As Areion stepped out of the carriage, a mix of annoyance and excitement coursed through his veins. He exhaled sharply, rolling up his sleeves before running a hand through his silver hair, adjusting his posture.
Before he could finish, Romona stepped in front of him, her hands reaching up to fix his slightly ruffled hair and straighten his uniform.
"I'm here, Your Highness. Don't forget that," she said softly.
Areion smiled in response, appreciating her ever-present support.
The massive iron gates of the Order of Odysseus creaked open before them, revealing the sprawling campus bathed in morning light. Towers of marbles and arcane sigils loomed in the distance mix with clock, a fortress of knowledge and power.
"Let's go, Romona."
"I'm right behind you," she assured him.
As they walked through the majestic courtyard, Areion took in the intricate architecture—the floating lanterns, towering spires, and ethereal pathways woven with magic. It was a sight to behold, even for him.
Whispers filled the air as students turned to glance at them, curiosity flickering in their eyes. Some tried to be subtle, others not so much. He could feel their stares—evaluating, judging, wondering who he was. All unwanted attention, but masking his annoyance, he continued on his path.
Then—a sharp sound cut through the air.
A spear came hurtling toward Areion at blinding speed.
Before anyone could react, Romona moved.
With effortless precision, she stepped in front of him, catching the spear mid-flight with a single hand. The weapon vanished into the wind, its existence nothing more than an illusion.
A heavy silence settled.
Areion tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Good job, Romona."
She nodded without a word, but he could sense the tension in her stance. Her gaze sharpened, tracing the direction from which the spear had been thrown.
A group of students approached with different coloured uniforms.
Romona's eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms, her voice firm. "What is the meaning of this?"
One of the students—a green-haired boy with an air of arrogance—stepped forward, a smirk dancing on his lips.
"Hey, hey… We were just practicing. The spear slipped from my hands," he said, his tone dripping with insincerity.
Romona's brows furrowed, irritation evident in her expression.
"And you stopped it before it could hit anyone," the boy continued, his smirk widening. "So no harm done, right? No need to get mad."
Romona clenched her fists, barely holding back her frustration. Before she could take a step forward, Areion's hand caught her wrist.
"It's fine," he said calmly.
"But, Your Highness—"
"That's an order."
She sighed, pouting slightly before reluctantly stepping back. "Fine."
The green-haired boy raised an eyebrow, intrigued by their exchange. But the moment realisation dawned on him, his eyes widened in shock. His palm began to tremble, a faint vibration coursing through his fingers.
The other students noticed his sudden shift.
"Hey, what's wrong?" one of them asked, shaking his shoulder.
His voice was barely a whisper. "T-That's… Prince Areion…," all eyes widen and follow the moving figure.
As Areion and Romona walked away, the boy watched, frozen in place.
Just before vanishing from view, Areion glanced back—a single, piercing stare.
A shiver ran down the boy's spine.
As Areion and Romona stepped into the grand examination hall, a sea of students filled the space. The air buzzed with a mixture of anticipation, anxiety, and quiet determination. Rows of desks stretched toward the front, where a panel of distinguished instructors sat, their expressions unreadable as they surveyed the room.
Romona barely spared a glance before cutting past lines of students, heading toward the front row.
Before she could take another step, Areion caught her wrist, gently pulling her back toward the last row.
"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm not going to abuse my power," Areion said, his voice calm but resolute.
Romona smirked as she took her seat beside him, casually adjusting her uniform. "Ideal prince, huh?" She teased, raising her eyebrows in mock admiration.
Areion turned his head to the side, feigning annoyance. "Whatever."
She couldn't suppress a soft giggle. "Oh my so sweet," she said dramatically, clearly enjoying his reaction.
Areion rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched slightly in amusement. Their comfortable banter was a welcome distraction from the weight of the day ahead.
Just as he settled into his seat, a strange yet familiar sensation crept over him—a stare.
Not just any stare. A calculated, knowing gaze.
His instincts sharpened, and from the corner of his eye, he followed the feeling to its source.
Seated in the middle of the faculty, her presence commanding yet composed, was Lady Belladonna.
Her silver-blue eyes met his, calm and unreadable, before she offered him a slight nod.
Without hesitation, Areion returned the gesture.
Beside him, Romona noticed. "You know her?" she asked, glancing between them.
"Yes," Areion replied smoothly. "I met her once."
Romona leaned back, arms crossed, smirking knowingly. "Well, royalty. I should've known."
Areion turned to her, this time genuinely annoyed. Unlike before, when it was just playful teasing, this time it irked him. He never enjoyed being reduced to just his status.
Romona noticed his expression and barely held in her laughter, covering her mouth with her hand.
They were, after all, still in an examination hall.
The examination hall fell into an eerie silence as the first student was called forward.
A boy, no older than twelve, nervously rose from his seat and approached the centre of the hall, where a large, crystalline orb stood atop a pedestal. The orb pulsated faintly, its surface shifting between hues of deep blue and shimmering gold, reflecting the latent Shaktih within it.
Behind the pedestal, the instructors watched intently, their expressions neutral. Lady Belladonna sat among them, her gaze sharp yet unreadable.
The boy cleared his throat. "My name is Edrin Vale. I am from the western province."
One of the instructors, an older man with silver-rimmed glasses, nodded approvingly. "What is magic to you, young one?" he asked.
Edrin hesitated for a moment, then responded, "Magic is… an extension of one's will. It is what allows us to shape the world."
Every instructor questions him one by one on random topics from magic to mathematics, and he answers them one by one.
A brief pause settles as the question ends. Then, the instructor gestured toward the orb. "Place your hands upon the crystal."
Edrin inhaled sharply before pressing both palms against the orb's cool surface. Immediately, the hall was filled with a resonant hum as the crystal flared to life.
Glowing symbols appeared above the boy's head, shifting and reforming in an ancient script. The symbols flickered, twisting into a final arrangement before stabilising.
Lady Belladonna, her voice smooth yet authoritative, read the symbols aloud.
"Affinity: Wind. Secondary Affinity: Light."
At the reading of the affinities, Edrin's uniform shimmered, the light sky blue fabric now threaded with streaks of vibrant emerald green, and a soft, golden glow that pulsed from the silver embroidery.
A murmur rippled through the hall. Wind and Light—a rare combination.
Edrin's expression shifted from uncertainty to pride, but he had little time to celebrate.
"Proceed to the final trial," an instructor commanded.
Stepping back, Edrin raised his hands and began to channel his mana. A faint wind stirred around him, picking up momentum as he concentrated. Sparks of golden light danced along his fingers before coalescing into a swirling whirlwind of luminescent energy.
With a flick of his wrist, Edrin directed the energy forward. The spell burst forth, shaping into a spiral of radiant wind before dissipating harmlessly into the air.
The instructors watched, unimpressed yet not dismissive.
They turned to one another, speaking in hushed voices, their expressions revealing nothing of their thoughts. They seemed to be judging on criteria far beyond the simple effectiveness of a spell.
After a brief discussion, a young male instructor stepped forward. "Edrin Vale."
Edrin stiffened.
"Pass."
A wave of relief washed over him as he bowed before stepping aside.
The next student was called.
One by one, the candidates stepped forward, following the same process:
A brief introduction.
An answer to the question about magic.
The moment of truth—their hands upon the crystal.
Lady Belladonna is deciphering their affinities.
A final spell to showcase their fortitude.
As each student touched the orb, their uniform changed, reflecting their magical affinities.
A final spell to showcase their fortitude.
Some thrived, their spells demonstrating control, power, or creativity. Others struggled, barely managing to conjure a wisp of magic before it fizzled into nothing.
The instructors remained stoic throughout, judging silently, taking notes, and murmuring among themselves.
For some, the verdict was "Pass." For others, "Fail."
And so, the trial continued.