Morning light spilled through the towering glass panes of Elarion Academy, painting ribbons of color across the polished halls. Whispers moved like wind — talk of rankings, classes, and new names that would rise or fall before the semester's end.
Kian Savoy moved through the crowd, calm amid the noise, heading to his next class — Principles of Ether Flow.
The chamber shimmered with pale blue glyphs carved into the marble floor, the air thick with ambient energy. Professor Varren, a scholar in blue-and-silver robes, stood at the center, his gaze sharp as a blade.
"Today," Varren began, "we examine the breath of Ether — the rhythm that binds heart, mind, and element. Misjudge it, and even the strongest crumble under their own pulse."
Students leaned forward. Kian's eyes gleamed — curious, calculating.
"Professor," Kian asked, "if Ether is drawn from within, can one's source replenish naturally — or must harmony with the world be maintained?"
Varren smiled faintly.
"For nature-aligned cores like yours, Savoy, restoration comes from resonance. The deeper your bond with organic energy, the faster your flow renews."
Kian nodded. "And if two conflicting energies merge say flame and nature do they amplify or destroy each other?"
"Corrode," Varren said. "Unless mastery makes discord sing. The wise don't flee opposition — they conduct it."
The class murmured, impressed. A silver-eyed girl beside Kian whispered,
"You should visit the Grand Library after class. They've got treatises on resonance — restricted wing, but your talent might earn entry."
"Thanks," Kian said. "Name?"
"Lyra," she smiled. "Class Three. Try not to get lost — the place moves."
---
The Grand Library
The library stood like a cathedral of shifting runes, its shelves reaching toward floating platforms. Each book pulsed faintly — as though breathing.
Following a quiet pull, Kian found a tome etched with living vines:
"The Living Current: Nature Aura and the Path of Renewal."
Sitting cross-legged, he read, tracing the flow of diagrams glowing across the page. Breathing deep, he rooted his energy into the ground aura flowing like sap, rising through him as green light bloomed across his arms.
The air hummed, rhythm aligning with his heartbeat the language of nature responding.
Then, a voice broke the silence.
"So this is the famed Savoy prodigy?"
Kian opened his eyes. A boy stood in the archway, golden hair catching the lantern glow, uniform lined with regal thread.
"Arthur Lionheart," he announced, tone smooth and edged. "Heir of the Lionheart bloodline. I saw your placement exam. Cute — vines and arrows."
Kian closed the book slowly. "If you came to talk, do so. If you came to posture, save your breath."
Arthur smirked. "Straightforward. Good. But don't mistake it for equality. The Savoy name's a ghost. The Lionheart legacy still roars."
A faint pulse of emerald light rippled from Kian's form. "Strange," he said softly, "you sound more defensive than dominant."
Arthur's smile faltered for an instant — then steadied. "Defensive? Hardly. Let's settle this. Tomorrow, noon, the arena. I'll show the academy what separates bloodlines from strays."
Kian rose. "Then I'll show you what happens when roots outlast crowns."
As Arthur turned, his aura flared gold, shaking the shelves faint echoes of a lion's roar resonating through the runes. The very air trembled.
Kian's eyes narrowed. So that's the Dawn Roar… the echo of kingship itself.
The runes whispered restlessly as Arthur left, and Kian looked down at his open book.
"Balance pride with purpose," the page read.
He smiled faintly. "Balance it is."
---
The Duel at Noon
The arena blazed with sunlight and excitement. Hundreds of students filled the stands; energy crackled in the air.
Kian stood calm in emerald robes, bow manifesting at his side. Across from him, Arthur radiated command — the golden aura of his lineage pulsing like a heartbeat that the entire field could feel.
"Begin!"
Arthur moved first a streak of golden light. His blade met air, but the air itself cracked. Kian's vines erupted upward, roots deflecting the blow, petals scattering like sparks.
Arthur laughed. "Roots can't bind a lion!"
His Dawn Roar ignited golden aura surging outward in the form of spectral lions. Their roars thundered across the arena, shaking the wards.
Kian darted through them, his own aura shimmering green. He fired three arrows — one split the air, the second curved, the third grazed Arthur's arm.
Arthur's expression hardened. "Enough playing!"
He raised his sword it glowed like a rising sun, radiating heat and majesty.
> "Witness the Dawn Roar — birthright of kings!"
The aura exploded outward a shockwave of golden light shaped into a colossal lion, its mane burning with ethereal fire. The roar alone made the arena quake.
Kian planted his palm on the ground, summoning his own force — a stag of radiant life, formed from intertwining vines and luminous blossoms.
Nature met kingship.
Green met gold.
The Lion and the Stag collided in a storm of light.
The shockwave cracked the arena floor. The crowd shielded their eyes as the constructs shattered into motes of energy, dissolving in spirals of light.
When the glow faded, both stood panting battered, but unbroken.
Arthur smirked, wiping blood from his lip. "Not bad, Savoy. You made the lion bleed."
Kian straightened, his eyes steady. "And you made the forest roar. Call it even."
"Next time," Arthur said, turning away, "I'll win. That's a promise."
"Next time," Kian replied, "you'll need more than pride."
The crowd roared — half chanting Savoy, half Lionheart.
As the arena cleared, Kian looked up at the blazing sky. He could still feel the echo of Arthur's Dawn Roar, that kingly pressure — not of hatred, but rivalry.
A spark had been born between them.
A fire that would one day decide the empire's fate.
---
The Lion's Gaze
Far away, within the marble halls of Lionheart Keep, a faint echo rippled through the air — the residual pulse of the Dawn Roar.
King Van Lionheart sat upon the Throne of Aurelith, his eyes closed, aura coiled like a sleeping storm. A faint shimmer of golden flame danced behind him, illuminating the banners of the empire.
A knight knelt before him.
"Your Majesty… your son has clashed with a Savoy at Elarion. The duel shook the wards. Both emerged equal."
Van's eyes opened — ancient, patient, burning with restrained fury and curiosity.
"Equal…?" His tone was quiet, yet the room trembled. "Arthur… and a Savoy?"
A whisper slid through the silence — not from man, but from something deeper. The shadows at the edge of the throne rippled.
"Balance trembles again," hissed a voice from the void The Abyss, Van's unseen counsel.
"The roots awaken. The blood of Savoy still breathes."
Van's gaze hardened. "Let it breathe. For now." He rose, golden aura flaring just enough to silence the dark whisper. "A flame grows brighter when the wind tests it. But if the Savoys seek to rise again…"
The Abyss's voice deepened. "Then the lion must devour the forest."
Van turned toward the vast stained-glass window overlooking his empire, sunlight glinting off his crown.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps the forest hides something the lion has forgotten how to fear."
The chamber fell silent.
The king smiled faintly, dangerously.
The game between bloodlines had begun.
---