Cradling the sleeping Aphelia, Violet let out a sigh, like mist thinning under a pale dawn. She’d heard Aphelia got hauled in by that old spinster teacher for a lecture, and fear spiked like lightning hitting a lone pine. This wasn’t a school from the world behind them, but a forge of steel and rules.
Her wristband suddenly hummed, a trapped bee against her skin.
Huh? Wait, Aether density… already over peak? The screen flushed red like a warning sun, and the words punched through her calm like hail.
She scanned the corridor, eyes flicking like swallows over water. Everything looked normal, flat as a windless lake. If it wasn’t her, then the storm had to be…
Aphelia?!
She stared at the girl asleep in her arms, mind reeling like a wheel on ice. Impossible, impossible; the tests had branded Aphelia lowest in Aether tolerance and talent, like a withered seed in dry soil.
If she had that much Aether, she’d already be in a Valkyrie squad, thrown into live drills like iron into flame. Could the wristband be wrong, like a compass gone mad under a mountain?
The buzzing didn’t fade, a gnat that wouldn’t die. Violet wasn’t tech, but she knew enough to read the wind and the waves. She hard-rebooted the band, hoping for silence like a sudden snowfall.
How could this be… did the scans on Aphelia really fail, like a misread star chart?
The ring kept whining, the sound a thin blade in her ear. Violet bit her lip, copper-salt sharp as rain on iron. After a long look around, she killed the alarm, then leaned on the railing like a tree bracing in wind, and let out a long breath.
Please let this choice not be wrong, she prayed, selfish as a bird guarding one egg in a storm. The sky above felt heavy, an iron lid over boiling thoughts.
When Aphelia woke, dusk had already pooled like ink at the edges of the room.
I slept that long? The thought was thick and muzzy, like fog in a valley.
She rubbed her sleepy eyes, lids heavy as wet leaves. The bed beneath was soft as moss, and the clarity hit like cold water; she lay in a room, carried here by someone into a hollow as quiet as snow.
Empty didn’t fit; it felt more like the owner wanted nothing, like a monk’s cell under a bare moon. One glance said lifeless—no trace of use, like a shore without footprints.
Aside from basic necessities, there were no decorations and no marks of identity, a blank slate like new paper. A few books sat perfectly aligned on the desk, clean as soldiers on parade, and a light fragrance rose from the bedding like tea steam. It could’ve been a showroom, a stage set with no actors.
Aphelia stood and searched, slow as a cat circling a strange room. No clock anywhere, not even a tick like a cricket.
Headache rolled in, a dull drum in her skull. This time felt far from her old civilization, like two stars that never meet. If only someone could teach her how to use these things, a hand across the river stones. Right…
Violet could.
The memory of that wine-red hair warmed her like a brazier in winter. Even if this Violet was just a beautiful coincidence—same name, same face, same threads of connection—she wasn’t the Violet Aphelia knew, like a reflection in another lake.
Hesitation snagged her step, a thorn under the foot. Her feelings wavered for a heartbeat, a candle in a draft, and then she shook her head and smiled, helpless as a cloud drifting where the wind takes it.
Even so, it’s fine. Violet is Violet. In this era, she knew nothing, an empty boat on a strange sea. She had to learn the world before the tide turned; she didn’t want another world ruled by Odin’s hand, a sky chained in iron.
Whatever she felt, finding Violet came first, as simple and sharp as a blade’s edge.
The thought brought a smile without her noticing, dawn-light on still water. She walked toward what looked like the door, steady as a pilgrim.
Before her fingers touched the handle, a gentle woman’s voice issued from it, soft as a breeze over bells. Pale-blue light poured over Aphelia like moonwash, and a crisp unlock clicked at the seam.
Identity verified, Aphelia.
So… a magitech artifact with a soul? The idea flared and faded like a spark on wet wood.
No, no soul here; it followed preset spells like a mill-wheel follows the stream. This era didn’t wield such power; the air’s Aether felt thin as mountain air.
Her sharp senses caught the truth at once, the way a hunter reads tracks. She still viewed everything through her old world’s lens, a map laid over new ground.
But she wasn’t wrong by her world’s logic. This smart furniture was like a thing set with “spells.” Only here, the spell had another name—artificial intelligence.
She pushed the door open. A white corridor stretched outside, metal-bright like frost on steel. At the far end, a few girls clustered, a murmuring knot like sparrows on a wire.
Ask first, she told herself, the thought a quiet stone in a fast stream.
She walked forward, slow through that long, plain hall that felt like a throat for blades. Nerves twitched like a taut bowstring; this was the perfect ambush lane. A few archers and a shadowed assassin, and a straight corridor kills like a guillotine.
Aether gathered around her by instinct, a thin mist rising off warm ground. She knew the air felt calm, but the body moved like an old warhorse hearing drums.
Red light flashed. The alarm howled, a siren like wolves baying in a ravine.
The girls at the end whipped around, eyes wide as moons. Their gaze swept the hall and found only Aphelia, and their voices broke like glass.
That’s Aphelia…
That loser? No way. Check, hurry!
Their chatter reached her ears clean as a bell, every word a pebble in a still pond. They didn’t even suspect her; wrists lifted, bands scanning like dragonflies over water. Aphelia clenched her teeth, white as ice, and sprinted from the corridor like a deer breaking cover. Speakers on both walls crackled to life, voices hard as iron.
A-class Aether hazardous fluctuation detected. This area is now a Red Zone. All trainees, evacuate immediately.
A-class Aether hazardous fluctuation detected. This area is now a Red Zone. All trainees, evacuate immediately.
A-class Aether hazardous fluctuation detected. This area is now a Red Zone. All trainees, evacuate immediately.
She stopped, the words hooking her heels like roots.
A-class Aether hazardous fluctuation? What did that mean, like storm-signs no one taught her to read? Did Aether itself trigger these shrieking alarms?
Questions crowded, birds in a thicket, but she let the gathered Aether dissolve, mist sinking back into earth. She didn’t know the currents here; staying unseen was the safest bank. If the warning said Aether, then put Aether away.
It worked like sunlight breaking a cloud. The alarms cut off, and the red lights died, a sea stilled by a sudden calm. The other girls froze, stunned as rabbits in snow.
They didn’t have time to breathe. From the far hall, armed girls burst in like a breaking wave. They pinned the bystanders with hard, practiced hands, and the leader reached for Aphelia’s shoulder, fingers like a clamp.
Don’t…
The word rose with her breath, soft as a thread. Her body moved before thought, instinct carved in bone like old runes.
She slipped aside and stepped back, a reed bending from a stone.
The enforcer’s face darkened, storm rolling over a coastline. No trainee had ever defied their Enforcement Squad. She ripped a weapon free and swung, a hammer descending like a thunderhead.
You dare resist?!
Aphelia’s face didn’t change, a lake under night. She dropped her center and kicked for the ankle, a snap like a trap. The charging enforcer found air underfoot and pitched forward, balance torn like cloth.
Before the girl understood, Aphelia caught her arm and hurled her, a clean arc like a sling-stone. The body slammed to the corridor floor, sound sharp as a drum.
It all happened in a lightning blink, spark to smoke.
The squad stared, shock stark as frost. Not just at defiance, but at bare hands tossing someone wielding an Aether weapon, like wind toppling a burning torch.
Impossible.
The thought crowded their skulls like crows. One rushed in, dagger flashing cold as a fish-scale. She aimed for vital points without a beat of doubt; if you defied the squad, lethal force was within mandate like a blade within scabbard.
She trusted her speed, confidence swelling like a tide. She was already planning how to claim credit, a daydream bright as noon.
Aphelia drew a deep breath, a bellows filling before a forge. Her right fist slid back to her hip.
If she means to kill me, then I won’t hold back, she thought, calm as winter steel.
Killing intent surged, black water rising to the brow. She didn’t need Aether; with technique alone, she could end this here like a cut thread.
Ancient Martial Flow—
The dagger filled her vision, a silver crescent. Aphelia whispered, body turning like a door on oiled hinges, and her right fist swept out, a comet across dark sky.
