Omniscient POV
It was Friday, August 22, 2025, and the imposing gates of Aetherion Academy were a scene of controlled pandemonium. Excited chatter, youthful laughter, and the endless rustle of expensive robes and cloaks swirled in the late summer breeze.
The academy, an ancient and formidable institution, was located at the geographical and political crossroads of the supernatural world, and its opening day was always the first act of the year's intricate political drama.
Sunlight spilled across wide marble walkways, engraved with ancient sigils that shimmered faintly, indicating the potent wards guarding the campus. Students pressed together, their voices overlapping in an orchestra of speculation and palpable excitement.
This day was remarkable because the heirs of the most powerful and ancient bloodlines were streaming in, bringing with them generations of complex politics, sharp rivalries, and enticing intrigue.
Among the swelling crowd, the low, powerful growl of a highly tuned engine broke through the general chatter. Heads instantly whipped toward the main gates. A sleek black SUV glided into view, its polished surface gleaming like fresh obsidian under the afternoon sun - a silent, unmistakable statement of authority.
"The Fenrir crest," someone whispered in awe.
"It's Alpha Jaxon's personal car," another gasped, the sound carrying the weight of immediate recognition.
The SUV slowed with a deliberate, heavy weight. From the passenger side, the door opened with practiced, almost theatrical grace, and a delicate leg clad in fine silk stockings stepped out.
Luna Selene descended with the effortless poise of someone who fully expected the world to stop and look only at her. Her long meticulously styled auburn hair shone like woven threads of starlight, catching the sunlight as though kissed by divinity. Her dress, a calculated pastel shade, spoke of purity and restraint, perfectly balancing the illusion of innocence with subtle allure.
Her lips curved into a modest, almost painfully sweet smile as voices rose in admiration around her. She's even more beautiful in person. Selene tilted her chin just slightly, softening her features into an image of fragile grace.
Inside, her thoughts were sharp and cold: Of course they flatter me. This entire campus was made for eyes like theirs and for mouths that can't resist whispering my name... afterall I'm the beloved of God .
She turned, her posture holding a slight expectation, waiting for Jaxon to step out behind her to complete the perfect picture of dominant power and divine union. The crowd held its collective breath in hushed anticipation.
But the driver's side door never opened. The SUV idled only a second longer before its heavily tinted windows rolled up, and the car pulled away, leaving Selene standing utterly alone.
Gasps of surprise rippled through the assembly.
He didn't even walk her in?
Selene lowered her lashes with impeccable, practiced timing, her expression dipping instantly into one of fragile, delicate sadness. She clasped her hands before her chest, adopting a posture of humble resignation. Her voice trembled just enough for those standing nearby to clearly overhear her whispered explanation.
"Jaxon works so hard for his people... I begged him not to trouble himself for me, though he insisted on dropping me off. He sent me with his personal car because he wanted me to feel safe, even if he couldn't stay by my side."
The performance was flawless, honed over years of manipulating public perception. Immediately, a wave of profound sympathy bloomed. The pity, the awe, and the reverence wrapped around her like an invisible, powerful cloak.
Before the waves of whispers could entirely fade, another ripple of excitement broke across the gathering. A magnificent horse-drawn carriage, painted an ostentatious white and gold, rolled into view. Its polished wheels sparkled brilliantly.
When the heavy door opened, Ivy Thornfield stepped down with deliberate, dramatic flair. She twirled once slowly, catching the light against her large, gemstone-studded earrings, before striding forward with the aggressive confidence of inherited nobility.
Selene's voice lifted, soft and slightly tremulous, but filled with a practiced, feigned delight. She moved across the marble stones toward Ivy, her arms outstretched in an embrace that was pure political theater. Their laughter rang out, high and bright, sealing their public alliance.
The crowd was completely enchanted by the visible beauty and supposed closeness of the two prominent women. Their combined presence dominated the central courtyard.
But the swell of adoration and the dominance of their circle were destined to be violently broken.
At that exact moment, cold, sharp shadows fell unexpectedly across the entire crowd as something vast, powerful, and utterly out of place moved overhead. A sudden, absolute hush descended upon the campus, the silence pressing so heavily that every individual breath seemed loud and ragged. Heads instantly turned upward, eyes widening in disbelief and awe.
Two massive moon-dragons soared above the academy gates.
Their scales glimmered silver and ethereal blue, reflecting the harsh sunlight like fragments of living, ancient crystal. Each beat of their powerful wings stirred currents of wind so strong that robes fluttered violently. The dragons descended slowly, their huge wings folding with impossible grace, as a carriage - crafted entirely of luminous ivory wood and deeply etched with complex runes of lunar blessings - rolled silently behind them.
The shock was total, as gasps and frantic whispers erupted.
"Moon-dragons? Here? That's impossible!"
The ivory carriage halted dramatically in the center of the courtyard, positioning itself directly across from where Selene and Ivy basked in their dwindling circle of admirers.
For the first time since her arrival, Selene's practiced, perfect smile faltered, replaced by a momentary flash of unadulterated dread. Her stomach curled with a cold, unsettling premonition. She knew, with chilling certainty, that she was about to be utterly eclipsed.
The carriage door swung open with a soft, ominous click. Butler Finch stepped down, his cold, gaunt figure sweeping the crowd with a silent warning before he extended a meticulously gloved hand into the carriage's dark interior.
It was Lumira who stepped out.
Her silver hair spilled over her shoulders, gleaming as though freshly kissed by the moonlight itself. Her robes were tailored in a deep, vibrant purple that perfectly brought out the rare clarity of her crystalline eyes. Around her throat lay the prominent heirloom necklace - the moonstone pendant that pulsed softly in time with the sigil intricately etched into her left wrist.
She did not seek the crowd's admiration, nor did she smile. Her movement was deliberate and unhurried, yet so profoundly commanding that the entire courtyard fell into an absolute, breathless stillness.
Beside her, Sera alighted, her round cheeks glowing with nervous excitement, her eyes wide as she took in the sea of frozen faces now staring in total disbelief.
Whispers erupted like localized thunder.
"That's… impossible. She was dead!"
"Lumira… the White Witch… has she truly returned?"
Selene's carefully woven mask cracked visibly, though she forced it back into place. She clasped Ivy's hand tighter, her fingernails digging sharply into the girl's skin, even as her lips curved in a final, viciously false sweetness.
"Perhaps a ghost walks among us," she murmured, her voice just loud enough for those nearest to hear. "Surely, after everything, it cannot truly be her."
But her eyes, glittering with cold, focused venom, never once left Lumira's elegant, imposing form.
And Lumira, with the quiet calm of one who knew she had been written off, buried, and yet still inexplicably lived, finally lifted her gaze from the ground. For the briefest, most electric second, her crystalline eyes met Selene's emerald ones across the stunned courtyard.
A silent, volatile storm passed between them, invisible yet utterly undeniable. Selene's gaze carried the brittle, desperate gleam of a false saint fighting to maintain her illusion.
Lumira's carried the quiet, formidable strength of rebirth, a powerful flame too steady and too strong to ever be extinguished again.
The contest had officially begun.