A Blossom of Flames

On the seventh day after Eastwald's arrival, Valentina found a parchment note on the outside of her door. With cool precision, the formal handwriting informed her that she was to report to the questioning room at noon. No explanation, no polite phrases – just a direct instruction, sealed with the stylized flame symbol of the Illumination.

"Ah, the time has finally come," Vyxara whispered. "It was bound to happen sooner or later."

Valentina stared at the parchment, her heartbeat quickening. Despite all her preparation and planning, she felt a pang of fear, which she immediately tried to suppress – that wouldn't do her any good in there, on the contrary.

"I'm ready," she whispered into the silence of her room. "I have nothing to hide." A lie, of course, but one she had to tell herself in order to stand up to the questioning.

Another student from her year was already waiting outside the exam room with a pale face. She flinched when Valentina stood next to her.

"Are you also...?" Her voice broke.

Valentina nodded curtly. "Have they kept you waiting long?"

"Almost an hour," she whispered. "They say it's a 'random selection process', but everyone knows it's a lie."

Before Valentina could answer, the heavy door opened. An Emberwarden stepped out, his face expressionless beneath his burgundy hood.

"Vera of Hullbridge," he called out in a monotone voice.

The girl froze, her fingers tangled in the folds of her skirt.

"Good luck," Valentina murmured and gave Vera's shoulder a quick squeeze.

The door closed behind Vera and Valentina was left alone in the dim corridor. An older student hurried past, his eyes lowered as if he feared that mere eye contact might make him suspicious.

"Steel yourself mentally," Vyxara advised. "Eastwald will try to throw you off balance. Quick changes of subject, false claims, sudden accusations. Stick to your story, but don't get caught up in unnecessary details."

Time passed agonizingly slowly. Valentina concentrated on her breathing, going over the prepared answers in her mind. When the door finally opened again, it wasn't Vera who came out, but an Emberwarden who called out "Valentina of Palewood".

Valentina straightened her shoulders and stepped forward. The Emberwarden's gaze slid over her simple grey dress and the modest wooden amulet of the Burning Tower on her chest, carved for her by her brother Roric. It was a calculated decision of her to wear it.

"Follow me," he said curtly.

The examination room – once an auditorium for Essence Theory – was now a place of intimidation. Heavy curtains blocked the daylight, clouds of incense hung in the air, and in the center stood the dreaded chair with the metal arm cuffs and finger restraints.

Illuminator Eastwald sat at a table, his gaunt face illuminated by an Essence lamp that bathed his features in dim light. His sunken eyes glittered eerily. Two other Emberwardens stood like statues against the walls.

"Sit down," Eastwald said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Valentina obeyed, and the Emberwardens immediately stepped forward. They strapped her wrists to the armrests and inserted each of her fingers into the special devices so that her palms were facing upwards – a position that made any Essence Weaving downright impossible.

"Relax," whispered Vyxara. "Ignore your hands. Focus on your breath."

Eastwald watched the process in silence, his fingers folded under his chin. When Valentina was fully fixed, he nodded to the Emberwardens, who stepped back to their positions. Then he pulled a locket from his robes – a sophisticated artifact of silver and black metal, with a cloudy stone set in the center. He placed the chain over her bound hands.

"Do you know what this is, Valentina of Palewood?" he asked.

"No, Illuminator," she replied calmly.

"Ooooh, his chain that recognizes 'lies'," Vyxara scoffed. "Now that I see it, I'm sure. Just stay calm and it won't react – no matter what you say."

"This is a sacred artifact of the Illumination," Eastwald explained, looking almost lovingly at the medallion. "It recognizes when you lie." A thin smile played around his lips. "But I'm sure a loyal servant of the Martyr like you has nothing to fear."

Valentina bowed her head slightly. "I am at the Illuminator's disposal for any questions."

"Good, good." Eastwald flipped through some documents in front of him. "Let's start with something simple. Your name is Valentina of Palewood, you are 20 years old and in your second year of study at Bridgewater University. Correct?"

"Yes, Illuminator."

"Your family consists of your father Aldwin, your mother Mabel, four brothers and three sisters. They are farmers in Palewood, a small village further south."

Valentina blinked in surprise. Eastwald's attention to detail was disconcerting. "That's correct."

"And yet," Eastwald continued, his gaze now more intense, "you have fallen into the favor of the Duke of Duskenshire. A remarkable rise for a simple peasant girl."

The first trap. This was not a question, but a provocation, an attempt to tempt her into a defensive reaction.

"His Grace has an interest in nurturing talent, regardless of their background," she replied calmly. "My victory in the Greystone Competition opened that door for me."

"Ah yes, the Greystone Competition." Eastwald flipped to another document. "An impressive victory. Your professors describe your progress as... extraordinary."

A cold tingle ran down Valentina's spine. "I am grateful to the Martyr for the gifts he has given me," she said humbly.

"And how exactly did you achieve this progress?" Eastwald asked abruptly. "Such rapid development is unusual, even with great natural talent. You are the daughter of a poor yeoman farmer, you had no tutors who could have nurtured your talents early on."

"Careful," warned Vyxara. "He's fishing."

"Through hard work, Illuminator," Valentina replied. "I had no choice. My family bet everything on my education, even went into debt. I couldn't afford to fail."

"And this work consisted of...?"

"Hours and hours in the library. Additional exercises, study groups with other students and lots of experiments in the exercise rooms. And I often studied in my room until late at night. You can ask the librarian and the professors overseeing the exercise room, they will surely confirm how often I was there and how hard I worked." Not a single lie.

Eastwald leaned back, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the tabletop. "And your stay in Dusktown? What exactly was your role there?"

"I assisted at the Greystone Hospital, Illuminator. Under Master Wilford, I studied medical applications of Essence Weaving."

"And the duke?" Eastwald's voice became softer, more dangerous. "What exactly was your relationship with him?"

Valentina held his gaze steadfastly. "He was my patron. In recognition of my victory in the Greystone Competition and in appreciation of my work at Greystone Hospital, he offered me accommodation at the palace and access to better learning materials."

Eastwald touched the locket on her hands, his gaze wary. "Were there more intimate aspects of this... patronage?"

"Careful now," muttered Vyxara. "Deny it, but not too indignant. Modest, a little embarrassed."

Valentina lowered her gaze briefly, as a bashful country girl would. "No, Illuminator. The duke was always respectful. I was treated as a student, not as... something else."

Eastwald looked at the medallion again, which didn't react in the slightest. "Have you ever had carnal relations with a man, Valentina?"

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

A direct question that required a direct lie. Valentina thought of... – well, admittedly, a rather long list of men by now flashed briefly through her mind – and then she lied with the innocent expression of a naive maiden.

"No, Illuminator. I am pure and untouched, as it pleases the Martyr."

The medallion did not move. Eastwald's eyebrow rose barely noticeably.

"Interesting," he murmured. "And how do you explain the... rumors? Students whispering about your change since you were in Dusktown. Your new wardrobe, your changed demeanor. Some say you've returned with the air of an experienced woman."

"Rumors start easily here," Valentina replied. "My family was poor, Illuminator. In Dusktown, I was given proper clothing for the first time. And yes, I have gained in confidence, I hope – through my valuable and fulfilling work at the hospital, through the recognition of my abilities and through the example of the duchess, a very noble lady."

"Perfect," praised Vyxara. "A convincing mixture of truth and concealment."

Eastwald nodded slowly, seeming to accept her answer. Then he abruptly changed the subject.

"Have you ever heard strange voices, Valentina? Voices that wanted to teach you powerful Weaving techniques? Who offered you... knowledge you shouldn't have?"

Valentina's heartbeat accelerated. This was it – the question she had been dreading the most.

"Don't get nervous," Vyxara reminded and admonished her. "The medallion responds to excitement, not lies."

With a conscious effort, Valentina slowed her breathing. "No, Illuminator. The only voices I hear are those of my professors and my own conscience."

Eastwald stared at her penetratingly, as if he could look straight into her soul. Then he suddenly turned his gaze to his notes.

"Your rise is remarkable, Valentina of Palewood. From a poor peasant girl to the protégé of a duke, in just one year. There are many paths to such success – some through hard work and divine grace..." He paused meaningfully. "Others by corrupt whispers."

Valentina held his gaze, forcing her hands to relax. "My father always said work hard, but pray harder. I've done both, Illuminator."

Eastwald suddenly smiled, a smile that did not reach his eyes. He reached for a simple wooden box on his table.

"Do you know what's in here?"

"No, Illuminator."

He opened it slowly and revealed a small black kitten curled up asleep inside. Valentina felt her blood freeze in her veins. A black kitten – like the one that had disturbed the summoning circle when she called Vyxara all those months ago.

"Stay calm," Vyxara ordered. "It's just a kitten. There are thousands of black cats in Bridgewater."

"Animals," Eastwald said thoughtfully, "are often the first gateway for demonic incursions. This one was found near the edge of the forest. I've heard rumors that students and other Essence Weavers of the city sometimes secretly practice... all manners of undesirable things there." His fingers stroked gently over the sleeping kitten's fur. "Have you ever engaged in such forbidden practices, Valentina? Alone in the forest where no one can see you?"

She took a deep breath. The locket would betray her if she panicked. Valentina forced herself to remain extremely calm.

"No, Illuminator. I only practiced in the university's designated practice rooms."

Eastwald looked at her for a long time. The kitten woke up, yawned and looked directly at Valentina with its yellow eyes.

"It's getting late," Eastwald finally said and closed the box. "I dismiss you for today, Valentina of Palewood."

The Emberwardens stepped forward and undid her bonds. As she stood up, Valentina carefully rubbed her wrists where the metal bands had left red marks.

"Before you go," Eastwald added when she had already reached the door, "one more piece of advice – stay pure in thought and deed. The Martyr sees everything. Especially what happens in secret."

Valentina curtsied humbly. "I will heed the Illuminator's advice."

Outside in the corridor, she met the pale, waiting faces of other students. She gave them a reassuring smile, although inside she was trembling with tension.

"Well done," Vyxara praised as she left the corridor. "You've won him over – for now. But don't be overconfident. He'll keep watching you."

"I know," thought Valentina.

~

Valentina, Crispin and Innogen had arranged to meet in their favorite corner of the garden, surrounded by thorny rose bushes that now, in late fall, bore only a few remaining stunted flowers.

It was just after sunset. Crispin was the first to arrive, carrying a pile of books. Valentina followed shortly behind him, carrying a small basket of herbs – a plausible explanation for why she was outside, should anyone question her. Innogen was the last to arrive, her footsteps audible somewhere behind Valentina on the gravel path.

"Have we been seen?" whispered Crispin, his eyes darting nervously back and forth between the surrounding bushes.

"I don't think so," Valentina replied quietly. "The Emberwardens are patrolling in the north right now."

Innogen sighed heavily. "It's getting worse by the day. Have you heard about Matilda from third year? She was caught writing a letter to her father complaining about the Illumination. Now she's in custody."

They sat down on a hidden bench, their heads close together.

"How did your interrogation go?" Crispin asked, his voice a barely audible whisper.

Valentina looked around again to make sure no one was within earshot before answering. "Surprisingly good, actually. Eastwald's amulet – the one he claims can detect lies – is a hoax."

Crispin's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I think it responds to fear, not lies. I lied right to his face and it didn't react."

"What was the lie about?" asked Innogen, suddenly curious.

Valentina hesitated, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. "He asked if I'd ever... well, had carnal relations with a man."

Crispin almost choked on his own spit, his face turning a deep red. He gave Innogen an uncertain look.

Innogen rolled her eyes impatiently. "Of course I know about it, Crispin. Valentina and I are best friends. By all the flames of the Martyr, don't be such a prude."

"It's just... I mean... that's..." stammered Crispin, unable to finish his sentence.

"The point is," Valentina interrupted gently, "that you can lie without being discovered as long as you stay quiet. The amulet only reacts to stress."

Crispin nodded, gradually regaining his composure. "That's good to know. It'll be my turn tomorrow."

"Don't be afraid," Valentina advised. "He feeds off it, like a leech. Be respectful, but not submissive. And avoid too many details. The more you say, the more room you give him to find contradictions or maybe get someone else in trouble without even realizing."

A sudden rustling in the bushes made them all freeze. They held their breath for a moment until a small field mouse scurried across the path and disappeared into the undergrowth.

"We have to stick together," Valentina said emphatically. "Protect each other. Don't let him drive us apart."

They agreed to meet regularly, but never in the same place twice in a row. As they said goodbye, before they all three walked back another way, Innogen hugged Valentina tightly and whispered in her ear: "Please take care of yourself."

~

The pressure increased further and further. In the corridors, students began to accuse each other, whether out of genuine suspicion or a desperate desire to divert attention away from themselves. Former friends turned away from each other for fear of being seen with the "wrong people".

Faustus Boarfend's behavior was particularly striking. Valentina watched him flinch at the sight of the Illuminator, following Eastwald with panicked glances as he strode across the courtyard.

"He knows he's doomed if they find the Eye of Deceit ," Vyxara commented. "Or the corrupt Essence. He's like a trapped rat searching the cage for a way out."

There were some signs that Eastwald was preparing for a longer stay. Emberwardens brought more crates of equipment, and the Illuminator and his men took up another room for their purposes. Illumination seemed determined to turn over every stone, unravel every mystery.

That night, Valentina stood at her small window for a long time, gazing at the clear starry sky and the moonlit towers of Bridgewater. Below her lay the courtyard, empty and silent at this late hour – except for a single figure walking slowly across the cobblestones.

Illuminator Eastwald, his short-cropped white hair gleaming silver in the moonlight, moved with measured steps towards the Burning Tower. His gait was calm, his posture almost meditative, as if he were having an inner conversation with the Martyr, deliberating with him about the tribulations he had to endure at this wicked university full of corruption and fornication.

"He's praying for guidance," Vyxara scoffed.

As if he had felt her eyes on him, Eastwald suddenly stopped. Slowly, he turned his head and looked up at Valentina's window.

Although impossible to be sure at this distance and in the darkness, Valentina felt their eyes meeting. She could have stepped back, retreated into the shadows of her room, but something inside her refused to give way.

She stood still, returning his invisible gaze without fear, without defiance – only with the calm certainty that she had the strength to stand firm, at least in this small moment.

After a long moment, Eastwald bowed his head slightly in salute before continuing on his way to the Burning Tower.