KAIRO'S POV...
The alley was buzzing like a hive.
Shouts bounced off the stone walls—bets being made, names being yelled, people drunk on the thrill of watching someone else bleed. The air smelled like sweat, smoke, and trouble. Exactly how I liked it.
"Step right up!" the referee shouted, pacing in the middle of the ring like he owned the world. "No weapons, no mercy! Winner gets the Seal's mark. Loser…" He gave that oily grin that made the crowd lean in closer. "You don't want to be the loser."
I rolled my neck until it cracked. My opponent was already grinning at me from across the ring, a wide, greasy smile plastered under the glow of his Ember Seal. It sprawled across his chest, pulsing red like it was alive.
"You don't stand a chance, rat," he growled. "This isn't some cheap street trick. This is real magic."
I smirked. "Then stop talking and show me."
He roared like a beast and threw a punch, flames bursting from his fist. The fire came fast—hot enough to make the air taste like ash. The crowd screamed as the blaze swallowed me whole.
But I wasn't afraid.
I lifted my left hand and let the strange, glassy energy crawl across my skin. It cracked the air around me, invisible and sharp. The flames shattered on impact—literally shattered—breaking apart into floating embers that scattered like dying stars.
When I stepped out of the smoke, his eyes went wide. "What… what did you just do?"
"I broke it," I said, like it was obvious.
I surged forward before he could think. My right arm burned—the Seal. That damned, unstable mark that even I didn't fully understand. It flared to life, fiery orange swirling like a storm under my skin. I drove my fist forward. A spiral of fire and wind exploded out, hurling him into the wall with a crash that silenced the entire alley.
For a moment, all I heard was my breathing. Rough. Quick.
The Cinderstorm Seal faded to a faint glow, but the heat lingered under my skin, wild and alive.
"That… that wasn't a registered Seal," the referee muttered, his voice trembling now.
Whispers spread through the crowd like smoke.
"Did you see that?"
"It ate his magic—then blew him away!"
"What kind of Seal is that?"
I ignored them. I was used to whispers. They never meant anything good.
Then came the horns.
That deep, metallic sound that froze the air.
The crowd scattered instantly. Like rats when the torchlight hits. I turned toward the mouth of the alley and saw them—Imperial Enforcers. Black armor, glowing runes carved into their plates, and that cold, lifeless discipline in their movements.
"The wielder of the unregistered Cinderstorm Seal," one barked, voice enhanced by magic. "Surrender yourself to the Elyndrian Empire immediately."
My pulse quickened. My eyes flicked between their glowing Rift-steel blades, the narrowing exits, the storm clouds overhead.
I could run.
I could fight.
Or I could end up like the others who disappeared the moment the Empire showed interest.
I clenched my fist, the faint ember light seeping through my fingers. This was it. No turning back now.
"Guess this is where it starts," I muttered under my breath.
They called me a troublemaker.
Not the playful kind—the kind the Empire kept an eye on.
By the time I turned fifteen, I'd broken more rules than some soldiers had in their entire service. Illegal duels. Smuggling scraps of enchanted ore. Talking back to enforcers. It wasn't that I liked chaos. It's just… chaos always seemed to find me first.
Maybe it started with the Seal.
I still remember that night. The air was cold, and the lantern in our tiny kitchen kept flickering like it didn't want to stay alive. I sat on the worn wooden stool, staring at the glowing mark on my shoulder. It didn't look like anyone else's.
Everyone else's Ember Seals were neat, circular—clear symbols of fire, wind, water, or earth. Mine looked like a storm caught in mid-scream: jagged lines, spirals clashing into each other, glowing faintly orange even when I wasn't using magic.
"Ma," I'd asked, my voice small against the silence. "Why… why does mine look like this?"
She paused while cutting herbs, the knife hovering just above the board. Her hands trembled before she set the knife down and walked over. She knelt in front of me, brushing the hair from my eyes the way she always did when she was worried.
"Kairo," she whispered. "Not everyone's path is meant to look the same. Your Seal… it's different because you are different."
"That's not an answer," I'd snapped, my childish frustration bubbling over. "Everyone else gets normal Seals. Fire. Wind. Earth. Why do I get this? People stare. They talk. Some say it's cursed."
Her gaze softened. "Let them talk. What matters is not the mark itself, but the heart that carries it." She pressed her palm gently against my glowing shoulder. "This Seal chose you for a reason. One day, you'll understand."
I wanted to believe her. I really did. But back then, all I felt was alone.
And maybe that's why I kept picking fights. Why I started dueling in underground rings. If I couldn't fit into the world, I'd burn my own shape into it.
I used to ask about him every night.
We didn't have much back then—just a crooked little house at the edge of the Outskirts, a leaking roof, and my mother's quiet strength. But what we didn't have in wealth, we made up for in stories.
Or at least, she did.
"Ma," I'd say, lying on my straw mattress as the wind howled through the cracks. "Who is he? My father. Was he… like me?"
She'd always pause at that question. Her hands, busy folding clothes or stirring stew, would still. Then she'd turn toward me with that same soft smile she used to hide everything.
"He's a good man, Kairo," she'd whisper, sitting beside me. "Strong. Brave. He had the same eyes you do."
"Then where is he?"
Her gaze drifted to the window, to the distant lights of the capital. "He's out there," she'd say. "Fighting for something greater. One day, he'll come back. You'll see."
And like a fool, I believed her.
Days turned into months. Months into years. And the man behind the stories never walked through our door.
The night everything changed, the air in the Outskirts felt heavier than usual—like the sky itself was holding its breath. I came home from a street fight with bloody knuckles, expecting her usual scolding. Instead, I found soldiers in black armor tearing through our house like wolves.
"What's going on!?" I shouted.
Two enforcers grabbed me by the arms before I could reach her. She stood in the center of the room, wrists bound by glowing iron cuffs. Her eyes found mine—not with fear, but with that same calm she always had.
"She's accused of stealing Imperial relics," one of the soldiers barked. "Punishment is death."
"That's a lie!" I thrashed against their grip. "She would never—"
"She confessed," the soldier interrupted coldly.
I turned to her, heart hammering. "Ma… tell them. Tell them it's not true."
She just smiled. That soft, heartbreaking smile. "Kairo… stay strong."
They dragged her away under the cold stare of the moon. The streets fell silent except for my screams. I fought. I bit. I burned my hands trying to summon the power from my strange Seal, but nothing answered me that night.
She didn't come back.
The Empire called it justice.
I called it theft—because they stole the only person who ever believed in me.
And from that night on, the boy who once waited for his father… became someone else entirely.
I was twelve.
Too young to fight.
Too weak to save her.
Too powerless to stop anything.
The square was overflowing that morning. People whispered among themselves, their faces pale beneath the Empire's banners that fluttered in the cold wind. At the center of it all stood a raised platform — the place where the Empire showed its "justice."
She stood there. My mother. Her wrists were bound in front of her, a faint glow around the cuffs sealing away her magic. Her face was calm… almost too calm. As if she had accepted something I couldn't.
I tried to push through the crowd. "Ma!!" I screamed, shoving past merchants and strangers.
But before I could reach the platform, two soldiers grabbed me by the arms, lifting me clean off the ground like I was nothing.
"Let me go!!" I kicked and struggled. My Seal burned faintly under my skin, but no matter how hard I tried, the power wouldn't answer me. It never did when I needed it most.
"Stay back, boy," one of them growled, shoving me onto the ground. The world spun for a moment. My palms scraped against the stone, blood mixing with the dirt. I looked up just in time to see the royal adjudicator unfurl a scroll, reading the charges in a voice devoid of emotion.
"For the theft of Imperial relics, for the crime against His Majesty's law, the punishment is death."
The crowd didn't cheer. They just… watched. Like it was entertainment.
My throat tightened. "Stop!! Please!! She didn't do anything!!"
My voice was drowned out by the sound of the execution bell, echoing like thunder over the city. Soldiers forced her to kneel. She turned her head slightly, just enough for our eyes to meet one last time.
She smiled.
That smile broke me.
Then… the light. A single flash of imperial magic, clean and cold — and she was gone.
Something inside me cracked that day.
I wasn't crying anymore. Just staring at the banners waving above the platform — crimson and gold, the mark of a king who ruled with fear, not justice. He didn't even appear. He didn't need to. His soldiers did his dirty work while he sat on his throne, blind to the lives he destroyed.
That was the day I learned the truth.
The Empire didn't protect its people.
It crushed them.
And I swore… one day, I'd make them pay.
The horns blared through the night like wolves howling for blood.
Great. The Empire's hounds were quicker this time.
I bolted down the narrow alley, boots splashing through shallow puddles as shouts echoed behind me.
"After him! Don't let him escape!"
Heavy footsteps thundered against the cobblestones, but I'd been running these streets since I was a kid. The soldiers might've had numbers, armor, and authority—but this was my territory.
I leapt over a broken cart, twisted through a side passage, then scaled a crumbling wall with practiced ease. My hand brushed the mark on my shoulder, feeling its faint, unstable warmth beneath my shirt. I didn't need to fight them. Not yet. All I needed was distance.
One of the soldiers tried to cut me off from a rooftop. "You're surrounded, boy!"
I smirked. "You sure about that?"
With a running start, I launched myself across a gap between two buildings. The wind whipped through my hair as I landed on the opposite rooftop, rolling to absorb the impact. Behind me, the soldier tried to follow—but his armor weighed him down. He slipped, barely catching the ledge.
"Careful!" I called over my shoulder. "Wouldn't want to break a royal toy."
Arrows whistled through the air. I ducked and slid down a slanted roof, then dropped into another alley, vanishing into the maze of shadows. Their curses echoed, but their footsteps grew fainter.
I could hear their frustration. "Where did he go!?"
"Fan out! He couldn't have gotten far!"
They didn't know me very well. I'd spent years learning how to outrun them—because unlike back then, I refused to be caught helpless again.
I pressed my back against a cold brick wall, catching my breath as their lights passed by. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, but a grin tugged at my lips.
Five soldiers, and they still couldn't touch me.
I wasn't twelve anymore.
The boy who once watched from the ground as they took everything from him…
Now ran above their heads.
I crouched on the edge of a rooftop, watching the soldiers stumble through the alleyways below like lost dogs. Their torches swung wildly as they barked orders at each other, completely clueless.
"Check the north path!"
"He couldn't have gone far!"
"Fan out! NOW!"
I bit back a laugh… then failed. A short, sharp laugh escaped my chest, echoing faintly in the night. Their heads snapped up, searching the shadows—but by the time they looked my way, I was already gone.
"Idiots," I muttered, sliding down the roof.
At the edge of the street stood a rusty old lantern post, its light long dead. I snapped my fingers, letting a small spark of flame dance between them. It wasn't much—just a flicker—but it was enough. I touched the lantern's base, and the fire climbed up like a living thing, igniting the glass with a soft golden glow.
The light illuminated the narrow path ahead, leading to the old forest—a shortcut I'd used a hundred times before. The soldiers never followed me there. They were too afraid of the stories. Ghosts. Beasts. Spirits that devoured the unwary.
Me? I grew up with those stories. They were just that—stories.
I took one last look at the soldiers scattering through the streets, cursing and shouting into the night. Then I smirked, adjusted the strap on my satchel, and whispered to myself:
"Too slow."
With that, I slipped into the darkness, the lantern's warm light fading behind me as the forest swallowed me whole. The trees loomed tall, their branches twisting like claws, but this was where I moved best—where the Empire's grip didn't reach.
Each step deeper into the woods felt like shedding chains. No horns. No soldiers. Just me, the night, and the whispering leaves.
The deeper I went, the darker the forest became.
The lantern's light didn't follow me far, but my eyes had long since adjusted to the shadows. The trees stood like silent watchers, and the air grew colder with every step. Somewhere in the distance, I heard branches snap—a sharp, quick sound.
I froze.
Beast? The stories about this forest came rushing back: fanged shadows, glowing eyes, creatures that dragged people into the undergrowth and left nothing behind. I wasn't the type to scare easily… but even I felt my heartbeat quicken.
Another rustle. This time, closer.
I slowly raised my hand, ready to summon a flame if I had to. My mark pulsed faintly under my shirt, as if reacting to something unseen. I took a cautious step forward, squinting through the dark.
Then I saw it.
A figure in a white cloak, half-kneeling beside a tree trunk. At first, I thought it was some kind of spirit—the cloak practically glowed against the blackness of the forest. But then I saw the rise and fall of his shoulders. Breathing. Human.
I lowered my hand slightly but didn't let my guard down. "Hey," I called, my voice steady. "You alive?"
No answer.
I stepped closer, my boots crunching on dead leaves. As I approached, the figure flinched like a startled animal. His hood shifted slightly, and I caught a glimpse of his face—a boy, maybe my age, with sharp features and pale hair that caught the moonlight. His cloak was torn at the edge, like he'd been running from something too.
"You're human," I muttered, half to myself.
His eyes snapped toward me—icy blue, wary, like someone who had seen too much. For a moment, neither of us moved. The forest went dead silent around us.
He looked ready to bolt, but I lifted both hands slowly, palms open. "Relax. I'm not with the soldiers. If I was, I'd have yelled by now."
He didn't answer, but his tense shoulders eased just a little.
I tilted my head. "You look like you're hurt. Need help?"
His gaze searched mine, as if trying to decide whether I was a threat. Finally, in a voice quiet but firm, he replied, "Why would you help a stranger in the forest?"
I smirked. "Because it's boring walking alone."
That earned me the slightest, almost reluctant twitch of his lips. Barely there, but I caught it.
I took a step closer, careful not to scare him off. "Name's Kairo. You?"
He hesitated, then pulled his hood back fully, revealing a face that—despite its calm—carried a weight I recognized. He looked like someone who'd lost something too.
"My name's Eryndor," he said.
"Eryndor, huh?" I repeated, testing the name on my tongue. "Sounds fancy. Definitely not from around here."
He gave a small shrug, pulling his white cloak tighter around himself. "You could say that…" His voice was calm, but there was a weight behind it, like he was holding back more than he was saying.
A brief silence settled between us, broken only by the rustling of the trees and the distant call of some nocturnal creature. Then he glanced around nervously. "Do you… know the way out of this forest? I've been walking for hours, and everything looks the same."
I couldn't help but grin. "Lost, huh? Yeah, this place does that to people. But lucky for you…" I tapped my temple. "I grew up running through these woods."
His eyes lit up faintly under the hood. "You know the way?"
"Of course," I said, stepping past him confidently. "Come on. Follow me unless you want to keep chatting with trees."
He hesitated for just a moment before trailing after me. The path was barely visible—twisting roots, low-hanging branches, uneven ground—but I moved through it like second nature. Years of using this place as a shortcut paid off.
After a while, I pulled the old lantern from my satchel. It still held a weak flame, flickering like it was trying to survive the night. I handed it toward him. "Here. Take this so you don't trip and break your fancy cloak."
He blinked, surprised. "You're giving this to me?"
"It's a lantern, not a family heirloom," I said with a small smirk. "Besides, I know this place well enough to walk blindfolded."
He accepted it carefully, holding it close. The warm glow cast faint light on his hood, but not enough for me to fully see his face. The forest swallowed the edges of the light, and all I caught were glimpses—pale hair, sharp jawline, and those piercing eyes.
For some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something different about him.
After several minutes, the trees began to thin. Moonlight trickled through the canopy, and the distant sound of the river told me we were close. I pointed ahead. "There. Just past that ridge. You'll see the main road."
Eryndor let out a quiet breath of relief. "Thank you, Kairo. I… wasn't sure I'd ever find my way out."
I shrugged like it was nothing, though a small part of me felt oddly pleased. "You're lucky you ran into me. Most people avoid this forest at night."
He gave a soft chuckle. "Then maybe fate decided to be kind, for once."
Eryndor gave a small nod as we reached the forest's edge. The moonlight caught the edge of his white cloak, making him look almost ghostlike.
"Thank you, Kairo," he said softly. "For helping me."
I shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "Try not to get lost again."
A faint smile crossed his lips before he turned toward the road and walked away, lantern light bobbing until it vanished into the night.
I watched him go for a moment, then sighed and turned back into the dark forest. I knew these woods better than the back of my hand, and there was a small clearing not far from here where I usually camped when I didn't want to risk the town at night.
I threw myself down beneath an old tree, hands behind my head, staring up through the gaps in the leaves. The stars peeked through like tiny embers scattered across the black sky.
"Another night," I muttered. "Still breathing."
Sleep came fast. The forest had its dangers, sure, but for me, this was home.
---
The soft chirping of birds woke me before sunrise. Pale light filtered through the branches, painting everything in soft gold. I sat up slowly, brushing off a few stray leaves clinging to my hair.
Morning already…
I stretched, yawned, and started walking toward the town. The path was familiar, quiet, and peaceful—at least compared to the chaos of last night's chase.
When I arrived, the streets were nearly empty. Only a few merchants were setting up their stalls, and the air was cool and crisp. I passed by a few tired faces who barely noticed me. Perfect.
Before heading anywhere else, I made a detour to the lake just outside town. The surface was smooth like glass, reflecting the pale morning sky. I knelt by the edge, scooped up handfuls of cold water, and splashed it onto my face.
The chill jolted me fully awake.
I glanced down at my reflection—the same messy black hair, tired eyes, and the faint outline of my Seal glowing beneath my shirt. My clothes were still the same from last night: a bit dusty, but nothing new. I'd never been picky about appearances.
"Good enough," I muttered, running a wet hand through my hair.
The day was just beginning. And in my gut, I knew something was waiting to happen.
By the time the sun finally climbed over the rooftops, the town was waking up for real. Market stalls opened, merchants shouted their prices, and the smell of baked bread and roasted nuts filled the air. People bustled through the narrow streets, still half asleep but moving like clockwork.
My stomach growled. Loudly.
"Yeah, yeah. I hear you," I muttered.
Slipping through the crowd was second nature to me. My eyes scanned the stalls until they landed on a basket overflowing with bright red apples. The vendor had his back turned, busy arguing with a customer over coin.
Too easy.
I casually brushed past the stall, my hand moving like water—quick, smooth, practiced. An apple disappeared into my palm without a single glance in my direction. I turned the corner before anyone even noticed, taking a crisp bite.
The sweet taste hit my tongue, and I couldn't help but grin. "Still got it."
As I walked, chewing lazily, something caught my eye in the distance—tall ivory towers rising above the rest of the town, their spires catching the sunlight like blades. Banners of blue and gold fluttered proudly in the breeze.
The Grand Academy.
I'd heard of it, of course. Everyone had. It was where the Empire trained their "elite"—mages, knights, strategists. The best of the best. Or at least, that's what they wanted people to believe. I'd never seen it this close before. Up on the hill, overlooking everything, it felt like the Academy was a world apart from the streets I knew.
Students in crisp uniforms were entering through the massive gates—robes lined with gold, books tucked under their arms, and glowing Seals displayed proudly. They looked like they belonged to another universe entirely.
Curiosity tugged at me. Before I knew it, I'd wandered closer, until I was standing just outside the outer fence. One student, a boy with neat hair and a pristine uniform, passed by near the gate.
"Hey," I called out.
He stopped, looking at me like I'd just interrupted a sacred ritual. "Yes?"
I pointed toward the towering structure. "What's the name of that place?"
He raised a brow. "You don't know? That's Elyndria Grand Academy. The finest magical institution in the Empire." His tone dripped with pride.
"Elyndria, huh…" I repeated, glancing up at the towers again. They looked… unreachable. But something inside me stirred.
The boy adjusted his satchel. "Only the most talented get in. You'd need more than a street rat's tricks to step through those gates."
I smirked. "Good thing I'm not interested, then."
But even as I walked away, apple core in hand, my eyes lingered on the academy. Just for a moment.
I tossed the apple core into a gutter and turned toward the busy street. The crowd had thickened; merchants shouting over each other, carts creaking, boots scuffing the cobblestones. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going—until I slammed into something solid.
"Woah—!" I stumbled back.
The person I'd collided with barely flinched. He was taller than me by a bit, wearing a white cloak that gleamed in the morning light. For a second, all I saw were the fine stitches on his collar and the light catching on a silver clasp.
"Watch where you're—" I started, then stopped.
The boy turned toward me, and my words caught in my throat.
His hair was white, not the kind that comes with age, but bright like freshly fallen snow. His eyes were a clear blue, sharp yet calm—like the surface of a frozen lake. It was rare to see features like that around here. People glanced at him as they passed, some even whispering under their breath.
He tilted his head slightly. "You don't remember me?"
I blinked. "Huh?"
"You helped me last night. In the forest," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You gave me a lantern… Kairo, right?"
The moment he said it, it clicked.
The dark forest. The lost boy in the white cloak. Of course.
"Wait—you're that guy?" I pointed at him, a little louder than I intended.
A few heads turned. He chuckled softly, not bothered at all. "Eryndor," he said. "It's nice to see you again in the daylight."
I stared at him for a second longer than I meant to. Last night, I couldn't really see his face, but now… there was no denying it. He looked like someone out of a noble family portrait—clean, elegant, completely out of place in this messy street.
"Right… Eryndor," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. "Didn't expect to bump into you here."
"Neither did I." His eyes scanned the street briefly before settling back on me. "Seems fate likes playing tricks."
"Tch. Or maybe you just need to watch where you're going," I said, smirking.
He laughed softly again—calm, refined. It annoyed me a little how unbothered he was.
As the crowd thinned near the Academy gates, something caught my eye. It wasn't just the grand towers anymore—it was the students.
They moved in groups, their chatter mixing with the clinking of spellbound trinkets and rustling robes. But what stood out most were the uniforms.
Some wore deep crimson, others soft green, a few in gleaming gold… and then there was Eryndor, his cloak pulled slightly aside now, revealing a blue uniform lined with silver. The color almost shimmered when the light hit it.
I frowned. "Why do you all have different colors?"
Eryndor glanced at me, surprised at the question, then followed my gaze to the students around us. "Ah. You mean the uniforms."
"No, I meant the rainbow parade," I said dryly, crossing my arms. "Of course the uniforms."
He chuckled softly. "Each color represents a type of magical affinity," he explained patiently, like a teacher with a particularly stubborn student. "It's how the Academy sorts students into Divisions."
"Divisions?"
"Yes." He gestured toward a passing group wearing red. "Red is for Fire affinity. Aggressive, offensive magic. They excel in combat."
A group of students in green walked by next. "Green represents Nature and Earth magic—defense, healing, growth. They're usually supportive casters or defenders."
Then he pointed toward a pair in gold, their uniforms practically glowing. "Gold is for Light affinity. Rare and powerful. They're often prodigies… or nobles." His tone softened on that last part, but I caught it.
Finally, he touched the edge of his own blue cloak. "And Blue… is for Water and Ice users. Precision, control, adaptability. My Division."
I raised a brow. "So… they dress you based on what element you're good at?"
"In simple terms, yes," he said with a small smile. "It's not just for show, though. Each Division has different training methods, professors, and responsibilities. You can usually tell a lot about someone just by their uniform."
I glanced down at my own clothes—worn, patched in places, still damp from the lake earlier. Compared to their spotless robes, I looked like I'd wandered in from a different world.
"...Huh," I muttered.
Eryndor's eyes softened slightly. "It's impressive, isn't it? The Academy is strict but… it's a place where magic thrives."
I scoffed under my breath. "Magic thrives for some. Not everyone gets a fancy robe."
He didn't reply to that. Just smiled faintly, like he understood more than he let on.
I never thought I'd be walking through the grand halls of Elyndria Academy like I belonged there. The air itself felt different—like it buzzed with magic, alive and crackling.
Massive stone archways lined the corridors, enchanted lanterns floated midair, and students practiced spells in open courtyards. Some conjured fireballs, others shaped water into elegant patterns. Everywhere I looked, something glowed, sparkled, or exploded.
I couldn't help it—I was grinning like an idiot.
"This place is insane," I whispered.
Eryndor glanced at me with that calm, composed smile of his. "You've never been inside the Academy before?"
"Me? Nah." I stretched my arms behind my head as we walked. "I'm usually outside the gates, annoying the guards or stealing apples. This is my first official tour."
He laughed softly. "Well then, I'll make sure it's a memorable one."
"Oh don't worry," I said, smirking. "I'll remember the floating candles, the students who nearly set their robes on fire, and that one statue that winked at me. I think I'm in love with it."
He shook his head, amused. "You're… different from most people I've met."
"I get that a lot," I replied with a playful bow.
We wandered deeper into the Academy grounds, and I was surprised how… comfortable it felt. Even though I didn't wear any uniform, nobody stopped us—not when I was walking beside Eryndor. His presence seemed to command respect without him even trying.
For a moment, it almost felt like I belonged.
But then—
"HEY! YOU!"
The shout snapped me back to reality. I turned around just in time to see two imperial soldiers pushing through the crowd. Their armor gleamed in the sunlight, their eyes locked on me like hawks.
Oh, perfect.
"Kairo of West District!" one of them barked. "Stop right there!"
I froze. My stomach flipped. They must've followed me from earlier.
"Uh… Eryndor?" I whispered.
He looked confused for a second—then saw the soldiers. Before they could reach me, I instinctively darted behind him, gripping the edge of his cloak like a child hiding from a shopkeeper after stealing candy.
The soldiers halted in front of us, their hands on their weapons… then their expressions completely changed.
They straightened. Hard. And lowered their heads.
"Y–Your Highness!" they said in unison, bowing slightly.
…Wait. What?
I peeked out from behind Eryndor's shoulder. "...Highness?"
Eryndor sighed softly, like this happened all the time. "That's enough. He's with me," he said firmly.
The soldiers exchanged confused looks but didn't dare question him. "As you command, Your Highness," they said before retreating, their boots clanking away.
Once they were gone, I slowly stepped out from behind him, still processing what just happened. "...Okay, back up a second," I said, pointing at him. "Did they just call you Your Highness?"
Eryndor gave me a small, almost sheepish smile. "I suppose now's as good a time as any to tell you… I'm Eryndor Valencrest. Second Prince of the Elyndrian Empire."
I stared at him. Blinked.
Then pointed again. "You're a prince?!"
He chuckled softly. "Surprise."
My jaw dropped. All this time, I'd been cracking jokes, stealing apples, and hiding behind him like he was some regular student. And he was royalty. Royalty with perfect hair. Of course.
"…I hid behind a prince," I muttered. "Fantastic. Can't wait to be executed for that."
Eryndor just laughed.
T.B.C🎀