Nox's first week at Noxspire flew by like one compressed, densely packed day. Lectures alternated with practical classes, practical classes with independent study in the library, and nights with training in the catacombs, known to no one but the shadows dancing on the ancient stones. He absorbed knowledge like parched earth absorbs water, greedily, completely, and every day he felt something growing inside him. Not only power, though that too. Understanding. The world of magic, which had previously been a collection of scattered facts heard from Sylvana, was now forming into a coherent, logical system. And in that system, he had his place.
Kane turned out to be a good neighbor. Quiet, unobtrusive, but always ready to help or simply keep company during meals. He did not pry, did not try to ferret out secrets, and for that, Nox was grateful. Iris, by contrast, was as persistent as a sunbeam slipping through the cracks in shutters. She found him in the dining hall, in the library, in the corridors between classes, and each time she struck up a light, casual conversation, but Nox could feel that behind that lightness lay something else. She was watching him. Studying him. And that was unsettling.
The aristocrats, led by Reinhart van Drake, kept to themselves and so far had not bothered him or Kane. But Nox knew this lull was temporary. In the slums, he had learned to sense the approach of a fight long before it began. From the glances thrown his way in the corridors. From the whispers behind his back. From the way Reinhart curled his lip when they happened to meet in the dining hall. The aristocrat was waiting for an excuse. And Nox knew that sooner or later, that excuse would come.
It came on the eighth day.
It was evening, the sun had already set behind the academy towers, and the students were gathering in the common hall of the east wing. It was something like a lounge: several sofas, low tables, magical lamps dimmed to a soft amber glow, and a large fireplace where a fire was lit in the evenings. Here, one could relax after classes, read, play board games, or simply chat. Nox rarely came here, preferring the solitude of his room or the catacombs, but today Kane had convinced him, saying he needed to show his face at least occasionally to avoid arousing suspicion.
They sat in a corner on an old sofa with worn upholstery, and Kane was telling him about the desert he came from. About sand worms reaching a hundred meters in length and capable of swallowing an entire caravan. About mirages that in the desert were not mere illusions but manifestations of ancient magic, capable of driving one mad or, conversely, leading to an oasis. About his father, who had been a guide and knew the desert like the back of his hand, but one day never returned from a trip, leaving his wife and son alone.
Nox listened and thought about how strangely the world was arranged. Here was Kane, the son of a guide and a weaver, a Sand bearer, sitting with him at an academy where the son of a duke studied. And no one, looking at them, could say which of them was more worthy of being here. Because worth was not in blood. It was in what you did with what you had.
Laughter erupted from the far end of the hall. Loud, unnatural, with those hysterical notes that appear when someone is trying to seem more cheerful than they really are. Nox looked up and saw Reinhart's company. They had surrounded someone, huddled into a tight circle, and from within came another voice, quiet, trembling, pleading.
Kane looked too and frowned.
«There they go again. Who have they chosen as their victim this time?»
Nox stood up and, without a word, walked across the hall. He did not know why he was doing this. In the slums, he had long learned the rule: do not get involved in other people's fights if they do not concern you or your loved ones. Every person for themselves. Help one, make ten enemies, and in the end, everyone loses. But this was different. Here, he was not merely surviving. He was building his life anew. And if he allowed people like Reinhart to do whatever they wanted without intervening, that life would be little better than the one he had left behind in the slums.
He moved closer and saw what was happening. In the center of the circle stood a girl. Short, thin, with a pale, frightened face and light brown hair braided in a simple plait. Her robe was gray like all first years', but old, faded, with neat patches on the elbows, made so skillfully they were almost invisible. On her chest, where aristocrats wore their family crests, she had embroidered a small silver flower. The crest of an impoverished noble house that no longer meant anything in this world but still gave her the right to wear it.
Reinhart stood directly before her, towering half a head taller, holding a book in his hands. Her book, judging by the way the girl looked at it, unable to look away. He flipped through the pages, carelessly, almost contemptuously, and read passages aloud for the whole hall to hear.
«Listen, listen! Our dear Eveline of House Mercier, that impoverished noblewoman who fancies herself our equal, writes in her diary: "Today I ate only porridge again because that was all I could afford. But I am not complaining. I am here to study, and one day I will become a strong mage, and then no one will dare…" Imagine, "no one will dare"! Who? Who will not dare, Eveline? You, who could not even pay for your robe and wear the castoffs of some student from last year?»
The girl, Eveline, stood with her head bowed, silent. Her shoulders trembled, but she did not cry. Nox had seen her kind in the slums. Those whom life had beaten so often that they had forgotten how to cry. Tears would not help. Shouts would not help. Pleas would not help. Only endure and wait for it to end.
Reinhart threw the book to the floor and stepped on it. The binding cracked, and the girl flinched as if struck.
«You are nothing, Eveline. Remember that. Your bloodline is rotten and ruined, your father drank himself to death in a ditch, your mother sells herself to feed your younger siblings. You are here by mistake, and very soon that mistake will be corrected. But while you are here, know your place. The place of dirt beneath our feet.»
He raised his foot to kick the book, and Nox stepped forward.
«Take your foot off.»
His voice was quiet, but in the sudden silence, everyone heard it. Reinhart froze, slowly turned his head, and saw Nox. His arrogant face twisted in a mix of surprise and contempt.
«What did you say, you nobody?»
«I said take your foot off. And step away from her.»
Reinhart burst out laughing. His friends joined in the laughter, but uncertainly, as if sensing that something beyond the usual evening entertainment was happening.
«Do you hear that, Vale? A nobody without even a last name is telling me what to do! Me, Reinhart van Drake, son of a duke, heir to an ancient bloodline! Do you even understand who I am, you pup?»
Nox looked at him, and there was no fear or anger in his eyes. Only cold. The same cold he had felt in the slums when the Fangs got too close to Lin. The same cold that preceded a fight where there were no rules.
«I understand who you are. You are someone who will take his foot off her book in five seconds. Or I will help you.»
Reinhart stopped laughing. He looked at Nox more carefully, and something like uncertainty flickered in his eyes. But he could not back down. Not in front of his friends. Not in front of the girl he had just humiliated. Not in front of the entire hall that was now watching them.
«Are you threatening me, nobody? You? Me? I will…»
He did not finish. Nox took a step forward, just one, but there was so much in that step that Reinhart faltered. Shadow inside Nox stirred, reached outward, but he held it back. Not here. Not now. Not in front of everyone. But something else, something more ancient and hotter, the dragon blood he had felt in his fight with the Harbinger, rose from deep within and filled his voice with a power he had not expected.
«Do not make me angry, Reinhart van Drake. Or I will fucking destroy you right here.»
The words fell into the silence like stones into water. Someone gasped. Someone stepped back. And Reinhart went pale. Not from fear, no. From rage. But beneath the rage, deep down, Nox saw what he had expected to see. Doubt. The aristocrat was not used to being defied. He did not know what to do with someone who was not afraid of his title, his money, his connections. With someone who looked at him as an equal. Or worse, as prey.
«You… you will regret this,» he finally forced out. «I will destroy you. You and that beggar girl, you will both be expelled from the academy. My father…»
«Your father is far away. And I am here. And I do not repeat myself. Take. Your. Foot. Off.»
Reinhart looked at him, then at his friends, who stood with confused faces, unsure whether to intervene. Then at Eveline, who was looking at Nox with an expression that mixed disbelief, fear, and a timid, barely budding hope. And slowly, very slowly, he took his foot off the book.
«Take your precious possession,» he sneered at Eveline, and, turning sharply, walked away. His friends trailed after him like a pack of jackals, casting angry but uncertain glances at Nox.
The hall exhaled. Someone whispered, someone began to disperse, and Nox bent down, picked up the book, and handed it to the girl. She took it with trembling hands, pressed it to her chest, and looked at him. Her eyes were gray blue, like the predawn sky over Ravnes, and tears stood in them, tears she would not allow herself to shed.
«Why did you do that? He will now… he will not stop. He is a terrible person, and his family…»
«I know,» Nox interrupted. «But you did not deserve what he did. No one deserves that. You came here to study, like everyone else. And no one has the right to humiliate you because you have no money.»
Eveline looked at him, and the tears finally streamed down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them with her sleeve, as if ashamed of her weakness.
«Thank you. I am Eveline. Eveline Mercier. And I… I will remember this. I truly will.»
«Nox. Just Nox. And do not thank me. I did what I had to do.»
He turned and walked back to Kane, who was looking at him with an expression that mixed surprise and respect.
«Well, you are something, Nox. Reinhart van Drake, the duke's son. You realize you have made an enemy for life, don't you?»
«I realize. But I already have enough enemies. One more or one less, what difference does it make.»
Kane shook his head, but a spark burned in his eyes that Nox had not seen before.
«You know, I am glad we are neighbors. With you, it is never boring.»
Nox did not answer. He looked toward where Reinhart had gone and felt something cold and sharp boiling inside him. He knew the aristocrat would not forgive the humiliation. Knew he would try to take revenge. And he was ready for it.
In the slums, he had learned one simple rule: if you stand in someone's way, do not wait for them to strike first. Strike yourself. Fast. Hard. So they cannot get up again.
But here, in the academy, the rules were different. And he still had to learn them.
Eveline found him the next day after classes. She was waiting at the classroom exit, clutching the same book to her chest, now carefully mended, and looked as if she were gathering her courage for something important. When Nox came out, she stepped toward him and held out a small bundle.
«This is for you. As thanks. I know it is not much, but I have nothing else. Please take it.»
Nox unwrapped the bundle. Inside lay a silver flower, like the one on her crest. Small, skillfully made, on a thin chain. It was clearly old, a family heirloom passed down through generations.
«I cannot take this. It is yours. A family thing.»
«I want you to take it.» Eveline looked at him seriously, and in her gray blue eyes was a determination he had not noticed before. «You are the only one who stood up for me. Not because I am a noblewoman, not because you wanted something from me. Simply because it was the right thing to do. I have met very few such people in my life. And I want you to have something that will remind you: you did good. Even if everything goes badly afterward. Even if Reinhart tries to take revenge. Remember that you helped me. And I will never forget it.»
Nox looked at the flower, then at her. There was no servility in her eyes, no attempt to manipulate. Only sincere gratitude. And he took the bundle.
«Alright. I will keep it. But promise me something.»
«What?»
«If Reinhart or anyone else tries to humiliate you again, you will not stay silent. You will come to me. Or to Kane. Or to Iris. You are not alone, Eveline. Remember that.»
She nodded, and something like a smile flickered across her face. The first smile Nox had seen from her since he arrived.
«I will remember. Thank you, Nox. Just Nox.»
She left, and he remained standing in the corridor, clutching the silver flower in his hand. And he thought about how the world, it turned out, consisted not only of enemies and dangers. There was also room in it for people like Eveline. Broken but undefeated. Humiliated but dignified. And for those willing to stand up for them, asking nothing in return.
Perhaps that was what distinguished him from the likes of Reinhart. And perhaps that was what would one day help him win.