Chapter Text
The monster had three heads, six eyes, and what Pheles considered an unreasonable appetite for livestock.
It stood in the middle of the village square with the heavy, ugly confidence of something that had never been challenged. Its body was large enough to cast a shadow over the well, thick with dark fur that had become matted with snow and mud during its journey down from the northern mountains. Two long horns curved backward from each of its heads. The horns were cracked and uneven, their surfaces stained with old blood. One mouth hung open as it breathed, revealing several rows of blunt teeth. Another head watched the houses surrounding the square with hungry attention. The third was occupied with an apple it had found in a broken basket.
Pheles stood several metres away and watched it chew.
The wind moved through the village. It carried the smell of smoke, wet earth, and crushed fruit. Several fences had been destroyed. One of the houses near the edge of the square had lost part of its roof. The villagers had hidden inside their homes, though Pheles could feel their eyes following her from behind closed shutters.
The monster bit into another apple. The sound was loud.
Pheles placed one hand against her hip. “You know,” she said, “those belong to someone.”
One of the monster’s heads turned toward her. It growled. The sound rolled through the village like distant thunder. Windows shook. A flock of birds rose from the roofs and disappeared into the grey sky.
Pheles blinked.
“Yes,” she continued. “Very frightening.”
The monster lowered itself toward the ground. Its claws pressed into the earth.
The village chief had described the creature as a demon when Pheles arrived that morning. He had spoken quickly, as though the monster might hear him from the mountains. A demon has come down from the north, he had said. It killed our cattle. It destroyed the eastern road. We cannot leave the village.
Pheles had listened. Then she had asked whether they were certain it was a demon. The chief had looked offended. What else could it be?
A monster.
What's the difference?
Pheles had thought about it. One of them speaks.
The chief had stared at her. Pheles had smiled.
The distinction mattered. Demons were intelligent. They understood language. They used words. They learned how people spoke and shaped their voices into things humans wanted to hear. Monsters did not.
The creature in the village square was only hungry.
It was dangerous. It had killed. But it was not a demon.
Pheles did not know whether that made the villagers safer.
The monster roared again. This time, it moved. Its enormous body crossed the distance between them with surprising speed. The earth shook beneath its weight. Snow and dirt scattered behind its claws.
Pheles remained still.
Her white hair moved around her shoulders.
She lifted one hand. Golden mana appeared above her palm. At first, it was only light. Small points gathered in the air, bright enough to turn the falling snow into gold. They moved slowly, circling her fingers before stretching into thin fragments. The fragments connected.
A bow formed.
It was delicate. Beautiful.
The weapon appeared to have been carved from transparent crystal. Golden light moved beneath its surface in narrow, flowing lines. The limbs curved outward with impossible elegance. The string was almost invisible.
The monster stopped. Its six eyes watched her.
Pheles raised the bow. An arrow formed between her fingers. The arrow was long and translucent. Light moved beneath its surface like sunlight caught beneath clear water.
She drew the string.
The monster growled. Pheles looked directly at it. Then she closed her eyes.
Magic was not only mana.
Mana was important. It gave magic strength. It determined how much a spell could accomplish and how long a mage could continue fighting. But mana alone could not create the impossible.
A mage had to imagine it.
The spell had to exist within the mind before it could exist within the world.
If a mage could not picture a flame burning, they could not create fire. If they could not imagine a wall standing against an attack, they could not form a barrier. If they believed something was impossible, their magic would carry that belief. The impossible would remain impossible.
Pheles had understood this when she was young.
She had also understood something else.
Humans imagined themselves as weak. They imagined fear before danger arrived. They imagined failure before they attempted anything. They looked at the world and saw boundaries.
Pheles had spent years trying to escape those boundaries.
She did not imagine herself as a human standing before a monster.
Humans were fragile.
Humans grew old.
Humans became sick.
Humans died.
Humans loved people and watched them disappear.
Pheles knew this because she had loved many people.
She had watched them become older while she remained young. She had attended funerals. She had carried memories that no one else remembered. She had learned that loving someone did not protect them. It only meant there would be someone left behind to mourn.
Pheles did not want to imagine herself as something so fragile.
So she imagined horns. They rose through her white hair, dark and smooth. She imagined wings unfolding from her back. She imagined sharp eyes that had never feared death because death had never possessed any claim over her.
She imagined herself standing above the world.
Not cruel. Not hungry. Not empty.
Powerful.
Ancient.
Unbound.
A demon.
Not the monster standing before her.
Something else. Something impossible. Something that could exist beyond the limits of a human life.
The image was clear.
Pheles opened her eyes, and the monster charged.
She did not imagine the arrow missing. The possibility did not exist. She did not imagine the wind changing its path. Nor did she imagine the creature escaping. The arrow had already reached its destination. The world simply had not caught up.
Pheles released the string.
The arrow flew upward. It rose above the village. Higher. It’s golden light disappeared through the clouds.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
The monster stopped. One head looked toward the sky. Another stared at Pheles. The third continued chewing.
Pheles lowered her bow. “Oh,” she said. Behind the nearest window, someone screamed. Pheles placed one hand against her cheek. “I may have missed.”
The monster growled.
“That would be embarrassing.”
It charged again.
Then the arrow returned. It descended from the clouds. The villagers saw the golden light before they heard it. The arrow fell toward the monster. The creature turned. The arrow changed direction. It curved around the creature’s body. The monster attempted to move. The arrow followed. It turned once. Then twice. It travelled beneath one of the creature’s raised arms before rising toward the centre of its chest.
The arrow struck.
A sound like breaking glass passed through the village. Golden light spread across the monster’s body. The creature stumbled. Its three heads roared together. Then its legs collapsed. The earth shook. Dust rose. Silence is what followed.
Pheles waited. The bow dissipated into air. The remaining light faded from her hand.
The monster did not move.
She counted.
One.
Two.
Three.
Ten.
The creature remained still.
Pheles nodded. “Good.”
No one came outside.
Pheles looked toward the nearest house. “You can come out now.” Nothing happened. “The monster is dead.” A curtain moved. Pheles waited.
The door opened slightly. A small girl looked through the gap. She had brown hair tied into two uneven braids. A wooden spoon was held tightly in one hand. Pheles looked at the spoon. “Were you planning to fight it?” The girl nodded. “With that?” Another nod. Pheles smiled. “That’s very brave.” The girl stepped outside. She walked toward the monster. Pheles followed. The creature was enormous. Its body had crushed the broken apple basket.
The girl stared. “Did you kill it?”
“Yes.”
“With the arrow?”
“Yes.”
“But you missed.”
“I didn’t.”
“You shot it into the sky. That isn’t where the monster was.”
Pheles looked upward. “You’re very observant.”
The girl frowned. Pheles crouched. “An arrow doesn’t always have to travel in a straight line.”
“But how did it know where the monster was?”
“I told it.”
“You can talk to arrows?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then how did you tell it?”
Pheles thought. “I imagined where it would go.”
The girl looked confused. “That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“You imagined it?”
“Yes.”
The girl looked at the monster. Then she looked at Pheles. “I imagined the monster disappearing.”
Pheles smiled. “That was helpful.”
“But it didn’t disappear.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because imagining something is only the beginning.”
The girl held the wooden spoon tighter. “Then what happens after?”
“After that, you have to make the world believe you.”
The girl was quiet. Pheles reached into her bag and removed a piece of candy. “Would you like this?” The girl accepted it. “What flavour is it?”
“Strawberry.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
The girl stared.
Pheles smiled. “It might be cherry.”
The village slowly emerged from its silence.
Doors opened. People stepped outside. Several men approached the monster with weapons. Pheles watched them.
They moved carefully. They did not trust that the creature was dead. She understood. Some things continued hurting people even after they were gone. The village chief appeared. He walked slowly toward the monster. His grey beard moved in the wind. He stared at the body. Then he looked at Pheles. “You defeated it.”
“Yes.”
“With one spell?”
“Yes.”
The chief looked at the sky. “Why did the arrow go up?”
“It wanted to.”
“Why?”
Pheles smiled. “It needed a better angle.”
The chief looked at the monster. Then he looked at Pheles. He appeared uncertain whether she was joking. “You’re much stronger than we expected.”
“People say that often.”
“We never doubted you.” Pheles looked toward the villagers. Several people immediately looked away. “Of course.”
The chief cleared his throat. “Your payment.” He returned several minutes later carrying a leather pouch. Pheles accepted it. The coins moved softly inside. She counted them. There were ten more than they had agreed upon. “The payment is too much.”
“You saved the village.”
“I killed the monster.”
“You saved us.”
“You paid me to kill it.”
The chief frowned. “You should accept the extra.”
Pheles returned the coins. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because you need them.”
“We offered them.”
“You also offered me two bowls of stew.”
“That was lunch.”
Pheles smiled. “I’m saying the stew was enough.”
The chief stared as she tied the original payment to her bag. “You should repair the eastern fence.”
“We will.”
“And move the apple baskets.”
The small girl ran toward her. “Are you leaving?”
Pheles looked down. “Yes.”
“Where?”
“North.”
“Why?”
“I’m taking an examination.”
“What kind?”
“A mage examination.” She pointed toward the insignia attached to her coat. “I want to become a First-Class Mage.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Is that important?”
“Very.”
“Will you become stronger?”
“Probably.”
“Will your arrows become bigger?”
“I hope not.”
“Why?”
“Large arrows are inconvenient.”
The girl considered this. “That makes sense.”
Pheles stood. She adjusted her bag. The girl looked at her. “Will you come back?”
The question was quiet.
The wind moved through the village. Pheles did not answer immediately. She had heard the question before. Children asked because they believed people returned. Adults asked because they hoped. Pheles had learned to give the same answer. “If I pass through here again, I’ll visit.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Next year?”
“Maybe.”
“Will you remember me?”
Pheles looked at the girl. She had already begun remembering. The braids. The wooden spoon. The way she had asked whether arrows could speak. Small things. Meaningless things. Things that may or may not remain.
Pheles reached down. She touched one of the girl’s braids. “Yes. I’ll remember you.”
The girl smiled. Pheles smiled back. Then she turned away. She left before anyone else asked her to stay.
—
The road north was quiet.
Pheles travelled beneath a pale sky. The village disappeared behind the hills. She did not look back. The road moved through open fields. Tall grass bent beneath the wind, small white flowers grew beside the path. Mountains waited in the distance. Their peaks were covered in snow.
Pheles walked, her boots pressed into the earth. The pouch of coins moved softly against her bag. She had enough money for several weeks, perhaps longer. She was not concerned.
Mages rarely travelled with certainty. Roads changed. Weather changed. Monsters appeared. People asked for help. Sometimes a journey that should have taken three days lasted three months.
Pheles liked that.
She did not like knowing where every road ended. It made leaving feel planned.
She stopped beside a small stream. The water was cold. She knelt. Her reflection appeared. White hair, golden eyes, a young human face. She looked ordinary.
Pheles touched the water and the reflection broke.
She imagined horns. For a moment, she saw them. Dark and smooth. Curving backward through her hair. She imagined wings. They spread behind her, large enough to cover the sky.
The image disappeared.
Only her reflection remained. Human.
Pheles smiled. “Maybe one day.”
The stream continued moving. She stood. She continued north.
—
Three days later, snow began falling. Pheles pulled her coat closer. The road became difficult to see. Her white hair disappeared against the landscape. By evening, she found an inn. A wooden sign hung above the entrance. THE WINTER LANTERN
Pheles entered. A bell rang. The innkeeper looked up. “Room?”
“Yes.”
“One night?”
“Maybe.”
He frowned. “Maybe?”
“I’m going to Äußerst.”
“That’s north.”
“I know.”
The innkeeper stared. Then he laughed. “Alright. One room.”
The room was small. A bed. A table. A window. Pheles placed her bag beside the chair. She sat. Silence returned. Roads were never completely quiet. There was always wind, birds, footsteps, grass. Rooms were different. Rooms waited.
Pheles lay on the bed. She stared at the ceiling.
The examination was several days away. She wondered how many mages would participate. Hundreds, perhaps. She wondered what the examination would be. Combat? Magic theory? A duel? The Continental Magic Association rarely revealed the details. That was part of the challenge.
Pheles closed her eyes.
She imagined herself standing before the examiners. She imagined creating her bow. She imagined drawing the string. She imagined the arrow reaching its target. It always did.
Pheles smiled. Then she remembered the girl. Will you remember me?
Her smile faded.
Of course she would. She always did. That was the problem.
—
Äußerst appeared beneath the morning sun.
Pheles stood on a hill. The city stretched below, stone walls surrounded it. Tall towers rose beyond the gates, a light layer of snow covered the rooftops. Bridges connected buildings, smoke moved through the cold air. Magic filled the city.
Pheles could feel it. So many people here possessed control over their mana. Mages.
Every city held traces of magic. But Äußerst was different.
The magic was old. Powerful. The city felt as though magic had been woven into its foundations.
Pheles smiled. “So this is Äußerst.” She began walking. The gates were crowded. Merchants pushed carts, travellers waited, mages moved through the streets. Pheles joined the line.
A tall mage stood near the entrance, speaking to several examinees before his attention shifted toward Pheles. His eyes swept over her white hair, the travel-worn cloak draped over her shoulders, and finally the insignia pinned neatly against her chest. There was a brief flicker of surprise on his face before he spoke.
"You're here for the examination?"
Pheles nodded once. "Yes."
"What class are you?"
"Second."
His gaze lingered on the insignia for another moment before returning to her face. She looked far younger than most of the applicants gathering outside the northern branch of the Continental Magic Association. Her cheeks still carried the softness of youth.
"You're young."
"I've been told."
The mage studied her for another second, waiting for some sign of uncertainty. Around them, dozens of examinees whispered amongst themselves, some pacing, others nervously reviewing spells under their breath. The tension in the air was almost tangible.
"You don't seem nervous."
Pheles looked around at the crowd before giving a small, thoughtful nod. "I am."
He raised an eyebrow. "You don't look nervous."
A tiny smile appeared on her lips, soft enough that it barely changed her expression. "I practise."
His brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "Practise what?"
"Looking calm."
For a moment, he simply stared at her, as though trying to decide whether she was joking or completely serious. In the end, he gave up trying to understand and turned back toward the guards with a quiet shake of his head.
Pheles watched him go, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly.
She continued toward the massive gates of the Association, their stone walls towering high enough to cast long shadows across the courtyard. Mages from every corner of the continent passed through them, each carrying their own ambitions, anxieties, and dreams. Pheles wondered briefly what hers looked like from the outside.
Probably strange.
She reached the checkpoint where one of the guards held out a hand, his expression professional as he accepted her identification papers.
"Name?"
"Pheles."
His eyes dropped to the document almost immediately. After a brief pause, one eyebrow slowly rose.
"Full name?"
"Pheles."
The guard looked back down at the page, then up at her again.
"It says here... Mephistopheles."
Pheles offered him an apologetic smile, the kind that suggested she'd had this conversation far too many times before. "People don't call me that."
"No?"
She shook her head. "It's too long."
The guard stared at her for a moment, unconvinced. "That doesn't seem like much of a reason."
"It is to me." There was no hesitation in her answer. She simply smiled with quiet certainty, as though that explanation was perfectly complete.
The guard let out a small sigh through his nose before handing the papers back.
"...Pheles, then."
Her smile brightened, warmer this time.
"Thank you."
As she stepped through the gates and into the city beyond, she couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief. It was a tiny thing, hearing someone call her by the name she had chosen for herself.
Mephistopheles was a name people imagined.
Pheles was simply her.
She entered the city. Äußerst was colder than the road. The streets were covered in snow. Shops displayed magical tools. Booksellers advertised ancient grimoires. Mages argued outside cafés. Pheles passed them.
She stopped outside a bakery. The smell was wonderful. She entered. Ten minutes later, she left carrying a warm loaf of bread.
She continued toward the northern branch of the Continental Magic Association. The building stood above the city. Tall walls surrounded it. Several towers rose from its centre. Symbols were carved into the stone. Mages entered through enormous doors.
Pheles stopped.
For the first time since leaving the village, she felt nervous.
Not afraid. Not exactly. The examination was important. First-Class Mages possessed authority most mages could only imagine. They had access to powerful magic. They could enter restricted lands. They were recognised across the continent.
Pheles had trained for years. She should have felt ready.
Instead, she looked at the entrance. She wondered whether she belonged.
A voice spoke behind her. “Are you going inside?”
Pheles turned. A young woman stood several steps away. She carried a staff.
“Yes.”
“You’ve been standing there for a while.”
“I was thinking.”
“About what?”
“Whether the building likes me.”
The woman looked confused.
Pheles smiled. “I think it does.”
She walked forward. The doors opened. Warm air met her. The interior was crowded. Mages stood in lines. Some spoke quietly. Others argued. Several examined the people nearby.
Pheles moved toward the registration desk. A woman sat behind it. “Name?”
“Pheles.”
“Class?”
“Second.”
“Identification?”
Pheles handed over the document. The woman examined it. “Mephistopheles.”
“Pheles.”
“Which one?”
“Pheles.”
“Your document says—”
“I know.”
The woman sighed. “Fine.”
She wrote the name and then handed Pheles a metal token. A number had been engraved into it. FIFTY-SEVEN. “This is your participant number. Keep it with you. The first examination begins tomorrow.”
Pheles accepted the small identification token with both hands before slipping it carefully into the pouch hanging from her belt. The registration hall bustled quietly around her as mages arrived one after another, some speaking in hushed voices while others sat alone, staring at the floor with distant expressions. There was a tension hanging in the air that seemed to seep into the very walls, a mixture of anticipation and unease that came whenever dozens of talented mages gathered for a single purpose.
She looked back toward the woman behind the counter, who had already begun sorting through another stack of documents. After a moment's thought, Pheles tilted her head slightly. "What is the test?"
Without looking up, the woman replied in a practiced tone, "You will be informed tomorrow."
Pheles nodded thoughtfully, accepting the answer without complaint. A moment later another question surfaced.
"How many people are participating?"
"Several dozen."
"Will there be monsters?"
The woman finally glanced up from her paperwork, her expression remaining perfectly professional. "Possibly."
Pheles seemed to consider that for a moment before asking another question with the same calm curiosity.
"Will there be food?"
For the first time, the woman's composure faltered.
"...What?"
"Food."
She blinked twice, clearly wondering if she had misheard. "There are restaurants throughout Äußerst."
"I meant during the examination."
The official stared at her for another second before giving the only answer she could.
"That information is not available."
"I see."
Pheles nodded as though this were an important tactical detail rather than a question about lunch. Her hand drifted absentmindedly to the small satchel at her side where only a few pieces of bread remained. After a moment of quiet calculation, she spoke more to herself than anyone else.
"Then I should buy more bread."
Satisfied with her conclusion, she turned to leave.
"Wait."
Pheles paused immediately and looked back over her shoulder.
The woman had stopped working entirely now. She rested both hands atop the counter, studying the young mage in silence. Up close, she looked only a little older than some apprentices who had only recently begun studying magic. Her white hair framed a face that still carried the softness of youth, and despite the bow resting against her back, there was an almost innocent air about her.
It felt... wrong.
Wrong that someone who looked like this had registered for an examination infamous across the continent.
"You should understand something."
Pheles faced her fully again, her golden eyes attentive. "What?"
The woman's voice lost its rehearsed cadence, becoming quieter. More genuine. "The First-Class Mage Examination is dangerous."
"I know."
"Many experienced mages fail."
"I know."
"You may be injured."
"I know."
"You could die."
The room seemed just a little quieter after those words. Even the scratching of quills and murmur of nearby conversations faded into the background.
Pheles didn't flinch. She didn't look frightened.
If anything, she smiled.
It wasn't a wide smile or a carefree one. It was small, almost gentle, curling faintly at the corners of her lips as though the thought itself wasn't frightening enough to erase it.
The woman frowned.
"...Why are you smiling?"
Pheles looked at the metal token. Because she was nervous. Because she was excited. Because she did not know what waited ahead. Because every road led somewhere new. “I like beginnings,” she said.
Then she left.
—
That evening, Pheles sat beside the window.
The city stretched beneath her. Lights glowed through the snow. Mages moved through the streets. Tomorrow, the examination would begin.
Pheles held the metal token. Eighty-seven. She wondered who the other participants were. She wondered whether they would become friends.
The thought appeared before she could stop it. Friends.
Pheles placed the token on the table.
No.
She was here for an examination. Nothing more. She would pass. She would learn. Then she would leave. It was simple.
She looked toward the mountains. The sky was dark. Stars appeared. Pheles rested her forehead against the glass. She thought of the village. The girl. The same repeated question again and again. Will you remember me?
“Yes,” Pheles whispered.
The room did not answer.
She closed her eyes. Tomorrow, she would begin. Tomorrow, she would take another step toward becoming stronger. Tomorrow, she would meet people whose names she did not know.
People she would speak to.
Fight beside.
Perhaps even care about.
For now, she was only a young mage in a northern city. A Second-Class Mage. A traveller. A girl who carried too many memories. A girl who had decided that love was too painful to continue giving away.
She did not know that she would end up looking into eyes older than kingdoms.
Outside, snow fell quietly over Äußerst. Pheles reached for the bread. She tore off a piece. Then she smiled. “Tomorrow.” The city remained silent. But somewhere beyond the walls, the future waited. Pheles had always been good at finding her destination. Akin to an arrow. Once she had imagined where she wanted to go, the world had no choice but to let her arrive.