I joined my brothers in attending their school for the very first time. The carriages lined up like jeweled beasts outside the palace gates, each one carrying a different heir of the Kaururse bloodline. Labyrinth and I shared one carriage. Phynyx and Sapphire rode together in another, while Blinx—aloof, untouchable, untamed—rode alone in his gilded black carriage, the kind that screamed authority.
The road stretched like fate itself, leading me into a world I wasn't certain I belonged to. As we approached the gates, my mind churned through every memory, every shadow of doubt. What exactly was I going to do here? The Arcane Crucible was not merely a school—it was a crucible where greatness was smelted and legends were born. People here were defined by their gifts, by the forces they had mastered, by the divine fire they carried in their veins. But me? I was nothing. A hollow. A void. Was there a section for outcasts like me? Or was I already condemned to failure before I'd even stepped inside?
For a moment, my eyes brightened at the faint, impossible thought of belonging.
"Daydreaming, huh?" Labyrinth's voice cut through my thoughts.
He leaned closer, his raven-dark eyes piercing through the thin veil of confidence I wore. He tilted my chin upward and studied me, his gaze heavy, dissecting, like he could see past the flesh into my fractured soul. I broke eye contact quickly, the weight of his gaze unbearable. He cared for me, more than anyone else—but even his care wasn't enough to stitch together the hollowness inside me.
I turned to the carriage window with a sigh.
The gates loomed before us—massive, wrought with ancient sigils and flowing with celestial energy. They opened on their own, groaning like titans awakening from a thousand-year slumber.
"Whoa," I whispered, awestruck.
"It's not as fun as you think, Azhurla," Labyrinth muttered flatly. His words carried weight I didn't yet understand, and for him—oh, it was truer than I could imagine.
---
When we dismounted the carriage, I stayed close behind Labyrinth. But then the crowd came—like a tidal wave of bodies, voices, gifts, perfumes. A screaming horde of girls and boys surged toward him, their devotion frantic and maddening. In seconds, they smothered him in gifts, kisses, flowers, parchments of love—worshiping him as if he were a god descended from the stars.
"All right, ladies—" Labyrinth said with that bold, mischievous smile, my ten-year-old brother commanding a legion of admirers like a seasoned general.
"This is my baby sister, Azhurla." He winked at me, throwing me under the spotlight I wasn't prepared for. Compared to him, I was nothing—he was a sabretooth tiger, untouchable and radiant, while I was nothing more than a quiet mouse trembling in the corner.
"Treat her well, and you'll get a reward," he declared.
The girls erupted in squeals of joy, then swarmed me. They carried me away like prey in the arms of predators, but instead of claws, they used ribbons and magic. Within moments, I was dressed in a beautiful skirt and shirt, glowing loafers, and knee-high socks. My hair shimmered beneath the sunlight, styled by their enchanted hands. For a brief, stolen moment, I felt like a princess—like the daughter of a king should.
But even that dream fractured quickly.
They only cared for me when Labyrinth was near. Without his presence, I was discarded, ignored, invisible. Their attention was an illusion, their smiles masks. And I was still alone.
---
Days passed. Two weeks slipped by, and my brothers never once treated me like one of them. Phynyx and Sapphire didn't speak to me, though their sharp glances followed me from time to time. Blinx… Blinx was a phantom. Though I hadn't seen him once, his shadow lingered everywhere. He was the President of the Student Council, the Student Advisor to the High Council of Elders—already a legend within the school. A prodigy who barely acknowledged my existence. He wasn't even the first son, Phynyx was, yet he was worshiped beyond my understanding, even my father listened to his words, something he'd never do to me.
Classes were worse. I didn't belong anywhere. The witches brewed potions, weaving magic with sparks and chants. The warriors trained with fire, lightning, steel, and blood. The scholars bent time and matter into equations of chaos and balance. But me? Every potion I touched fizzled into nothing. Every spellbook rejected me. Every teacher frowned when they saw me in their class, labeling me the disappointment.
I laughed bitterly to myself one day. "Useless," they called me. Perhaps they were right.
That's when I heard his voice.
"Maybe you should stop."
I turned, clutching my locker for support.
Blinx.
He stood with his back to me, tall, severe, untouchable. His brown hair caught the dim light of the corridor, but his presence was darker than shadows.
"I'll tell Father," he said coldly. "You should remain imprisoned in a dungeon. The tower was too merciful for you. You don't belong here. You never did."
His words cut like glass into my chest.
"You're an outcast, Azhurla. I can't even say your name without feeling disgust. I can't look at you."
Then he walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hollow corridor like hammers pounding nails into a coffin.
A sharp pain shot through my chest—I fell to my knees. Tears spilled, blinding me. The ache wasn't just emotional—it was physical, like spears driving deeper into my heart. I clawed at my chest, desperate to rip the agony out, but it was no use. This pain was Blinx. This rejection was my curse.
---
I wandered the school aimlessly after that, hollow and weak.
I peeked into Labyrinth's class—he was laughing, flirting, pushing away girls who hung on his every word. Phynyx glanced at me when I passed his dorm but quickly turned away. Sapphire… Sapphire found me first.
"Boo."
His whisper crackled against my ear. My body stiffened, electrified. I turned—he grabbed my wrist, dragging me through the labyrinthine halls and into the library, weaving between towering shelves that stretched like endless cathedrals of knowledge.
"Since you don't want to be useless," Sapphire sneered, "maybe you should try being a Metahuman. Not entirely human, not entirely divine. At least then you'd have… something useful."
Tears blurred my vision. His words weren't encouragement—they were venom disguised as jest.
"Don't take it personally," he continued with a smirk. "I just don't want to be identified as siblings with an outcast."
Before I could respond, a crowd of his admirers rushed in, chanting his name—"Sapphire! Sapphire!"
He shoved me behind a shelf, and with a cruel snap of his fingers, my body turned to cold, gleaming gold. A statue.
Frozen. Forgotten.
He walked away with his crowd, basking in their worship. Only when he reached the library doors did he snap his fingers again.
I crumpled to the ground, the aftereffects of the transmutation leaving my limbs weak and trembling. My tears came uncontrollably, spilling onto the marble floor. The headache pounded my skull like miners chipping at stone, but there were no gems to find. No worth inside me. Just emptiness.
I staggered against a shelf, my shoulder aching violently. Reaching out for support, my hand pressed against a thick, dusty tome. The book shifted beneath my palm.
And then the floor opened.
I plummeted downward, swallowed by darkness.
It was silent. Pitch black. For a terrifying moment, I thought I was dead.
Then I felt it—fingers, sharp and desperate, clawing into my injured shoulder.
"Help…" I whispered, voice cracking, tears trailing down my cheeks.