While Azrael was still on his knees, his breath ragged and erratic from the strange experience in the pitch-black expanse, his mind swirled with confusion. He couldn't shake the feeling of being pulled into that dark void. The cold that seeped deep into his very soul, and the voice—so cold, so indifferent—echoed in his head.
"How are you this pathetically weak?"
The words replayed over and over in his mind. Irritation flared, not as anger, but as a biting, frustrating offense. He had just awakened his powers. Powers that he already considered miraculous—powers that marked him as a dual elementalist with blue-grade talent—and yet, the voice had called him weak.
A soft fluttering caught his attention and brought him out of his reverie. A note had fallen from the back of the painting. Azrael's heart skipped a beat. As if on instinct, he tried to reach for the note, but his body protested. He carefully stretched his arm toward it. His fingers brushed the note's edges and, with effort, pulled it into his hand.
Azrael exhaled a long, steadying breath, willing his body to calm. As he opened the note, he immediately recognized his uncle's handwriting.
His heart skipped, but the excitement was fleeting. Azrael quickly read through the note, his brow furrowing as confusion twisted inside him.
"You are you, you are not you."
"You are him, you are not him."
Azrael muttered the words aloud, brow furrowing deeper. "What does this mean?"
He read it over and over again, but no clarity came. His mind kept circling, trying to piece something together from the cryptic lines, but nothing clicked. It made no sense. His uncle's note felt like a puzzle he couldn't solve. The strange wording left him baffled and unsettled. Something in his gut told him that his uncle had some connection to whatever had just happened to him. But now, his uncle Ellis was gone.
At this point, Azrael had already accepted that his uncle wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. His uncle's disappearance wasn't just about him being gone. There was something more, something Azrael couldn't yet grasp, but it was there, looming.
Suddenly, a knock broke the silence.
Knock, knock, knock.
Azrael blinked, his thoughts still tangled in the confusion from earlier. Without hesitation, he stood up, brushing his hands over his face to clear his mind. The knock didn't spark hope. Instead, it felt almost like a foregone conclusion. He knew it wasn't his uncle. It was too soon for that.
He moved toward the door and opened it, expecting to find the academy representatives. Sure enough, they were standing there, faces serious and professional as always. The representative from Brightwood Academy spoke first, his voice calm, yet tinged with a hint of concern.
"We couldn't find your uncle," he said. "No one saw him leave the city. It's strange."
Azrael nodded, his face blank, but his mind already several steps ahead. He had already figured out that things weren't as simple as they seemed. His uncle had left without warning, without explanation. Azrael had prepared himself for the worst. Finding out the truth now wasn't surprising.
Azrael shook his head slightly. "Don't worry about it. He left a note and I don't think he'll be coming back anytime soon."
The representative from Brightwood Academy nodded, though his brows furrowed in confusion. The other representatives exchanged glances. There was a moment of hesitation before another voice spoke up, this time from one of the other academy representatives.
"Well, that means you'll have to choose an academy for yourself," the representative said.
Azrael nodded, but his mind wasn't entirely on the conversation. He was thinking about his options, the academies he had overheard kids arguing about during the past days. From what he gathered, Starlight Academy was the strongest, Ashbourne Academy the second strongest, and Brightwood Academy the third.
Normally, any of these would be the obvious choices for someone with his powers—dual-elemental, with blue-grade talent. The door was wide open for him to join any one of them.
But then there was Blackspire Academy.
There was something about them that felt different. They were ranked fifth, but they only accepted students with purple-grade talent or higher. Their admission rate was low, and their number of students smaller compared to the other academies. Yet other academies seemed to keep their distance, but it wasn't openly hostile—just an undercurrent of wariness. At least, that's what Azrael had heard from public speculation.
Azrael's gaze drifted towards the Blackspire representative, who had been unusually quiet throughout the whole exchange. Unlike the others, this representative hadn't tried to flatter him or convince him to join their academy. He hadn't even offered exaggerated praise for his powers.
Azrael weighed the silence carefully. Something about that felt off.
"I choose Blackspire Academy," he said, voice firm and steady.
The air in the room seemed to freeze.
The elder from Blackspire blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting this response and the other representatives exchanged shocked glances. Azrael didn't waver, standing tall, his decision made. He had chosen the academy that felt like it had more to offer—though he still wasn't entirely sure what that was.
The representative from Starlight Academy recovered quickly. "Are you sure?" he asked, trying to hide his disbelief. "Starlight Academy is the strongest."
Azrael didn't look back, his expression unshaken. "I'm sure."
The other representatives watched with a mix of envy and frustration. Every academy representative was rewarded for bringing back talented prodigies, and losing one to Blackspire Academy was not an outcome they expected. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken competition, but Azrael didn't care.
The Blackspire representative stepped forward with a confident smile, his eyes gleaming with approval. "You've made the right choice," he said, then glanced at the others, his smile turning smug.
The other representatives, clearly embarrassed, gave him one last glare before turning away, muttering to themselves as they left. There was no need to waste more time.
Azrael focused his attention back on the Blackspire representative.
"My name is Charles," the man said, offering a smile. "When would you be ready to leave for the academy?"
Azrael glanced back at the cottage, a wave of nostalgia washing over him. The place where his family had gathered. Where it all began. Where it all fell apart.
He inhaled slowly, pushing down the bitterness that rose in his chest.
"Tomorrow morning," he said finally. "I'll be ready."
Charles nodded. "I'll stay nearby until then."
With that, the representative from Blackspire turned and left, leaving Azrael standing alone in the doorway. The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the quiet cottage. He wasn't sure what the future held, but he had made his choice.