On the near side, the citizen's graves stood neat and orderly — low stone markers carved with names, dates, and in rare cases, a brief epitaph. Small charms of mana-blessed glass fluttered from poles, catching what little sunlight broke through the heavy clouds.
Beyond the broken fence, the "other" side stretched out: a patchwork of overgrown weeds, crooked mounds, and forgotten lives. Here, the dead who had no family, no citizenship, or no means were buried. Rough stones, rotting planks, or nothing at all marked their passing. The grasses swallowed names, and the world forgot.
It was here, in the unkempt earth, that Ma'Ryn Airenbane found her final resting place.
No headstone. No crystal marker.
Only a simple wooden plaque, lovingly carved and coded by Tazien's trembling hands. He etched a protection into the grain — a secret weave of Primordial Glyphs, hidden within the fibers, so that it would never rot, never fade. He didn’t care if someone noticed, years down the line. Let them wonder.
He hammered it into the dirt with a stone, knuckles bloody, while Ilyari knelt silently at the graveside, hands folded in her lap, her face an unreadable mask.
A chill wind swept through the field, bending the weeds low.
They lingered until the afternoon sky dimmed to ashen gray.
Ilyari knelt by Ma’Ryn’s side, tracing a finger along the wooden plaque Tazien had crafted, the weight of silence heavy around her.
Boots crunched over dry weeds behind her.
She didn’t need to turn to know the smell of expensive oil and old velvet meant nothing good.
Two figures stopped a respectful distance away — or perhaps not so respectful after all.
Lord Veyric Darnell bowed with the barest dip of his head, more a mockery of courtesy than anything else. His cloak, patched at the hem though richly dyed, fluttered with the cold wind. His hollow cheeks twitched into what might have once been a smile.
Beside him stood Master Calder Venth, heavier, his rings flashing as he folded his arms. His gaze didn’t meet Ilyari’s face — it hovered around her frame instead, evaluating, as one might a workhorse at market.
"Terrible loss," Darnell drawled, voice oily. "Truly. A shame for one so young to be left... unclaimed."
Unclaimed. The word made Ilyari’s fingers dig into the earth.
Calder Venth stepped forward, voice measured and dry. "In such cases, the Empire graciously allows certain opportunities. Our houses are ever in need of useful... servants. Skilled ones."
Darnell tilted his head. "And with loyalty, perhaps even advancement. My youngest son needs an attendant. Someone obedient. Attentive. And we could even bring in your brother as my son's butler. How does that sound? A home for the both of you."
Calder’s mouth curved into a thin smirk.
"And should you serve the boy well enough, my house might find it appropriate to elevate your status. To concubine, perhaps. Bearing noble blood through service is... a kindness. Though your brother looks like he will grow strong. We have griffin stables. A very rare chance to work with such great beasts."
Their words dropped into the graveyard air like stones in a dry well.
Ilyari said nothing. Her nails dug into her palm until she felt blood bead against her skin. Tazien, standing stiffly behind her, trembled with a fury he barely kept in check.
And still the nobles smiled, as if they had offered her the world.
"Consider it," Darnell said. "You have little else. Time and pity are not infinite."
"You should be grateful," Venth added, as if generosity was bleeding from his soul.
It was then that Brinna Claybourne arrived, a storm wrapped in patched skirts and righteous fury.
"Get your rotten hides off this sacred ground!" she barked, her voice cracking like a whip across the field.
Both nobles flinched as if struck. Calder turned, scowling, but Brinna didn’t wait. She slammed the tip of her walking stick against the ground between them.
"I'll not see you vultures circle the dead while the soil’s still warm. Move your carcasses before I move them for you!"
There was a beat of silence.
Then, sneering but not daring to push further, Darnell tugged at his cloak. Calder spat something foul under his breath. Together, they slunk away down the hill, leaving the grave and its mourners behind.
Only then did Ilyari breathe again. Only then did she realize her hands were shaking.
Brinna turned to Ilyari and Tazien, her expression softening.
"Scum," she muttered. She pressed a small iron key into Ilyari's hand. "Ma'Ryn left this for you. Said you’d know when the time was right."
Ilyari clutched the key tightly, feeling the sharp edges bite into her palm.
Brinna stayed long enough to lay fresh flowers — real ones, not mana-spun — at Ma'Ryn’s grave. Then, she returned to the house.
There, she finished the dinner Ma'Ryn had started preparing: stewed rootfruit, thick bread, and honeyed squash. She set the table quietly, her hands moving automatically, voice low.
"She would’ve wanted you to eat."
When the plates were filled, Brinna kissed their foreheads and left them alone with their grief.
The house felt too big. Too quiet.
Ilyari sat staring into her bowl, the food untouched.
Tazien picked at his bread, his face unreadable. "We can run," he said, voice low.
Ilyari shook her head. "They’d hunt us."
"Better than chains," Tazien said.
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She didn’t answer. Her mind spun with possibilities, each worse than the last.
Stay... and be sold. Run... and be hunted.
There has to be another way.
Unbeknownst to them, their teacher, Instructor Vannir, had already rallied the village. Witnesses had sworn before the Lower Assembly that Ma'Ryn's death was sudden and unjust. That the children had been mid-test, fighting for their future, when it happened.
Petitions flooded the Emperor’s offices. Old records were unearthed: nobles who had been allowed to retest after family tragedies, including a current minor lord whose father had perished in a riding accident.
The precedent was clear. By decree, the Emperor allowed one exception: Ilyari and Tazien could retake their test after the mourning period ended. They would have one last chance. If they dared to take it.
???????????
As the days wore on and Ilyari and Tazien worked the fields trying to find a way of escape, the village seemed more encouraging than before.
"Probably because now we're real orphans," Tazien remarked, absentmindedly flicking a grub off one of the tomatoes. "Either way, I feel better when we are at the house thinking than out in the field. I've been getting the feeling that we're being watched and that if we’re left too alone, someone’s going to make the choice for us."
Ilyari nodded, and they picked up their produce and went home.
The kitchen was disorganized, meals were sometimes forgotten, and the old roof leaked again.
Tazien did his best to cook.
Ilyari tried not to cry in front of him.
They fell asleep curled together in Ma'Ryn’s bed, wrapped tight in her thin, fading blanket.
The knock on the door came just after dawn.
Soldiers. Four of them, clad in dull armor bearing the insignia of the district enforcement corps.
Not noble guards, but not friendly, either.
They stepped into the home with scanning glyphs already activated.
One of them, a captain, spoke. "We’re here to confirm the passing of the civilian known as Ma’Ryn. There were questions raised about possible desertion."
"She didn’t run," Ilyari said sharply.
The soldier nodded. "So we’ve been told. Instructor Vannir submitted a petition, along with a formal request from twenty-three local witnesses. It’s been reviewed."
He pulled out a datapad and tapped a few glowing runes. "Due to the nature of the situation, your test results have been flagged. Special Review Protocol."
"What does that mean?" Tazien asked.
"It means," the captain said, "you’re both being granted a second attempt."
Ilyari blinked. "Both of us? Tazien isn’t of testing age yet."
"A waiver can be authorized under Clause Twelve of the Youth Talent Mandate," the soldier said. "Given cause."
She looked at her brother.
Then she stepped forward, voice quiet but firm. "If this is a joke and I go to the Academy, while he stays behind, he would be alone. He would die here or be brutally kidnapped."
The captain didn’t respond.
Ilyari pressed on. "And if that happens—if someone allows a royal heir to die alone, knowingly—the curse will not spare the Empire."
That made the soldiers shift uneasily.
She didn’t need to say more.
The curse was legend. The details were admittedly a bit fuzzy since the uproar was mostly about the Sulan-Kai's flayed hand.
But no one wanted to test its conditions.
The datapad blinked green. The captain turned the screen to them.
"Both of you. Retest scheduled. Three days. You will report to the Midring Gate Hall. Come prepared."
They left as quickly as they came.
Ilyari and Tazien looked at each other in disbelief, tears welling in Ilyari's eyes.
"You get to take the test!" Ilyari grabbed Tazien's hand excitedly.
"I get to show them that I'm the smarter sibling!" Tazien squeezed back with a little dance.
Ilyari rolled her eyes and flicked him on the forehead. "You wish, bog gremlin."
Preparations began the moment the soldiers finished inspecting the grounds for tunnels and trap doors and vanished from sight.
"We’ll have to strip WynData," Tazien said grimly, pulling the hidden floorboard open.
"I know. If they see this during inspection, we get flagged for illegal tech." Ilyari said, reaching her hand into the space to gently lift the motherboard.
"We’re lucky they didn’t find it today." Tazien pulled out a fist full of wires.
"Too lucky," Ilyari murmured. "But what do we do with it? It still works and it is really too good to waste. We could improve the efficiency though."
They sat cross-legged around the exposed guts of their hidden computer. Holographic fragments buzzed quietly in the air, warning them that some of their modules were already failing.
"So," Tazien grinned, "we turn it into a golem."
"A what?"
"A little thing with arms. Toy-sized. Mobile. Smart enough to pass as harmless, not smart enough to look like we plan to hack all the Academy-grade systems."
Ilyari stared. Then she sighed. "That might actually work."
"But we'll need to go to the old tech yard again, and it is kind of secluded. Do you think that Brinna would go with us?" Tazien suggested.
"No. She doesn't like us going there. There have been too many corrupted beast sightings lately. However, the moon is at it's newest tonight. So corrupted beast activity will be really low. If we go tonight, we could get what we are looking for as long as we use the Promodial Glyphs, we won't need lights to see. And code that we use on ourselves isn't detectable."
"Then what are we waiting for. WynData is needing a new body and we need it to help us get all the information that those gross snobs would keep from us." Tazien got up and reached for his gathering clothing and his bag. "Better get changed, we don't need eyes thinking that we didn't go to bed on time."
Close to midnight, they slunk out of the house and made their way to the old tech yard to start gathering materials.
The scrapyard stretched in every direction — a graveyard of dead mana tech and rusted dreams.
Tazien and Ilyari dug through heaps of broken panels and hollowed-out frames, stuffing the best pieces into their satchels.
A low growl rumbled behind a pile of shattered conduits.
Tazien froze.
Ilyari straightened slowly, her instincts prickling.
Out of the mist, red eyes blinked open — one pair.
Then, three.
Then, a whole ring of them, circling the clearing.
Corrupted Beast Dogs.
Twisted and wrong, their bodies were stitched with black-veined mana scarring, their jaws split unnaturally wide.
One snapped its jaws sideways with a sickening crack, saliva hissing where it touched metal.
Ilyari’s mouth went dry.
Tazien dropped the mana panel he was holding.
"...Run," Ilyari breathed.
They sprinted.
The beasts gave chase immediately, their broken howls ripping through the night like warped alarms.
They dodged between broken vehicles and heaps of dead circuitry, but the ground was uneven, slick with oil.
One beast lunged — teeth grazing Ilyari’s satchel as she twisted away.
Another snapped at Tazien, missing his leg by a breath.
"Faster!" Tazien gasped.
"I KNOW!" she shouted, dodging a broken solar panel.
The world narrowed to breath and pounding feet.
They weren’t just chasing them.
They were herding them.
Toward a thicket of broken trees — a dead end.
Tazien’s foot slipped.
He barely caught himself on a rusted pipe.
"No good!" he barked. "Dead end coming up!"
They plunged into the thicket.
The beasts fanned out, growling low.
They weren’t getting out.
Unless...
Ilyari closed her eyes and reached for the Primordial Glyphs.
One glyph.
Another.
Too many.
Too fast.
The corrupted beasts lunged.
She whispered:
"All corrupted units: destabilize."
Reality buckled.
The beasts shrieked — bodies twisting and warping violently.
BOOM.
The shockwave blasted outward, flattening trees, cracking pylons, and blacking out half the Lower Zone.
Mana conduits shattered.
Streets plunged into darkness.
Ilyari staggered, blood dripping from her nose.
"What did you DO?!" Tazien yelled over the deafening sound of the shock recoil.
"Saved us! Now MOVE!"
They grabbed their bags and ran, half-deaf, into the night.
They grabbed their bags and ran, half-blind, back toward home — back into the only hiding place left in a city now blinking into emergency sirens and suspicion.
When soldiers arrived to investigate, they found the siblings inside arguing.
"Its arms are too long. It’ll tip over."
"No it won’t. It balances better this way."
"It looks like a mud duck." Ilyari quipped
"You look like a mud duck!" Tazien argued, fiddling with the arms with a screwdriver.
"You smell like a mud duck and your underwear looks like a mud duck has been wearing them!" Tazien dropped the screw driver his mouth falling open.
"How dare you? We have guests." Tazien feigned hurt and they both turned to the soldier that had walked into the room.
A soldier groaned. "What are you two even doing?"
"Building a doll," Tazien grinned. "Wanna vote whose version is better?"
"No," the soldier muttered. "But I'll be watching everything you two do until test day. Everything. I'm leaving two soldiers to accompany you both for the next few days. Do not talk to them. Do not try to make friends. Ignore them."
"Does that mean they can't vote on the best doll design?" Tazien asked with pretend innocence.
The soldier frowned and left in a huff.
Ilyari shot Tazien a look and leaned over the table flicking him on the forehead. Tazien shrugged and they said nothing else.
And for the next two days, they worked in silence—careful not to touch the glyphs.
Not again.
Not until it counted.