Chapter 12 — Threads of the VanishedPOV: Hoshino Mirei

  The Marble Hall breathed with cold morning light, pale and washed-out like the day after a storm. Its towering white columns seemed taller than usual, stretching toward a painted ceiling of sun and stars that now felt too distant to touch. A week had passed since the summoning—seven long days—but the air still tasted like yesterday’s silence.

  Hoshino Mirei entered the hall first, just as she always did. Her steps were soundless against the polished floor, posture unwavering, her face a practised stillness. The faint shimmer of magic kept her uniform perfectly pressed, but no spell could smooth the weight pressing behind her eyes.

  Behind her, the others trickled in slowly. Their chatter was softer today—muted, fragmented, hollow around the edges. Some rubbed sleep from their faces as if trying to scrape away the heaviness that clung to them. The long table gleamed with untouched cutlery and neatly arranged ptes. Warm bread, fresh fruit, herbal soup—the same offerings as always. But the comfort in routine was beginning to fray.

  Mirei’s eyes swept across the room, calcuting as always. Who had arrived. Who had not.

  Miss Aiko entered soon after, her voice gentle as she exchanged quiet words with two of the few girls Mirei still trusted to keep steady.

  Kasumi. Shizuka.

  Kasumi Shiranui moved with the same spark as always, but there was a tired edge behind her bright smile today. Her usual bounce was a little slower, like a candle fme flickering in the wind. Even so, her light remained—if a little dimmed.

  Shizuka Himemiya followed with her usual grace, every movement deliberate, composed. Her sharp gaze missed nothing. If she felt the weight of the night before, she carried it like a bde: quiet, controlled, dangerous.

  Mirei acknowledged them both with a small nod. “Morning.”

  “Morning, Prez~,” Kasumi said, her voice chipper but a touch quieter than usual. She slid into the seat beside her. “You look serious as always. Did you sleep at all?”

  “A little,” Mirei replied.

  Kasumi leaned forward, arms crossed on the table, as she sighed dramatically. “I think I dreamed about Wendel-sensei chasing me down like it was some kind of boss fight. ‘Training builds character!’ he shouted, right before knocking me into a tree.”

  Mirei blinked once. “That… did happen yesterday.”

  Kasumi groaned. “Don’t remind me. My spine is still emotionally damaged.”

  Shizuka didn’t look up from her tea. “You were healed.”

  “Physically, yes,” Kasumi shot back. “But emotionally? Spiritually? Mentally?” She waved a hand above her head. “Gone. Wendel sensei beat the st ounce of joy out of me in the name of ‘proper sword form.’ I was reborn in the Temple of Pain.”

  Miss Aiko chuckled gently.

  “Thankfully,” Kasumi continued, pcing a dramatic hand on her heart, “the healing powers of the priests are so divine, I started wondering if pain was ever real to begin with. Like, did I get hit in the ribs, or did I imagine it for character development?”

  “Both,” Mirei said without missing a beat.

  Kasumi gave her a look, then snorted. “Prez. Savage.”

  Shizuka finally cracked the barest smile.

  “...Vivid,” Shizuka remarked, settling across from them. Her teacup clinked softly. “How’s the mood today?”

  Mirei exhaled, eyes briefly closing. “Tense. But stable. Ira sensei's words are helping. Yesterday’s training… grounded people. In its way.”

  Miss Aiko joined them quietly, pcing a gentle hand on Mirei’s shoulder before sitting down. Her presence carried a warmth that hadn't yet been broken. “You’re holding the css together beautifully, Mirei. Thank you.”

  For a moment, Mirei looked away. Something flickered behind her calm mask—uncertainty, perhaps. Or exhaustion. “I’m just… doing what I can.”

  “That’s enough,” Aiko said softly, a smile in her voice.

  Kasumi leaned forward, her head resting on her arms. “Still feels like a story someone else lived. One minute we’re in homeroom, and now we’re waking up in a pace with magic soup and sword drills.”

  Shizuka stirred her tea in silence. “It’s not a story. It’s just… a world where we can’t close the book.”

  Mirei didn’t answer. Her gaze was drawn to the far end of the table.

  The chair that remained untouched.

  Uncimed.

  Alicia’s seat.

  Kasumi’s voice faltered. She followed Mirei’s line of sight, then looked down at her pte. Shizuka’s eyes didn’t waver, but something in her jaw tightened.

  No one said Alicia’s name aloud anymore. Not because they didn’t remember. But because remembering hurts.

  The priests had said it was the will of the Goddess. That some were called differently, that fate would reunite them in time.

  But fate was a word too easily thrown around by people who didn’t have to wait.

  She clenched her teacup a little tighter, and warmth seeped into her fingertips, grounding her.

  She’s not gone. She couldn’t be.

  Wherever Alicia was… She would find her.

  After breakfast, they followed the marble corridor in near silence, the soft tapping of boots against stone echoing like a gentle warning. The pace-church that housed them was a sanctum of holy light and divine architecture, and yet… no one had stepped beyond its whitewashed gates. Not once since they arrived.

  The cssroom was a sanctum of sacred elegance, just like the rest of the holy church-pace they’d been confined to since their arrival. Thirty desks formed a semicircle around a central ptform. Morning light streamed through stained-gss windows, casting shimmering patterns across the polished marble floor.

  Mirei took her seat silently. Around her, the others settled in—quiet, uncertain, still weighed down by yesterday's revetions. None of them had stepped foot outside the sacred walls. Not yet. Not even once

  And then he arrived.

  The double doors opened, and the priest known as Ira entered with silent grace. Tall and composed, he carried an aura of divinity around him. His beauty was ethereal, but distinctly masculine—elegant features, clear skin, and silver hair that framed his face down to his neck. He wore white robes ced with gold threads, and a staff marked with celestial patterns rested in his hand.

  “Good morning,” Ira said, his voice calm and deep, like a hymn between breaths. “Today, you begin to learn the essence of this world. We begin with… magic.”

  The atmosphere tensed. Even those who had been half-asleep now sat with eyes fixed on him.

  Ira moved to the centre of the room. He raised his hand and spoke clearly.

  “Magic is not born from chants or runes alone. It begins with mana—the most basic and abundant form of energy in this world. It exists in the air, the earth, in fire, in light… and even within your bodies.”

  A glowing sphere appeared above his palm—soft, pale blue light that pulsed like a heartbeat.

  “Mana is formless,” he continued. “But it can be given shape through will and mental crity. With enough imagination and emotional force, mana can be pushed to alter its nature.”

  The orb twisted, morphing into fme. Then it shifted into droplets of water, a chunk of stone, a bde of wind, and finally… a shimmering crystal of ice.

  “These,” Ira said, “are elements. Fire, water, earth, wind, lightning, ice… They are simply the result of how you choose to mold mana. What form you imagine. What power your heart resonates with.”

  A girl raised her hand. “So it’s like… mana is cy, and magic is the sculpture?”

  “An apt analogy,” Ira replied, nodding. “But cy does not resist the sculptor. Mana does. It only obeys those whose hearts are firm—whose minds are unclouded.”

  He paused, letting that sink in.

  “There are people in this world who can use mana. They are called mages. Some of you may become mages if you possess the strength of will and vision to control mana.”

  He touched his chest.

  “To truly use mana, you must learn to store it within the heart. Your heart becomes your mana core—a source that both holds and slowly regenerates mana. This is what we call mana recovery. The stronger your heart, the faster your mana will return.”

  The orb above his hand dimmed.

  “But mana is not only one thing. It has forms. Variants that react differently depending on your soul and body. There is pure mana—the basic form. But also:”

  Holy Mana, born from divine resonance.

  Demonic Mana, aggressive and instinct-driven.

  Dragonic Mana, ancient and overwhelming.

  Angelic Mana, radiant and transcendent.

  “Some are born with affinities toward one form or element. Others develop it through intense training or a powerful event. And some, very few, hold multiple affinities.”

  “Fire

  Water

  Wind

  Earth

  Light

  Dark

  Ice

  Lightning”

  There was a hushed awe around the room.

  Mirei’s fingers tightened slightly on her notebook. Could Alicia… have had an affinity like that?

  Ira continued, his gaze sweeping across the room.

  “Understanding mana is the foundation. Before you cast a spell, before you raise a staff, you must feel it. Today, we’ll begin with learning about it.”

  He gestured toward the back of the room, where a glowing crystal pulsed gently on a pedestal.

  “Each of you will pce your hand upon this stone. It will tell us if your heart can grasp mana... and perhaps, what element sleeps within you.”

  A heavy silence followed. Mirei felt it: the tension of something vast and unknown looming just ahead.

  They hadn’t even stepped outside this church. They hadn’t seen the monsters the priests hinted at, the war the whispers feared. But now, something in Ira’s voice suggested the time of waiting was coming to an end.

  And in the back of her mind, Alicia’s face returned again.

  He gestured to the crystal behind him.

  “This is the Mage’s Measure. It responds to those who have awakened to magic. It reads elemental affinity and magical potential, measured in stars. One star means you've only just begun. Seven stars mark a genius. Eight... appears once in a century. Nine? Legendary. And ten stars—if they exist—would stand beyond myth.”

  A quiet breath rippled through the css.

  Ira turned, his gaze softening. “Miss Aiko Shiranui. Will you demonstrate?”

  Miss Aiko blinked from her spot near the back. She stood, graceful and calm, a gentle smile on her lips. Her long ash-brown hair swayed behind her as she walked to the front, her steps as quiet as prayer.

  The students watched in silence as she stepped toward the pedestal.

  “She is not only your teacher,” Ira said, “but also a summoned one—ranked SS, known as the Hero of Fertility and Plenty. Designation: Guardian of Life’s Harmony.”

  A soft gasp moved through the room. Even Mirei, composed as she was, felt a flicker of awe.

  Aiko pced her hand on the crystal.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then, light bloomed—rippling like water under sunlight. Arcane letters scrolled across the surface, glowing with magic only this world could understand.

  “Elemental affinities: Water. Wind. Earth,” Ira read aloud. “Magic Rank… Eight Stars.”

  Someone exhaled sharply. Kasumi mouthed a stunned “No way.” Even Shizuka’s eyes widened a fraction.

  Aiko simply lowered her hand and gave a soft smile. “It tingles.”

  Laughter stirred faintly through the rows, breaking some of the tension.

  Ira nodded. “A shining example of potential. Each of you will soon be tested the same. Not all will awaken equally, but all can grow.”

  Mirei’s gaze lingered on the glowing crystal.

  Eight stars… That was the level of someone seen once in a hundred years.

  And they were only beginning.