Chapter 6

Valen steps onto the school grounds, the open space feeling vast under the morning light.

There are no walls, no fences—just the large building ahead, its size enough to house the children who learn within. No guards stand watch, no extra security in sight beyond the structure itself.

As he moves toward the entrance, he feels the weight of curious eyes. A few children glance his way, their interest clear as they whisper among themselves.

Some even take a few hesitant steps forward, eager to approach.

Then, he meets their gaze.

One by one, they hesitate. Their steps falter, their voices quiet. His expression remains the same—calm, steady, unreadable—but the moment their eyes lock with his, something shifts.

It happens with every kid he encounters. At first, they seem excited, ready to talk, but then, once they truly look at him, they pause. Some glance away, others step back, uncertainty flickering across their faces.

He's used to it.

Miriel has always tried to bring him along whenever other kids are involved, pushing him to interact, to form bonds. It happens in the markets, playgrounds, and the cathedral.

But no matter where they are, the result is always the same.

Valen moves through the halls, the soft murmurs of students filling the space as they settle into their classrooms. When he reaches his own, the moment he steps inside, the teacher's face brightens with clear excitement.

"Valen! Welcome!" she says, clasping her hands together before gesturing toward an empty seat.

The classroom is small, just ten children in total, seated at wooden desks arranged in neat rows. The walls are lined with shelves filled with books, maps, and small trinkets that hint at past lessons.

Once everyone is seated, the teacher claps her hands again, officially beginning the class.

"Let's start with introductions! I'll go first," she says, smiling warmly. "I'm Teacher Elira, and I've been teaching for five years now. When I was your age, I wanted to be a cartographer, but I found that I loved teaching even more!"

The energy in the room shifts, excitement bubbling up as the students take turns introducing themselves.

One by one, each child stands, eager to share. A boy with messy brown hair grins as he declares he wants to run a store one day, just like his father.

A girl with short blonde curls talks about wanting to become a hunter, her voice brimming with confidence.

Another boy, a bit more reserved, shares that he dreams of traveling to the other four cities, seeing the world beyond their home.

Each child speaks with enthusiasm, their dreams laid out with certainty, each story met with nods and quiet smiles from the others.

Then, it's Valen's turn.

He stands like the rest, his posture straight, his expression unchanged.

"Valen. I will be a paladin."

Simple. Unhesitating. He sits.

The room is silent for a brief moment, the stark contrast between his answer and the others noticeable. Some of the children shift slightly, a few glancing at each other, but no one says anything.

Teacher Elira's eyes light up with excitement. "Just like your mom!" she exclaims, nodding in approval. The enthusiasm in her voice stands out against the quiet that followed Valen's introduction.

The teacher turns toward the last child. Silence lingers, stretching past the moments it took for the others to speak.

Teacher Elira, unwavering in her warmth, keeps her smile steady. "Lenna, it's alright. We can all talk here without getting in trouble," she encourages, her voice gentle but expectant.

Valen glances toward the girl. His eyes widen. She wears the same clothes he does, black formal wear.

Short bright red hair frames her face, barely reaching her shoulders, the strands slightly uneven as if cut in haste. Her green eyes hold a sharpness beneath their quiet focus, scanning, measuring, yet never lingering too long. A dusting of freckles crosses her nose and cheeks, faint against her pale skin.

She sits still, composed, but there's something off. Not just shyness.

The way her shoulders remain stiff, her hands resting lightly on her desk without fidgeting. Too controlled. Her expression is neutral, yet her eyes dart ever so slightly, watching the others before settling forward.

A quiet tension clings to her, something deeper than nerves.

The other kids had been excited, nervous, even hesitant—but she seems... guarded? Not caution. Not discomfort. Something closer to fear.

The girl rises, her hands folded neatly in front of her. "I'm Lenna," she says, dipping into a small bow.

She hesitates. Her lips press together.

Elira tilts her head, a flicker of understanding passing through her features. "It's okay, Lenna. It's really okay," she says, her voice soft but certain.

Lenna pulls her gaze toward the teacher, searching. A small breath leaves her, barely noticeable. "I'm Lenna," she repeats. A pause. Then, quieter, "And I want to be a paladin."

Her eyes linger on Elira's, waiting. Watching.

Elira meets her with a smile and a nod, no hesitation in her expression.

Lenna sits quickly, almost too quickly. Her posture straight, still composed—but the tension in her fingers gives her away.

Without missing a beat, Elira turns back to the class. "Alright, good job everybody! Let's get started with our first lesson!"

The energy in the room shifts again, the previous moment slipping away as the class moves forward.

After about two hours, a loud whistle echoes from outside, cutting through the lesson.

Teacher Elira stops mid-sentence, then claps her hands together. "Oh! It's time for recess!" she announces with a cheerful smile. She glances over the class. "Does anyone not know where the backyard is?"

No hands go up.

"Then you are all free to head there! Make sure to come back when the signal plays again!" she says, her tone bright.

The room bursts into motion.

Chairs scrape against the floor, excited chatter fills the air, and the children rush toward the exit, their steps hurried as they spill into the hallway, laughter trailing behind them.

Valen, however, walks at his own pace, hands at his sides as he takes in his surroundings.

Valen steps into the yard, the noise hitting him all at once. Laughter, shouts, footsteps pounding against the ground—an endless stream of motion and sound.

Children dart past him, caught up in their own games, their energy unrestrained.

His gaze sweeps the area. No fences. No barriers. The school blends into the city around it, buildings rising in the distance, streets just beyond reach.

He watches the way the students move, unbothered by the openness, their play unrestricted.

A few glance his way, their curiosity brief before they return to their games. Others don't notice him at all, too wrapped up in their own excitement.

Valen moves forward, slower than the rest, his hands resting at his sides.

A familiar figure catches his eye.

Lenna stands at the edge of the yard, away from the largest groups.

Valen raises his eyebrows, a flicker of surprise passing through him. He hadn't expected her to separate herself from the others.

The way she stands—not uncomfortable, not avoiding anyone, just there—feels familiar.

Their eyes meet.

Valen freezes. A feeling grips him—sharp, immediate, like a threat pressing against his skin. His body tenses, breath catching for half a second, instincts flaring before he can stop them.

Lenna isn't moving. She hasn't shifted, hasn't raised a hand, hasn't so much as twitched. But something in her gaze carries weight.

Then, he recognizes it.

That feeling. The one that makes others hesitate, makes their steps falter when they meet his eyes. The quiet, unspoken thing that turns curiosity into uncertainty, excitement into distance.

Is this what the other kids feel when they look at him?

He smiles escapes him.

For the first time, he sees what others might see when they look at him. Without thinking much more, he steps toward her.

Valen stops just ahead of her. "I'm Valen," he says without hesitation.

Lenna doesn't quite answer. She nods, brief and restrained.

"I didn't know there were others like me," he continues.

She replies with another nod. No words.

"You don't want to talk?" he asks.

Her eyes widen. "No." A pause. Her brows furrow. "Yes." Her gaze drops. "Mom said I shouldn't talk too much."

Valen blinks but remains calm. "Well, do you want to be friends?"

Her gaze raises, her eyes clear as her expression shifts to a hopeful glimmer but before she can answer, a voice calls from behind him.

"Hey, what are you two doing dressed like that?"

Valen turns. An older girl, maybe two or three years ahead, stands with three others. Valen glances down at his own clothes, then answers plainly. "Mom likes me wearing them."

The older kid's face twists with irritation. "That's a paladin uniform. Little brats like you shouldn't wear it. Have some respect!" She steps forward and shoves him.

Valen stumbles back a few steps, steadying himself.

Lenna stands frozen, her gaze darting between him and the older girl. She doesn't step forward. Doesn't move. Her fingers curl slightly at her sides, but her stance stays uncertain, caught between doing something and not knowing what.

Valen glances around.

A few adults had seen the shove. Their eyes track the scene, but none move to interfere. They only watch. Some even smile—not cruel, not amused, just observing, as if waiting to see how things will unfold.

His gaze shifts back to the girl. "Are you looking for a fight?" His voice is calm, measured. "Mom told me not to pick a fight."

The kid leans in slightly, her smirk widening. "Oh, did Mommy tell you that?" she mocks, dragging the word out. She turns to her friends, laughing loudly.

The others follow, their laughter quick, the kind that isn't about being funny—just about making sure no one is left out.

Without a word, the girl winds up her fist, shoulders tensing as she readies to swing.

But before she can unwind it, Valen moves extending his arm forward, but before he can fully extend it, a firm hand grips his wrist and yanks it upward.

A force ripples through the air, a shockwave bursting overhead, rustling hair and kicking up loose dust from the ground.

The adult holding his arm stands tall, their expression unreadable. The quiet observers from before have stepped forward.

Valen startles, his breath catching as he steps back, realizing too late that someone had approached.

The girl stumbles, caught off guard by the sudden shift. The other kids freeze, their shock palpable.

Then, before anything else can happen, one of the adults steps toward her.

A firm hand grips the girl's shoulder, hauling her up with ease. "Let's go, Nass," the man says, his tone neutral, giving her no chance to protest before leading her back toward the building.

The grip on Valen loosens, then releases him entirely. The man's eyes study him, careful, weighing. His voice carries no praise, no reprimand.

"Let's talk about it inside."

Valen stiffens. His hands feel colder, his pulse loud in his ears. He blinks, looking at the man's face.

Something inside him twists—not fear, not quite understanding, but heavy in a way he's never felt before. His fingers twitch at his sides, is he in trouble?

He lowers his gaze, unsure what to say. Unsure if he should say anything.

The man extends his hands, steady, expectant.

Valen's gaze flicks to Lenna. She hasn't moved, her green eyes locked onto the scene, unreadable but watching.

Then, without hesitation, she steps forward and places her hand in his, her grip small but firm. No question, no pause. Just obedience.

Valen exhales slowly. His fingers twitch at his sides. He glances once more at the man's face, then back at Lenna.

For a moment, something unsettles him—not the situation itself, but how natural it was for her to obey.

Still, after a breath, he lifts his hand and places it in the man's grasp.

The man leads them back inside, his grip steady but not forceful. When they reach Elira's classroom, he pushes open the door, guiding them inside.

Elira sits at her desk, a book in hand. She blinks, pulling herself from its pages, her expression shifting from mild surprise to recognition as she looks toward the doorway.

"Oh, that was fast," she says calmly, setting the book aside.

The man gives a slight bow in respect before motioning for them to step further inside. The door closes behind them. Only quiet remains.

"Take a seat, both of you," Elira says.

Valen watches as Lenna moves without hesitation, slipping into her desk as if the command had been expected.

He follows a moment later, sitting in place, his posture straight.

Elira searches through her desk. Finding what she needs, she steps around and stands before them, her presence calm, composed.

"How about we talk about what happened?" she asks, turning her attention to Valen.

He meets her gaze without flinching. "A few kids came to talk to me. I guess they wanted to pick a fight because of my clothes." His voice is even, plain, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Elira tilts her head slightly. "Oh? And what did you do?"

"I defended myself."

Elira crosses her arms, nodding as if considering his words. Then, she shifts her focus to Lenna. "What did you do, Lenna?"

Lenna startles, her shoulders stiffening. Her eyes flick between Valen and Elira, searching for the right answer. "I... Nothing..."

Elira nods again, her expression unreadable. She lifts a hand, motioning Lenna forward. "Come here. I'm going to show you both something."

Lenna obeys immediately, rising from her desk without pause. Valen follows, watching as Elira steps to an empty desk.

She reaches into her pocket and places a single grape on the wooden floor. It sits there, small, fragile, almost insignificant.

"Valen," she says, her voice still carrying that same patience, that same warmth. "Step on it."

Valen hesitates, his brows pulling slightly together. Before he can react further, her demeanor shifts.

The softness vanishes. The warmth drains from her expression.

She straightens, her presence expanding—not physically, but in weight, in gravity. Her posture is no longer that of a schoolteacher but something colder.

Her eyes, once filled with light, hold something harder now, a kind of knowing that has no place in a simple classroom. The air in the room seems to tighten around her, pressing down.

She doesn't repeat herself. She doesn't need to. The command lingers between them, a silent expectation.

Without hesitating a second time, Valen steps on it, crushing it in a single press. The skin bursts, juice seeping into the wood.

He lifts his shoe, glancing back at Elira, but something in her expression stops him.

"Good job," she says. "That was easy, wasn't it?"

Something about her tone puts him on edge. The words sound simple, but there's something underneath them, something he can't quite place.

He blinks, unsure why he suddenly feels as if he's missed something.

"You just killed the grape."

Valen's chest tightens, his stomach twisting in an instant. Killed? His eyes flick to the flattened fruit, its insides smeared across the floor. It was just a grape—small, meaningless—but the way she said it makes the moment feel heavier than it should.

Elira turns to Lenna. "And you didn't do anything to stop him."

Lenna flinches. Her shoulders go stiff, her eyes widening in alarm.

"I didn't mean to! I'm sorry! Please don't tel—"

"Oh, no, no, sweetheart!"

Elira changes again in an instant. The cold weight in her voice breaks, replaced by something soft and gentle. She kneels beside Lenna and pulls her into a firm embrace, her arms wrapping around the girl as if shielding her from something unseen.

Lenna's breath hitches, and then the sobs slip out—small, stifled. Her hands clutch at Elira's sleeves as she cries, her body trembling in the hold.

Elira turns to Valen, still holding Lenna close. Her brows furrow as she studies him.

"Valen, the lesson I'm trying to teach you here is that… magic is extremely dangerous. You used Wind magic out there—against someone that couldn't possible defend against it."

She pauses, her grip on Lenna steady, her voice firm but not unkind.

"Just like with the grape, magic can easily kill someone."

A breath leaves her, slow as if weighing her next words.

"Valen, everyone knows you will be an extraordinary paladin. Lenna is… still…" Elira hesitates, her eyes flicking toward the girl in her arms. "…figuring it out. But I'm sure she will be just as great."

She exhales, steadying herself. "You both are the first prospects we've ever had at your age. And we can't let you make mistakes that you will carry for the rest of your lives."

Another sigh escapes her as she stands, lifting Lenna with ease. The girl clings to her, silent, her face buried against Elira's shoulder.

"Your lives will be tough," Elira continues, her voice quieter now. "But we need the both of you. The speaker expects great things from the both of you."

Valen watches her, the weight of her words pressing into him. The meaning is clear.

Magic isn't just dangerous—it isn't just power. It's responsibility. A single mistake can end a life, shift a path, leave something irreversible in its wake.

He thinks of the grape. How easy it had been to crush it. How simple it was to step forward, to press down, to destroy something small without a second thought.

It wasn't fear that settled in him now. It wasn't guilt. It was understanding.