Each turn of the axle clicked into rhythm with the hooves ahead, a slow, reliable beat that kept my thoughts from drifting too far. The air smelled like last night's rain, wet moss, damp bark, and the faint electric whisper of a storm that had already passed. A warm breeze tugged at the edge of the canvas flap behind me, brushing against my cheek before it pulled away, carrying the soft scent of pine and char.
I sat curled in the corner of the bench, one knee pulled close, my senses spread out like a net. Mana pulsed around me in soft, familiar currents—each person a distinct hum of presence and weight.
Fay was to my left, legs swinging lazily over the side. Her aura sparkled faintly at the edges, the way it always did when she was trying not to look bored. Alven was across from her, blade in hand, sharpening something he'd already sharpened ten times. Rōko was slouched back-to-back with William, half-asleep, though William's buzz of excitement hadn't dimmed in the last hour. He was monologuing again—something about Seventh Æra sword styles and their deep-rooted spiritual theory. I only half-listened.
And next to me, her mana folded like silk under heat, was Salem.
Her thigh pressed against mine. Warm, steady. Her aura brushed mine now and then, quiet and unhurried, like she knew exactly what she was doing and enjoyed how aware I was of it.
Ahead of us, one of the Ætherbound walked beside the wagon, the familiar ripple of his mana marking him before he even spoke. Confident, easy, unshielded in that cocky way that made him too hard to hate.
"Julius," I called, tilting my head slightly. "I didn't pay anywhere near enough attention during the Ætherbound announcement. I barely know half of you."
His step slowed slightly—just enough for his mana to ease closer to the wagon, warm and familiar, like the buzz of laughter waiting to happen.
"Well maybe," he said, mock-dramatic, "you shouldn't have tackled me through a portal just to say hello."
I smirked. "Too bad I missed you. Next time I'll give you the cold shoulder instead. Since we're not even on the same squad anyway."
"Oh, the cruelty. You wound me. Almost as bad as Kate."
"Kate's worse," William muttered from behind Rōko. "No one brings psychological damage like Kate."
Fay gave an exaggerated sigh beside me. "Honestly, I still can't believe you didn't pay attention, Annabel. It was probably the most important announcement of the last decade."
I shrugged one shoulder. "I'm more powerful than some of the Ætherbound anyway."
That earned me a collective ooh from the group.
"I'd deny that," Julius said, chuckling, "but some of them are squishy."
"I'm serious," I added, stretching my mana senses outward again, tracing the outlines of the ones ahead. "Most of them are strong, no doubt—but me, Salem, and Rōko? I think we'd hold our ground."
Fay gasped in mock horror. "Thanks for excluding us weaklings," she said with a dramatic sniff. "Truly a humbling experience."
"Not weak," I said innocently. "Just… average."
"You're the worst," Fay mumbled, but I could feel her grin.
Julius stepped in again, voice low and teasing. "So… did your mother say anything this morning?"
My brow furrowed. "About what?"
"You and Salem," he said casually. "She totally knew something happened last night, didn't she?"
I froze. "That is none of your business what I do with Salem."
"Whoa," William laughed. "That was immediate panic."
"I just meant…" I started, then stopped. "We didn't do anything! We just—"
"They so kissed the entire night," Rōko said, deadpan, cutting over me like a knife.
"We did not!" I barked. Then quieter, to myself, "Maybe. Once. Or… twice."
Salem said nothing, but her aura pulsed with that gentle heat again, brushing my shoulder like a secret. Smug.
I slumped back in defeat.
Then, another presence.
A heavier one.
Lumos.
I felt him before I even sensed him. His mana pressed against the world like a held breath, dense, focused, so heavy it made the air tighten. He drifted to the side of the wagon, his presence slowing to match our pace.
"Annabel," he said evenly, his voice like steel over water. "Care for a quick spar?"
I rolled my eyes behind the blindfold and let out a short laugh. "Absolutely not. I'd lose in seconds. And you know it."
"Aww. Come on."
"You're way too cocky about this," I shot back. "You might be the second strongest on the continent, sure. But Lincoln would still wipe the floor with you."
I paused, leaned into the heat of Salem beside me, then added, "And in a couple years? So will I."
Lumos actually laughed. It was short and sharp—like he didn't do it often enough.
"You're right about Lincoln," he said, slowing further as his voice turned thoughtful. "He terrifies me. And you…" His mana shifted, nodding without moving. "I'll spar you in a few years, then. See if you've caught up."
Without waiting for a reply, he jogged forward again, returning to the head of the procession.
The wagon erupted with laughter.
"I feel bad for you, Alven," Fay said, reaching across to pat his shoulder. "Your brother really does think he's the best."
"He kind of is," Alven muttered. "Unfortunately."
"He has to act that way," Rōko added, voice still thick with sleep. "It's part of the brand."
Their voices blurred together in bursts of comfort and teasing. We were a mess. But we were a whole mess.
The road turned beneath us again, stone beneath wood, dry this time. The last curve.
I felt it before we even reached the top of the rise.
A sharp, vertical pulse. Cold. Massive. Ancient.
The gates.
The Tri-Continental Academy surged in my senses like a memory wrapped in spells. Mana screamed across its wards in elegant, looping knots—barriers, shields, memories. The air was thinner here. Denser. Hungrier.
We'd arrived.
And nothing would be the same again.
The wagon jolted to a stop at the base of the Academy's inner courtyard. Rain-damp stone breathed cool air up at me, and the ward-lines in the walls thrummed like distant bells. I followed the pulse of Salem's mana down from the bench, the others spilling out beside us in a loose cluster of footfalls and nervous laughter.
Above, three distinct auras flared on the grand balcony, one broad and warm, one lilting and bright as spring sap, and one compact, dense, and ringing like struck iron. The Magisters.
A hush rippled through the gathered crowd.
Magister Rhane's baritone reached us first, steady as a drawn blade.
"Students, Ætherbound, guests: as of today the Ætherbound will work alongside this Academy. We remain a citadel for prodigies and the strongest noble lines; if our continents are to stay safe, we must train together—learn together—and grow stronger together."
Magister Eleris's voice followed, light but fierce, every word edged with ancient elven poise.
"Squads of five will be formed: three students, two Ætherbound. Fourteen Ætherbound stand ready. Malenia has been stood down until she is prepared. That leaves space for twenty-one students courageous enough to face devils at our side."
Magister Thrain finished the chord, his gravelly dwarf timbre rumbling through my ribs.
"One squad is already confirmed. It will be led by second-year Annabel Valor…aye, the blind prodigy we all know. Her teammates: Ætherbounds Lirael and Raphos, plus students Rōko and Fay. Bond-spirits do not count toward the five, so they may join as needed."
A ripple of whispers, a few impressed whistles. I felt heat creep up my neck.
Rhane took the floor again.
"Spend today learning one another's strengths, mana resonance, weapon style, temperament. Ætherbound: there is as much to learn from these halls as to teach. Students: seize this chance. By nightfall tomorrow, bring your squad lists to us. Training details will follow. For now—eat, speak, test one another. Tomorrow, the hard part begins."
A clap of resonant magic sealed the decree. Conversation exploded around us.
⸻
I turned toward Julius's easy pulse beside the wagon. "Go charm yourself a squad, Julius. Your silver tongue will be popular—maybe you'll even find a nice girl."
He laughed, the sound dancing through his aura. "Annabel, this is my afternoon every day, convincing half the aristocracy to fund the king's defenses. Trust me, I'm an elf who knows his way with words."
"Try a little humility while you're at it," I shot back.
He swept a playful bow I could only feel as a swirl of mana, then melted into the crowd.
I made for a bench beneath the balcony's stone overhang. Salem's quiet warmth slid in at my right; Fay flopped down on my left, feet dangling. Rōko dropped cross-legged at our boots, humming in that half-awake way. Opposite us a calm, cool glow announced Lirael, soft, almost diffused, yet undeniably strong. The five of us.
Rōko cracked an eye. "Stupid Ætherbound chimera shouldn't be late. Only one of his kind on the continent—ought to make an entrance on time."
Lirael's laugh chimed like glass. "Bold, coming from the girl who slept through half the coronation feast, and stole the king's sweetbreads, if rumor serves. Rōko, yes?"
Rōko grunted and pretended to focus on her shoelace.
A moment later the courtyard's ambient mana bowed outward, as if making room for a mountain. The newcomer's aura was huge—layered with beast-strength and something older, stitched together water and fire mana.
Heavy footsteps. A voice like rolling gravel.
"What's this? My whole squad's a bunch of girls? Did I sign up for a harem?"
I pushed to my feet, hand outstretched. My fingertips met a palm the size of a dinner plate. "You sure are a giant," I said, grinning.
"Stand proud at seven-five," he rumbled. "Name's Raphos."
"Annabel," I returned. "This is Rōko, Fay, and Salem, and of course you know Lirael."
"I do," he said. "She's the quiet one."
Fay piped up, laughter fizzing in her mana. "For the record, we're all under five-eight, Mr Giant."
"Good," Raphos replied. "Easier to toss you clear when devils swing for your heads."
Salem's low chuckle vibrated next to me. Rōko only muttered something about "show-offs."
I felt the six of us settle, our auras overlapping, testing shapes, fitting together like mismatched puzzle pieces that somehow clicked.
"Right," I said, letting my mana flare just enough to be felt. "Squad Valor is assembled. Tomorrow, we sweat. Tonight?" I tilted my head toward the open quad where food tents were rising and spar dummies already thudded under eager fists. "We meet the competition."
Raphos cracked his knuckles. "Let's get to work."
Salem's hand slipped into mine—steady, grounding.
And for the first time since the wagon wheels started turning this morning, I let myself breathe in the rain-damp air and feel something close to excitement.
Tomorrow, the hard part begins.
We didn't get far before I felt Raphos's heavy mana pulse thump behind us like a war drum.
"I'll scare off the weaklings," he said, his voice halfway between smug and thrilled. "Anyone still standing after a good roar? Devil material, obviously."
Fay snorted. "Good luck. We'll be right here, comparing spell types like real nerds."
Lirael, calm as always, added, "We'll be productive. You three can go… socialize."
"Was that sarcasm?" Rōko muttered under her breath as we walked off. "I can never tell with her."
"She just speaks in whispers," Salem replied dryly, and I felt the outline of Rōko's amused smirk twitch beside me.
We slipped into the current of conversation and unfamiliar mana, weaving past clumps of students and Ætherbound alike—most of them bright and pulsing with some level of pride. A few burned too hot. Most buzzed with anticipation. And a couple with hate and trauma, wonder what thats all about.
And then I felt them.
Ahead: a sharp, earthy density like moss crushed under a boot, vines curling around bone. The dwarven Ætherbound from the announcement. Thorkell Bloodforge, plant magic.
Next to him, a completely different rhythm, a swirl of opposites in perfect cadence. Fire, hot and reckless. Lightning, erratic and clean. Water, smooth and cold. And ice, sharp and steady. I didn't feel any gaps between them. They moved like clockwork.
Elf. Woman. Fëanor Einar.
I adjusted the weight of my cloak and stepped toward them.
"Hi," I said, lifting my chin slightly. "Annabel Valor. These are Salem and Rōko. We're part of the new squad program."
There was a beat, then the dwarf let out a belly-laugh that practically shook the floor.
"Well, I'll be stuffed and sprouting! The three devil-realm survivors. Seen your names float all over the southern reports. And here you are, all bones and boldness."
"More boldness than bones, I think," Rōko mumbled beside me.
Fëanor's voice was softer. Smooth. "Nice to meet you properly. Stories don't quite do the three of you justice."
I smiled. "We had help. If it weren't for Lumos dragging us out, we'd be halfway digested."
Salem made a small noise beside me, low and amused.
Thorkell grunted. "Still. Making it out of the devil realm? That's a feat most of us wouldn't survive."
"It's especially good," Fëanor added gently, "to see a demon like you" her mana dipped warmly toward Salem, "—fighting on our side. That doesn't go unnoticed."
Salem shifted beside me, quiet. Her pulse was steady, but I could tell her silence meant something.
"She's saved my life more times than I can count," I said firmly. "Demon or not."
Fëanor nodded. "Loyalty like that's rare. Treasure it."
There was a pause. Then I turned slightly, tilting my head in curiosity. "You've got four affinities. I didn't catch that during the announcement."
"You were busy teasing Julius," Salem said quietly.
"Untrue," I said. "I was also listening."
"Poorly," Rōko said under her breath.
Fëanor laughed. "It's alright. Four affinities—fire, water and ice by birth, lighting through a scroll. I'm currently ranked second in the Ætherbound, under Lumos."
"Don't let her nice act fool you, she's a battle addict, turns into a different person when she finds the right opponents," Thorkell said proudly."
"And you?" I asked Thorkell.
"Sixth," he replied with a little bow. "Not bad for a rock-footed shrub farmer."
"You don't feel like a shrub," I said. "Your mana's… grounded. Massive."
"Why thank you, Miss Prodigy." He chuckled. "And you? Seven affinities, right? Heard whispers."
I nodded. "Born with six. Picked up my seventh in the metal scroll tournament."
Their mana signatures pulsed—definitely impressed.
Fëanor let out a slow exhale. "Seven. You're creeping into Lincoln territory with that."
"Just without the godlike control," I muttered.
"It's no wonder they gave you a squad," Thorkell added. "Hells, you might have more raw range than some of us Ætherbound."
I shrugged slightly. "I've got good teammates. Hopefully that counts for something."
Fëanor's tone softened. "It will. Just remember: control, restraint, trust. That's what separates power from danger."
I dipped my head in thanks. "We'll let you two meet more of the others. Good luck with squad picks."
"A pleasure," Fëanor said.
"Don't die too quick," Thorkell called after us with a grin in his voice.
"Same to you, shrub-foot," Rōko fired back.
We turned away, the three of us slipping again into the sea of mana and mingling conversation.
More people to meet. More alliances to spark.
And I was starting to feel the weight of leadership settle onto my shoulders.
Not heavy.
Just real.
We were cutting through the courtyard when I caught Alven's pulse—quick and nervous, like water trying to stay calm under heavy wind.
He was a few steps ahead, weaving his way toward a mana signature that burned white-hot and rigid. Controlled. Intimidating.
Lumos.
Alven reached him at the edge of a loose gathering. I couldn't hear everything, just enough to catch the stiffness in his voice.
"Lumos," Alven started, "I was thinking, if we're going to be working together—"
"We're not." Lumos's voice was clipped, sharp as shattered glass. "We're not going to be on the same squad, Alven. Stop clinging to me and become your own man."
There was a pause. A silence that spread wide like spilled oil.
Alven didn't respond. His outline dimmed, like he'd pulled in on himself.
My jaw clenched.
I didn't hesitate.
I crossed the space and stopped just beside Lumos, letting my mana push gently into his like a firm shoulder tap. I didn't care how sharp his was. I wasn't backing down.
"You know," I said calmly, "instead of showing off, you could show some compassion. That's your little brother."
Lumos turned his head slightly. His mana crackled, not out of control—but dangerously close to it.
"And you think you're important enough to lecture me, Miss Blind?" His voice lowered. "If you weren't who you are, I'd have punched you through a mountain for that tone."
I exhaled through my nose, unmoved.
"Always the strong nobles," I murmured, "thinking the world belongs to them. And unfortunately for the rest of us, you might actually be right, being second strongest and all."
He didn't speak, but I could feel the twitch of his focus sharpening.
"But even you know," I added, "Lincoln would obliterate you if you so much as touched me. So maybe instead of acting like a flaming egomaniac, just… be better. Especially to your own blood. Nothing's more important than that."
That landed.
I felt a shift, not in his mana, but in the space around us. Other students had stopped. Listening. Watching.
He didn't answer.
Just turned. Walked away with long strides and that blazing power at his back.
"Charming," I muttered.
"Are you okay?" Salem's voice was soft at my side, her hand briefly brushing mine.
I nodded. "Words don't bother me anymore."
They used to.
But not now.
Now I had bigger things to fight than egos.
Heavy footsteps approached from behind, and Raphos's pulse rumbled like a mountain shifting on its haunches.
"Just say the word," he growled. "I'll knock that cocky bastard into the ground. I may be third-in the Ætherbound, but no one matches my raw strength. Not even him."
I turned my face slightly toward him and smiled faintly.
"No need. We'll just prove him wrong the right way."
Salem gave a soft hum of agreement beside me.
"By becoming the best squad in the Academy."