Oracle's Eye

“How long have you been here, Princess?”

“...Since you arrived, Professor Favian.”

As usual, the elderly magecraft teacher only noticed Aya the moment he finished setting up the day's lesson. The other tutors would also find themselves searching for her even when she's on time for class. But it never occurred to her that they’re ignoring their student on purpose. Since it happened frequently, her lack of presence could be the cause.

‘But if people can’t see me in the crowning ceremony either, will I be named the ‘Invisible Princess’ alongside the ‘Prince of Weeds’?’ Aya brooded.

“Forgive me, Your Highness. My eyesight has gotten quite bad with age.”

At least, Favian apologized whenever he realized his mistake, unlike the other tutors who simply dismissed it. He was a tall, slender man with white hair and a trimmed beard. Deep lines creased his face, framing a pair of red eyes. He wore a dark robe with silver embroidery, and he carried a wooden staff embedded with gems.

They're now in the study, where she took her classes. The room was furnished with a desk, chairs, and ornate walls covered with bookshelves. Morning light sifted through the pristine windows, dipping the place in mellow ambers.

“Shall we begin the discussion?"

Aya nodded excitedly. “Yes, please!”

“Hoho! The princess's earnest desire for knowledge would make any academy professor shed tears.”

‘Hm? Lord Lorenz said something similar...’

Her heart tightened at the memory. 

Back then, she’d never imagined residing in a castle and training as royalty, far from her one and only family. Had things turned out differently, she would’ve been at temple school by now, but that wasn’t the case. Her busy schedule somehow helped her forget about her problems and kept her from wallowing in misery. Even so, the longing didn't disappear, and she kept wishing life would someday return to how it used to be.

Right now, though, Aya was doing whatever she could—not because she chose to, but because it's the only choice.

“Professor Favian, I'd like to ask something,” Aya said.

“Ah, yes. It has come to my attention that you've been practicing magecraft on your own.”

She jolted. “U-Uh, well, um…”

“Your Highness has an upper-tier mana level, and it is one that shapes the world, correct?”

Mana level referred to a mage's mana capacity, and it was grouped into three. Those were upper-tier for the highest level, mid-tier for average, and lower-tier for the lowest. Mana affinity, on the other hand, indicated compatibility with the six elements. Each had its corresponding noble euphemism.

Individuals with a light or darkness affinity were said to have magic that ruled the sky. For water, it’s magic that blossomed in spring; for fire, magic that thrived in summer; for earth, magic that ripened in autumn; and for wind, magic that bolstered in winter. People with multiple mana affinities were known to have magic that shaped the world.

Aya wasn't aware of her mana level and affinity until she’s examined by a magic physician using certain measurement tools.

Favian continued, “If I may ask, why did you decide on illusions when, given your abilities, you could master many other types of magic?”

‘Geh…! He knows everything.’

There were reasons, of course, but others would probably think them silly.

It wasn't anything benevolent like protecting loved ones or changing lives for the better. Rather, it’s because she read too much and had more imagination than she knew what to do with. Another reason was that she grew up not having friends. She was lonely, and she'd fill that loneliness with figmental companions and the fleeting bonds she shared with them.

‘Oh, wow, that sounds so petty.’ Embarrassed, Aya instead said, “I-Illusions aren’t too hard compared to other kinds of magic.”

“...Is that how it is to you? An illusion is made up of both light and darkness spells that attempt to manipulate perception—attempt because it can never imitate the real thing. In fact, it takes more of a psychological approach, as it resorts to deceiving people’s minds.”

“Well, um… That’s not how I do it. I can’t deceive my own mind, can I?”

Favian leaned forward, intrigued. “What do you mean, Princess?”

“I create illusions mainly for myself, not for others, and, uh… Have you watched a shadow play?”

Shadow play, or shadow puppetry, was an art of storytelling that utilized cut-out figures, a light source, and a screen. Her stepfather was a skilled puppeteer capable of producing various effects and movements. She’d always watch him when she’s younger. He would prop up a stage outside the bookshop and perform for children during the town festival.

“Dad, why’re you doing plays based on books you’re selling? Can’t they just read them?” Aya had once asked, and Roniel answered, “Easy for you to say, Aya. Most kids can’t read yet, and some people don’t have the mind’s eye.”

“What’s that?”

“The mind’s eye is the ability to mentally visualize something. When we read, we create our own images of the characters, setting, and plot, right? This is called the mind’s eye because we see it internally rather than with our physical eyes. It’s our very imagination. Don’t you feel bad for those without it?”

“I do! Their lives must be super boring!”

Inspired by his insight and compassion, Aya studied shadow play, making it the origin and philosophy behind her illusions.

However, illusions were an elemental art at its core, so she built an original framework. The puppets fell under the darkness spell, the visibility and colors under the light spell, and the stage effects under the other elements. The more elements, the better the illusion. They acted as additional instruments that gave more entertainment in a stage performance.

“I think you can enhance illusions based on how many senses they engage using the different elements. Both darkness and light fabricate a simple visual trick that’s convincing at a glance. Add another element, then most people believe it’s real for a short while. Make it four or five, and it creates an illusion that- Uh, Professor?”

Favian appeared to be entranced. “...That is one of the most brilliant ideas I've heard.”

“O-Oh… I thought it was pretty straightforward.” Aya felt flattered but also incredulous.

“Very well.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “Today’s lesson shall be a demonstration.”

And so, they held a magical display.

She began with illusions from her childhood. Having multiple affinities offered her boundless elements, which allowed her to orchestrate a stimulating experience. The magecraft teacher was wonderstruck, to say the least. He stared at the illusion of one fictional character in particular.

“He's Crisostomo the Hero! Do you recognize him, Professor?”

“I do, but is he supposed to look like His Majesty Etor Gallahan's grandson?”

“...Who?” Aya never met any of the king's children, much less his grandchildren. ‘The person that appears in mind when I think of Crisostomo the Hero is, well…Crisostomo, my friend.’

“This is exceptional work, Princess. Illusion magic copies memory, recreating what is familiar. But fictional characters, or more so, nonexistent creatures? Memory alone cannot imitate those. So, the magic guesses, and magic is a terrible sculptor when forced to guess… Could Your Highness possibly possess the Oracle’s Eye?”

Seeing her puzzled expression, he explained, “It is a special, almost mythical ability that lets one perceive what is normally imperceptible, ranging from possible futures to invisible connections. In your case, I believe it is an imagination so vivid you can create that which never exists.”

Aya was lost, no longer understanding.

She wasn’t sure how to take all this, but Favian seemed ecstatic. That’s good enough. He completely forgot that she’d been practicing without his permission. She’d managed to avoid another lecture, like with Romina.

Now that he knew, she decided to grab this opportunity.

“Um, Professor, may I ask my question now?”

He turned back to her with a start, snapping out of his reverie. “What is it?”

“You see, these illusions… They’re far from perfect.”

“Are they?” He blinked, bewildered. “Princess, these are the finest illusions I’ve ever laid eyes on."

“Some things are still missing, and I’m hoping you can help me with them.” She breathed in, bracing herself. “So, first, do you think I can make my illusion talk?"

---

‘Will this be okay? Dad said I shouldn’t copy other people.’

“You are not copying other people, my dearest.” Maruscha’s words from when Aya’s magic was first revealed came to mind. “You are copying yourself~"

The head maid had invited her to her sleeping quarters that time, where she’d lavished sweet words and loving gestures on her all night long. Aya had never felt such happiness before. When she tucked her to bed, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was what having a mother was like. Then, at some point, the woman had brought up her illusion.

“Could you please do me this favor, my love?”

That’s how Aya came to Favian for help.

She wanted to make Maruscha proud for once. Since she’s hopeless in etiquette, she’d at least try in magecraft. Still, she felt uneasy about creating illusions of real people in general. She imagined Roniel opposing it as well.

‘But it’s not copying others, like what Lady Maruscha said, so…’

Deep in thought, Aya stared down at the castle garden from above her bedroom balcony.

Pale moonlight cloaked the flowers in coruscant silver. Beyond, the palace lay still and quiet. She quietly savored the reposeful sight as she kept thinking. Suddenly, she noticed a figure under a tree.

Her heart pounded.