Morning arrived softly over Alexsandria.
Sunlight spilled across the land in warm sheets of gold, climbing over rooftops, towers, and harbour walls until the great capital below began to shine.
The Human Capital stood upon the western coast, where the sea had made it wealthy and trade had made it proud. Ships came and went with every tide, carrying goods, rumours, and strangers from beyond the kingdom. That prosperity lingered in every corner of the city. White-stone buildings gleamed beneath the morning sun. Red and blue pillars lined broad avenues, while marble statues watched over the streets as though guarding not the people, but Alexsandria's reputation.
Even beauty, however, had its borders.
Near Her Highness' castle, homes rose tall and elegant, built from polished stone with careful craftsmanship. Farther from the palace, closer to the outer walls, the buildings became smaller and more crowded. They were built less for admiration than for living, though even there Alexsandria never quite surrendered its grace.
Deep within that bright and bustling city, along a marble road that shimmered beneath the morning light, a man walked hand in hand with a child.
Beyond the rooftops and passing carriages, a great domed building rose above the city skyline.
The man walked with quiet confidence, the sort that caused people to step aside without ever quite realising why.
He wore a distinctive black-and-gold uniform: a fitted blazer fastened neatly over plain black trousers, polished boots clicking softly against the marble beneath each measured step.
His left hand rested comfortably inside his pocket.
His right remained wrapped around the child's smaller hand.
Steady.
Reassuring.
The child wore the same uniform, though upon the left breast of his tiny blazer rested a large embroidered crest that looked almost oversized against someone so small.
The child was Cur.
His black hair stirred with each step, catching the breeze whenever it slipped between the buildings, while his golden eyes shimmered beneath the morning sun.
Father and son walked side by side at an easy pace. Cur's hand remained wrapped around his father's, but the smile stretching across his face betrayed far more excitement than nervousness.
"Remember, Cur," his father said, glancing down with a gentle smile, "if anything happens, you can always ask one of your teachers for help."
"Yes, Dad!"
The man's voice was calm and reassuring, familiar enough to make even the unfamiliar city feel a little less overwhelming. To everyone else, he was Lord El—a respected noble whose name carried weight throughout Alexsandria.
To Cur...
He was simply Dad.
Cur's reply came bright and immediate, filled with the fearless enthusiasm only a boy who had only recently turned nine could carry on his very first day.
"You didn't forget your Armaments, did you?"
Cur blinked.
Then, with all the exaggerated patience a nine-year-old could muster, he lifted both hands.
The rings upon his fingers caught the morning light.
"Dad..."
"I know," El said with a quiet laugh. "I ask every time."
"And they're still here every time."
"I'm aware."
"So why do you keep asking?"
El smiled.
"Because worrying is part of the job."
Cur let out an exaggerated sigh that lasted all of two seconds before dissolving into a grin.
His father gave a small, approving nod, and together they continued along the marble road.
With every step, the great domed building seemed to grow larger, its towering silhouette slowly swallowing more of the morning sky until even Cur's earlier excitement began to quiet beneath its shadow.
At last, they stopped before a great archway.
Three statues stood above it, carved with such care that Cur almost expected them to move.
At the centre stood a knight clad in heavy armour, both hands resting upon the hilt of a great two-handed sword planted before him.
To his right stood a woman draped in flowing robes, a pointed witch's hat crowning her head as both hands rested upon a tall staff.
To his left stood another man, broader and sterner than the first, bearing a great shield instead of a blade.
Cur stared up at them, his mouth parting ever so slightly.
They felt far too important to be mere decorations.
Only when his father's hand slipped gently from his own did Cur notice him lowering his head.
Startled, Cur quickly straightened before awkwardly copying him. His bow came a heartbeat too late and lacked any real elegance, but it was sincere.
As he stood again, Cur couldn't resist one more glance at the statues.
"Dad?"
"Hm?"
"...Who are they?"
El smiled without looking up.
"You'll learn soon enough."
Cur frowned for a moment, then nodded to himself. That answer only made him more curious.
The quiet moment ended as a cheerful voice called from behind them.
"Lord El! What a surprise to see you here!"
Cur turned.
An older gentleman was making his way toward them at an easy pace, smiling as though he had discovered something amusing before breakfast.
His father's smile returned as he raised a hand in greeting.
"Lord Dohus. This is a pleasant surprise. I must admit, I'm shocked to see a man like you awake at this hour."
Lord Dohus laughed—a warm, hearty sound—and clasped El's offered hand.
"That's because you're still young enough to believe mornings belong to old men."
El chuckled.
"I was under the impression they belonged to farmers."
"And that's exactly why I avoid them."
Cur couldn't help smiling.
Only after the laughter faded did Lord Dohus lower his gaze toward the boy standing patiently beside El.
"Ah..."
His smile widened.
"So Cur is joining the school this year, then?"
Cur blinked at the sound of his name and looked up.
Lord Dohus looked nothing like his father.
A long white beard framed his warm smile, matching the immaculate white suit he wore with almost suspicious neatness. Around his neck hung a bright red tie, vivid enough to catch the morning sun.
He was broader than El, though not with the build of a soldier.
Cur studied him carefully before arriving at the sort of conclusion only a child could reach.
Lord Dohus probably enjoyed a great many good meals.
"Yes," El replied with a fond smile. "Children grow up quickly, don't they?"
His expression shifted ever so slightly.
"Speaking of which... your nephew. Was he not—"
He never finished.
A blur shot up the marble road.
Arms pumping.
Blazer flapping wildly behind him.
Shoes hammering against the stone.
The boy charged toward them with the desperate determination of someone racing against absolute catastrophe.
"Uuuuaaaaaahhhhhh!"
He skidded the last few steps before throwing both arms into the air.
"Made it!"
He landed in front of them, chest rising and falling as he fought for breath, yet somehow still managed to wear the grin of someone convinced he had accomplished something extraordinary.
Lord Dohus folded his arms.
"You did not make it."
The grin faltered.
"You are fifty-three seconds late."
Silence.
The boy stared.
"...Aww, man!"
Both hands flew to his head.
"So close!"
He groaned dramatically toward the heavens as though fate itself had singled him out for cruelty.
Cur simply blinked.
He looked from the boy...
to Lord Dohus...
then back again.
He still wasn't entirely sure what the boy had supposedly failed to make.
A race?
A deadline?
Some strange noble custom no one had thought to tell him about?
"Good morning, Hariel. I'm glad you could join us."
Cur's father greeted him with the same gentle smile that made the boy's dramatic entrance seem perfectly ordinary.
"Good morning to you too, Lord El!"
Hariel answered immediately, still breathing a little harder than normal.
Then his bright blue eyes drifted toward Cur.
He blinked.
"Uh..."
Without the slightest hesitation, he pointed.
"Who's this?"
Lord Dohus chuckled.
"Your first time meeting him, isn't it?"
Hariel nodded.
"Hariel, this is Cur Ynha-El, Lord El's son."
Hariel's eyes widened.
"Huh?"
He looked back at Lord El.
"Lord El... you have a son?"
El laughed softly, neither surprised nor offended.
"I do. Cur didn't attend last year, so I'm not surprised you haven't met."
He glanced down at his son before giving him a small, encouraging nod.
"Go on, Cur. Say hello."
Cur hesitated.
The towering school.
The statues watching from above.
Lord Dohus.
Hariel.
It suddenly felt as though everyone was waiting for him at once.
Then he felt his father's hand rest gently against the middle of his back.
Steady.
Familiar.
Cur took a small breath and stepped forward.
"H-hi there."
He held out his right hand, hoping that was the right thing to do.
Hariel stared at the offered hand.
One second.
Two.
Cur's stomach tightened.
Had he done something wrong?
Then Hariel's face lit up.
He grabbed Cur's hand with both of his and shook it so enthusiastically that Cur nearly stumbled forward.
"Hi, Cur! I'm Hariel!"
Another vigorous shake.
"We're friends now!"
Cur blinked, caught completely off guard.
"...O-okay."
Hariel beamed as though the matter had been settled beyond all debate.
The certainty in Hariel's voice caught Cur completely off guard.
Before he realised it, he was smiling.
Whatever caution he had been holding onto loosened, and he found himself nodding.
The two adults watched the exchange with quiet satisfaction.
Now that Cur had a proper look at him, Hariel seemed even more chaotic up close.
His medium blond hair stuck out in every direction, matching his unbuttoned blazer and sleeves rolled carelessly to his elbows. Yet despite the untidy appearance, his ocean-blue eyes shone with an infectious confidence, as though the world had never once given him a reason to be afraid.
Lord Dohus glanced toward the road beyond the archway before giving a small nod.
"Well, it is time."
He looked between the boys before resting his gaze on his nephew.
"You two can go on ahead without us."
Then his expression became just a little more serious.
"Look after him, Hariel."
Hariel straightened so quickly it was almost a jump.
"Yes, sir!"
He snapped into a salute with such exaggerated determination that even Lord Dohus looked as though he was trying not to laugh.
Cur smiled.
Then his father took a step back.
The smile slowly faded.
The school suddenly felt larger than before.
Louder, too.
The towering arch.
The countless students.
The unfamiliar faces.
Nothing had changed.
Yet everything suddenly felt farther away.
El noticed immediately.
He knelt until they were eye to eye before resting a warm hand atop Cur's head.
"I know this is your first time somewhere like this," he said gently, "but you must be strong... just like I taught you."
His fingers ruffled Cur's hair.
It wasn't enough to make the nervousness disappear.
But it made room for courage beside it.
Cur drew a slow breath.
Then another.
Finally, he nodded.
This time, with conviction.
"Good."
El smiled.
"I'll hear all about your first day when you get home."
"I will."
The words came out much quieter than Cur intended, but he meant every one of them.
El rose to his feet.
Soon, he and Lord Dohus began walking back down the marble road together.
Cur watched them go, lifting a small hand in farewell.
After only a few steps, El glanced over his shoulder.
He smiled.
Cur smiled back.
Then his father turned the corner and disappeared from sight.
For just a moment...
The world felt very big.
"BYE-BYE! SEE YOU LATER!"
Hariel's voice exploded across the courtyard.
He waved both arms high above his head with enough enthusiasm to send several nearby students glancing in their direction.
Lord Dohus laughed and waved back without turning around.
Only once the two men had disappeared did Hariel spin toward Cur, still grinning.
"Right!"
He pointed dramatically toward the school.
"Let's go!"
The glass-and-marble dome towered above him, bright enough to catch the morning sun and vast enough to make Cur feel suddenly very small.
A chill crept up his spine despite the warmth of the day.
"So," Hariel said, as though he sensed the silence before it could settle, "this is your first time going to school, right?"
Cur nodded.
"Don't worry."
Hariel flashed him a confident thumbs-up.
"I'll help you out!"
The grin that followed carried so much certainty that Cur found himself believing him, if only a little.
To reach the entrance, they had to cross the broad bridge spanning the river that divided the city.
Hariel stepped onto the pearl-white stone without hesitation, walking as though he had crossed it a thousand times before.
Cur followed half a step behind.
The river drifted beneath them in ribbons of silver, carrying shimmering reflections of the Academy, the city walls, and the clear morning sky.
Cur found himself watching the water.
It was easier than looking back.
After a few moments, something occurred to him.
"...Hariel?"
"Hm?"
"Why are we the only ones going in?"
Hariel glanced around before shrugging.
"Oh, we're not."
He pointed toward the Academy.
"Everyone else had their first day yesterday."
Cur blinked.
"Yesterday?"
"Yep."
Hariel nodded.
"Since we're nobles, we always start a day later."
"Why?"
Hariel shrugged.
"No idea."
He didn't seem bothered by the answer.
"It's just how it's always been."
Cur couldn't help smiling.
That sounded exactly like something Hariel would say.
"Classes usually start at eight," Hariel continued, "but on your first day they let us come two hours later."
Cur nodded slowly.
It was a strange tradition.
But knowing he hadn't already missed something important made him feel much better.
They reached the middle of the bridge when Hariel suddenly stopped so abruptly that Cur nearly walked into him.
"W-what?"
Hariel stood perfectly still.
His brow furrowed.
Then his eyes suddenly widened.
"Oh!"
He spun around so quickly his blazer flared behind him.
"We haven't shown each other our Armaments yet!"
Cur blinked.
"...Shown?"
"Yeah!"
Hariel nodded enthusiastically.
"It's the first thing everyone does!"
He stopped for a moment.
"...Well, after introducing themselves."
His grin returned immediately.
"Can I see yours?"
Then, remembering himself, he quickly clasped his hands together.
"Please?"
He was trying very hard to look patient.
He was failing spectacularly.
Cur narrowed his eyes.
"Why?"
Hariel straightened, cleared his throat, and folded his hands behind his back, doing his very best impression of someone negotiating a serious agreement.
"If I show you mine..."
He extended a finger toward Cur.
"...will you show me yours?"
Cur considered him for a moment.
A deal was a deal.
Besides...
Hariel looked as though he might actually burst if Cur said no.
At last, Cur nodded.
Hariel immediately reached beneath his collar and pulled free a necklace. Hanging from it was a small pendant shaped like a sword, its polished surface catching the morning sunlight as it swayed gently against his chest.
He wrapped one hand around the pendant and closed his eyes.
For the first time since they'd met, he was completely still.
Cur watched in silence.
Hariel drew a slow breath.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the pendant into the air.
For a single heartbeat...
Nothing happened.
Then the world burst into light.
Yellow-white flames erupted around the spinning pendant, brilliant enough to turn the river below into flowing gold.
Cur flinched instinctively, throwing an arm across his face.
Heat washed over him.
Gone almost as quickly as it had come.
When the light finally faded, he slowly lowered his arm.
His breath caught.
The necklace still rested around Hariel's neck.
But the pendant was gone.
In its place stood an enormous sword.
It was far too large for any child to wield...
and far too real to be an illusion.
Its double-edged blade gleamed like polished silver. Along the fuller ran elegant crimson script, curling across the steel like fire given words. The cross-guard and pommel shimmered with warm copper and gold, while dark brown leather wrapped the grip in neat criss-cross bands.
The weapon stood nearly three metres tall.
It dwarfed Hariel completely.
Cur couldn't look away.
The bridge disappeared.
The river disappeared.
Even the Academy faded from his thoughts.
For a few precious heartbeats...
There was only the sword.
"...Woooaaah..."
The word escaped before Cur even realised he had spoken.
Then the wonder caught up with him.
"That's amazing!"
Hariel practically glowed.
"I know!"
He threw both arms into the air.
"Isn't she incredible?"
The sword towered over him, making him look impossibly small beside it.
Somehow...
that only seemed to make him prouder.
Cur slowly walked around it, taking in every detail.
The polished blade.
The crimson script.
The faint shimmer of heat still dancing through the air around it.
It didn't look like a weapon.
It looked like a legend.
Then a thought finally surfaced.
"...Hariel?"
"Hm?"
"Are you... a Flamberge?"
"Yep!"
Hariel beamed.
"Proudly!"
That explained part of it.
Cur had heard enough stories about the Flamberge Aspect to know its bearers could withstand incredible heat and carry weapons that would have been impossible for most people.
It still didn't make the sword seem any less impossible.
But...
It made it just a little easier to believe.
With a satisfied grin, Hariel touched the pendant once more.
The enormous sword shimmered.
Its edges blurred.
Then, as though folding into itself, it shrank smaller and smaller until it became the tiny sword-shaped charm hanging once again from his necklace.
He tucked it neatly beneath his collar before turning back to Cur with the expectant seriousness of someone collecting on a sacred promise.
"Well?"
He leaned forward.
"What about yours?"
Cur hesitated.
His thumb brushed absentmindedly across the ring on his middle finger.
A deal was a deal.
His mother had always been very clear about that.
If two people made an agreement...
They honoured it.
Cur stepped a few paces away before extending his right arm out to his side.
His palm opened.
His fingers spread.
For a brief moment...
He simply stood there.
Small.
Still.
Upon the broad pearl-white bridge.
"Gungnir."
There was no burst of brilliant light.
No triumphant blaze of golden fire.
Instead...
Black flames bloomed around his hand.
Not bright.
Not warm.
Dark.
Hungry.
They swallowed the morning light wherever they touched, coiling slowly through the air like living shadows.
The cheerful warmth that had surrounded Hariel's summoning vanished.
The bridge fell strangely quiet.
Even the river below seemed to lose its voice.
Then—
Something heavy dropped into Cur's waiting hand.
The weapon settled into his grip as though it had always belonged there.
Its iron butt struck the bridge.
CRACK.
A thin fracture raced across the polished marble beneath his feet.
The black flames drifted away like smoke carried on a wind that did not exist.
Hariel stared.
It wasn't a sword.
Nor a rapier.
Nor a staff.
It was a spear unlike anything he had ever seen.
Its black shaft stood nearly twice Cur's height, ending in a broad blade that was as much sword as spear, crafted for piercing and cutting alike. Around the socket hung strips of weathered black cloth that stirred gently despite the still morning air.
The spear looked ancient.
As though it had already witnessed the rise and fall of kingdoms.
For the first time since they'd met...
Hariel had nothing to say.
Wonder filled his face.
Then—
Just for the briefest instant—
Something else.
His smile faltered.
His heartbeat quickened.
A feeling he couldn't explain settled in his chest.
It wasn't the spear.
It wasn't Cur.
It was simply...
wrong.
"...Hariel?"
The voice broke the spell.
Hariel blinked.
The strange feeling vanished as quickly as it had come.
"Oh!"
His grin burst back across his face.
Cur still looked uncertain.
After another second, he snapped his fingers.
Gungnir spun once through the air before shrinking rapidly, folding back into the ring on his finger.
Silence settled over the bridge once more.
Cur glanced down.
A thin crack stretched through the white marble where the spear had struck.
"...Uh-oh."
He scratched the back of his head.
"I hope I don't get in trouble..."
Hariel looked at the crack.
Then at Cur.
Then at the ring.
His eyes lit up once again.
"THAT WAS AMAZING!"
The silence shattered.
Hariel practically bounced where he stood, every trace of that strange hesitation burned away by pure excitement.
"I've never seen an Armament like that!"
He threw his hands into the air.
"Was it a spear? A glaive? No—wait! It was both!"
He took an eager step closer.
"And those black flames—whoosh!"
His arms swept dramatically through the air.
"Then the spear just—"
He slammed an open palm into his fist.
"Blaam!"
"How did you make it?"
"Who helped you?"
"Can you do it again?"
Cur stared at him.
For a brief moment, he wondered if Hariel had remembered to breathe between any of those questions.
Showing Gungnir again would almost certainly make things worse.
"Hariel..."
Cur couldn't help smiling.
"Please calm down."
"It wasn't that amazing."
He tried to sound modest.
Unfortunately, the warmth spreading across his face betrayed him completely.
It wasn't embarrassment.
Not really.
Cur had never gone to school before.
Until a few minutes ago, he had never made a friend his own age so easily.
More than once, he had watched other children laughing and playing from a distance, wondering what it might be like to join them.
Now...
Someone was looking at something he had created with wide eyes and genuine admiration.
The feeling blooming inside his chest was strange.
Warm.
Bright.
He didn't know what to call it.
He only knew...
He liked it.
Before Hariel could launch into another barrage of questions, a sharp voice cut cleanly across the bridge.
"Will you two move?"
The boys froze.
"Some of us have classes to attend in a few minutes."
Both of them turned.
Cur moved first, half expecting to find an angry teacher marching toward them after the cracked bridge and the black flames.
Instead...
He found another child.
A girl stood a short distance away with one hand planted firmly on her hip.
Though small in stature, the confidence in her posture made her seem taller than she really was.
Her eyes travelled from Hariel...
to Cur...
to the thin crack running through the marble bridge.
One eyebrow slowly rose.
"...Well."
Hariel recovered first.
His grin returned so quickly it was as though it had merely stepped out for a moment.
"Well, well."
He folded his arms with entirely undeserved confidence.
"Look who finally showed up."
A mischievous smile spread across his face.
"Miss House Appliance is running behind schedule."
Cur blinked.
House Appliance?
That didn't even make sense.
The girl's expression remained perfectly calm.
Then...
Very slowly...
She smiled.
"Well, well."
She folded her own arms.
"If it isn't the youngest heir of the Doofus family."
Hariel's smile disappeared instantly.
Cur tried to stop himself.
He really did.
But the laugh escaped anyway.
Small.
Quiet.
Entirely traitorous.
Hariel shot him a look that clearly said,
Don't side with her.
Cur quickly raised both hands in surrender.
"Sorry."
Unfortunately, the corner of his mouth still twitched.
Hariel looked deeply unconvinced.
Only then did Cur turn to the girl properly.
Like Hariel, she was about his age.
Unlike Hariel...
everything about her seemed carefully put together.
Hazel hair framed her face before falling neatly to her shoulders. One side was held in place by an ornate clip while the rest had been gathered into a tidy bun.
Not a single strand seemed out of place.
Her emerald-green eyes were sharp beneath the Academy's black blazer.
They didn't merely look at things.
They studied them.
Cur had the uncomfortable feeling she had already noticed far more than he had.
Unlike the boys, she wore the Academy's black skirt ending just above her knees, paired with polished black shoes that carried a slight heel.
She was the shortest of the three.
Hariel was easily the tallest.
Yet somehow...
Cur had the distinct impression she was the one in charge.
Her gaze drifted from the thin crack running through the marble...
to Cur...
then finally to Hariel.
"Hey, Doofus."
She pointed toward Cur.
"Who's this?"
"It's Dohus, you broken light bulb!" Hariel protested immediately.
Then he remembered Cur was standing there.
"Oh—and this is Cur."
"He's new."
"Cur?"
She repeated the name thoughtfully.
Then she walked toward him.
Not quickly.
Not slowly.
Just...
deliberately.
Cur instinctively took half a step backward.
She noticed.
Of course she noticed.
She stopped exactly where she was.
Close enough that Cur suddenly became very aware of how little personal space remained between them.
"Hm..."
Her eyes lingered on his face.
"Interesting eyes, Cur."
Cur blinked.
"T-thank you."
He wasn't entirely sure whether she'd complimented him...
or evaluated him.
Anas folded her arms.
"So."
"You're new?"
"Transfer student?"
"Um..."
Cur glanced between her and Hariel.
"Not exactly."
"I was homeschooled until today."
Silence.
"Hmmm..."
She watched him for another moment.
Something flickered across her face.
Brief.
Cur couldn't quite place it.
Suspicion?
Curiosity?
Whatever it was...
It vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.
Apparently deciding the answer could wait, she smiled.
Then she extended her hand.
"I'm Anas Lorkan."
Her smile became just a little more formal.
"Second daughter of Loraine Lorkan."
Cur hesitated, just as he had with Hariel.
Though this time...
it was for an entirely different reason.
Anas looked like the sort of person who noticed things.
Not just whether someone shook her hand...
but how firmly.
How confidently.
How long they hesitated before doing it.
Still, Cur reached out and took her hand.
"Pleased to meet you, Anas."
He offered a polite smile.
"I'm Cur."
A brief pause.
"Cur Ynha-El."
His smile brightened a little.
"First and only son of the El family."
Anas's fingers stopped.
"...You're an El?"
For the first time since meeting her, genuine surprise slipped across her face.
She immediately looked toward Hariel.
He nodded enthusiastically, looking thoroughly pleased that he finally knew something someone else didn't.
"Lord El said it himself."
He folded his arms proudly.
"He's the real deal."
Anas slowly released Cur's hand.
The suspicion she'd carried since meeting him quietly disappeared.
Only curiosity remained.
"...Why is an El attending school?"
Cur blinked.
"...Why wouldn't I?"
The question left his mouth before he had time to think about it.
Anas simply stared.
That answered her question better than any explanation could have.
A quiet laugh escaped her.
Not mocking.
Just...
surprised.
"Well..."
She folded her arms once more.
"I think school is going to be rather interesting for a while."
Her eyes settled on Cur again.
There was no hostility in them.
Only the unmistakable look of someone who had just discovered a mystery.
Cur shifted awkwardly beneath her gaze.
It felt strangely as though he had walked into the middle of a conversation everyone else had already been having.
Hariel looked back and forth between them.
"...Should I know what's happening?"
Neither of them answered.
"...I'll pretend I do."
Cur couldn't help smiling.
Then—
DONG.
The Academy bell echoed across the city.
Its bright, resonant chime rolled outward from the great dome, carrying across the river and through the streets until even the bridge beneath their feet seemed to hum with it.
Anas flinched.
Not slightly.
Properly.
Her head whipped toward the Academy.
For the first time...
her carefully maintained composure cracked.
"...I'm going to be late."
She sounded genuinely horrified.
Green-and-white flames blossomed around her feet.
Unlike Hariel's fire, they climbed in neat spirals, wrapping around her body with graceful precision.
Her emerald eyes shimmered.
Not brighter.
Sharper.
She looked back over one shoulder.
Then—
She winked.
"See you in class."
With a sharp rush of wind, she shot toward the Academy, leaving a trail of emerald sparks dancing through the air behind her.
Hariel stared after her for exactly one second.
"That's cheating!"
Bright yellow flames erupted around him.
Wild.
Energetic.
Almost impatient.
His blue eyes flashed gold around the edges as he pointed dramatically after Anas.
"Wait for me!"
He launched himself after her.
Not nearly as fast...
but with enough enthusiasm to make up the difference.
The air cracked behind him as he disappeared across the bridge.
And then...
Cur was alone.
For a moment, Cur simply stood there.
Anas and Hariel had turned fire into movement as naturally as breathing.
Cur still needed both feet.
Both lungs.
And considerably more effort than either of them seemed to require.
Then the final echo of the bell faded.
Reality caught up with him.
"...Right."
He blinked.
"Running."
So Cur ran the old-fashioned way.
By the time he reached the Academy gates, his breathing had quickened and his blazer sat crooked across his shoulders.
He had fully expected Hariel and Anas to already be inside.
Instead...
A tall, slender woman stood waiting a short distance from the entrance.
Her abyss-black hair fell in loose curls to her waist, swaying gently in the morning breeze. Crimson eyes glowed beneath the sunlight, bright enough to remind Cur of flash-fire itself.
She wore a long dark-blue dress that reached her heels, tailored neatly to her figure, with a slit running from the waist to reveal her left leg.
Yet none of those things were what made Cur stop.
She was holding two children in the air.
One in each hand.
By the collars of their Academy blazers.
Hariel.
And Anas.
Both dangled there with the quiet resignation of criminals who had been caught committing an exceptionally stupid crime.
"I believe," the woman said calmly, "I have already taught you both that using fire outside designated battlegrounds, training grounds, or private property is prohibited."
Her voice was melodic.
Soft enough to belong to a lullaby.
Firm enough to end an argument before it began.
"Yes, Lady Uls..."
The reply came in perfect unison.
Small.
Defeated.
Cur almost didn't recognise Hariel's voice.
Then Lady Uls looked up.
Her crimson eyes settled immediately on Cur.
The sternness she had shown the other two children softened.
"So."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"You've finally arrived."
She inclined her head ever so slightly.
"Welcome, Cur Ynha-El."
For just a moment...
Cur forgot how to breathe.
She already knew his full name.
He straightened so quickly his back became rigid.
Then he bowed.
Far lower—
and considerably stiffer—
than he had intended.
"It is an honour to meet you, Lady Uls."
"My father told me you would be expecting me."
Lady Uls regarded him for a quiet moment before nodding.
"He did."
"I'm pleased you made it safely."
Cur rose carefully.
His voice had become calm.
Measured.
Respectful.
Nothing like the boy who had stood on the bridge gawking at legendary Armaments only minutes earlier.
It felt as though he had slipped into a set of manners several sizes too large.
Lady Uls noticed.
Of course she noticed.
The corner of her mouth lifted ever so slightly.
"There is no need to look quite so terrified."
Cur blinked.
"I... beg your pardon?"
"I don't bite."
A tiny pause.
"Usually."
Hariel snorted.
Anas sighed into one hand.
Cur, meanwhile, wasn't entirely convinced she was joking.
Lady Uls finally released the two children.
Both landed neatly on their feet before instinctively straightening their uniforms.
"As amusing as this has been," she said, smoothing an invisible crease from her sleeve, "the Academy bell has already rung."
Her crimson eyes settled on Anas.
"Miss Lorkan."
"Yes, Lady Uls."
"You have exactly one minute before your first lesson officially begins."
Anas's eyes widened.
"...One minute?"
"One."
For the first time that morning, Anas abandoned every trace of composure.
"Oh no."
Green-and-white flames instinctively flickered around her boots.
Lady Uls raised a single eyebrow.
The flames vanished immediately.
"...Right."
Anas coughed awkwardly.
"No fire."
She gave Cur a quick smile.
"See you."
Then she turned and sprinted through the Academy gates the old-fashioned way, disappearing into the classroom buildings.
Lady Uls watched her go before speaking again.
"Mr. Dohus."
Hariel straightened.
"...Yes, Lady Uls?"
"You will remain here."
His shoulders dropped.
"...I knew it."
Cur looked between them.
Lady Uls noticed immediately.
"And you as well, Cur."
Cur blinked.
"...Me?"
"You are new."
"We have several things to do before either of you enters the Academy."
Hariel let out a dramatic sigh of relief.
"Oh."
"I thought I was about to get another lecture."
Lady Uls looked at him.
"You are."
"...Oh."
Cur bit the inside of his cheek.
He shouldn't.
He really shouldn't.
But Hariel's expression was so thoroughly defeated that another tiny laugh escaped before he could stop it.
Hariel looked at him with exaggerated betrayal.
"Not you too..."
Lady Uls's lips twitched almost imperceptibly.
Whether it was amusement or simply the wind, Cur couldn't quite tell.
"Walk with me."
Without another word, she turned toward the Academy entrance.
Hariel and Cur exchanged a quick glance.
Then, together, they followed after her.
Hariel and Cur fell into step behind Lady Uls.
For several paces, neither of them spoke.
Then Hariel leaned closer, lowering his voice as though secrecy were somehow possible around the Headmistress.
"Maaaan..."
He sighed dramatically.
"She really could've had my head."
He nudged Cur with his elbow.
"Thanks for saving me back there."
Cur glanced ahead at Lady Uls.
"The Headmistress?"
He lowered his own voice instinctively.
"She runs the Academy?"
He asked it quietly, still watching her back as though the answer might somehow change the shape of the building around them.
Hariel looked at him in disbelief.
"...You didn't know?"
Cur shook his head.
"Lady Uls founded the Academy."
Hariel sounded genuinely surprised that anyone wouldn't know.
"So..."
"Yeah."
"Of course she runs it."
Cur's footsteps slowed ever so slightly.
She founded it?
His mother had told him a little about Lady Uls.
Enough to know she was important.
Not this.
Not that these halls...
these bridges...
these classrooms...
the rules that governed them...
might all have begun with her.
Without thinking, Cur found himself looking around differently.
The polished stone beneath his feet.
The towering windows.
The banners hanging from the walls.
They no longer felt like parts of a building.
They felt like pieces of Lady Uls herself.
Another question quietly surfaced.
"...Hariel?"
"Hm?"
"What exactly is the Fire and Avatar Aptitude Test?"
Hariel brightened immediately.
"Oh!"
"That's easy. It's—"
"A formal assessment."
Lady Uls interrupted without breaking stride.
She neither looked back nor slowed her pace.
Yet somehow she had known the exact moment Hariel opened his mouth.
"The examination identifies the Fire Abilities with which you were born, the degree to which they have developed, and the disciplines of Fire Arts for which you are naturally suited."
Her calm voice carried effortlessly through the corridor.
"Using those results, we place each student into classes that will challenge them without overwhelming them."
She paused.
Only for a heartbeat.
"It also reveals what form of Avatar you may possess..."
"...if any."
"And whether your Fire presents a danger to yourself..."
"...or to those around you."
Hariel grimaced.
"...Danger sounds a little harsh."
Lady Uls stopped.
Immediately.
The boys stopped with her.
She turned only slightly.
One crimson eye settled calmly upon Hariel.
"Mister Dohus."
Her voice remained gentle.
"Fire is power."
"It is also responsibility."
"If we allowed students to wield it freely..."
"...without understanding its limits..."
"...without understanding their own..."
"...or without the means to stop them..."
She allowed the silence to complete the sentence.
Hariel rubbed the back of his neck.
"...That would be..."
"...pretty bad."
Lady Uls inclined her head almost imperceptibly.
"I was going to say 'catastrophic.'"
A tiny pause.
"But 'pretty bad' is also an acceptable description."
Cur almost smiled.
Hariel looked oddly pleased with himself.
Then Lady Uls's gaze shifted.
"Mister El."
Cur straightened instinctively.
For a brief moment, it felt less like she was asking a question...
and more like she already knew his answer.
"Wouldn't you agree?"
"Absolutely."
The answer escaped before Cur had considered any other.
Lady Uls gave a small nod.
Then, instead of continuing immediately, she regarded him for another moment.
"You are concerned about the assessment."
Cur blinked.
"I..."
He hadn't realised it showed.
"There is no need."
Her voice softened, though it lost none of its certainty.
"The Fire and Avatar Aptitude Test is designed to measure potential."
"Not experience."
She resumed walking.
"It is not an examination you can study for."
"It is simply an opportunity for us to understand you."
Cur felt a tension leave his shoulders that he hadn't realised he had been carrying.
"...Thank you, Lady Uls."
She acknowledged him with the slightest inclination of her head.
"No student should fear discovering who they are."
For a moment, the corridor fell silent again.
Hariel glanced between the two of them.
"...See, this is why I like asking questions."
Cur looked at him.
"You didn't ask that one."
"I was thinking about asking it."
Hariel smiled confidently.
"That still counts."
Cur laughed.
Lady Uls continued walking ahead of them.
Cur couldn't see her face.
But somehow...
He had the distinct impression she was smiling too.
For the next several minutes, the halls carried them deeper into the Academy.
Their footsteps echoed across polished stone as they passed towering windows, rows of closed classroom doors, and the occasional burst of distant laughter that quickly disappeared into the vastness of the corridors.
Eventually, Lady Uls stopped before a pair of broad double doors.
Without a word, she rested one hand against them.
The doors swung inward.
Warm air drifted out to meet them.
Cur blinked.
The room beyond was enormous.
It reminded him of a gymnasium...
only stranger.
There were no courts.
No practice dummies.
No weapon racks.
Nothing to distract the eye.
Only a wide, open floor and walls that seemed to hold the lingering scent of heat, as though every flame ever summoned within them had left behind the faintest memory.
At the centre of the room stood a square table draped in deep red cloth.
Resting upon it was a single crystal orb roughly the size of a watermelon, cushioned carefully upon a folded velvet cloth.
Before Cur could wonder what it was for...
He realised they were not alone.
Three people waited near the far wall.
His eyes found the nearest adult first.
A woman.
She stood with an easy composure that somehow softened the room around her. She appeared to be around forty years old, though time had been remarkably kind to her. Neatly tied ginger hair framed warm amber eyes, while a beige jumper dress, blue fitted trousers, and white calf-high boots gave her the appearance of someone both practical and elegant.
She looked less like an examiner...
and more like someone children naturally trusted.
Standing beside her was an older man.
He leaned forward ever so slightly, as though decades had slowly persuaded his shoulders into the habit.
Grey hair.
Rough stubble.
Weathered skin.
At first glance, Cur almost mistook him for someone's grandfather rather than a teacher.
Then he noticed the man's eyes.
Rust-red.
Bright.
Unyielding.
Age had claimed his body.
Not his spirit.
A loose black robe, fastened with a white sash, hung comfortably from his frame.
Then...
Cur looked at the third person.
Everything else quietly disappeared.
The orb.
The room.
Even Lady Uls.
For a heartbeat...
He simply stared.
The girl couldn't have been much older than he was.
White hair flowed all the way to her waist, softer than fresh snow beneath the warm light filling the room.
Her crimson eyes seemed almost luminous.
Not frightening.
Simply...
different.
Like tiny fragments of a distant star had somehow found their way into a child's face.
She wore the same Academy uniform as Anas.
Although...
her sleeves had been rolled untidily toward her elbows.
It was such a small thing.
Yet somehow it made her seem completely unlike Anas.
Lady Uls allowed the silence to linger for one final moment.
Then she stepped forward.
"Good."
Her calm voice filled the room.
"Everyone has arrived."
She looked from one child to the next.
"Let us begin."