57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIjQa9bF1qx"So," Eilara said, her voice small against the heavy silence of the corridor. "Do you know why he asked us to go to his private office?"
"I thought you were going to ask for my name," the boy replied, not looking at her. "He said what he said. The fact that you didn't already know suggests you don't want to know."
Eilara frowned. "That’s not an answer."
"I don't know why, either," he admitted, his pace slowing as they reached the end of the hall. He stopped before a massive stone door, its surface cold and etched with the carving of a silent bird. He pressed two hidden pressure points on the frame, and the stone groaned open.
"Here we go," Eilara whispered, holding her breath. The boy knocked, but only silence answered. "Should we just go in?"
"There is no need."
A slow, taunting voice drifted from the darkness inside. Two figures emerged like ink bleeding into water. Professor Alaric clapped his hands, and two balls of magical flame ignited on the wall sconces, casting long, dancing shadows. His skin looked stretched too tight over his sharp cheekbones, and his black eyes seemed to swallow the light. Beside him stood Lady Shor in a shimmering purple dress adorned with silk butterflies that seemed to flutter as she moved. A pink ribbon held her hair in a loose ponytail, but her emerald eyes were anything but soft. They flashed with a cruel glint when she saw Eilara’s trembling hands.
"You are late," Professor Alaric drawled. "I disapprove of tardiness."
"Sorry, Sir," Eilara murmured, her gaze fixed on the floor.
"Come in, then." He swept a hand toward the interior. "Let’s get this meeting over with."
The office didn't feel like a place of study; it felt like a tomb. Instead of organized scrolls, the walls were plastered with sketches of students—each face marked with different, cryptic symbols. Above them, five translucent ghosts crawled across the ceiling like pale spiders, their faint moans echoing in the cramped space. The floor was uneven, made of rough, steep stone that felt like it was shifting underfoot.
"His element is fire," the boy whispered urgently to Eilara. "But that doesn't explain the explosions."
"Take a seat," Alaric commanded, gesturing to four stone chairs arranged around a desk piled high with dusty ledgers. He claimed the largest one for himself. Lady Shor took the second, her butterflies twitching. Eilara and the boy took the remaining two, the cold of the stone seeping through their clothes.
"According to my research," Alaric began, leaning back until his face was half-hidden in shadow, "the two of you possess exceptionally strong memories."
Lady Shor leaned forward, a sharp smile playing on her lips. "The normal bells didn't work on either of you. Fascinating, really."
Professor Alaric nodded slowly. "Which is why I will introduce you to a different concept. An unfaded memory."
The boy’s eyes widened, his breath hitching. "I've heard of that before..."
Lady Shor’s smile widened. "I expected as much from a Seriumnear."
"Back to the topic," Alaric snapped. "Normal children your age can only master leaving a memory behind. But an unfaded memory is different. Eilara, do you know what it is?"
Eilara shook her head, her heart hammering against her ribs. "No, Sir."
"It’s a memory our subconsciousness refuses to discard," Lady Shor explained, her voice dropping to a silk-smooth purr. "Ringing a bell only hides them; it doesn't erase them."
"An unfaded memory creates a localized force-field around the specific moment of your choosing," Alaric added, his black eyes locking onto Eilara’s. "And I would like the two of you to conduct an experiment for me. I want to see if your 'strong memories' can survive being forced into the light."57Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo5mJDz761Q
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