"Safe."
This word hung in the air like a poisoned arrow in Apexia's normally peaceful night. I could feel the tremor in Ella's fingers as they gripped my arm. The horror in her eyes went far beyond simple unease; it was the reflection of something rooted deep inside, something she knew but was afraid to name. The old Octavian inside me—that impulsive, protective, questioning part—wanted to leap forward immediately. What's in that street? Who are you afraid of? Tell me, I'll go handle it. But the new light I had lit in a corner of my mind whispered for me to be patient. I had sworn to understand her, not judge her. Drowning her with questions now would only add another brick to that wall of fear. Forcing her would be like dynamiting the fragile bridge of trust I was trying to build.
I took a deep breath and made sure my voice came out as calmly as possible. "Of course," I said. "The route doesn't matter. Whichever one makes you feel more comfortable, we'll go that way."
I gestured toward the other street with my hand. This simple act of acceptance seemed to lift a heavy burden from her shoulders. Ella's shoulders dropped slightly, the tension leaving her body momentarily. She didn't let go of my arm, but her fingers' pressure eased. Together, we began walking silently toward the other, wider and brighter path. This street, unlike the other, was illuminated by tall, wrought-iron lamps at every corner. The scents of jasmine and honeysuckle wafted from the villa gardens, adding a sweet fragrance to the night. But even this beauty wasn't enough to fill the strange silence between us.
I needed to change the subject, to dispel this cloud of fear. I let the first silly thought that came to mind spill from my lips.
"You know," I began, trying to catch a cheerful tone, "I'm enrolling in driving school tomorrow."
Ella turned her head to look at me with surprise. The fear in her eyes was momentarily replaced by curiosity. "Really? You don't have a license?"
"No," I said, laughing. "My uncle Alaric in Heroica tried to teach me last summer, but my father was so afraid I'd steal his car that he hid the keys. I'm probably the only person living in Apexia without a license." This small exaggeration had the effect I wanted. The corner of her lips curved up slightly. It wasn't a full smile, but it was a start.
"Are you ready for Apexia traffic?" she asked, the tension in her voice slowly dissolving. "The rules here are a bit... flexible."
"Don't ask. I can't say I understand traffic signs any better than I understand the hieroglyphs on ancient Valerian tablets. I'll probably crash into one of the statues in front of the Senate building on my first lesson and get charged with insulting the Republic."
This time she actually laughed. A genuine, brief giggle. Her voice was like a melody in the night's silence, lifting the weight from my heart. We continued like this until we reached her house. Along the way, we talked about the little oddities that had happened to us in these first five days at Minerva Institute. We made fun of how we discovered that the surliest librarian was actually quite helpful, and how the Grammar professor started every sentence with the same word. These weren't big stories, just small, shared moments between two new students. But they were enough to dispel the cloud of fear between us. Fear gradually gave way to familiar comfort. She was holding my arm now not from fear, but simply for support.
Finally, we stopped in front of a detached, charming house covered with ivy. The iron bars of the garden gate gleamed in the moonlight. This was her refuge, her "safe" harbor.
"Here we are," she said softly. There was no longer fear in her eyes, only tired gratitude.
After taking a step toward the gate, she stopped and turned to me. She seemed to want to say something but couldn't find the words. I acted before she could.
"Ella," I said, keeping my voice low. "I won't ask what happened in that street. But know this... if you ever want to talk about it, if you want to open up... I'll listen. Without judgment, just listen."
My words created an intimate moment between us. Her eyes seemed to well up, but she didn't cry. She just nodded and whispered gratefully.
"Thank you, Octavian. Really."
She opened the garden gate and went inside. I waited there until she turned and waved. When she entered the house and the door closed, I turned back to look at the path we had come from. Apexia's lights were still shining, but now I knew that beneath this brightness, there were also dark shadows that people like Ella carried that no one saw. And I was more determined than ever to learn the secret of those shadows.
As I walked, my mind was full of thoughts. I had done the right thing by not forcing Ella's secret. After all, I had sides I didn't want to talk about, that no one knew. Maybe that's why I understood her so well. At the same time, being this close to a girl for the first time today... felt strange. I could still feel the ghost of her touch on my arm. It wasn't scary, just new. I suppose part of what they call growing up was getting used to these things. With my mind so occupied, I wasn't watching where I was going. I didn't notice a bump in the sidewalk and suddenly lost my balance, finding myself on the ground.
"Are you okay?"
The voice was soft and concerned. When I raised my head, I saw a woman leaning toward me, with flame-red hair and emerald green eyes. Just as I was about to answer, another hand came into my field of vision.
"Did you zone out too much?"
This voice was deeper and more cheerful. When I took his hand and got up, I found myself facing a man in his thirties with sandy brown hair and reddish-brown eyes, smiling. The man looked me over and his smile widened. "You've grown up."
I frowned. "Excuse me, have we met before?"
The man chuckled. "Give my regards to your uncle."
With this sentence, the red-haired woman lightly elbowed the man in the stomach. "Sorry," the woman said with an embarrassed expression. "My husband must have confused you with someone else."
The man groaned in pain. "Neirlys, that hurt!" Then he turned back to me, a strange sparkle in his eyes. "Don't stray from Edgium's path, friend."
The couple disappeared down the lamplit street before I could even open my mouth.
I stood there, staring after them. What was that all about?
A man who knew my uncle well enough to send greetings—and a woman whose name, Neirlys, matched my sister's. Coincidence, probably. Names repeat. But still… it nagged at me.
I finished the walk home with extra care, every step echoing the conversation I hadn't had. After giving my parents a quick, watered-down version of the encounter, I escaped to my room. I skimmed a few pages of notes, but my mind kept circling back to the street, to that stranger's eyes and the odd phrase: Don't stray from Edgium's path.
The next morning brought no classes, no obligations—only the quiet freedom of a day when Minerva's lectures shifted online.
I stayed home.
Outside, Apexia moved at a slower rhythm. From my window I watched the empty tram rails glitter in the thin autumn light. The city's usual weekday rush had softened into a kind of suspended hush. I should have been working through the backlog of recorded lessons, but instead I just… watched.
The couple's faces replayed over and over in my mind: the man's easy grin, the flicker of something unreadable behind it; the woman's calm, emerald gaze and that shared name—Neirlys. Why mention my uncle? Why me? I almost messaged Alaric, thumb hovering over the send icon, but stopped. Not yet.
The rest of the day drifted by in small, quiet motions.
I sorted notes.
I helped my mother slice vegetables in the kitchen.
I read the same paragraph of a calculus text three times without absorbing a word.
Evening fell and still the memory clung, sharp as a pin. Yet when I finally shut down the laptop and lay back in bed, another thought began to eclipse it: tomorrow's driving lesson. The anticipation rose like a warm tide, drowning the strangeness of the night before.
I closed my eyes picturing the curves of Apexia's winding streets and the feel of a steering wheel beneath my palms. Somewhere between those imagined turns, sleep claimed me.
[Next Morning - Road to Driving School, Aurelia's Perspective]
The car's engine hummed in Apexia's morning calm as I watched my son sitting in the passenger seat. His eyes were on the road, but his gaze wasn't just seeing the asphalt; inside him burned an excitement, the fire of a new beginning. This eager side of Octavian was one of the most precious sights that warmed my heart as a mother. We were going to driving school, and even this simple event was a big step for him. It was another proof that he was growing up, preparing to fly with his own wings.
Ah, my intelligent, thoughtful son... He often paid for his intelligence with loneliness. He had struggled with social relationships since childhood. While other children chased simple games, he would read ancient Edictum texts and study star charts. He wasn't afraid of things he didn't understand, but of things he understood too well. The complex nature of people, the ambiguity of their intentions always pushed him to remain distant. That's why he closed himself off in the world of books and learning, where he found things clearer and more honest. Just like my brother Alaric.
I saw so much of my brother's reflection in Octavian... The same sharp intelligence, the same questioning looks, and unfortunately, the same tendency to feel excluded. Alaric too had been crushed under the weight of our family's high expectations in his youth, distancing himself from us to find himself. After twenty years of silence and distance, we had made peace, but the ghost of those twenty years still occasionally descended upon us. Octavian would listen to his uncle's "lost" years like a heroic epic. For him, Alaric was the man he wanted to be: someone who made his own rules, didn't wait for anyone's approval, a free-spirited sage. My son's admiration for him both comforted and worried me.
I was aware that he too was on a journey to find himself. I feared him getting hurt on this journey, his heart being broken, his sensitive soul being wounded. But my duty as a parent wasn't to cage him, but to be a safety net as he learned to fly. If he failed, stumbled, or lost his way... we would be here. But I knew that no matter what, Octavian would become who he wanted to be.
The change in him over the past week had been planting seeds of hope. His first days at Minerva Institute had gone well, contrary to expectations. Last night when he told me about that strange couple, the real sparkle came when he mentioned a girl named Ella. He had walked her home, chatted with her, made her laugh. For my son, this was the biggest breach in the walls he had built around himself.
"Are you ready, Apexia's new nightmare?" I teased, turning the steering wheel toward the street where the school was located.
He looked at me with that knowing, intelligent, and slightly mocking smile I knew so well. "Don't worry, mom," he said. "At worst, I'll crash into the statues in front of the Senate building. At least I'll go down in history."
This joke, this ease... Yes, my son would be fine. A parent's love and good intentions might not be enough for everything, but I was sure I would be the most loyal compass to accompany him on this path.
[Same Moment - In Front of Driving School]
When my mother's car stopped in front of the driving school, I felt a momentary tightening in my stomach. This wasn't fear, but that sweet, tense excitement felt at the beginning of something long-awaited. My mother turned to me, in her eyes that unconditional love and pride expression that only a parent could offer.
"Good luck, Apexia's new nightmare," she said, repeating yesterday's joke.
"Everyone on the road will be safe, I promise," I replied, laughing. This small moment strengthened that invisible bond of support between us. Knowing my family was behind me gave me even more courage as I embarked on this new adventure. When I got out of the car, I looked at the modest sign of the school building. This wasn't just a place where I would get a license; this was a monument to independence for me. It was the gateway to a future where I could chart my own course, go wherever I wanted. This four-wheeled pile of metal was freedom itself for me.
When I went inside, I was greeted by a middle-aged, calm-mannered Valerian named Marcus. After a brief introduction, we went to the practice car—an old but well-maintained model with scratches here and there. When I sat behind the wheel, the mixture of worn leather and motor oil filled my throat. I put my hands on the steering wheel, feeling like I was holding a ship's wheel with an ocean of roads stretching ahead.
The first few minutes were a disaster. My mind tried to analyze every detail as it did with Edictum texts: clutch engagement, gas sensitivity, mirror angles... But Marcus's patient instructions gradually shifted my approach. "Stop thinking, feel," he said, and something clicked. I began listening to the pedals, the steering wheel's vibration, the engine's rhythm. The car transformed from lifeless metal into something I could communicate with.
When we reached Apexia's back streets, everything fell into place. I was no longer a pedestrian but part of the city's flowing blood. Behind this wheel, I could go anywhere—to see my uncle in Heroica, through Confluxia's chaotic streets, maybe even take Ella far from those dark alleys that scared her.
"You just needed to relax. You're naturally talented," Marcus said as I parked perfectly at lesson's end.
Walking home, I realized this wasn't just about driving—it was about taking control of my own life. The confidence boost felt like fuel for facing Minerva's challenges ahead.
When I returned home, the fatigue of the first week at school had settled on me like a weight. The tension from the chaotic beginning that had been going on since Monday still hung in the air. Every evening I had told my family what happened; I had exaggerated the victories and turned the moments of shame into funny memories. That confident Octavian who overcame everything that I presented to them was actually a role I was trying to play. A few days had passed, but I was still a novice actor who didn't know what to do on that stage.
The next morning, as the sun illuminated Apexia's pointed towers, I was walking with my father toward the Sacellum. This ritual we performed once a week was a refuge for me. We walked silently, there was no need for words. My father would sense the storms inside me but preferred to calm them with his silent presence rather than probing them with words. When I put my face to the ground for Prostratio on the cool marble floor of the temple, all the voices in my mind began to speak at once.
Professor Livia... Her eyes had sparkled when she heard my uncle's name. Was this an honor, or an expectation loaded on my shoulders under which I would be crushed? Professor Flavia... That woman's steel-like gaze... I wouldn't let her call me "incapable," but how would I stand in this battle? Ella... That dark street and the pure terror in her eyes. I had made a promise to her, I would listen to her. But was I ready to overcome that wall of silence? What about Felissia? Had she come because she was really curious about that question, or was this the first move of a complex social game like in the books I read?
As these thoughts gnawed at my brain, Marcus came to mind. That silent, empty-eyed child. He too came from Heroica. Maybe he too, like me, was trying to leave his past behind and open a new page. I should talk to him, I thought. I need to find out if I'm alone in this adventure of changing myself.
When we left the temple, the chaos inside me had calmed somewhat. My father touched my shoulder. "Remember, son," he said calmly. "The strongest swords are forged in the hottest fire." These words were exactly what I needed.
When I went to driving school that afternoon, I sat behind the wheel with quiet confidence replacing my earlier nervousness. Unlike the social complexity at school, here everything felt manageable. Pedals, gears, steering wheel—they responded to my touch like extensions of myself.
Flowing through Apexia's streets, I realized this metal box offered an escape from anxieties and expectations. This wasn't just transportation; this was taking control of my own path forward.
When I arrived home after the lesson, I had a genuine victory to share. The proud smile on my parents' faces felt more real than the exaggerated stories I'd been telling them all week.
That evening, the confidence from behind the wheel stayed with me as I planned for tomorrow. What I'd say to Ella, how I'd approach Marcus—I mapped out scenarios with careful detail. Being sincere was important, but maybe I could apply the same control to my social life: slowly, thoughtfully, strategically.
While I was questioning all this, the next morning all my plans were turned upside down before I even reached the institute. The moment I got off the bus, Lunaria—Luna as I now called her to myself—suddenly linked arms with me. This wasn't like Ella's fearful clinging. Her fingers weren't squeezing my arm, they were just there, but her presence was like a calculated chain that instantly vaporized all my feelings of freedom. This unexpected, unplanned contact wiped out all the scenarios in my mind and left me alone with a single question: What the hell was this about now?