The carriage smells like hay and sweat and the girl across from him keeps reapplying perfume every five minutes.
Valandor Grimnir presses his forehead against the window glass. Fields. Farms. Villages with people living their small lives. Seventeen years in this world and he still can't get over how simple everything is. How quiet.
"Are you even listening?"
He turns. The girl—Mira, his parents arranged for her family to share the carriage—stares at him.
"No."
Her mouth opens. Closes. "You're so rude."
"I'm honest."
She huffs and whispers to her friend loud enough for him to hear: "His family's nobody. I don't know why my parents made me do this."
Valandor looks back out the window.
She's right. His family is nobody. That's the point. That's exactly what he wanted when he opened his eyes seventeen years ago. Nobody. Normal. Invisible.
"I heard the Vexis family runs everything," Mira's friend says, leaning forward like she's sharing state secrets. "Like, everything. The headmaster answers to them. The teachers are all hired by them. If you want to succeed here, you need to be on their good side."
"My cousin knows Selene Vexis," Mira says, and her voice changes—softer, awed. "He says she's the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. And her brother Dante is supposed to be the strongest fire mage in our generation."
The Vexis family. He's heard the name before. In town, at market, from his parents' whispered conversations when they thought he couldn't hear. The Vexis family owns half the kingdom. The Vexis family has produced more great mages than any bloodline in history. The Vexis family is–.
The academy rises from the valley. White stone spires. Walls covered in enchantments he can feel from here—wards, alarms, something older underneath. Students stream toward the gates from every direction. Carriages with family crests. Wagons piled with trunks. Kids on foot with nothing.
Valandor watches and feels nothing.
Through the gates, he catches glimpses of the training grounds. Students practicing. A boy sends a fireball across the field—it explodes against a target. Another raises a wall of earth, then dissolves it. Two girls duel with ice and wind, their elements crackling against each other. The magic here is different from his old world. Flashier. More elemental. Less subtle. He catalogs it all, stores it away.
The carriage stops. The driver's voice cuts through: "Everyone out. Welcome to Velmire."
---
The registration hall is packed.
Hundreds of students. Teachers shouting. Families crying. Some kid in the corner throwing up into a plant.
Valandor finds a wall and leans against it.
He watches.
That's what he does. Watch and wait and stay invisible. Seventeen years and he's never once used power where anyone could see. Never healed faster than normal. Never moved quicker than a regular boy.
His parents think he's quiet.
His neighbors think he's strange.
"First years! Line up for testing!"
He follows the crowd.
The testing area has crystals on a long table. Different colors. A tired teacher sits behind it, marking names.
Student after student touches the crystals. Most glow one color—red for fire, blue for water, green for earth, white for air. Some glow two. The teacher makes notes, waves them on.
A big kid steps up. Red hair. Built like he's spent years lifting things.
"Name?"
"Torvin Embervein."
"Hand on the blue one."
Torvin touches it. The crystal glows bright red—then flickers, then *cracks*. A line runs straight through the middle.
The teacher stares. "That's... never mind. Step aside. You're fire. Strong fire."
Torvin grins. "Sorry."
"Next."
The line moves. Valandor watches, cataloging.
Then she steps up.
Light blonde hair which look half white in daylight. ice blue eyes that catch the light. She moves quiet—too quiet, like she's practiced making no sound.
"Name?"
"Lythandria Aethes."
The teacher glances up. "Long name. Hand on the blue one."
She touches it. The crystal glows ice blue—cold blue, the kind that makes the air around it frost over. For a second, the frost spreads. Then she pulls her hand back and it stops.
The teacher blinks. "Ice affinity. Strong. Step aside."
Lythandria nods. Moves away.
Valandor watches her go.
"Next!"
He steps forward.
"Name?"
"Valandor Grimnir."
The teacher gestures. "Hand on the blue one."
Valandor reaches out. Touches the crystal.
Nothing happens.
The teacher frowns. Taps it. "Try again."
He touches it again. Pale gray. Barely visible. The color of absence.
The teacher stares. "Nothing affinity. That's... rare. Means you'll struggle with elemental and any other magic. Step aside."
Valandor steps aside.
*Nothing affinity.*
---
His room is small, but still bigger than the one he had in his parents' house. Single bed, desk, window overlooking the courtyard. Private rooms—standard for first years. He unpacks nothing because he brought nothing.
There's a book on the desk. Academy handbook. He flips through it, then sets it down.
A knock.
He opens the door. Three boys stand there. The big redhead from testing. A skinny nervous one. A quiet one with empty eyes.
"I'm Torvin Embervein," the redhead says. "This is Jace, that's Petir. We're your neighbors. Figured we'd introduce ourselves."
Valandor looks at them.
Torvin waits. Jace fidgets. Petir watches him back—assessing, like he's doing the same thing Valandor does.
"Valandor," he says.
"Nice to meet you in person." Torvin leans against the doorframe. "Saw your test. Nothing affinity, right? That's rough."
"It's fine."
"Sure it is." Torvin glances back at the others. "We're heading to the feast hall. You coming?"
Valandor considers. Declining would draw attention. Attention is bad.
"Sure."
---
The feast hall is loud.
Long tables. Floating candles. Students packed together, eating, shouting, laughing. Teachers at a raised table watching like hawks.
Valandor sits at the edge of a table near the back. Torvin beside him, Jace across, Petir at the end silent.
He scans the crowd.
The Vexis table is front and center. He recognizes them from the way others look at them—fear, awe, envy. Dante Vexis has red hair, red eyes, laughs too loud. Selene Vexis sits beside him, white hair, blue eyes, watching everything with cold calculation. Their father, Lord Malachai, sits at the head, observing everything.
Valandor looks away.
Dangerous. All of them.
"Hey." Torvin nudges him. "See that guy? Dante Vexis. Heard he's the strongest fire mage in our year."
Valandor says nothing.
"Probably wants to fight everyone. Guys like that always do, don't you think?"
Across the hall, Dante's voice rises. He's noticed Torvin—or rather, noticed another fire mage. Someone who might challenge him.
"YOU!" Dante stands, pointing. "Red hair. You're the one who broke the testing crystal."
Torvin tenses. "Maybe."
Dante grins. Walks over. His friends follow.
"Torvin Embervein." Dante stops at their table. "I heard you're strong. Want to prove it?"
Torvin stands. "I don't want any trouble."
"Too late for that." Dante's hands flicker with flame and evil smile on his face. "Fight me. Right now. Let's see who's stronger."
The hall quiets. Students turn to watch.
Torvin's fists clench. He wants to. Valandor can see it. But he also knows—fighting a Vexis on day one is stupid thing.
"SIT DOWN, DANTE!"
Selene's voice cuts through like ice. She hasn't moved from her seat, but her eyes are fixed on her brother. Cold. Commanding.
Dante's flame flickers out. He turns. "Selene—"
"I said sit down. Father is watching."
Dante glances at the head table. Lord Malachai's eyes are on him. Expressionless. Waiting.
Dante's jaw tightens. He looks back at Torvin. "I'll see you Later." Then he walks away.
Selene's eyes sweep the room—and for a second, they land on Valandor.
Just a second. Then she looks away.
Valandor files that away.
Torvin looks at valandor with confused or maybe surprise. "You didn't even flinch. Whole time. Just sat there."
"Wasn't my fight."
"Yeah, but still." Torvin shakes his head. "Most people would've at least looked nervous."
Valandor picks up his cup. Drinks. Says nothing.
Torvin watches him for a second, then turns back to his food.
Valandor don't have to respond. He's just watching Selene. and She's watching the room. Calculating. Assessing. Just like him.
*Interesting.*
---
Later, back in his room, Valandor sits on his bed and thinks.
The Vexis family controls this academy. Dante is aggressive, predictable. Selene is cold, observant—dangerous in a different way. Lord Malachai is something else entirely. Something weird, Valandor couldn't sense his mana, just as he does when he deliberately hides it while he's alone.
And then there was that moment in testing. The girl with blue eyes. Lythandria. When she touched the crystal, the frost spread farther than it should have. She pulled back fast—too fast, like she was deliberately hiding something.
He reaches for the academy handbook to read the rules—
Something on the floor catches his eye—the bottom gap of the door. A single strand of white hair glints in the corridor light, half inside his room
He picks it up. Holds it to the moonlight.
White hair. Like Selene Vexis. Perhaps?
But why would she come to his door? He's nobody to her.
Unless she wasn't the one who left it.
He opens the handbook, presses the hair between two pages near the back, and closes it. Places it on the desk like nothing happened.
*Someone was here. Watching me?*
*Selene? Maybe. But if it was her, why?*
*And if it wasn't her... then who else has white hair in this academy?*
He lies down. Stares at the ceiling.
Seventeen years of hiding. One day at the academy, and already someone is suspect about him? He doesn't care. One day his act will be exposed anyway. All he wants is a peaceful life—and anyone who tries to pry into it will die anyway.
*Who else is watching me?*
*And what do they want?*