No Path Chosen

Leon replayed the dream over and over as he sat on the edge of his bed, his hands gripping the blanket beneath him. The fire. The voice. The impossible clarity that still lingered in his chest. It wasn't like any dream he'd had before—it hadn't felt imagined. It had felt like a message.

A truth.

His fingers twitched with the urge to do something. To act. To understand. He shot up and headed downstairs, still barefoot, the wooden planks cold beneath his feet.

"Fireborn…? You mean I have powers like Eva and Silas?" he asked, practically barging into the kitchen where Mother Caramel was preparing tea.

She glanced at him calmly, used to his chaos. "Good morning to you too, Leon."

"Morning! But seriously, how do I cast a spell?"

Mother Caramel raised an eyebrow at his sudden enthusiasm. "Maybe ask Eva. She has something similar, after all."

Leon stared at her. That was it? No disbelief? No questions?

She knew.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

He darted out of the kitchen, ignoring the protests from a boy mopping the hallway floor. His feet pounded up the steps as he raced toward the girls' dormitory on the third floor. He barely noticed the stares from boys in the dining room still clearing dishes from breakfast.

"Hey, what's his problem now?"

"Beats me. Probably stepped on a bug again."

Leon didn't care.

His heart was on fire.

He stopped outside Eva's door and knocked furiously. "Eva! Eva! Hurry up, open the door!"

His thoughts tumbled together too fast to untangle. What would he say? What if she laughed? What if she didn't believe him?

The door creaked open—just a sliver. A quiet, teasing voice slipped through.

"Password, please…"

Leon groaned. "Claire, not now. I have no business with kids."

That earned a giggle, and the door opened fully. Claire stood there, hands on her hips, but the true figure of command stood beside her: Eva.

Arms crossed. Brows raised.

"What kind of grown-up business are we talking about, mister?"

Leon stepped forward, serious now. "Eva, you need to teach me."

"Teach you what? How to knock quieter?" she teased.

Claire snorted beside her.

Leon didn't rise to it. Instead, he lowered his voice and pressed his fingertips to his temples. "No. I'm serious. Teach me how to summon fire."

Eva blinked, thrown off by the change in tone.

"What?"

Leon stepped closer and tugged a strand of his black hair into view. At the tips, an unnatural coppery red shimmered faintly.

"Mother Caramel said I'm a Fireborn," he said. "I'm asking you to teach me. Please."

Eva didn't answer immediately. Even Claire's smile faltered.

"…Alright," Eva said at last. "I can teach you. But I don't know if what I do will help. My ability is different. I can bend copper."

Leon nodded eagerly. "That's okay. I just need to start."

"Fine. Meet me outside after lunch."

"Let's just skip lunch! I don't mind."

Eva smirked and closed the door in his face. "Yeah, you do that. But I'm not missing Sister Bess's cooking."

Click.

Leon stood still for a moment before whispering, "I can't wait for today."

Inside the room, Eva returned to her desk and resumed working on her glove. It was a hand-made device of layered leather and exposed copper exoskeletons. She focused her ability, making the tiny screws inside shift and tighten with a metallic squeak.

Claire sat nearby, watching her. "Do you really think he has powers like you?"

Eva paused, lips pursed. "Who knows. We'll find out soon."

Claire looked down at her knees, fingers twisting in her lap.

"I wish I had powers too…" she murmured.

Eva glanced sideways at her.

"Hey. You don't need powers to be strong. Some of the best people out there are gunners, swordmasters, or engineers. Powers help—but they don't define you."

Claire nodded, but her smile didn't reach her eyes.

Meanwhile, Leon sat alone in the dusty library on the second floor. It was a small, cluttered room tucked beside the hallway—mostly ignored by the younger kids. He skimmed through a thick, leather-bound book with no pictures and barely legible ink.

Most children in the country started school at eight. They'd enter elementary for five years, then go on to middle school at thirteen, high school at nineteen, and graduate around twenty-five. It was a long, structured path designed to build strong minds for the adult world.

There were two types of schools. Normal Schools—where kids learned reading, math, history, and other ordinary knowledge. And Ascender Schools—elite institutions open only to those with extraordinary potential. Both Normborn and Potencborn trained there, unlocking their gifts, learning martial combat, spellwork, and spiritual discipline. Entry started as early as ten, and most got in by thirteen.

But the orphans never got that chance.

To save costs, the orphanage skipped elementary entirely. Most of them didn't learn to read until they were ten or eleven—if ever. The only books available were hand-me-downs or cast-offs from older schools.

Leon had only started reading a year ago.

Now he sat with a book far beyond his comprehension, flipping through arcane diagrams and terms like vital ignition points and spiritual catalysts.

"Serpenslitter...? Was that a name or a monster?" he mumbled.

He slammed the book shut. "Ugh. This is hopeless. I need something simple. A picture book. At this point, I'm wasting my time."

His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten yet.

"I should just go downstairs to eat."

Downstairs, the dining room buzzed with noise. Dozens of kids sat on long benches, chattering between spoonfuls of steaming soup. Sister Bess's Marshdallant recipe filled the air—savory chicken broth with sharp herbs and diced root vegetables. A dish from a distant country, and a favorite here.

Leon's bowl waited for him. But he had no eyes for it.

He spotted Eva near the window, finishing her meal. He rushed to her table, gripping the edge.

"You finished yet?" he asked, nearly bouncing with excitement. "I really can't wait. I checked the library but didn't understand anything. I figured you'd know more."

Eva wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked up.

"You need to eat too. You'll need energy."

"I'm fine! I'm a big ma—"

"If you don't eat, I won't teach you," she said, deadpan.

Leon stared. Then wordlessly, he snatched the bowl and began shoveling soup into his mouth. The other kids blinked in surprise.

"Chill, dude!" one of them said.

Eva chuckled and shook her head.

After lunch, the sun bathed the orphanage yard in golden light. The scent of earth and warm grass hung in the air. Behind the main building was a half-wild patch of land—too rough to be a garden, too open to be ignored.

Perfect for a private lesson.

Leon stepped into the open with Eva at his side. His pulse thumped in his ears. His fingers tingled—not just from nerves, but from something else.

Something deeper.

Claire followed behind, hugging her arms as she trailed the pair in silence.

The lesson hadn't started yet.

But the fire inside him already had.