It sounds easy to say, doesn’t it? Just . Two small, light, almost harmless words, capable—in theory—of closing even the most open wounds. Words that come out quickly, that roll off the tongue, but that rarely arrive when they’re most needed. It’s funny, almost cruel, that forgiveness always costs us more than resentment, as if clinging to anger were easier than letting our guard down.
Being a teenager is hard.
Bzzt!
It sounds basic to believe it. Adults take on the unbearable task of reminding you of it every single day, as if you didn’t already know, as if you didn’t live it in your own flesh. You deal with intense emotions you don’t know where they come from or how to shut off, like internal fires with no extinguisher.
Your body changes without asking permission, grows in strange ways, sometimes hurts, sometimes it's amazing, feels foreign at first, as if it didn’t quite belong to you at all.
Like powering up!
You start worrying about things that were once unthinkable, trivialities that now weigh like mountains.
Since when do I get anxious about who I sit with in class?
Why do I feel like I have to do the same things my friends do, even if I don’t want to?
Why did I say that?!
Did it sound strange?!
Was I too quiet?!
Was I too loud?!
Why did they look at me like that?!
Do they like me, or are they just being polite?!
Should I have smiled more?!
Was that meant as a joke, or was it serious?!
Am I standing awkwardly?!
Where should my hands be?!
WHY AM I BLUSHING?!
CAN THEY TELL?!
DO I ALWAYS ACT LIKE THIS?!
AM I ANNOYING TODAY?!
AM I ALWAYS ANNOYING?!
Bzzt! Bzzt!
Each person deals with forgiveness in their own way. When I argue with Mom, for example, she usually needs time alone for the fuse to burn out, for the anger to cool and stop burning. I don’t. I can understand quickly, almost immediately, with a simple hug, that everything was a small accident, an unintentional clumsiness, something that wasn’t worth turning into a wound.
Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!
Annya was no exception. Even though she was the sweetest and most cheerful person everyone knew, today her heart had been through too much in very little time, as if someone had pressed all the wrong buttons at once. She was fragile, like herself. But not fragile like someone weak, not like someone who always turns the other cheek without thinking twice. She was fragile like something valuable, something that needs care.
That needed time. Space.
A moment alone to calm down, to sort through what she felt without outside noise.
Because it hurts to care so much about someone who never takes care of herself, only for her to tell you in the end that she can’t be with you… for something she never explained. It hurts to feel left out of a decision that affects you too.
BZZZZT!
Peace, precisely, was not what Feralynn was good at giving.
Tch.
Why isn't she answering?!
The mirrorphone vibrated nonstop in the pocket of Annya’s uniform, insistent, almost desperate. It was like having a huge wasp reminding you of the sting that had already pricked you, but that you still didn’t push away because, deep down, you cared for it, even if it stabbed you in the heart again without meaning to.
“She’s desperate,” Rose observed firmly, adjusting her rectangular glasses. “Don’t answer her. Make her understand that you’re upset.”
"Mhm..."
Annya listened to her. She didn’t answer. She chewed her sandwich mechanically, without real hunger, just out of pure habit. Her brow furrowed, her gaze lost in the crumbs of the cookies she had shared with Rose and Jax. It was the first time they had seen her like this, and how dim she was had become impossible to ignore, as if someone had suddenly turned her brightness down.
At a table far from the wide cafeteria, sheltered among the introverts who escaped the youthful euphoria of the center, the three of them sat, surrounded by distant murmurs and other people’s laughter.
From the group, Feralynn was missing.
Even though her presence was still there, insistent, in the form of relentless messages that kept pouring in, vibrating like a constant echo. At one point, Annya sighed. She took out her phone and unfolded it, only to find the inbox bursting, saturated.
She took a deep breath before pressing a key.
Click.
FER <3 [17 new messages, 3 lost calls]
hey, sorry
hey r u busy? answer pls
annie please.. forgive me
i was gonna tell u!! i just didnt have time ok?? i didnt think youd get this upset
cmon forgive me ill do whatever u want, seriously…
The following messages were shorter. The spelling got even worse, the spaces disappeared. You could tell she was literally sending them in bursts, like measured rifle shots desperate to catch the enemy's attention, although it was more to not be left alone with all the guilt.
Annya smiled faintly, imagining her with her thumbs wrapped in flames over the keyboard, typing without thinking, as always.
"Hmm..."
Come on, answer! Answer for fuck's sake!
Just who the hell is she messaging so damn much?
"Haaah...~"
Looking around discreetly, she noticed that from the table of the upper-class popular girls the undisputed leader was missing. Miria was gone.
They must be together.
Of course they were.
And of course it hurt a little, even if she tried to deny it.
She silenced the phone so it would stop vibrating. She didn’t want to think about Fer… but her mind didn’t obey at all, insistent like the buzzing she had just shut off.
Today I put on makeup for you, and you smeared my face with your blood.
Today I spent all day crying for you, and you told me you weren’t going to walk me home.
Today I was praying for you to wake up, only for you to end up being with her instead of me.
When you’re an adolescent, your mind becomes more intense, more cruel to yourself than necessary. You don’t process things clearly. Every gesture weighs more than it should, every absence grows larger, and little Annie’s chest carried too much for someone like her.
“I seriously can’t believe she turned her back on you, you skipped classes because of her!” Rose said, stabbing her vegetables with indignation. Then she lowered her voice, conspiratorial. “My most reliable sources say those two stay together after Defense practice, and they make sure no one follows them.”
“Your… reliable sources?” Jax asked, tilting his head. “Is that what you call our classmates?”
“Shh, lower!” she scolded him. “My gossip networks are the most accurate in the whole school.”
“Rose, I really don’t think that helps right now…”
Both of them looked at Annya. She played with a half-bitten cookie, resting her chin in her hand, elbow on the table, as if holding her head up was too much effort.
“They like to fight a lot in class,” she said in a dull voice. “Every chance they get they duel… and all our classmates stay watching in silence.”
“They even place bets to see who wins—”
Kick!
Jax didn’t finish his sentence. Rose kicked him under the table. He stifled a groan and shot her an offended look while rubbing the spot where he’d been kicked.
How could you not feel eclipsed, when your best friend is the best at fighting and you can’t even kill a spider without shaking?
It made no sense. If they were just rivals, why did it hurt so much? Fer never spoke well of her. She complained, insulted her with jabs that Miria returned with sharp elegance, like blades wrapped in silk.
If they hate each other so much, why do they meet alone after duels?
Deep down, Annya understood the root of her annoyance: the comparison, silent and inevitable.
She knows fencing.
She knows how to play the violin.
She has trophies, appears in magazines.
She can conjure ice sharp as steel as if she were breathing.
She’s a millionaire.
She comes from a magical lineage as old as the continent.
And you, what do you have instead?
You only know how to bake.
You’re afraid of the dark.
Your spells only know how to heal.
You water flowers, and you cry at romantic movies.
You’ll never be on the level of either of them.
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Annya swallowed, trying to undo the knot in her throat. She felt like an intruder in that castle, as if she didn’t quite fit into any of its halls. Growing up hurts. You leave behind a simple life to harden yourself against everything the world throws at you without asking.
Maybe, if you were stronger…
Maybe, if you knew more magic…
Maybe then she would be more interested in you.
All the time Feralynn does what you want. She never asks for anything in return. Maybe that way you can earn her respect. Maybe even her admiration.
“I think you two are making a big fuss.”
Jax’s voice pulled her out of the spiral. He was drinking his apple juice with a disconcerting calm, oblivious to the internal drama.
“It was just a misunderstanding. Maybe Fer would have told you if she hadn’t been busy being a blood faucet. Besides, if she’s sorry, I don’t see why you shouldn’t forgive her.”
His sips continued. Without meaning to, Jax ended up being the wisest of the three, despite his complete lack of understanding of school hysterics.
I may have exaggerated a little.
Rose slid in her seat and whispered with theatrical gravity. Suddenly, both of them went dead serious.
“OH. SO THAT’S WHAT THIS IS ABOUT.” Jax said, finally understanding (more or less) why all the problem.
“YEAH. THAT’S WHAT THIS IS ABOUT.”
"I SEE..."
"MHM, MHM!"
Eh? Why are they acting so weird again?
They nodded in unison, convinced they had uncovered a great mystery that was more than obvious to both of them.
In the end, Annya sighed. The tension loosened a little, as if someone had released an invisible rope in her chest.
“I’m really not that angry anymore,” she admitted. “We were just… a bit stirred up.”
She took out her phone again. Fer was calling her again. She hesitated. Her thumb brushed the green button again and again in deliberate caresses. Eternal seconds passed as she stared at her name on the screen, deciding between accepting the apology… or secretly enjoying being sought after like this.
Click.
She hung up, with a small, almost mischievous smile.
“It’s cute to see her so worried like this,” she said with feigned innocence. “I can’t duel her, but I can control her with this!”
That little laugh, ridiculously sweet, sent chills down Rose’s and Jax’s spines.
"Hehe~!" ??
The dark side of the baker!
They thought at the same time, grateful not to be Feralynn.
Lunch had ended only a few minutes earlier when the three of them left the cafeteria, dragging along that soft, slightly sticky fatigue left behind by microwaved food and conversations that never quite ended. The main hallway was more crowded than usual, heavy with noise and movement.
Students filled the corridors. Those without club activities headed straight home, backpacks slung over their shoulders and their minds already far from school. Classes, for today, had officially ended completely.
Upper-year students remained posted at the main corners, stiff, handing out flyers with smiles practiced to exhaustion. Some offered discounts at dress shops; others, custom-made suits, with promises of elegance and distinction.
The flyers weren’t scattered at random. They were arranged with almost obsessive precision on the notice boards, aligned by colors and typefaces, as if a blonde elven woman had spent the entire morning making sure nothing broke the castle’s internal aesthetic.
Annya took one absentmindedly, skimming it without much interest.
“Ah, right…,” Rose murmured, adjusting her glasses as she observed the display with a critical eye. “With exams, I forget we’re already at that time.”
“That time?” Jax asked, looking at a poster where a couple danced, smiling in an uncomfortably perfect way.
Rose nodded, slipping into encyclopedia mode without realizing it.
“Winter Ball. Traditional annual school ceremony. In ancient times, each noble family organized an event per season. We already had the Amberfall Autumn Fair. In winter, the Frostweavers organized a grand ball across the whole city to better endure the cold season. It was a way of—”
She really can't help herself...
Jax jabbed her sharply in the ribs.
“Ow! Hey! What’s wrong with you?!” she protested, turning toward him.
“Shh,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. “Don’t start with that. Don’t mention them!”
Rose frowned, about to retort… but she held back, taking a deep breath.
Annya let out a soft laugh.
“It doesn’t bother me,” she said lightly, lifting the flyer. “It’s actually nice.”
She was smiling. It was a genuine smile, but there was something in the way she looked away afterward, as if the gesture were also a learned habit, a way of covering a real concern.
“By the way,” she continued, changing the subject naturally, “have you two chosen partners yet?”
Rose and Jax spoke at the same time.
“Yes!”
“Me? Nah.”
They stared at each other for a second, suspended in an awkward silence.
Rose stiffened. A faint blush crept up her cheeks.
“I-it’s crucial,” she said, adjusting her glasses with nervous dignity. “Getting a partner for the ball is important to maintain long-term academic reputation. It’s not just a party, it’s a social event with historical, political, and—”
“Rose,” Annya interrupted, amused at seeing her without her rigid facade.
She cleared her throat.
“What I mean is that it would be… logical, right?.” She fixed her gaze on Jax. “You really don’t have anyone in mind? Absolutely no one? No single soul in the whole planet?!”
The hint was so obvious it practically had glowing arrows pointing at it. Jax blinked once. He smiled, scratching the back of his neck.
“Uh… no,” he shrugged. “I guess not.”
Annya and Rose turned their backs at the same time.
“Boys…,” they said in unison, letting out a long sigh.
Jax frowned, genuinely confused.
“Hey, what did I do now?” Then he looked at Annya. “What about you? Are you thinking of inviting Feralynn?”
GASP.
“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING!?” Rose shouted, spinning around in absolute panic to clap a hand over his mouth. “YOU DON’T ASK THINGS SO CASUAL LIKE THAT!”
Annya stopped. She looked away. Her cheeks flared red as a small, almost shy smile formed on her face. Without realizing it, her fingers played with the sleeve of her uniform.
Jax tilted his head, his voice muffled by Rose’s hand.
“What?!” he asked in complete ignorance. “It’s just a friendly dance, right?”
Rose grabbed him by the collar of his coat and started shaking him.
“YOU’RE A BRUTE! YOU’RE WORSE THAN FERALYNN!” she shouted, completely flushed. “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT ALL OF THIS MEANS!”
“HEY! HEY! LET GO!” he protested, stumbling. "CUT IT OUT!"
Those passing by glanced sideways at a poor boy being shaken as if he were inside a human blender.
Annya watched them for a second… and then let out a real laugh. Not perfect. Not forced. A small, honest laugh. For the first time since lunch, the knot in her chest loosened just a little.
Now... when I think about it, she would look good wearing a suit.
…
…
…
They reached the end of the hallway, where the paths split like small but definitive decisions. The murmur of the castle faded there, replaced by the distant echo of doors, laughter, and hurried footsteps.
“Well,” Rose said, straightening her skirt with renewed energy. “We’re going to the theater club.”
“Today we move scenery!” Jax added, raising a hand in farewell. “If I don’t die crushed by a giant box, see you later.”
Annya smiled, lifting her hand.
“I’m going to the cooking club, bye~!”
They parted without drama. Without ceremony. Rose and Jax walked away talking about props and rehearsals, disappearing into the constant flow of students.
Annya was left alone.
She started walking slowly, following the usual path. Suddenly, the castle felt bigger. Hollower.
Without Feralynn, school felt different. Colder. Not dangerous… but less cheerful. With her by her side, even the long corridors seemed shorter. With her, she could joke about anything. About teachers, about duels, about how absurdly solemn everything could be.
I never have to worry about what to say or how to act. With you, I don’t really need to think.
That thought crossed her chest softly. It didn’t hurt, but it weighed on her as she became aware of it. She would definitely write about it in her diary when she got home.
She kept walking, her hands clasped in front of her, feeling something inside her begin to rearrange itself. She didn’t want to keep being just the one who waits. She didn’t want to be only the warm refuge Feralynn returned to after bleeding and fighting.
Seeing her collapsed in that red puddle had been more than traumatic. She hadn’t been able to act to save her, had only stood frozen in horror.
She thought about the duels.
About how Fer’s eyes lit up like burning lava when she talked about them. About the raw passion with which she threw herself into combat, even when she said she was bored of facing weak opponents.
From the moment I met you, I knew you were strong.
I want you to see me with those eyes too!
Maybe…
Maybe she could participate more. Maybe she could be there, not just on the sidelines, not just healing afterward or watching from afar. Maybe, you could even participate on the Tournament!
She thought about everything Feralynn did for her without questioning it. About how she accompanied her to the cooking club even without being part of it. About how she went shopping with her, let herself be dragged along by shop windows, by small decisions, by cravings. About how it was always Fer who adapted.
She is always following me.
She always makes me company without asking anything in return.
Am I being too selfish? Am I being too much, or too little?
Annya stopped.
She didn’t realize how ironic it was. Water had always been her element, docile and close, and yet it was Fer’s fire that found a way to adapt first to the container.
She looked at the hallway that led to the cooking club. It was the usual path. Safe. Comfortable. Predictable. Just like herself, but not now. Not anymore.
And then, she turned. Pivoted and started walking in the opposite direction, her steps growing firmer with each one.
She knew who she needed.
Romina’s office was silent, save for the faint scrape of chairs and the occasional crackle of residual energy dissipating into the air. The professor was tidying the classroom with patience, cleaning remnants of poorly executed spells, fragments of practices that had turned out… acceptable, by her standards.
Knock, knock.
“Come in!” she said without lifting her gaze, completely naturally.
The door opened. Romina raised her eyes… and froze.
“Miss Oak?”
Annya was there, standing, her fists pressed against her chest. She was breathing deeply, as if she had run up invisible stairs.
“P-Professor…!” she began, stammering. She swallowed. “You…! You know a lot about miracles!”
Romina tilted her head slightly, attentive.
“That’s right.”
This is the first time I've seen her without my Lioness by her side.
“I-I wanted to ask if…” she took a deep breath again. “If you could teach me about offensive miracles!”
That did surprise her. Romina rested a hand on her hip, thoughtful.
“Well, my week is usually quite a bit busy,” she replied with measured honesty. “Training requires—”
“I know you see Feralynn,” Annya interrupted, not raising her voice, but with a new determination. “I know you have private sessions. You probably… know her better than I do.”
Romina said nothing, simply letting the girl continue.
“And I know you know things I don’t,” Annya went on, lowering her gaze a little. “I don’t want to compete with her. I just… want to be at her level. I want her to be able to trust me.”
There it was. Not the desire for power. The desire to feel worthy.
Romina, with all her knowledge of psychology, understood it instantly. She wasn’t trying to become like Feralynn. She was trying to make sure Feralynn didn’t have to walk alone all the time.
She considered it with her arms crossed, sighing slowly.
“I can teach you,” she said at last. “But on one condition.”
Annya lifted her gaze, expectant.
“You cannot ask absolutely anything about Feralynn’s past.” Romina’s voice was firm, non-negotiable. “Not a single thing."
"But... why?"
The woman hesitated, unsure whether to speak up or not. She could have lied about her past, but this girl wasn't just another classmate. She was her best friend; she'd notice right away, and would ask too many questions. The best thing to do was to be direct, without beating around the bush, without further hesitation.
"I made a vow. A Silence Oath with her. Understood?"
With a serious face, she slid back the right sleeve of her clothing and turned her forearm. There it was, the golden tattoo: lips pierced by a straight sword. Annya blinked, in shock.
An Oath? Why would Fer need something like… that?
She knew it was an advanced topic in magical theory. What little she knew was enough to understand that breaking them carried severe consequences. Even so, she didn’t hesitate.
“I won’t ask,” she said firmly after swallowing. “I promise.”
Romina watched her for a few more seconds. Seeing her so determined, even knowing her best friend kept secrets she chose to respect not knowing, made her smile.
“Then…” she took a chair and placed it in front of her. “If you have nothing else to do, sit down! Come on, we’ll start with the basics.”
Annya obeyed, her heart pounding. She didn’t know if this would make her stronger.
But maybe it was time for her turn to step forward.
"Come on, Blackwood. Hurry up."
"Nnnghhh..."
"You weigh more than two bags of cement."
"Shut the fuck up."
And now why are you crying? Gosh, I told you I didn't need your help.
...
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...
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