The roar of the beast echoes through the blue sky, its wings tear the wind, and its figure explodes the sound. The dragon's stomach glows incandescent yellow, the chemical reaction rises from the lung to the throat and is thrown into a large fireball. I see the air burn, the sparks fly, the vision distort because of the heat. Processes so fast and small that a man would not even have time to recognize them before being charred. With eyes like mine, that's not a problem.

  Chaos.

  Instinct is described in a word that does not even have time to be thought. Still, absolute, comes to the defense of his king.

  The fireball crashes to the ground in a violent explosion, not of flames or smoke, but of roses. The Dragon circles in the air and accelerates, its body moves like a figure and prepares for an attack. I dive into my shadow and let the beast rip the stones from the ground, only to emerge below his foot and pierce him with an aura stake. Another roar, this time of pain. I propel myself with the air and spin so as not to be grazed with a claw, channel as the dragon fills its chest and conjure.

  “Fireball!” The spells collide and their heat melts the rocks below us; the impact hurls me into the sky and sinks the dragon to the ground.

  I accumulate moisture from the air and cool it in one hand. An ice wall protects me from the next of fire shots that explode and change the color of the sky to bright yellow.

  In the other hand, however, I accumulate heat. Once the barrage is over, I join the two together in atmospheric steam, pressurize Crimson blades and launch them into a blast of white. Clouds fall from the sky to the Earth and mix with the fog from the ground. The Dragon avoids some fragments, but others pierce his right wing and left arm. It launches into the sky and envelops itself in fire, spinning like a tornado of flames and propelling itself to gain the speed it has lost.

  I fall to the ground and roll. I may not be able to move as fast as the sound yet, but I no longer have a problem keeping up with speeds that surpass it. The particles of air—their resistance, the temperature, the trajectory of motion, the physical lines that make up the physical form of magic. The most minute details and mannerisms are caught as if I foresaw them.

  Thus, I spin on my own axis when the Dragon changes its course and shoot plasma. Magical projectiles explode in the air as if we were automatic machines, the environment is transformed into a performance between red and gold.

  I raise earthen ramparts, which are knocked down with gusts. I manipulate moisture to defend myself using water, then I cut off the other wing with an Air Blade. Despite everything, The Beast accelerates.

  The Dragon is an intelligent creature. It has no consciousness or immortal soul, but it is still a smart animal—even smarter than humans. Naturally, he must have already noticed that a prolonged fight would be harmful, since he can no longer control his emission normally. Chaos has already affected your organism, and it is only a matter of time before everything you did was denied. Using too much metamagic would also be detrimental to my own control, of course; but of the two of us, he would be the first to fall.

  Then he invests one last time, consuming the air and Earth in splendid embers and flying faster than his own roar. Deflecting would only lengthen the fight, and despite my advantage, I agree with The Beast.

  There's no reason to shy away from the inevitable.

  I point my wooden staff, the air breaks like glass, my skin coarsens. Crystal trees grow while Flowers burn and the space distorts to generate absolute silence. The Black Star absorbs light, accumulates weight, pressure, and mass until the surrounding collapses.

  “DOOM!”

  There is no flash or explosion. The spell is cast and consumes, in strange and deadly silence, everything in its path. In the fraction of a second, he creates a hole in the Dragon's chest, in the mound behind him, and in the clouds above. Without enough more matter to sustain itself, it disappears.

  The remains of the Dragon fall to the ground and roll at high speed until they crash into some stones nearby. Traces of blood and fire consume the surroundings, but none of them—not even a drop—reached the center, where I cast the spell.

  I exhale.

  The physics lessons Morgana gave me paid their price.

  Obviously, this is not a black hole—just a pseudo-star that I managed to make by modifying some processes and preconfiguring a need for matter. But the account does not close, and the necessary fuel gain becomes exponential. The spell collapses on itself and—fortunately—falls apart before it reaches any relevant size.

  Seeing the destruction around, though, I Whistle. I must admit that I overcame myself.

  It's been two weeks since I arrived on Solace Island. One for rest, the other for training. Morgana taught me the basic use of the elements and trained my eyes better. Chaos evolved naturally—since the fight with Hilda, using it naturally has proven more than enough to trivialize any challenge that lacks metamagic.

  I feel like no other wizard can defeat me. Still, I don't feel satisfied. I want something more. Something beyond.

  I stare at the horizon.

  The main island is covered in mist and grass, with a terrain that naturally restores itself. Chaos causes some things to randomize in the process, but nothing that is serious. When I left Dufae, it was the beginning of autumn but, due to Hilda's Eternal Spring, my perception of time felt strange returning to normalcy.

  It's winter now. Thick clouds form in the skies, about to snow. Trees without leaves cause me not a macabre feeling, but peaceful.

  Some beasts always appear in your vicinity, but are driven away by the main Academy unless purposely threatened. In addition to security, however, there are the other islands it hides. Islands where the mental and the material have no difference, where dreams and nightmares go hand in hand with the flesh.

  It is said that all those who search for their destiny end up, one way or another, finding these islands. Without a guide, it can take years to physically find her, or be transported mentally in some reverie until they return, and without Solace's aid, they are likely to be defeated or driven mad. The Academy holds the knowledge of metamagic as a sacred framework, and in exchange for loyalty, they give protection and guidance to the students so that they encounter the divine power properly.

  If they succeed even without help, they also awaken the capacity for the miracle. However, if metamagic is linked to self-knowledge, destiny and identity, I no longer need to venture into them. I already know who I am and what I need to do. In fact, I was forbidden to do so, both for safety and for the side effects that my mind and my power could cause.

  I just need to train safely until the blood moon passes. The Lion will not be able to incarnate, we will unite an army and banish him.

  For some reason, it bothers me.

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  “Oops.” Hoffstein says, sitting next to me eating an Apple and enjoying the breeze.

  “Have you always been there?” I say.

  “I arrived while I was thinking.”

  “I will not comment.”

  “Well, there's more for me. My grade is eight out of ten. Congratulations!”

  “Eight? Where did I go wrong?”

  “You didn't get anything wrong, but you also didn't get it right as much as you could.”

  “In what?”

  “I'm not going to comment on your staff nearly disintegrating from the side effect of chaos—which you should have more control over by now to be able to use some more decent magic equipment—for now. But I have to comment on you being fixated on specific uses of magic. Teleports, fireballs, aura constructs. They are functional, but predictable. If this dragon had some kind of metamagic, he would not be the one who would be at a disadvantage in a protracted fight.”

  He takes another bite. “Morgana told me that you were very creative during the battle against Hilda. I know this is not a life or death situation, but you need to force yourself to have more variety. You are a sorcerer. Did one or another different trick—congratulations on the ice wall and the mini black hole-but that alone will not help.”

  I scratch my chin. “What do you suggest?”

  “I could have made it all a lot easier if I had cast some decent illusion on the Dragon. Aldwyn's power has increased the emission of your mind spells, but you don't use them right. Raw power is not the solution to everything.” He straightens his beard. “You've learned the basics of manipulating the other elements, and even though you're average at them, they're still useful. I think now you need to specialize.”

  “In what?”

  Hoffstein shrugs. “You are the one who will choose. Anyway, apart from these flaws… Congratulations. Its evolution is enormous, to say the least. You must have the same strength I had when we first met.”

  “… And you got weaker, did you?”

  Hoffstein laughed. “Don't compare yourself to me if you don't want to get frustrated. I'm not a normal case.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “You know what I meant.” Hoffstein scratches his wrist. “It got cold, didn't it?”

  Manifesting from within the mist, Morgana finishes crystallizing and pulverizing the Dragon's remains. “You could be more elegant about killing, right?”

  “Sorry.” I say.

  Morgana approaches and strokes my hair. “It was beautiful. Congratulations. Hoffstein's lessons are pertinent. Speaking of which…” She turns to the Hero. “With all due respect, but shouldn't you be in Praelior?”

  “No. I need to check that nothing abnormal will happen. You never know. But since we are in the second week, I think my wait will be over soon. I'm going to see Sieghart's ceremony, visit the Oracle to check something out, have a beer and then leave.”

  I hold back a laugh. “Fair.”

  But Hoffstein doesn't laugh back. In fact, he stares at me, worried.

  “Boy, why is your nose bleeding?”

  “… Hm?”

  My vision blurs. Drops of blood fall on my hands, and a clink silences all the voices that call my name.

  Then, I collapse.

  ***

  A society. Metal Men Daydream next to animal automaton Aura passes as energy through cables and connect to gigantic structures. Surrounded by a purple sea where the mind comes true, the islands thrive on the mechanical bodies of rebuilt gods and giants. They abandon touch, sensation, and perception of morality, turning into a single united, sentient form. So why, in a moment of clarity, did their champion tear off their face and condemn them to the depths?

  The Reaper hovers in the air, laughing on the pillars of blood below. Flames and tragedy join three convicts dragging chains made from their own guts.

  And then, all of a sudden, they disappear.

  Cold. I feel so cold. But it's not bad. Somehow, it is…

  “Morgan…?” I say.

  The fairy casts a spell over my body. Hoffstein watches me with his hands folded in front of his mouth, sitting a few feet away in a wooden chair. He exhales in relief when I wake up.

  The ground is water, but we do not sink. I force myself up and intensify my body so that it adapts faster. I feel cold sweat coming down against my warm skin.

  Morgana grabs my arm and forces me to sit up. “You shouldn't try so hard.”

  The cave is a bit dark. Morgana's seal remains on me, but this is her residence now. A luxurious water oasis with furniture made by silver and gold; a bench of bluish aura surrounded by fireflies.

  “… I don't understand. Why?” I say.

  “The influence of Hilda and the fairy world altered her body. His organism rejected the mutation, even though Aldwyn's arm had faerie blood. In fact, the result may have been even worse because of him. Our sections are not over, and you have not recovered yet.”

  “And how long will I stay like this?”

  “I suppose another week will be enough.”

  I breathe in. “All this…?”

  “Don't worry. You took too much risk. It takes time for these things to recover.” Hoffstein says.

  Time. Ah, time. That's the same excuse since Dufae. A demon of almost infinite power hunts me, and an army rises from the depths of hell to Earth.

  “I don't have time.”

  Hoffstein raises his eyebrows. “Huh? Why?”

  “The Blood Moon will happen in a few months. I need to get stronger. Fight those things. Beat the Demiurge. I am not evolving as I should. I'm not the King I should be. My army does not compare with that of The Lion, much less my strength. How can I use my authority against him if I have none? I need more.”

  “Those are dangerous words, Sieghart. Be patient. You will evolve. Even if you're weaker than The Lion—which you will—, you also will be a vital part of our victory.” Hoffstein scratches his beard. “But where did that come from? Why all this need?”

  “I couldn't beat Hilda alone. I couldn't save Elron, or even slay a dragon without fainting. You shouldn't have a problem with things like that for now.”

  “It's being unfair. You didn't lose to the dragon.”

  “No. But I hate the idea that if I were alone against the demons, I would lose.”

  “You won't be alone.”

  “…”

  Hoffstein gets up and strokes my hair. “Do not be precocious. Doubts are normal. You're fifteen, Sieg. His life has barely begun yet.” He turns to the exit from the dark cave where we are. “Well, I need to go now. I have to see the Oracle.”

  “Take me with you!”

  “Later, maybe. Rest for now.”

  I frown, but I accept. Morgana tries to pull me to lie down, but I pull my arm and free myself from her hand. She frowns.

  “Sorry.” I say.

  “… Alright.”

  “I need to go.”

  “You need to rest.”

  “I'm going back to the dorm.”

  “Don't you want to sleep here? I'm sure this cave is more comfortable… And I believe we have some things to talk about as well.”

  “Not now.” I say, then I get up and walk to the exit. “See you later, Morgana.”

  “… See you later, Sieghart.”

  I step outside. Snow begins to fall from the skies and turns the green of the lawn into white. Morgana's cave is far from the academy, hidden by numerous seals. At night, the silver moon shines in contrast to the golden lights coming from inside the worship Temple next to the main campus. I never understood why they are separate, but I would not go against the decision of builders with hundreds of years of experience. Mist surrounds my feet and the Academy stretches out not only like a castle, but an unbreakable fortress, its walls thick and as strong as steel.

  I approach without the use of magic, feeling the howl of the cold wind against my body as I push my body to continue. Morgana watches me to see if anything will happen—I have never lost sight of her since we left the fairy world.

  Not that I don't trust her, but…

  It's not important.

  I greet the guards and enter through the main hall, where a red carpet leads up to large stairs. The place is almost a maze, but the magic makes it easy to understand. I thoughtlessly walk through the corridors until I find the dormitory, open the door with the key and leave it on top of a desk. I change my white and red robe for a black one.

  The room is luxurious and spacious, with wool colored in blue—for Wander on the left side-and red for me on the right side. The correct thing would be to take a shower, but I'm sure Morgana has already cleaned me in the cave and I don't want to waste time. Without further ado, I change my white and red robe for a black one, throw myself on the bed and close my eyes.

  Darkness.

  Usually some creature would come up, be ignored, or this or that. I still remember the nights in Dufae. These weaknesses were being annihilated as I reminded them that they have no control over me.

  But that won't last long.

  I should have told Hoffstein about the dream. I was frustrated and didn't even think about it. I need to be smarter. I can't let arrogance and anger take over my thoughts. Information is important.

  Power is also important.

  You will not be alone.

  And how do you know that, huh?

  How could you know?

  I clench my fists, then get up. I change my clothes into a uniform so that I remember the seriousness of what I will do, take a candle over a glass and light it. I leave the room, going through the long corridors until I reach the library.

  When Magnus showed me the place for the first time, I was amazed. I'm still staying. Hundreds of thousands of books on shelves docked both on the walls and in corridors. Stacked, with circular and straight stairs, in a tangle of rock and paper.

  I walk through the books and pick up a few dozen of them, stacked on my arms. Chemistry, physics, magic, aura, manifestation. Anything that could give me an advantage. Hoffstein cited my versatility, so getting back to basics should be my priority. Specializations will come after midnight, when there are almost no students left.

  Page by page, the moon shines in the sky and the night passes. Flake by flake, the grass is buried by snow.

  Again and again.

  Again and again.