5 — My Thoughts Were Silent, And Loudly So

We took a bath for an hour straight. Quite depressing, given the circumstances. Not only did I have to cleanse myself, but said fox spirit also asked to be groomed properly. Myra really loves my hand-care treatments, so she would wiggle around despite being the maid here. She should have been the one scrubbing my back, not the other way around.

However, despite that, she is an extremely good cook. Way better than me, who apparently always fumbled with both basic spells and cooking. Even Lily would be the one assisting her.

And nope, definitely not me. Never.

After that, we would undress ourselves… wait, that's way too detailed.

Erm, let's say that Myra, Lily, and I would help dress each other, mostly with what we couldn't do ourselves. In this case, Myra is a perfect coordinator, mostly because she knows the trends.

And yes, she could be somewhat serious if she wanted to.

That crackhead scene was quite rare, after all.

Speaking of which, since I apparently forgot to describe the dormitory room, I must say it is also as extravagant as the bathroom inside it. A dinner table sat at the center, with two beds in opposite corners, along with the mandatory study desks for each student. Not to mention a huge set of windows, allowing more than enough sun in the morning for both me and Lily.

We all loved sunny days, after all.

Oh, and on top of that, my beloved rose pots near the balcony. Those were perfection.

Anyway, living here was such a highly demanding choice, yet we had nothing to worry about.

The Kingdom of Æthelwynn-Wessexgard made a policy for all royal families, granting them full scholarship privileges. That privilege extended further than most people realized. Every royal household was permitted to sponsor a limited number of commoners—servants, wards, retainers—who showed magical aptitude. If a commoner could cast, and if a royal family was willing to claim them, that commoner received the same education, the same dormitory, the same meals, the same access to the academy's libraries and training halls. On paper, it was generosity. In practice, it was ownership.

The official excuse was that all of them were contributing to economics, industry, marketing, and transportation. That the kingdom's prosperity depended on the integration of magical talent from every station. That this was progress.

This cast aside any commoner in town who lacked both magic and a royal sponsor. No spell, no patron, no future. Unless they happened to be smart enough to cast magic spells on their own, therefore earning a free pass to any education. Even then, their parents would have to let them go, willingly or not.

Mostly because those children would one day turn against the very families that had sold them.

What a cruel, appalling reality.

Now, what about my family? That would be another story for the future.

Anyway, if you're curious about all this lore regarding the Kingdom's policy, it's mostly because I didn't know whether I should be grateful or appalled by the dessert, main course, and appetizer in front of me. I know Myra is such a good cook, but again…

This was way too much… except this time, it was too much for my tummy to handle.

"Dear Gods and Goddesses, thank You for the extraordinary afternoon meal You have given to us, as both Your slaves and followers. May Divinity bless us with Your thoughtfulness and wisdom."

"Amen."

It was Lily, leading the prayer for the three of us.

It was followed by an awkward silence for a moment before the conversation continued.

"You forgot the part where they cursed us with misfortune," I snapped.

"Silence. It's formality. Do you even have any common sense?"

Oh wow, the irony of a fallen apple tree somehow forgetting the gravity that dropped it. How incredible!

When the pot called the kettle black, the kettle couldn't help pitying the pot for its foolishness.

All of you included, obviously.

Myra had stolen the beginning by eating while we weren't looking. She looked like she was enjoying every single bit of it. Her tail was wagging happily every single time she fed herself.

Awkward silence followed once more.

So much so my thoughts were silent too.

Lily couldn't help the atmosphere, so she followed Myra's quick reaction by eating the appetizer first. Her spoon and fork were already set during the plating, so all she could do was scoop it.

As for me though, I didn't feel like eating anything.

Except for the strawberry cake with syrup as the dessert.

I love sweets way more than sunny days, after all.

"So… no work left for today, I presume?" Lily asked, this time serious.

I replied with a heavy sigh.

"Everything was already prepared way before the D-Day, and I don't know if there's anything left to do. Also, Professor Mel's reminder just gave me enough of a headache," I finished.

I was way too lucky.

Hadn't I managed everything within the Council before the deadline, I would have forgotten it for sure. This festival ceremony is extremely important for everyone inside the Kingdom, and it is by no means an exaggeration. However, I still felt a sense of awkwardness instead.

Mostly for celebrating someone whose name I didn't even know.

Let alone whether they existed or not.

Anyway, I also heard that the Four Witches of Apocalypse would also take part in the ceremony.

I couldn't help but wonder what they would look like this year. They made their appearance once a year. But no one was sure whether they were real or not.

"Master."

Myra's seriousness gave me chills down my spine. If she started talking like this… then something related to her status as the fox spirit must have happened.

"What is it, Myra?" I closed my eyes, hoping it was anything but that.

"After you used that spell, I could no longer supply my spiritual energy, at least for a few hours."

Oh, God. Not this time...

I looked at Lily. She gave me an unknowing look while eating her dessert. Underneath that blankness, I caught the faint trace of an "I don't care" response and, beneath even that, the ghost of a "Told ya" gesture.

Are you seriously treating me like a stranger now?

Anyway, I didn't know she was unusually quick at eating her food.

Though she was always well-mannered, the kind expected from the Seraphine royal family. And yes, I truly fancy calling them that, mostly because it's the most ironic part.

Our families are—

"Master?"

Oh, right. I was overthinking again.

"Oh, I mean. It's alright. No worries."

I played with my fork and spoon, clashing them together since I was done eating.

And yes, maybe I was a little bit too bored, let's say.

Erm, don't get me wrong.

Nothing hideous or vulgar about this, okay?

Just a mere child's play.

"It's not like I'm gonna use any magic during the festival."

Yep, hopefully.

I mean, maybe the fact I couldn't use any magic at all would actually help me.

Shortly after, Lily grabbed my wrist. I tried to pull away, yet her grip got firmer.

"Are you really sure about that? What if you did that again just like last year?"

She gave me a warning, and concern was visible in both of her eyes.

"Also… what about those people? Are you ready to face them again?"

Everything she said landed in silence as all my thoughts shut down immediately.

So loudly that I could no longer breathe.

Nope, not again this time.

The silence stretched. Myra had stopped eating. Even her tail had gone still, which was somehow worse than if she had kept wagging it. She was watching me with those bright, curious eyes, but there was no innocence in them now. Only waiting.

I pulled my wrist free. Lily let me.

"I'm fine," I said.

"You're not."

"I'm fine."

"Clara."

"I said I'm fine."

The words came out sharper than I meant them to. Lily flinched—barely, just a flicker around her eyes—and then her face closed off again. That was worse. I would have preferred it if she had yelled at me. Lily yelling meant Lily cared. Lily going quiet meant Lily was filing this away for later, and later was always worse.

Myra climbed onto the table. She didn't ask permission. She never did. She just walked across the plates, knocked over a salt shaker, and sat down directly in front of me with her tail wrapped around her paws.

"Kon," she said. "Master is lying."

"I'm not lying."

"Yip. Master is lying."

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

Myra tilted her head. "Master lost her magic. Master is sad. Master doesn't want to say it out loud because saying it makes it real. Kon."

The room went very quiet.

I had never told Myra that. I had never told anyone that. The story I had given the academy, the story I had given Lily, the story I had given everyone who asked was that my magic was unstable. Unreliable. Prone to failure. That I was a late bloomer, a slow learner, a student who simply needed more time.

That was a lie.

The truth was that I had magic once. Real magic. The kind that made instructors stop mid-lecture and stare. The kind that made other students whisper behind their hands. The kind that made the Council itself take notice, back when I was young enough to think that was a good thing.

And then, one day, it was gone.

Not weakened. Not dimmed. Gone. Like someone had reached into my chest and pulled out the part of me that could touch the world.

I had spent three years trying to get it back. Three years of reading, of practicing, of begging whatever gods might be listening. Three years of failure after failure after failure, each one more public than the last, until the whispers stopped being impressed and started being pitying.

The Potential Witch.

The greatest that never was.

"Clara," Lily said quietly. "You don't have to talk about it. Not now."

"I know."

"But you should know something." She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her eyes steady. "Whatever happened last year—whatever happens this year—you're not facing it alone. You know that, right?"

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say something brave and reassuring and worthy of the concern she was offering me.

Instead, I said: "You should eat your dessert before Myra steals it."

Lily stared at me for a long moment.

Then she sighed, picked up her fork, and did exactly that.

Myra, apparently satisfied that the crisis had been averted, hopped off the table and returned to her own plate. Her tail resumed its slow, happy wag. The sunlight through the windows shifted as a cloud passed over the academy, and for a moment, everything felt almost normal.

Almost.

I looked down at my strawberry cake. The syrup had pooled at the edges of the plate, forming a thin red ring. It looked a little too much like something else.

I picked up my fork anyway.

"It's not like I'm gonna use any magic during the festival," I said again, quieter this time.

Yep. Hopefully.

...