The Garden Of?
The Arena of Eyes
The moment I felt the ground shift beneath my boots, I knew I had been moved. One step into the tunnel and everything around me warped—the air tightened, heavy and thick, and then the veil of blinding magic that had wrapped around my vision simply peeled away like smoke dissolving into the sky.
And there I stood.
Blinking hard, my sight adjusted quickly, and what I saw nearly ripped the breath from my chest.
A massive battle arena stretched around me, wide enough to hold an entire village square inside it. I turned slowly, my neck stiff, my body stiff, as if I was afraid even a twitch might draw more attention than I already had. Roughly two hundred… maybe more. That was how many figures filled the space. Boys and girls around my age, some younger, some a little older. All dressed in shining armor or attire far too refined to belong to anyone outside nobility. Silks, enchanted fabrics, steel glinting with runes carved into their edges. They sparkled like stars had been plucked from the sky and draped on shoulders.
And then there was me.
Plain clothes. A sword strapped to my side. A calm face I forced into place even though my stomach felt like it was trying to eat itself.
I could feel it—their eyes. Hundreds of them, heavy, sharp, cutting into me with every glance. Some were quick, almost dismissive, flicking over me like I was nothing more than a pebble on the road. Others lingered, and in those stares I read it all: disgust, pity, mockery, boredom. They didn't need to open their mouths; their eyes already screamed What is he doing here?
But I didn't flinch. I stood tall, spine straight, letting my white hair fall forward across my face before flicking it back with one small shake of my head. Let them stare. Let them measure me with their jeweled eyes.
I wasn't here for them.
Still… I'd be lying if I said it didn't sting.
The arena floor was nothing like the rough dirt back in Tern where my father trained me. No, this was stone, polished yet patterned, carved into swirling shapes that ran across the ground like rivers of stars. Every curve and line felt deliberate, purposeful—like if I traced them long enough, they would lead me to some greater truth I wasn't meant to see yet.
And then there were the pillars.
They rose like silent giants, scattered across the arena in deliberate placements. Thick, towering, their sides etched with vein-like carvings that glowed faintly as though life itself pulsed inside them. Some reminded me of tree bark, others of branching rivers. It was beautiful and unsettling all at once, like the arena itself was alive and watching, just as much as the nobles were.
I dragged my gaze up toward the sky. The sun was beginning its slow descent, the sky shifting into that golden-orange hue that makes everything shimmer. The light struck the pillars, catching on the carved veins and making them glow brighter. The entire place hummed—not in sound, but in feeling, like standing inside the chest of something enormous that was quietly breathing.
A faint rustle behind me drew my attention. Groups of students clustered together, their voices loud, laughter spilling across the arena. They leaned against pillars, spoke in easy tones, some already sparring lightly as if this was a festival and not the beginning of something that could define their futures.
And me? I stood alone.
Of course I did.
I pressed a palm lightly against the strap that held my sword to my hip. The leather felt warm against my skin, grounding me, reminding me that I wasn't here without worth. My father's training. My mother's lessons. The endless hours, the sweat, the bruises, the blood. That was my armor. I didn't need gold thread or enchanted steel to stand here.
Still, every second felt like it stretched longer than the last. Their voices were like waves, crashing into me, pulling me under.
"Who is that?" someone whispered.
"Just a commoner, probably."
"He looks lost."
"He won't last long."
Each word chipped at me, but I forced my expression into stone. They weren't wrong—I was a commoner. But that didn't mean I was weaker.
I tilted my chin up slightly, scanning the edge of the arena where massive gates loomed. Each one was barred for now, but they promised something—trials, challenges, whatever the Academy had planned. I wasn't naive enough to think we were here just to stand around and talk.
Movement above caught my eye. In the audience chamber, five figures stood, instructors by the look of them. Their robes varied in color and design, but all shared one thing: presence. Even at a distance, their eyes were sharp, weighty, as if they could peel the layers off a person just by looking. Their silence was louder than the chatter below, their watchfulness heavier than any armor.
I let out a slow breath, steadying myself.
No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, though, the nobles' presence pressed in on me. I noticed how they gravitated toward each other, forming little clusters like magnets pulling together. Laughing, joking, mocking others who weren't as well-dressed. A few stood alone, sure, but they carried themselves differently—chins up, gazes daring, as if solitude was their choice, not something forced on them.
Me? My solitude was loud, obvious. I knew they saw it.
Still, I didn't move toward anyone. I wasn't here to make friends, not yet. I wasn't here to bow my head to nobles who thought their blood made them brighter.
I was here for myself. For my family. For everything I promised back in Tern.
And so I stood. Silent. Composed. Letting the storm of whispers pass over me.
Minutes blurred into what felt like hours. The glow of the setting sun slid across the arena floor, shadows stretching long between the pillars. My eyes followed those shadows, tracing them like paths leading me deeper into this place, into the unknown of what was about to come.
And then…
I felt it.
A shift in the air. Subtle, but sharp enough to prick the edge of my awareness. I wasn't the only one who noticed—voices dropped, movements slowed, the tide of the crowd shifted like they were all turning toward the same point.
My chest tightened. I didn't look right away, not wanting to feed into their anticipation, but eventually curiosity got the better of me.
And when my gaze finally shifted, I saw her.
At first, it was just silver—like moonlight had woven itself into strands and decided to cascade all the way down to her hips. In a sea of colors, golds and reds and jeweled blues, her silver hair caught the fading light of the sun and bent it, scattering brilliance like she carried dusk itself behind her. My eyes followed it before I even realized I was staring.
She stood at the far side of the arena, close to one of the carved pillars, her posture calm, perfectly balanced, almost regal. Unlike the others, no cluster of noble heirs circled her. No flattering smiles, no chatter, no arrogant attempts at alliance. She stood alone—by choice, or perhaps because no one dared step too close.
And then I saw why.
Her attire was black, tailored for combat yet refined, a fighter's garb sharpened into elegance. It clung lightly at the shoulders, falling with deliberate lines, every stitch whispering of wealth and precision. But what captured me most wasn't the cut of the fabric—it was the emblem sewn across her chest.
Black and gold. A frame of curling vines, their design twisting into delicate patterns, and at the heart of it all, a blazing phoenix spreading its wings in eternal fire.
The Veins.
The Duke's family.
My pulse skipped, then hammered. Oh, shit.
Her emerald eyes—sharp, deep, yet soft like a forest stretching endlessly—lifted in my direction. For a heartbeat, I felt as though those eyes didn't just look at me, they read me, peeled away the outer layers I tried so hard to hold together. My calm composure wavered, only a little, but I forced it back into place.
I swallowed, steady. I wasn't going to give anyone here, not even her, the satisfaction of seeing me break.
The whispers began again. Not about me this time, but about her. I could hear them ripple across the nobles, carried in little bursts of awe, envy, fear.
"The Duke's daughter…"
"She's here too?!"
"Then this year's competition is already decided."
"She looks untouchable."
No one approached her, though. Not a single noble brat who had been puffing their chest out a moment earlier dared to step close. They laughed loudly among themselves, but every so often I caught their eyes flick toward her, quickly pulled away, like moths terrified of burning too close to a flame.
And so she remained alone.
Just like me.
Our solitude was different, though. Mine screamed of exclusion, of being cast aside by bloodlines richer than mine could ever dream to be. Hers… hers radiated power. It wasn't loneliness—it was distance. A deliberate space carved between her and the world, one that no one was brave enough to cross.
But still, we were the only two standing without companions. The commoner and the Duke's daughter.
I tore my eyes away, refusing to linger too long. Let them think what they wanted—that I was scared, that I was beneath her. It didn't matter. I wasn't here to bow to phoenixes or to burn under their fire. (I just don't want to get expelled.)
I exhaled slowly, letting the weight of the moment slide off my shoulders, at least on the surface. My hand brushed against the hilt of my sword again, grounding me. She wasn't my enemy. Not yet.
The arena hummed with noise, but under it all there was this strange stillness, a silent line stretched between me and her, like we were two points on opposite sides of a circle, tied by nothing more than circumstance and the fact that we both stood apart.
The sun slid lower, golden rays painting long shadows across the patterned floor. They touched the pillars, making the vein-like carvings glow brighter, pulsing like roots carrying life. The starry design beneath my boots seemed to shift faintly under the light, as if the ground itself was waiting, watching, breathing with us.
I could feel it—that pressure again, subtle but undeniable. The Academy wasn't just a place of stone and rules. It was alive in ways most people here probably couldn't sense. My skin prickled, my aether stirring unconsciously, but I kept my expression steady, my breathing calm.
Don't draw attention. Don't let them see.
Her eyes left me then, drifting back toward the center of the arena, but the echo of her gaze lingered.
I wondered if she saw the same thing in me that I saw in her. A shadow set apart from the crowd, a figure they didn't understand and didn't dare approach. For me, it was blood. For her, it was power.
Either way, the result was the same—we stood alone, both under the weight of countless eyes.
And maybe, just maybe, that made us not so different.
I blinked, forcing the thought away. No. She was a Duke's daughter. I was a nobody. Our paths weren't the same, and if I ever let myself believe they were, I'd be setting myself up to burn.
Still…
The pillars seemed to lean in closer, the patterns on the floor glowing faintly as if reacting to the gathered energy of so many students. The gates on the arena's edges remained shut, but I could feel it—the sense of waiting, of anticipation thick in the air like the moment before a storm breaks.
The instructors hadn't spoken yet. Their silence was oppressive, calculated. They let the weight of the nobles' presence, the arena's vastness, the watching sky, all sink into us like anchors. This was part of the test, I realized. Not strength, not skill. Not yet. This was to see who would crack under the stares, who would stumble under silence, who would fold before the exam even began.
I would not fold.
I shifted my stance slightly, squaring my shoulders, letting my calm radiate outward. I met the gazes of those who dared look at me too long and gave them nothing. No flinch, no anger, no shame. Just emptiness, steady and unshaken.
And when my eyes accidentally brushed hers again—the silver-haired girl with the phoenix emblem—I did the same. Steady. Composed. Like the tide that never bends to wind.
Her emerald eyes lingered a fraction longer than before.
I didn't look away first. I think she noticed my forcibly hidden power.