đź“– Chapter 2: The Blue-Eyed Flame
POV: Accent Tuiter
---
Most people forget the day they opened their eyes to the truth.
I never had that luxury.
I was six years old when my little sister was born. The Day of Euro. The night the sky bled light, the Destroyers returned, and the world forgot what peace tasted like.
I remember holding the edge of my mother's blanket, heart pounding, watching everyone panic outside while a baby's laughter echoed behind me. It was too calm. Too cold.
Even then, I felt something was wrong.
But no one told me.
They just sent me away the next day. Off to the mountain for "training." No hugs. No goodbyes. Just my uncle Kecktos placing a hand on my shoulder, whispering, "Protect her. Even if the world says not to."
I didn't understand what he meant then.
I do now.
---
Eight years later.
Havell Hero Academy – Northern Training Yard
The world has changed, but it hasn't healed.
I wipe sweat from my face, chest rising with heavy breaths. My blade hums with heat, the training dummy behind me cut clean in half.
"Another one down," I mutter.
A group of first-years watch me from a distance. Whispering again. I can hear them, even when they think I can't.
> "That's him—Accent Tuiter. His sister's the Gate."
> "They say her eyes glow at night."
> "Do you think he's part Destroyer too?"
I ignore it. I always do. Because if I don't… I'll explode.
I sheath my blade and walk toward the academy's west building, past rows of sparring fields, enchanted archery stations, even a summon ring. But my mind isn't on training anymore.
It's on her.
---
Vivant.
She's twelve now. Always smiling. Always asking about the stars. She likes painting the moons in her sketchbook, though she never colors the red one.
Says it "hurts her eyes."
She doesn't know what she is.
We never told her.
But sometimes I wonder… maybe she does know. Just doesn't want us to see how much it scares her.
Last week she touched a dying bird in the garden.
It came back to life.
No chant. No ritual. No sacrifice.
It just opened its eyes and flew away.
Like death had politely stepped aside.
---
I reach the Archives Tower—old, cold stone. Barely anyone comes here. Good.
I slide open the heavy wooden door, step in, and pull out the sealed scroll I hid behind one of the statues months ago.
It's a fragment from the Church of Monita.
One of the Lost Verses.
> "When the moons align and the Gate opens, two flames shall rise.
One to purge. One to pass judgment.
One of blue light.
One of violet flame."
My hands tighten.
Everyone thinks she's the Gate.
But what if… what if I'm the other?
What if I'm not just her protector?
What if I'm her balance?
Or her opposite?
---
I close the scroll and step out into the wind.
That's when I see her—Vivant—sitting on the wall near the east garden, her sketchbook open, feet swinging. She's wearing one of my old shirts. Says they help her feel "closer to blue."
I smile a little.
"Vivi," I call out.
She turns, bright-eyed. "Tui! You're done training?"
"Not really. Just needed air. What about you? Not bored yet?"
"Never bored. I'm drawing you again." She lifts the book. I brace myself for something dramatic.
Sure enough, I'm on the page—eyes glowing, cloak blowing in imaginary wind. She's drawn me with wings this time.
"Wings?" I ask.
"Yep. You're always flying ahead of me. One day, I'll catch up."
That hits harder than she knows.
I climb up next to her and sit. For a while, we don't speak. Just look at the moons starting to form their curve.
"They're moving again," she whispers. "Only a few more days till Euro returns."
My jaw tightens. "Don't worry. This time, it'll be different."
She nods slowly.
But then she says something that freezes me.
"Do you think Astral's really evil?"
I look at her. "What?"
"He said he was hurt first, right? Maybe he didn't want to be bad. Maybe… he just got tired of being broken."
Silence.
Where is she hearing this?
She continues, "Sometimes I dream about him. He's sad. His eyes are so lonely."
I look at her carefully now. "Do you… talk to him?"
She shakes her head. "No. But… I think he talks to me."
My stomach drops.
I want to scream, to drag her to the Headmaster, to force the truth out of someone, anyone. But I stay calm.
She's just a child.
But so was Astral.
And so was I.
---
Later that night, I return to the Archives to hide the scroll again.
But it's gone.
In its place, is a single line scrawled in glowing Emul ink:
> "The blue flame must choose—Redeem her… or replace her."