Days drifted by like quiet pages turning.
The routines at Astralis Institute slowly rooted into rhythm. Spellwork in the mornings, theory by noon, elemental drills or meditation by dusk.
For most students, the first week was filled with struggle—learning to shape mana, steady their breath, focus their mind.
But for Celeste, pretending to struggle was more difficult than the training itself.
She kept her mana dim. Her spells weak. Whenever an instructor passed, she'd deliberately miscast or stall, watching others progress around her.
Even when Seraphine demonstrated how to conjure a basic flame sphere using focused will, Celeste's hands only flickered with light—never bursting into what she could truly summon.
Meanwhile, Lyra worked hard to control her erratic but powerful mana. Her light-based magic was vibrant, but wild—glyphs often burst too early or spiraled out of alignment. But she laughed through each mistake, determined to master it.
And then there was Auren Drakaris.
Effortless. Focused. Brilliant.
He was already summoning twin fire glyphs mid-air, merging elemental commands with runes. His spell formations were clean, burning with intensity. In swordsmanship class, he moved like his blade was a part of him—fiery and untamed.
The perfect heir. The perfect fighter.
Celeste didn't look at him. But she always sensed him.
____________
That afternoon, the quiet peace broke.
Celeste was reviewing her half-written glyphs near the courtyard's fountain when a girl came running up the hill toward a cluster of students.
She had soft auburn hair tied in braids, a crest of a lesser-known noble house pinned neatly on her collar. She clutched her notebook and spell-scrolls like her life depended on them.
Her target stood among the crowd—Auren.
"Um—Auren Drakaris?" she called, breathless.
Auren turned, one brow raised. "Yes?"
"I… I was sick the past two days," she said quickly. "I missed the mana compression lessons. I—I was wondering if… you could maybe teach me a bit? I promise I'll work hard."
Celeste glanced up from her notes but didn't move. She was seated a few meters away on a bench under the shade of a blossom tree.
Auren tilted his head. Then smiled.
"Sure," he said with a flash of charm. "I've got some time before sparring class. Let's make fire bend to your will, yeah?"
The girl flushed, thrilled.
Celeste didn't react. She returned her eyes to her scroll.
Auren guided the girl gently—adjusting her hand position, correcting her focus. She managed to summon a faint flame on her second try. Not bad.
She squealed. "It worked! Thank you so much!"
He smirked. "Told you. You've got potential."
Then, his eyes flicked sideways—toward Celeste.
She was still focused on her page, appearing to struggle with a single, half-drawn mana loop.
"Maybe you should watch her," Auren said just loud enough for Celeste to hear. "She actually listens. Unlike some people who've been 'learning' for a week and still haven't figured out a basic spark."
There was a pause.
Celeste looked up briefly. Her eyes met his.
But instead of reacting, she simply closed her scroll, rose silently, and walked away.
Not a word.
Not even a glance back.
The girl laughed awkwardly. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No," Auren muttered, suddenly annoyed. "She's just always like that."
He watched her retreating figure. She didn't even flinch. That calm, dull indifference.
Why did it bother him so much?
___________
Later that afternoon, in the duel yard—
Magic rings shimmered over the dueling arena, golden runes spinning slowly to contain the spells and protect the audience.
Students gathered in a circle as two figures stepped forward onto the platform.
On one side stood Lyra Ellenvale, hair tied back, eyes bright with determination, hands crackling with warm golden light.
Across from her stood Kael Vireon, the shadow-caster, calm and unreadable as ever. Wisps of darkness curled around his boots.
"Initiating student duel," the instructor announced. "Mana-bound. No third-tier spells. Continue until one yields or is disarmed."
Lyra smiled playfully. "Don't hold back, shadow boy."
Kael smirked faintly. "You're the one who should worry. You're practically a lantern."
Above them, the duel ward began to hum.
The match had begun.