is completely without pretense.

  Hadrian's countenance turned thoughtful. "I'd go more north. The culture of the ice tribes seems interesting."

  Hadrian seems to know about the north; testing the question mentally doesn't give me the complete answer.

  "Tribes?" — The question escaped before I could filter it. — "Aren't they unified peoples?"

  "Some regions of the north don't agree with the current regent. They maintain their own customs."

  Why don't they agree? — The thought came accompanied by another question I couldn't hold back. — "Didn't she defeat the monster that plagued the region?"

  Hadrian snorted, a humorless sound.

  "She defeated it. But some people venerated the creature as a deity. Not caring about the destruction it caused."

  “That makes sense, in part. I mean why do people venerate a monster like a deity? Perhaps defeating it wasn't the right choice? The book says this brought peace to the people; maybe there's more to it than that.”

  "And you, Mio? Where would you go?" Elian asked.

  My gaze met Katia's without planning. The words came out in unison, as if we had rehearsed.

  "Dorieris."

  "The land of words," Katia completed, a brief smile touching her lips.

  "Why Dorieris?" Elian asked, genuine curiosity stamped on his face.

  Katia answered before I could say anything. "Mio wants to see the frozen thunderbolts."

  Elian frowned. "Frozen thunderbolts? What's that?"

  "Once I read in a book," I began, organizing the memory of that specific passage, "that in the province of Dorieris there's an island where thunderbolts are frozen in the sky permanently."

  Hadrian whistled low. "That sounds like a legend."

  "Yes, but the book was a travelogue, not a tale," I replied. "The author claimed to have seen it with his own eyes."

  Elian nodded slowly, processing the information.

  "Interesting." — He tilted his head, a slight smile on his lips. — "Since you like these stories, Mio, can you explain the events in the sky over Fontana's Port?"

  "No. To be honest I have no idea what you're talking about."

  Katia stopped walking for an instant. "Wait. You don't know about the Port's sky?"

  "No," I repeated, now genuinely curious. "What is it about?"

  Elian resumed walking, his hands clasped behind his neck in a relaxed gesture.

  "The coloration of the sky at the Port is different. It's not the common blue we see in the rest of Fontana. It's a deeper shade, almost violet at certain times of day."

  My feet simply locked on the corridor floor, as if my brain had sent an emergency command to my body: Full attention required.

  The other three also stopped, in an almost comical reflex.

  Hadrian tilted his head, his gray eyes examining my face with clinical attention. "She has stars in her eyes," he observed, his tone laden with dry amusement.

  Elian agreed, crossing his arms.

  "Yes. Stars. Several."

  "It's the first time I've seen it happen in person," Hadrian continued, as if documenting a rare phenomenon. "They say that's how ancient academics described moments of discovery."

  Katia sighed, a long, resigned sound. She approached and waved her hand in front of my face, as if testing whether I was still conscious.

  "Mio. Pull yourself together. Curiosity is leaking from your brain."

  I wanted to ask about the Port and the violet sky, but before any sound could come out, my gaze caught the name on the door in front of me.

  Practical Testing Gymnasium. — "Tch..." — At least I can look for that later.

  My eyes ran along the line of students stretching before the door, a slow serpent of uniforms and anxious murmurs. Some stretched their arms, others closed their eyes in silent concentration. The buzz was low, contained — the kind of nervous quiet that precedes any practical test.

  What a cold room. — The sensation found me before I could enter the room.

  The line diminished. My left wrist found my right hand in an automatic grip, my fingers pressing against my skin in a gesture my body knew well.

  I passed into the room without looking anywhere. Behind me, Elian's voice broke the corridor's silence in a formal tone I rarely heard from him, directed at the man beside the door inside the gymnasium.

  "Good morning, Secretary Veyr."

  The door closed with a soft click behind the last student.

  Varis was in the center of the gymnasium, arms crossed, her gaze sweeping over the now-assembled class. Beside her, motionless as an ice statue, the indigo-haired man remained with his hands clasped in front of him.

  "Good," Varis began, her voice echoing slightly in the wide space. "Before we start, I want to introduce someone. This is Secretary Veyr, from Vice-Director Selene's office. He'll be here today to supervise your test."

  Veyr stepped forward. His movement was precise, economical, as if every gesture had been calculated before execution.

  "Good morning, everyone," he greeted, his voice as cold as his appearance suggested. "I apologize for the abrupt interruption in the usual teaching activities."

  He paused, his clear eyes sweeping over the class with a slowness that seemed to evaluate each face individually.

  "Today's test will relate to reaction times and defense. The school is measuring each student's individual reaction time for better delegation of future tasks." — Another pause, shorter. — "The test will be done individually. I inform you now that the total time may exceed the normal class hours."

  "Due to this," Veyr continued, his voice maintaining the same icy cadence, "we will start instantly. The order will be alphabetical."

  A murmur ran through the class. Some students straightened their posture, others exchanged nervous glances.

  Katia leaned toward me, her voice reduced to a thread.

  "Why are you so tense? This is your specialty."

  "Something is wrong," I replied, my tone low enough not to carry.

  Elian, close enough to hear, frowned.

  Katia insisted: "What exactly is wrong?"

  I tilted my head, close enough to whisper something. Katia kept her profile neutral, according to the request.

  "Alright, but you're going to explain this to me later," she concluded.

  "The test will be simple in concept," he explained, his clear eyes sweeping over the class. "Small spheres will be projected toward you at different speeds, sizes, and angles. The objective is to dodge or stop these spheres at the right moment. Neither before nor after. The precision of the reaction time will be measured."

  He paused, allowing the information to be absorbed.

  "Without further delay, we will begin in alphabetical order."

  An assistant beside Veyr raised a clipboard and began reading: "Arturo Amadeo."

  The first student stepped forward, shoulders tense, walking toward the center of the gymnasium where a circle was marked on the floor.

  The list continued, each name called at a steady rhythm filling the room's silence:

  "Chiara Cecita, Dennar Stuart, Elian Steeloo." Elian passed by me with a brief nod, his face concentrated, and took his place in the test area.

  "Hadrian Valeri, Katia Icehart." Katia squeezed my arm before moving away, a quick gesture of farewell and encouragement.

  "Lira Esmsa, Mattia Lorenzo..."

  And then, after a pause that seemed longer than it really was:

  "Mio Al Phoenicis."

  The cold air of the gymnasium filled my lungs, and I began descending the stairs toward the test circle. Passing Katia, neither of us exchanged glances; I remained focused on the test circle while Katia looked in the opposite direction.

  I reached the center of the circle. The white paint marked an invisible boundary, but I felt its weight as if it were a physical barrier.

  The assistant beside Veyr raised the clipboard.

  "Miss Phoenicis, do you understand the test and are you ready to begin?"

  Deliberately lowering my performance now could raise more suspicion. I'll take the test normally.

  "Yes."

  "Right," the assistant concluded. "Prepare yourself; the test will begin as soon as I indicate."

  Before the whistle sounded. Before the sharp sound cut through the gymnasium's silence, and the world around me expanded into possibilities.

  *First sphere: position at 10 o'clock, height approximately five meters, descending at a 120-degree angle. Clear trajectory — aiming for the left ear. Second sphere: three o'clock. Straight movement, chest height.*

  The impacts against the wall and the floor in the background were two dry sounds, almost simultaneous.

  Eight o'clock, zero degrees to one-twenty. Ascending trajectory, aiming for the right knee — adjustment to catch the supporting leg during a lateral dodge. Three o'clock, ninety degrees. Horizontal, straight to the abdomen. Five o'clock, forty-five degrees. Low diagonal, aiming for the left ankle...

  The stopwatch marking the test continued counting down. Seconds turned into minutes, and nothing had changed. None of the spheres had touched my body, my uniform, not even a strand of hair. The ground around was dotted with small marks where projectiles impacted after missing their target.

  I'm doing well, I thought, dodging another sequence — two simultaneous spheres, one high and one low, crossed angles. So far, nothing has happened. The test is more difficult compared to the other students', but nothing impossible. Maybe I should let myself get hit?

  My feet met the ground after a jump that avoided a low trajectory.

  Maybe I'm worrying for nothing. — The thought came accompanied by an almost-calmness, a loosening of the tension I'd carried since stepping into the gymnasium. But the gaze of the man watching from above continued to bother me.

  Ten seconds until the end of the test.

  Nine o'clock, thirty degrees. Low, aiming for the right heel. Seven o'clock, one-fifty degrees. Descending, left shoulder.

  Eight seconds until the end of the test.

  Four o'clock, zero degrees. Straight, abdomen. Eleven o'clock, forty-five degrees. Diagonal, neck. — I rotated my hip, moved my head away from the trajectory.

  Seven seconds until the end of the test.

  Six seconds. Two o'clock, one-thirty-five degrees. Descending curve, right knee. Ten o'clock, ninety degrees. Horizontal, ribs.

  Six seconds until the end of the test.

  Six o'clock, zero degrees. Low, left ankle. One o'clock, one-eighty degrees. Vertical descending, top of the head.

  Six seconds until the end of the test.

  Two spheres in quick sequence: eleven o'clock, ninety degrees — face; one o'clock, one-twenty degrees — collarbone.

  As soon as the real stopwatch hit five seconds remaining, in my head only one second was left.

  The flow of trajectories had ceased. The spheres stopped coming. The silence that settled was different from the previous silence — it was the silence of the end, not of waiting.

  The air fled from my lungs in a forced way. A relief that began to loosen my muscles, to allow the tension accumulated in my shoulders to finally yield.

  It's over...

  Until a thousandth of a second later, my vision and senses darkened. The gymnasium, Katia, Elian, Veyr, all had disappeared. The cold air of the room became a null sensation, the smell of cold water that accompanied the whole school followed the same path. I knew very well what that sensation indicated.

  A fatal attack? But where? Arms, legs, shoulders, abdomen, back... No — none of those places was an immediately fatal point. It would take too long to bleed, too long for vision to darken before impact.

  If it's a fatal attack, it can only be in two places: Head or heart.

  My consciousness returned to the real world in the same instant my body was already in motion. The remaining spheres were still cutting through the air — remnants from the last seconds of the test, trajectories my brain processed in parallel while the rest of me dealt with the invisible threat.

  I dodged one. Then another.

  The dagger materialized in my right hand before I needed to think about summoning it.

  I spun my body in a fluid movement, the blade cutting through the empty air behind me.

  The sound was almost imperceptible — a delicate crystal, like a thin twig snapping. An ice needle, almost invisible, shattered into fragments that fell harmlessly to the floor.

  It was behind me. The whole time.

  My eyes followed the trajectory of the fragments, and for an instant — a single instant — I captured an image in the corner of my vision.

  An insect constructed from ice, tiny, disappearing into the ground as if the earth had swallowed it. Leaving no traces.

  The final whistle sounded, signaling the end of the test.

  My gaze naturally turned to the upper part of the testing hall. Impassive. Immobile. The clear eyes fixed on some point below, the face a mask that offered nothing — neither approval, nor disapproval, nor even recognition that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

  The pen in his hand moved. A brief notation in his notebook. Then nothing.

  The assistant approached, the clipboard still in hand, the usual professional tone.

  "Miss Phoenicis, the test is concluded. Since there are no more classes planned for the day, you are dismissed."

  Katia was the first to meet me. She was near the door, her eyes fixed on me with an intensity I knew well. When our gazes crossed, something changed in her expression — surprise, perhaps, or something close to it. But she didn't say a word.

  We walked out of the gymnasium in silence, our steps echoing in unison in the empty corridor. The windows let in the afternoon light, but I barely registered it.

  As soon as the gymnasium door was behind us, Katia broke the silence:

  "Whe..."

  "My room." — The answer came even before she completely finished the question.

  The door to Mio's room closed with the same intensity as the gymnasium's — a dry, definitive click that sealed the outside world away. The bed received me in a cold embrace while the ceiling seemed less white than normal.

  Katia said nothing. She sat in the chair by the desk, her body leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees. The clock ticked about twenty times before any word was spoken.

  "Sorry." — The first word spoken, now sitting on the bed. — "I've been lying to you for a long time."

  Katia said nothing. She just adjusted her expression.

  "Every time you questioned why I made some decision," I continued, my voice coming out lower than I intended, "I wasn't being completely honest. You asked me how I knew which was the most logical option or how I weighed those decisions."

  "The truth is, I can see the future."

  Katia tilted her head, a finger touching her own cheek in a gesture I already knew well.

  "I'm not following."

  I looked down for a moment. The room floor, my own hands, the fabric of my pants — anything that wasn't her eyes. Then I lifted my gaze again.

  "Remember some moments. The wolf attack in the village. The fight with Bela. This morning's training. All the training we've had since we met. Don't you think it's strange that I always seemed to be a few moments ahead?"

  Katia frowned, processing. Her eyes moved as if she were revisiting each scene in memory.

  "It is strange," she admitted, her voice slower now. "The way you behave. You always seem to know what's going to happen before it actually happens. But..."

  "But that by itself doesn't justify your actions. I mean, it's kind of impossible for someone to see the future," I interrupted, the words coming out in a flow I couldn't control.

  Katia's eyes stared at me because those were exactly the words she was going to say.

  "Are you..."

  "Are you joking?" — Another interruption. Katia wasn't the first person to say those words to me. There was no alternative but to make clear what was happening.

  I saw Katia's fingers intertwine near her face. Visibly trembling, the silence that the revealed secret brought was more frightening than any dark future.