Alesia Continent. Grayport Town.
The night was deep, and the moonlight spilled like water across the roofs.
Cold wind slipped through the cracks in the wooden cabin, stinging Elina's skin like icy needles. Curled in a corner, her shoulders pressed against the rough timber wall, she clutched a moldy crumb of bread in her hand—the only food she had in three days. She couldn't bring herself to eat it. Couldn't throw it away, either.
Outside, the waves crashed endlessly against the rocks, their dull rhythm like the eternal sigh of this forgotten coastal town.
Elina bowed her head, long brown hair falling over her emerald eyes, shielding the spark still burning in their depths.
"Well, well. Isn't this our little 'princess' of Grayport?"
A sharp, mocking voice sliced through the quiet like a knife. Elina's shoulders stiffened. That voice—dripping with scorn—was one she knew all too well.
Lilith Cavendish. The golden girl of Grayport's wealthiest noble family. Heiress of House Cavendish. Elina's most loathed enemy.
Lilith stood at the cabin's entrance, the torchlight casting a radiant halo across her flowing golden locks. She wore a silk gown embroidered with gold thread, swaying lightly in the sea breeze. Behind her stood three noble youths, dressed in leather boots and rich fabrics, their faces twisted into sneers.
Lilith crossed her arms, lips curled in a cruel smirk.
"Look at this little rat. Still dreaming of Starflame Academy? Keep dreaming, gutter trash."
Laughter exploded from the group, sharp and cruel, like shards of glass against Elina's ears. She kept her head down, fists clenched tight, nails digging into her palms until the bread crumbled to dust. She said nothing, but inside, a wildfire was growing—wild and untamed.
Starflame Academy.
The most prestigious magical institution on the continent. Her only hope. Her only escape from this filthy town and the cage it had become.
"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"
Lilith stepped forward, her boot splashing into a muddy puddle, nearly staining Elina's threadbare shoes. With a sneer, she snatched the bread from Elina's hand, pinched her nose in disgust, and threw it to the ground. Her boot came down hard, grinding it into the dirt.
"You're not even fit to shine my horse's hooves."
"Miss Lilith is right!" a boy chimed in with a sycophantic grin. Toby—some distant cousin of the Cavendishes. A pest who relied on that connection to act like royalty in town.
"She can't even afford the trial's entry fee! And she wants to enroll in Starflame? What a joke!"
Another boy in a sky-blue cloak snorted.
"Heard the first trial's guarded by a beast. She'll probably be torn to shreds before she even steps past the gate."
Elina's breathing quickened, the fire in her chest roaring louder. Slowly, she raised her head and met Lilith's gaze—those emerald eyes gleaming with defiance beneath the moonlight, like stars trapped beneath a stormy sea.
Her voice, low but steady, carried through the night.
"One day, you'll regret everything you said tonight."
For a moment, silence gripped the air.
Then Lilith burst into laughter, as though she'd heard the funniest joke in the world.
"You? A parentless orphan in rags? You think a rat like you will ever step foot into the Academy?"
She leaned closer, voice like venom.
"Do you even know how brutal the trials are? People like you don't survive the first test. The beasts will rip you apart before you even scream."
Laughter again. Cruel. Loud. Like crows feasting on something already dead. Elina clenched her jaw, fists tightening until her knuckles turned white. She wanted to fight back, to smash Lilith's smug face into the dirt—but she didn't. Not yet.
She had no money. No status. No power.
All she had… was the will to survive.
And the patience to wait.
Lilith flipped her hair, clearly satisfied by Elina's silence.
"Let's go, girls. I've wasted enough breath on trash."
With a swirl of her gown, she turned and strode away, laughter trailing behind her like perfume. Toby and the other boy followed, snickering.
"Be careful at the trial, Miss Lilith," Toby said mockingly. "You wouldn't want to break a nail on this filth!"
Silence returned to the shack. Only the sea remained, breathing its slow sorrow into the night.
Elina stared at the ruined crumbs on the ground, her eyes burning. But she didn't cry. She refused. Her anger wasn't sorrow—it was fury at her own helplessness.
For eighteen years, she'd lived in the shadow of Grayport.
Orphan. Scum. Filth. Those were the names they gave her.
She washed fish baskets. Scrubbed decks. Saved every copper like it was carved from bone.
But she had never, not once, given up hope.
Because she had one thing no one could take from her.
From beneath her tattered collar, she pulled out a small pendant.
In the moonlight, the strange runes etched on its surface glowed faint red, like a whisper only she could hear.
This was all her mother had left her—a smooth metal shard carved with foreign markings. She'd given it to Elina on her deathbed, when Elina was just six.
"Elina… keep it safe," her mother had said with her final breath. "It will lead you to your path."
The next day, she was gone.
Elina gripped the pendant tightly, voice trembling.
"Mom… you said I'd find my way. Was that true?"
The pendant grew warm in her palm, pulsing like a heartbeat.
It was answering her.
She closed her eyes. She could still see her mother's pale face, and those soft, sorrowful eyes.
Suddenly, the pendant blazed—like a star catching fire.
A surge of heat rushed through her arm, through her veins, awakening something long dormant. Elina gasped and let go, but the pendant didn't fall.
It floated.
Bathed in red firelight, it hovered before her eyes, casting sparks onto the sand below. Even the waves seemed to pause for a heartbeat.
Elina's heart pounded.
"What… what is this?"
She reached out, but an invisible force pushed her hand back.
And then, from within the light, a deep, distant voice echoed:
"Heir of Starflame… awaken."
The voice faded. The pendant drifted back into her hand, its light dimming but never dying—flickering gently at her fingertips like a fire that refused to go out.