Liora's Pov.
I stood at the top of the grand staircase, watching the carriage waiting below. My father's decision had been final: I would live in the academy's dorms from now on. A new chapter, he said, a place to cultivate my magic, prepare for greatness. And, of course, I had no choice.
"Liora," he said, stepping closer, his eyes unusually soft. In his hands, he held a delicate chain with a pendant that shimmered in the morning sunlight. "Take this. Always. It's… a reminder. Of me, of home, of… everything I hope for you."
I swallowed hard, feeling the warm thrum of second-hand embarrassment twist in my stomach. Oh, Father… please. His voice cracked slightly as he continued, fumbling over his words in a way he never did in the halls of the palace. It was like watching a man reveal a secret side of himself that was meant only for me—and I was not ready to be the audience.
I forced a polite smile, straightening my posture, and answered shortly, "Thank you, Father." That was enough. Words beyond that would have made me wilt. I didn't hate him—not entirely. Sometimes, yes. But this… this was too much.
The carriage doors opened, and I stepped inside, my hands clutching the hem of my academy uniform skirt. It was neat, simple, and a stark contrast to the extravagance of my royal gowns, yet even here, I could feel the weight of attention. My father reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and I ducked slightly, suppressing another blush.
As we rolled down the driveway, the red carpet was already laid out, knights standing at attention to make sure I had a ceremonious arrival. I waved my hand dismissively. "It's not necessary," I said, though my voice carried none of the irritation I felt—more a quiet resignation. Of course, no one would listen.
The academy gates loomed ahead, and I caught glimpses of the students and faculty gathered to witness the arrival of the newest batch. Whispers and gasps drifted through the morning air, though I barely heard them over the pounding of my own pulse. I knew what they were thinking—everyone always notices. Everyone always stares.
I stepped down from the carriage carefully, letting the knights ensure I touched each step, though I didn't bother acknowledging their bows. I could feel their eyes on me anyway. And then… the sunlight caught my hair.
Long golden locks spilled down my back, glinting like threads of sunlight woven into silk. Green eyes, sharpened by curiosity and caution, scanned the crowd. Every movement I made seemed measured, perfect, polished… because in this world, perfection was expected, even when you didn't want it.
I felt the weight of the academy uniform on my shoulders, simple and practical, but to everyone else it was nothing short of regal. They stared. Whispered. Marveled. And I could feel it—the admiration, the envy, the quiet awe. It made my stomach twist, but I didn't flinch. I smiled faintly, just enough to acknowledge their attention, but no more.
The red carpet led me straight into the courtyard, and for a moment, I let myself simply be seen. I wasn't at the palace anymore, and yet the world seemed just as vast, just as suffocating. I inhaled slowly, letting the crisp morning air fill my lungs, and reminded myself: this was my new life. I had no choice, but… I could survive it.
And somewhere beneath all the formality, the weight, and the expectations, I wondered… what awaited me here?
The hall stretched before me like a cathedral of magic and knowledge. Light spilled through tall windows, reflecting off polished floors and gilded edges, illuminating the names of students carved neatly onto the enormous board at the center. I stepped forward cautiously, my heart racing—not from nerves, but anticipation.
A hush fell over the hall as I approached, and everyone instinctively parted, creating a path just for me. I tried to ignore it, even as I felt dozens of eyes on my back. Focus, I told myself. This is just another part of life. Another… expectation.
I reached the board and scanned the names carefully, my fingers brushing lightly over the carved letters. There it was: Liora. Beneath my name, in bold golden letters, it read: Star Class.
A thrill shot through me. Star Class—those were the students who worked with the sharpest minds, the ones who could bend magic in ways ordinary students couldn't. Finally, I would be among those who could challenge me, who could match my abilities. My chest swelled with quiet pride, but only for a moment. Pride was dangerous, fleeting.
I turned to leave the board, ready to find my classroom and start this new chapter, when I caught snippets of conversation behind me. At first, I didn't pay attention—students always whispered—but a few words made me freeze.
"…cursed… princess…"
"…Una… an Oath…"
"…no one wants to be her classmate…"
I spun around, my green eyes narrowing. The group of students huddled together, faces flushed with excitement or malice, gossiping freely. They were pointing at a name, murmuring, laughing quietly. Una.
A chill ran through me—not fear, exactly, but sadness. My stomach tightened in a way I couldn't ignore. I had heard rumors about the cursed princess before, whispers circulating through the kingdom, but to hear it here, in the academy, made it all the more real. To see the cruelty on their faces, the way they judged someone they hadn't met, it made my chest ache.
How can they be so heartless? I thought, clenching my fists lightly. They didn't understand. They wouldn't understand what it felt like to carry a burden that wasn't yours, to be treated as something lesser because of fate, magic, or expectation.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my composure back into place. I would not join in their laughter. I would not let them dictate how I felt about someone I had never met. My mind had already made its decision. I would meet this Una.
The whispers faded behind me as I turned away from the board, my heart heavy but my resolve steady. I'll find her. I need to see for myself. There's something… different about her.
Even as the hall returned to its usual chatter, I walked forward with quiet determination. The world around me could be cruel, but I would not let it dictate my choices. And somewhere deep down, I felt it—the pull of something unfamiliar, something dangerous, waiting for me.
The bell rang sharply through the corridors, echoing off the high stone walls, and a wave of energy swept through the students. Everyone hurried toward the main hall, chattering excitedly, their voices mixing into a single hum of anticipation. I adjusted my uniform neatly and followed the crowd, careful not to get jostled but still aware of the eyes lingering on me. Of course, everyone noticed me. They always did.
The hall itself was enormous, a vaulted space lined with tall windows that let in streams of sunlight, and rows of polished wooden benches stretched as far as I could see. Students were filing in, talking in clusters, taking their seats in neat, ordered lines. I found a place near the middle, letting the crowd guide me rather than choosing it myself. There was a strange thrill in seeing the academy alive, bustling with the kind of energy that promised both challenge and danger.
Finally, silence fell as a tall, sharp-featured man stepped onto the stage. He wore the long, ceremonial robes of a principal, and a golden emblem of the academy glimmered on his chest.
"Good morning, students," he said, his voice carrying across the hall with ease. "Welcome to the Academy of Arcanum. Congratulations to each of you for passing the rigorous entrance examinations and earning your place here. You are the most promising young magic users of your generation."
Polite applause rippled through the hall, and I joined it, though part of me barely registered the words. I had passed the entrance exam, yes, but that was expected. Excellence was expected of me, no matter the cost.
Principal Jay continued, outlining the rules, the curriculum, the daily schedules, and the privileges and responsibilities of academy life. His speech was measured, formal, and commanding, yet I couldn't stop my mind from wandering. I scanned the students, noting faces, noting the murmurs. Everyone looked… alive. Full of excitement or fear, confidence or nerves. It was strange, yet invigorating, to be in the same space with so many gifted minds.
And then… my father's world collided with mine.
"Among you," Principal Jay continued, "are several of the kingdom's royals. Two in particular deserve mention. The most respected, of course, is Princess Liora of the House of Solaria."
My breath caught. The spotlight swept toward me. I stepped forward instinctively, smoothing my uniform and holding my head high, forcing the practiced smile that everyone expected. The hall erupted into applause, some polite, some genuine awe, and I gave a small nod, bowing lightly before retreating to my seat.
I felt the weight of their eyes on me as the applause faded, and my ears perked up again when Principal Jay spoke.
"The second most respected royal among you is… Princess Una of House Noctaris."
A chill ran through me. The hall went silent. A different kind of silence—tense, wary, cautious. Unlike before, no applause, no cheers, just a hushed murmur that seemed to tremble at the name alone.
And then I saw her.
Una.
She was seated beside me now—or perhaps I had only just noticed her. The same girl from the fountain at the royal ball. Dark, long hair cascading over her shoulders, skin pale under the sunlight streaming through the windows, eyes sharp and cold. Her presence radiated an unnatural stillness, like the air itself dared not disturb her.
And then she spoke. A low, calm voice, almost whispering, yet sharp enough to slice through my attention.
"Stay away from me," she said, not looking at me directly. "I'm… a monster."
Her words were cold, precise, and somehow final. My chest tightened, but before I could even respond, Principal Jay concluded the speech, and the students began filing out of the hall.
Una moved silently, almost gliding across the floor, leaving my side before I could gather my thoughts. Everyone else followed the crowd, chattering again, but I stayed where I was, my gaze fixed on her retreating figure. Something about her unsettled me, drew me in, made my curiosity burn brighter than the pride or expectations I had felt before.
I rose from my seat, my uniform brushing softly against my thighs. I wanted to follow her, to ask her about her words, about the coldness in her eyes—but Principal Jay's voice cut through my thoughts.
"Princess Liora," he said, walking toward me, his tone formal but tinged with caution, "I suggest you do not speak to her. Do not touch her. She is… dangerous."
I blinked at him. "Why?" I asked, my curiosity sharper than any politeness I could muster.
He shook his head. "Some things are better left unexplored. Your concern is unnecessary."
I frowned, unsatisfied. My green eyes followed Una's shadow as it slipped through the doors. Unnecessary? My chest tightened, and a quiet determination formed in the pit of my stomach. If Principal Jay refused to tell me, then I would find the answer myself.
Something about her—the way she carried herself, the way the students reacted, the weight in her silence—made it impossible to ignore. I couldn't explain it yet. I didn't even know what it was. But I knew one thing: I had to see her again.