Mornings were not Kael Vire's natural habitat.
He tolerated them the way he tolerated most people: begrudgingly, with coffee, and a deeply rooted sense of cosmic injustice.
Today was worse than usual.
Because today, as the sunlight filtered through the dormitory's enchanted glass panels and the ambient mana stirred in pleasant early-day waves, Kael was jolted awake by a sharp chime and an annoyingly cheerful system voice.
[ASTRALIS SCHEDULER: TERM 1 INTEGRATION RETREAT — YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED FOR PARTICIPATION]
[DESTINATION: VIRELLA MOUNTAIN LAKESIDE — 3 DAYS, 2 NIGHTS][COMPANION GROUP ASSIGNMENT: COHORT ALPHA-RED][HOUSE BALANCE EXCEPTION — MIXED NOBILITY GROUPING APPROVED]
[DEPARTURE IN: 5 HOURS]
Kael stared at the projection above his bed, eyes crusted from spell residue, and whispered:
"…No."
The message did not disappear.
He sat up, dragged a hand through his hair, and narrowed his eyes at the schedule hovering midair. It didn't vanish. Didn't flicker. Just politely continued to exist.
"I don't do lakes," he muttered, voice hoarse.
[NOTE: PARTICIPATION MANDATORY. ABSENCE WILL IMPACT GRADE REPORTING.]
"…Of course it will."
He got out of bed with the grace of a man recently betrayed and went straight to the mirror—one of those enchanted types that offered motivational commentary. This one had been muted months ago.
Still, he swore it judged him.
As he splashed his face and scrubbed away the ghost of sleep, Kael's mind worked furiously.
This wasn't in the novel.
Not like this.
There had been a getaway retreat before the term exams. But Kael hadn't been part of it. The original Kael—meaner, colder, far more preoccupied with the idea of superiority—had flatly refused the invitation.
So why was he listed this time?
Why did the system say "mandatory"?
And why, when he pulled up the attached participant list, did it show the entire main cast grouped together in his cohort?
COHORT: ALPHA-RED
TARIN YUL (House Yul)
LYSSA SAREN (House Saren)
KIEREN ARDANE (House Ardane)
MAELEA VANN (House Vann)
CORVYN DELANE (House Delane)
VELLEA MORDANE (House Mordane)
KAEL VIRE (House Vire)
Kael blinked once. Twice.
Then said, with increasing volume:
"What the absolute—"
He sat at the edge of his bed, hands steepled in front of his mouth, and stared at the list.
This was wrong.
Every single one of those names was part of the main narrative axis—the core group who would eventually save the world, make terrible romantic decisions, and in some cases die dramatically to motivate each other.
They were supposed to bond slowly, over time, through quests and shared trauma and near-death experiences—not over roasted marshmallows and team-building games beside a sparkling lake.
And they were definitely not supposed to be lumped together with him.
"No one likes the villain at the picnic," he muttered.
Kael dressed slowly, choosing a more casual Academy uniform with layered cuffs and reinforced travel boots. The retreat would likely involve spell drills, elemental exposure, and awkward eye contact. Best to be prepared.
He paused briefly as he adjusted the clasp at his collar—small, etched with the Vire sigil. For a moment, he considered leaving it off.
Then he rolled his eyes at himself.
"You're not here to make friends. You're here to survive."
And part of surviving meant remembering who he was pretending to be.
The teleportation platform in the southern field was already active when he arrived.
A wide stone circle, rimmed with floating mana stabilizers and softly glowing calibration rods, buzzed with spatial hum. A handful of students loitered nearby, chatting, adjusting packs, and pretending not to size each other up.
Kael recognized them all.
Tarin Yul, the poster child for noble-chivalric idiocy. Tall, charming, very punchable.
Lyssa Saren, poised and analytical, scanning the crowd like someone was already disappointing her.
Corvyn Delane, sleepy-eyed but dangerous, probably reading runes for fun.
Maelea, Vellea, Kieren—each one carrying their own narrative weight.
And now… him.
Kael exhaled through his nose and walked calmly into the circle, nodding politely when someone glanced his way. No one said anything.
Which was worse than being acknowledged.
He stood slightly apart, hands in his pockets, head tilted just enough to look relaxed.
"They're wondering why I'm here," he thought. "So am I."
The transport rune flared.
Instructor Niaomi Starstriker arrived in a formal cloak, clipboard in hand, expression unreadable as ever. She ran down the itinerary with all the enthusiasm of a war tactician being asked to host a wedding.
"Three days. No combat beyond approved drills. No personal duels. No unsupervised excursions beyond the barrier wards. You are representatives of your Houses and of Astralis. Try to act like it."
A few nervous chuckles.
Kael smiled slightly.
Then she looked up and locked eyes with him.
There was no hostility in it. No accusation.
Just… curiosity.
He hated it.
The teleportation shimmer was clean and fast. One moment they stood in structured stone and familiar wards, and the next—
Open sky.
Sharp mountain air.
And a wide, sparkling lake cradled by lush forest and towering cliffs.
The lodge—really more of a magically-enhanced villa—stood at the edge of the water, all floating decks and glowing window panels, run through with ancient wood and floating enchantments. Everything about it screamed curated rustic luxury.
Kael sighed.
"I already want to go home."
Rooms were assigned via enchanted key stones. Naturally, Kael's was at the far end of the hall, facing the cliffs.
He liked that, actually.
The view was honest. Stark. Too far from the social center for anyone to bother him.
He dropped his pack and flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Then sat up sharply.
"Why am I here?"
This was deviation. Not just minor scene drift. This was a branch in the narrative tree. And Kael didn't like branches. They broke things.
In the novel, the getaway had been an early bonding point for the heroes. Their laughter, their awkward confessions, their first brush with friendly rivalry.
Kael hadn't been part of it.
Which meant he wasn't supposed to see what happened here.
But now he would.
And worse—so would they.
A soft chime at the door broke his thoughts.
He opened it to find a floating tray with a note attached.
DINNER IN ONE HOUR — DO NOT BE LATEMANDATORY ATTENDANCE- STARSTRIKER
Kael shut the door and groaned into his hands.
"I swear, if there's a campfire song involved, I'm going to hex myself."