The noble district of Opes was an island of perfection suspended above the decay of the slums. As they climbed the wide white marble staircases, Hayjin felt the weight of the altitude pressing on his child-sized lungs, but the spectacle unfolding before him was a natural anesthetic for his fatigue. The Castle of the Royal Lineage was not a squat, gray fortress; it was a cathedral of glass, light, and impossible geometry. The towers, thin as needles of ice, seemed to pierce the indigo sky of Exilia, connected by flying buttresses that appeared to be made of pure solidified energy.
"It's... enormous," Hayjin whispered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "It looks like it's going to fall at any moment, yet it's right there before me... it's magnificent."
Rhaegalur walked with his hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on the monumental silver-inlaid gates. "The magic of Opes isn't just aesthetic, Hayjin. It is the architecture of the soul. As long as the royal bloodline breathes, these walls will not know the loss of their pillar."
"And so this 'Princess'..." Hayjin asked, trying to maintain his composure as they passed a patrol of knights in ceremonial armor. "Is she the one who will deal with the Mark? I imagine she's a century-old witch, one of those women shrouded in veils who speaks in riddles."
Rhaegalur shook his head, a half-smile crinkling his beard. "Not exactly. Her name is Wren. She's twelve years old, or thereabouts. She is the younger of the two daughters of the royal family, but she is a true natural talent—she possesses a magical affinity very high for someone her age. She's a prodigy, though she can be a bit... impulsive at times."
Hayjin stopped dead on a step, staring at the giant's back. "A young girl? Are you telling me my only hope of not being tracked by a cult of millennial assassins is in the hands of a twelve-year-old who's probably still afraid of the dark?"
"You know what, Rhaegalur? I don't exactly trust this 100%..."
"And what exactly were you expecting?"
"Well… I was expecting maybe some kind of millennial mage, someone with a face full of wrinkles and centuries of experience, not someone who plays with dolls."
"What do you know? Wren's dolls might come to life and start breathing fire if you make them angry," Rhaegalur retorted, turning to look at him seriously. "Trust me. Right now, her magical purity is the only veil the Mark cannot tear through. But before we reach her, we have to go through the bureaucracy of the kingdom's elders."
They stopped in an immense circular hall, where the ceiling was a crystal dome showing the constellations of Alius even in broad daylight. Rhaegalur adjusted his cloak, carefully hiding the back of Hayjin's neck.
"Listen carefully," the man whispered, leaning down toward him. "I have to go speak with the Kingdom's Elders, the Council of Sages who still pretend to rule this realm. They are suspicious, greedy, and terrified of everything they don't understand. If they saw your mark, they'd throw us in the dungeons before I could say 'dragon.' You stay here. Hide behind that column, look at the floors, do whatever you want—just don't draw attention. Wait for me. I'm going to convince them I need Wren's help for a... 'private experiment.' Let's just hope they believe me."
"Don't move."
Hayjin nodded, albeit reluctantly. He watched Rhaegalur's massive figure walk away toward a set of double golden doors, leaving him alone in that marble vastness.
Time passed with agonizing slowness. Hayjin sat on the steps of a side altar, watching the shadows lengthen on the polished floor. Solitude brought with it the usual poisonous thoughts. "What am I doing here? Why am I waiting for a dragon god in a crystal castle?" The feeling of unreality was so strong that he pinched his arm, hoping to wake up in his room in London, surrounded by the mess of his university notes. But the pain was real, as was the cold of the marble beneath him.
"I still think this is just a dream. It must be a trauma-induced dream," he thought, staring into space. "A coma. Maybe I was hit by a bus and my brain is creating this fantasy epic so I don't go insane."
Suddenly, the sound of frantic, rhythmic footsteps echoed from the top of a nearby spiral staircase. Tap-tap-tap-tap.
Hayjin looked up just as a blur of blue and white appeared from around the corner of the stairs. It was a girl running at full tilt, clutching a heavy leather-bound volume to her chest. Her ash-brown hair flew behind her like a trail.
"Oh no, no, no! I'm late!" she cried, not looking where she was putting her feet.
At the last step, the hem of her long robe caught on the heel of her boot. The girl stumbled, her eyes widened in terror, and the book slipped from her hand, flying into the air. She was about to crash face-first onto the hard marble.
Hayjin, acting on pure instinct and forgetting he was in a boy's body, lunged forward. It was a clumsy, uncoordinated movement. He managed to catch her just as she was about to fall, but the weight difference and momentum betrayed him. The girl fell on top of him with all her weight, dragging him to the floor.
Oof!
They found themselves in a tangle of arms, legs, and pages of paper floating around them. Hayjin felt his nose flattened against a shoulder smelling of lavender and ink.
"Ouch…" she murmured, lifting her head. Her eyes were an electric blue, vibrating with an energy that seemed almost visible. She realized she was on top of a boy slightly smaller than her and blushed violently, jumping to her feet as if she had touched a hot plate. "Oh! By the stars of Alius! I am so sorry! Are you okay? Did you break anything?"
Hayjin sat up, rubbing his back and trying to recover the shred of dignity he had left. "I'm fine... I think. You should watch where you're running, you know? Gravity doesn't forgive anyone, not even in magic castles."
"Thank you! Thank you for catching me, you were... heroic, I guess! But now I have to go, I absolutely have to try something!" And without waiting for an answer, she started running toward a large door leading outside, giving him a hurried wave. "Bye! And thanks again!"
Hayjin remained there, on the ground, watching her disappear. Curiosity that cursed drive that had already gotten him into trouble with the drunk hero won out again. "If that's a princess, she's crazy. Where is she going in such a hurry…?"
"I want to see where she's going in such a rush."
He stood up and followed her, keeping his distance. He stepped through the portal and found himself in the Heart of the Castle: an immense garden that must have once been a paradise, but now appeared dilapidated. Decapitated statues of ancient kings were shrouded in thorny vines, and the fountains were dry, filled with dead leaves. Yet, there was a melancholy beauty in that decay.
The girl stopped in the center of a circular clearing, opened her grimoire on a stone pedestal, and began tracing symbols in the air with her fingers.
"So," Hayjin said, popping up from behind a withered bush. "Hey there, hi. What are you up to? Do you want to destroy what's left of the garden?"
She gasped, turning toward him with a defiant expression. "Oh, it's you again! I'm trying a ninth-class spell from the Seventh Grimoire. If it works, I'll be able to catalyze the humidity in the air into a stable form. Watch and learn, little nosey-pants."
She concentrated. Her hands began to glow with a cerulean light. She murmured words in an ancient tongue that made Hayjin's eardrums vibrate a sound that felt like whale songs mixed with the rustle of rain. Slowly, between her palms, a sphere of water began to form. It grew, floated, spinning whirligig-like until it became a perfect bubble, as large as a melon.
"Yes! I did it!" she exclaimed, throwing the bubble toward an old statue. The water hit the stone with a harmless paff, barely wetting it.
Hayjin looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "That's it? You ran like you had to save the world just to throw a little bubble at a statue?"
The girl puffed out her cheeks, indignant. "A little bubble?! That is advanced elemental manipulation! It requires immense concentration not to let the bubble explode before the throw! If you're so good and critical, why don't you show me a magic trick? Show me something better, you hack mage."
Hayjin crossed his arms, suddenly feeling out of place. "Uhm… well… I… I don't know how to use magic. Or at least, not the way you mean."
She widened her eyes, then burst into boisterous laughter, doubling over. "What? You don't know how to use magic? How old are you, exactly? You look small, but if you're at the castle, you should have already passed at least the first three years of the Academy for Young Mages! How did you even pass the entrance exams if you don't even know how to light a candle with your mind?"
"I never attended any academy," Hayjin replied, his voice turning somber. "I come from a place where magic is... different. Non-existent, for most people."
The girl's laughter died instantly. She approached him, scrutinizing him with almost scientific curiosity. She turned him around like he was a mannequin, looking at his clothes and then trying to peer under his hood, which Hayjin promptly tightened.
"No academy? But that's impossible. Every child in Exilia shows the first signs of affinity by age 6. If you don't know how to use magic, it means your flow is blocked or…" she stopped, and her tone became suddenly soft, almost protective. "Oh, I see. Maybe you're one of those who need an extra push. Don't worry, little one. I'll take care of teaching you something specific. Something suitable for a stubborn beginner like you."
She wiped her hands on her blue robe and held out her hand to him with a radiant smile, devoid of any malice.
"I am Wren, Second Princess of the Lineage of Opes and future Supreme Archmage—even if the Elders say I talk too much... And who might you be, mysterious adventurer?"
Hayjin looked at that outstretched hand. It was small, smudged with crystal dust, but it emanated a warmth that reminded him, for a brief instant, of the normalcy he had lost.
"Hayjin," he replied, shaking her hand. "My name is Hayjin. And I think your spell needed a bit more centripetal pressure in the core of the bubble, if you really wanted to crack that statue."
Wren stood open-mouthed for the second time in ten minutes. "Centri-what pressure? Where do you even learn these words? It's clear you come from very far away."
"Let's just say I come from a place… different from this one," he whispered, with a bitter half-smile. "A magic school very, very far away."
Wren smiled back, dragging him toward the center of the garden. "Well, Hayjin. Let's see if your pressure actually works or if you're just good at talking. The lesson has just begun!"
Hayjin let himself be dragged along, forgetting for a moment Rhaegalur, the Kingdom's Elders, and the Mark burning on the back of his neck. In that dilapidated garden, under the gaze of a twelve-year-old princess, the world of Alius seemed, for the first time, like a place where it was worth learning how to play.
The sun of Opes, filtering through the crystal dome overhanging the hanging garden, cast long, fragmented shadows on the decapitated statues. The air was still, heavy with the scent of ancient stones and that strange electricity that seemed to precede every magical manifestation in that world.
Wren distractedly wiped a speck of marble dust from her blue tunic, then turned toward Hayjin. Her gaze, previously playful and frantic, suddenly became sharp, almost searching. Her pupils seemed to vibrate with an inner light as she studied him with the seriousness that only a child can have when they sense a mystery.
"Anyway, Hayjin... who are you really?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "I mean, I've never seen you around here. And the castle isn't exactly a place where children wander in by mistake. Besides, you speak my same language, which means you're native to Exilia. You're from Doeken, aren't you?"
Hayjin flinched imperceptibly. "Doeken? I don't know… I wouldn't know…."
"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed, making a vague gesture toward the mountains to the north. "One of the other great kingdoms of this continent. You people are strange—you always speak in complicated ways and have that air of someone who knows everything. But don't worry," she added with a radiant smile that seemed to light up the entire decaying garden. "I'm not like the Elders of the Council. They say borders are sacred and that the kingdoms of Exilia should look at each other with suspicion. I think that's nonsense. If we all got along, maybe the garden would still be in bloom and the fountains would sing again. I don't hate anyone, even those from other kingdoms, let alone someone who saves me from a nasty fall, hahahah!"
Hayjin remained silent. The disarming simplicity of this girl hit him harder than any threat from Rhaegalur. In a world that wanted him dead or turned into a weapon, Wren was offering him a hand reached across the borders of kingdoms he didn't even know.
"Listen," she continued, stepping closer and lowering her voice as if revealing a state secret. "If you help me perfect this business of the... what did you call it? Centripetal pressure? If you help me make my spells work, I'll help you. I'll find a magic that is suitable for you. A pact between mages, what do you say?"
Hayjin looked at Wren's hand, then at the ruined garden. He felt the weight of the Mark on his neck, a cold presence reminding him of his vulnerability. Learning magic... not to go home, perhaps, but so as not to be the victim of every drunkard or cultist he encountered.
"I accept," Hayjin said, his voice firm. "But don't expect miracles. I know the theory of physics, not how to bend reality to my desires."
The Lesson of the Garden
Wren positioned herself again in front of the statue of an ancient knight, whose shield was now reduced to a shapeless block of stone.
"So, explain it to me again," she said, focused, her fingers already beginning to form bluish sparks.
Hayjin stepped closer, observing the flow of energy emanating from her hands. "The problem with your water bubble is that it's just a mass of liquid held together by will. As soon as it touches something, the energy disperses outward. If you want it to be destructive, you have to force the water to rotate inward. Imagine a vortex, but enclosed in a sphere. The pressure must push toward the center. The faster it rotates, the more force it will have when the bubble explodes on impact."
Wren narrowed her eyes, trying to visualize the concept. "Rotate... inward. Like a trapped whirlpool."
She began to murmur the spell, but this time her hands didn't stay still. She started moving them in small concentric circles, one opposite the other. Water began to condense from the humidity in the air, but instead of forming a calm bubble, it began to hiss. A sphere of deep blue, almost black from the density, formed between her palms.
"It's... it's getting heavy!" she exclaimed, teeth gritted from the effort.
"Maintain the rotation! Push the energy into the core!" Hayjin ordered, almost forgetting he was a layman.
With a cry of pure determination, Wren threw the sphere. It didn't fly like a water balloon; it hissed through the air like a bullet. When it hit the statue's stone shield, there wasn't just a simple splash. There was a boom. The shield exploded into a thousand marble fragments, and the force of the impact made the entire statue stagger, leaving a smoking, wet hole in the center of its stone chest.
The silence that followed was broken only by Wren's heavy breathing. She looked at the destroyed statue, then at her hands, then at Hayjin.
"I... I tore it to pieces," she whispered, her eyes shining with feverish excitement. She jumped in place, grabbing Hayjin by the shoulders and shaking him. "We tore it to pieces! Did you see?! It was like... like liquid lightning!"
Hayjin tried to free himself from her grip, a half-smile appearing on his face. "I told you. Physics never lies, Wren. Not even when it's mixed with your strange energy."
After the explosion of energy, the two sat on the dry grass at the foot of a large oak with silver leaves that hadn't seen water in years. Wren had opened her grimoire and was leafing through it with almost religious care.
"Now it's your turn," she said, turning serious again. "We have to find your affinity. Many believe you are born with an element already written in your soul: fire, earth, air... but the truth is that in the early years we are like empty vessels. We may not possess a precise affinity at first. You have to study the basic spells of every element to see which one resonates best with your heartbeat."
Hayjin watched her closely. That explanation vaguely reminded him of laboratory experiments, where you try different reagents to see which one produces a reaction.
"We'll start with Water Magic," she decided, pointing an index finger at a page illustrated with fluid blue runes. "It's the easiest to perceive because water is everywhere, even inside us. It's the one I've studied most and I can guide you step by step. If you can feel the moisture in the air and call it to you, it means your flow is ready."
Hayjin stared at the runes. They seemed to slide on the page as if they were alive. "Water, huh? At least I don't risk setting the whole castle on fire on my first try."
"I wouldn't be so sure with you," she joked, playfully hitting his shoulder. "Close your eyes, Hayjin. Don't look with your sight, but with your lungs. Feel the coolness rising from the roots of the trees, feel the droplets suspended in the mist of Opes. Call them to you, not as a master, but as an invitation."
Hayjin closed his eyes. The noise of his thoughts—the anger, London, the fear—began to fade under the guidance of Wren's voice. For the first time since arriving on Alius, he didn't try to fight the world. He tried to listen to it.
He felt the cold of the stone, the warmth of the girl sitting next to him, and in the background, a subtle vibration. It was like a rhythmic heartbeat, a constant flow running beneath the earth and in the air itself. It was everywhere.
"I feel it," he murmured.
"Good," Wren whispered, her voice full of wonder. "Now reach out your hand. Don't think about your centripetal pressure, don't think about calculations. Just ask the water to show itself."
Hayjin extended his palm. He felt a prickling on his fingertips, a warmth traveling up his arm starting from the back of his neck, where the Mark pulsed faintly, almost as if it wanted to join the feast.
A tiny droplet, perfect and crystalline, condensed from nowhere right in the center of his palm. It trembled, reflecting the light of the daytime stars above them.
Wren held her breath. "You did it... on the first try without ever having attended the Academy. Hayjin, you... you are either a monster of talent or a living miracle."
Hayjin reopened his eyes, staring at that single droplet. It wasn't in his world, it wasn't science, but it was something he had created. In that moment, the abyss between the two worlds seemed slightly less deep.
"I... I did it... how... how is it possible?" he replied, confused and disoriented, but for the first time ever, his gaze was not turned to the past, but to that tiny sphere of liquid dancing on his skin.
Wren smiled at him, snapping her book shut with a sharp thud. "Welcome to the world of magic, Hayjin. Tomorrow we'll try to turn that drop into a river. But now... I think your father is waiting for you in front of that gate, and he seems to have a very… eerie look about him."
Hayjin turned toward the castle, seeing Rhaegalur's imposing figure appear at the garden entrance. His new life, however absurd, was finally taking shape.