Zavian entered the headmaster’s office. The expansive room featured high, ornate ceilings stretching to the heavens. Daylight filtered through tall windows, gently illuminating the polished wooden floor and casting light on elegant furnishings.
“Greetings, Zavian Villin,” Kolzon welcomed him with a warm smile and admiring eyes. “Your performance was truly magnificent. I couldn’t believe what I saw. You’ve surpassed my expectations.”
Zavian’s emotions swirled in disbelief and astonishment, making Kolzon’s words a challenge to fully grasp.
Kolzon chuckled warmly, rising from his seat. “You’ve defeated Iron Jo, Zavian. Like your father, you possess incredible power.”
His words hung in the air, knitting confusion into Zavian’s brows. “My father?”
A mischievous glint danced in Kolzon’s eyes. “You can reveal yourself now,” he commanded.
The heavy wooden door within the room creaked open, and Zaphyr emerged, cloaked in black, adding an air of mystery and solemnity. Underneath the cloak, Zavian recognized his clothing from the day he thought he attended a funeral. Colored contact lenses transformed his pale blue eyes into a rich shade of brown.
Shock surged through Zavian, causing his heart to skip a beat. His gaze darted between Kolzon and Zaphyr. “What’s going on here?”
“Your father is a government conjurer. It’s your destiny to follow in his footsteps. Your family is bound by an irrevocable treaty to serve the country.”
Confusion, disbelief, and anger pulsed through Zavian; his trembling hands grappled with the enormity of what he’d just heard. He didn’t expect any of it. It sounded absurd to him. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself. “I apologize, Headmaster, but I’m not a conjurer.”
Kolzon raised an eyebrow. “How do you explain what happened during the fight earlier? Whether you believe it or not, the truth remains. Braves and Wrigh were already unconscious when it happened. You were the only one capable of such feats.”
“Let’s assume it was me,” Zavian replied firmly. “But how can I have no clue about how I did it?”
“You weren’t aware of your ability, Zav,” Zaphyr interjected. “Your power surged from your strong emotions during the fight. Your determination to stop Iron Jo. Your desire to protect your teammate, that’s what triggered your power.”
With this revelation, Zavian felt the thrill of having a superpower, but a sense of betrayal from Zaphyr also resurfaced. Sternly, he asked, “You knew about this, and you never told me?”
Kolzon’s throat cleared with a deep rumble as he stepped forward. The echo of his polished dress shoes filled the room. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
Zaphyr nodded, and Zavian observed Kolzon disappearing through the door, the whoosh of its closure emphasizing the sudden silence.
“I’m sorry, Zav,” Zaphyr muttered, breaking the stillness. “I know this is overwhelming. Just bear with me. I’ll answer your questions.”
A wry grin formed at the corners of Zavian’s mouth as he replied, “Is this why you’re always away from home?”
The lingering tension filled the air as he nodded and gazed down at his feet. The room remained hushed, with only the faint ticking of the wall clock breaking the silence. “Yes,” he finally replied. “I cannot escape our fate.”
“What else is there?”
“We are cursed, Zav,” he uttered. The weight of his words sent a chill down Zavian’s spine, and his heart sank.
“What do you mean?” he studied him, noticing the beads of sweat on Zaphyr’s forehead and the trembling of his hands. Fear and sorrow filled his eyes, and Zavian sensed the gravity of what he was about to reveal.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he replied, his voice slightly shaky, returning his gaze to Zavian. “But a Villin’s spouse can only bear a son with a superpower. And this power should be used for good only.” His breathing became labored and the worry lines on his forehead deepened as he continued, “Have you ever heard a voice in your head, urging you to help those in need?”
The question reminded Zavian of the countless times he’d ignored that voice, and he started to regret it.
“That voice was the beginning, Zav,” he said. “A seven-year-old Villin can activate his power by heeding that voice. It’s something that should never be ignored. Otherwise, his mother will . . .” He trailed off, unable to meet Zavian’s gaze.
“His mother will what . . . ?”
“If a seven-year-old Villin ignores that voice or uses his power for evil . . . his mother will suffer. And there would be no cure for that, even if healers like Vanarah or Crossvan were to try.”
Zavian clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “Are you telling me that it was my fault that my mother suffered?” His voice rose slightly, drowning out the clock’s ticking on the wall.
“No, of course not,” he refuted. “I apologize for how I put it, but I didn’t know any other way to say it without causing you pain.” He let out a deep, mournful sigh. “That’s our curse, Zav. The Villin’s curse.”
Tears welled up in Zavian’s eyes, gathering at the corners. He fought to hold them back. “Then why didn’t you tell me? I should’ve followed that voice if only you had told me. Mother would still be alive today. Why didn’t you tell me? Did Mother know about this?”
Tears streamed down Zaphyr’s face, leaving glistening tracks. “Yes, she knew of our curse and chose to be with me. I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you. It would have accelerated your mother’s condition. She would have died instantly.”
Zavian couldn’t contain his emotions any longer. Words poured out of his mouth like a torrential downpour as his tears fell down his cheeks. “What kind of curse is that? That’s bullshit! Who cursed us?”
He shook his head, his eyes downcast. “I don’t know.”
“Fine. Then at least tell me how to lift this fucking curse!”
Again, he shook his head, his eyes briefly meeting Zavian’s before averting. “I don’t know either . . .”
Zavian collapsed into the nearest chair, head in his hands. “So that’s it, then. I killed my mother, and this curse won’t end.” The bitter words filled his mouth, like ash and bile. It has been me all along. I am the murderer.
“It was me, Zav,” Zaphyr uttered. “I killed your mother.”
He turned his gaze toward him, taking in the firm set of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. It was as if he was daring Zavian not to doubt him. “That’s the truth. I was the one who killed Everlee.”
Zavian took a deep, shuddering breath. “But it won’t change the fact that I was the reason for her suffering.” Memories of Everlee in pain flooded his mind, and guilt gnawed at his insides. “I should’ve never ignored that voice.”
Summoning all his strength, he rose to his feet, his body feeling both heavy and light simultaneously. Zaphyr’s intentions were clear, wanting to offer comfort and solace in this agonizing moment. But now, more than ever, Zavian knew it was his fault. “I’m sorry . . . for everything. I’m sorry for blaming you for Mom’s death. For hating you. For disrespecting you. For being a bad son. For not obeying the voice.” He couldn’t bring himself to meet Zaphyr’s eyes, he averted his gaze on the ground. “I’m sorry for being heartless. I’m sorry, Father.”
 “I know, Zav,” Zaphyr said after a brief silence. He drew nearer and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re sorry . . . but I’m sorry too. Can we let bygones be bygones? Nothing will change if we continue to shoulder the blame for what happened in the past. Neither of us wished for it to unfold that way, Zav.”
He was right. They shouldn’t dwell on the past. The future beckoned, urging them to keep moving forward, much like Olesia, who fearlessly triumphed over her inner struggles.
After a prolonged silence, Zavian found his voice and replied, “I promise, I won’t disappoint Mother or you again. I’ll put all my strength into fulfilling my duty; help those in need and stand up against wicked conjurers to protect innocent lives.”
“I’m immensely proud of you, my son.” Zaphyr pulled him into a tight embrace, and at that moment, a soft sniffle reached Zavian’s ears. He hugged him back, tears welling up and streaming down his face unexpectedly. The door creaked open suddenly, surprising them both, and they let go, hastily wiping away their tears.
“Oh, I see that you’ve reached a reconciliation,” Kolzon remarked, emerging from the door. He then gestured, his gaze shifted behind him, and said, “Come in, kids.”
Two figures entered the room, revealing Olesia and Crossvan. Kolzon made his way to his seat, exuding an air of authority. He instructed them to stand side by side and face him, while Zaphyr positioned himself next to him.
“Congratulations, Ms. Braves and Mr. Wrigh!” his voice boomed, filling the room. “You have succeeded in your arduous task. For your exceptional achievement, I offer you a rare opportunity to ascend as official Valoures. Tell me, will you accept this honor?”
Confused, Zavian interrupted. “What task?”
A knowing smile graced Kolzon’s face. “The plan has been executed flawlessly. They endured the grueling battle, all to awaken your dormant power.”
Zavian locked eyes with Crossvan. “So, that’s why you insisted on fighting, even when you could barely stand on your own?”
“Yup!”
Zavian responded with a prolonged stare, trying to convey his displeasure. “Your mother was right. It was a reckless idea. It could’ve easily ended in disaster.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I wasn’t worried at all. My parents got my back. My dad is a doctor here, and my mom is a healer.”
“I agree with Cross. And don’t worry, if anything went wrong, we had LV Chronus and Keiro to handle Iron Jo,” Olesia chimed in.
“Keiro?”
“Yes, Keiro,” she replied, her gaze briefly shifting toward Kolzon before her hand gestured toward Zaphyr. “My dad. He’s the one I’ve always talked about.”
As her words sank in, Zavian’s eyes widened, curiosity and confusion sweeping over him. He turned his gaze to Zaphyr to seek answers. Zaphyr met his gaze and subtly shook his head, signaling for him to hold back his questions.
“Zavian,” Kolzon began, his voice commanding yet curious. Reluctantly, Zavian redirected his attention to him. “Can you tell us about what you felt and your thoughts when that thing happened? How did you manage to cut off Iron Jo’s hand?”
Zavian’s jaw clenched. Do I really need to share my thoughts and feelings? Swallowing hard, he gathered his thoughts before responding, “I . . . I don’t know how it happened. It just . . . it happened when I commanded Iron Jo to stop.”
“Try to remember, Villin.”
“Let’s give him some time,” Zaphyr suggested.
Kolzon acknowledged him with a nod before shifting his gaze to Olesia and Crossvan. “Are you two going to accept the advancement, Ms. Braves, Mr. Wrigh?”
“We humbly decline, Headmaster,” they replied in perfect unison.
“Why?”
Olesia, her voice filled with determination, quickly responded, “We kindly ask for the esteemed Lead Valoure to guide and train us instead.”
“Very well.”
The joy and relief on Olesia and Crossvan’s faces were palpable as Kolzon granted their request. Their smiles remained unyielding, stretching from ear to ear as they exited the room, leaving Zavian and Zaphyr alone with the Headmaster. Kolzon gestured for both of them to take a seat across from the table.
“Now that we’re alone, Zavian, share your thoughts and emotions from the moment you halted Iron Jo.”
With a resigned sigh, he complied and began to recount the earlier events. The image of Iron Jo relentlessly pummeling Crossvan replayed in his mind. Each punch’s sound echoed, and sickening thuds had filled the air as his fists collided with Crossvan’s flesh, leaving behind crimson splatters. Zavian clenched his fists. Tension coursed through his body with a mix of fury and frustration. In a measured tone, he managed to say, “I was consumed by rage. That’s what I felt.”
Kolzon replied with a complacent tone, “I can understand your reaction. Anyone would feel the same witnessing their friend being brutally attacked.”
“I never considered him a f—”
“Regardless,” Kolzon said, “I was referring to the surge of power you felt coursing through your veins when you severed Iron Jo’s hand, not your emotions toward your friend.”
His words grated on Zavian’s nerves. He met his gaze with a prolonged stare before responding, “I didn’t sense anything.”
An exasperated groan escaped Kolzon as he turned his attention to Zaphyr. “Villin, make some sense out of your child. Both of you, leave.”
They walked out of the room.
“We need to talk,” Zavian said, turning to Zaphyr.
He nodded solemnly. “Follow me.”