Clara woke up the next morning in the same inn, sunlight spilling weakly through the wooden shutters. For a brief moment she had to remind herself—this was real. She wasn't back in her tiny apartment crammed with textbooks and coffee mugs. She was here. In another world.
Luckily, her stay had been paid for a week, which meant she at least had a roof over her head until she figured out her next steps. She pressed a hand to her chest, still shaken by the dream that lingered in her mind.
In it, she had been back in her old world, surrounded by the hum of city lights and the weight of her textbooks. But a voice whispered inside her, the same voice that had echoed yesterday when the imperial procession had passed: Come closer to him. Closer. It felt as if that same presence had pulled her here, as though her crossing between worlds had not been an accident but a call.
She shivered. Even in sleep, her heart carried the memory of those blue eyes.
On the other side of the city, Prince Leon had not rested easily either. The memory of that girl haunted him—the way her gaze had pierced through the noise of the crowd, reaching something deeper than reason.
Those eyes… that feeling in the depths of me… he thought, pacing the confines of his chamber. His primordial soul had stirred for the first time in years, circuits of magic he hadn't even known lay dormant flaring awake with raw energy. It was as if her presence had kindled a fire that would not go out.
That night, Leon too had dreamed. And in the dream, he saw her eyes again, glowing like distant flames, and heard the same voice that had whispered yesterday: Come closer. Closer…
He woke breathless, sweat cooling against his skin, the ache of longing clinging to his chest like chains.
A knock at the door dragged him back to reality. His attendant entered with a low bow.
"Your Highness, you are expected for breakfast. With Princess Alicia of the Declan Empire."
The words rang like cold iron. A formality, nothing more—a chance for him and Alicia to grow accustomed to each other before their marriage in a year's time, once both reached eighteen. A political bond, forged for stability and power.
But as Leon rose to prepare, the memory of her—the girl with fire in her gaze—refused to fade. And for the first time in his life, he found himself dreading the obligations of the crown.
The dining hall was filled with the soft glow of morning light streaming through stained glass windows, painting the long table in shades of gold and crimson. Silverware gleamed, servants moved silently, and the air carried the faint aroma of spiced tea and fresh bread.
Prince Leon entered, his expression carefully schooled into calm, though his mind was far from it. Seated at the far end of the table was Princess Alicia of the Declan Empire—his betrothed. Her posture was flawless, every movement measured with elegance, her golden hair perfectly braided and her pale blue gown shimmering like frost.
"Good morning, Your Highness," Alicia said with a graceful nod, her voice polite but distant, as though rehearsed.
"Good morning, Princess," Leon replied, taking his seat opposite her.
The first moments passed in silence, broken only by the soft clink of porcelain. It was Alicia who spoke first. "I was told we will be beginning our studies at the Arcane Academy soon. I assume you have also received notice."
Leon gave a small nod. "Yes. It is tradition. Every prince and princess born with magic must attend. Regardless of lineage or prior training."
Alicia's lips curved faintly—not quite a smile. "I already know where my talents lie. Light and water. I've trained for years under the best scholars in Declan. But the academy will refine my abilities, polish them into something the Empire can wield more effectively."
There was no arrogance in her words—just certainty, the kind bred from duty.
Leon stirred his tea, his thoughts far away. "My magic has awakened more fully as of late," he admitted. "Stronger than before." He did not mention the girl, or the surge of energy that had ignited at the sight of her.
Alicia regarded him steadily, her emerald eyes sharp. "That is good, Your Highness. After all, we are the pillars of the realm. The academy will ensure that our gifts are not wasted."
The words were proper, correct, everything a future princess consort was supposed to say. And yet, as Leon sat across from her, he felt the hollow weight of inevitability pressing down. The crown, the Empire, the marriage—all mapped out like steps in a dance he could not refuse.
And still, in the depths of his mind, the memory of fiery eyes lingered, burning brighter than the polished perfection sitting before him.
The Arcane Academy loomed before them like a monument to eternity. Its massive stone buildings stretched skyward, their polished marble floors gleaming like mirrors beneath the morning sun. High vaulted ceilings arched into towers that pierced the sky, each crowned with crystalline spires that shimmered faintly with stored mana. The very air around the academy seemed to hum, charged with energy, as if the walls themselves remembered centuries of magic cast within.
Clara's breath caught as she joined the line forming at the front gates. Dozens—no, hundreds—of young men and women stood waiting, their faces taut with nerves and expectation. Most were between fifteen and twenty, the age when magic typically awakened in the blood. Some whispered excitedly about their hopes, others stood silently, eyes fixed on the towers that awaited them.
Inside the testing hall, the grandeur continued. A wide chamber with a floor of white stone, carved runes spiraling outward like constellations. At the center stood three robed examiners, their hands resting on staffs etched with silver patterns. Along the walls, assistants recorded each result on parchment, their quills scratching in steady rhythm.
The process was clear: each applicant stepped forward one by one, placing their hands on a crystal sphere that pulsed faintly with mana. The examiners would then channel a stream of energy into the candidate's body, gauging two things—their affinities and their magical circuits.
A boy with sandy hair was first. He pressed his palms to the sphere, and it flared a deep crimson. The examiner nodded. "Fire affinity—strong. Growth potential medium. Circuits are… stable, average." The boy left grinning anyway, fists clenched in triumph.
Next, a girl barely older than Clara stepped forward. Her sphere glowed faintly blue, then shimmered with golden sparks. "Dual affinity—water and light. Rare. Circuits are flexible, though capacity is small." The crowd murmured in awe as she bowed and stepped aside.
Then came a tall youth whose veins lit up like molten lines beneath his skin when mana was injected. The examiner's voice carried over the hall: "Circuits highly refined. Mana acceptance near seamless. This one will cast quickly, efficiently. Affinity—electricity."
Clara shivered. It was breathtaking, the way their bodies responded. She remembered what Emma had told her: Affinities decide how fast you grow and how high you can climb. Circuits decide how well you can wield what you have.
Unlike magical circles, which could be studied and drawn, circuits were innate—woven into one's being like a natural program etched into flesh and soul. They determined everything: how much mana could be stored, how easily it flowed, how fast a spell could be cast. A gifted affinity without strong circuits was like having a brilliant song with no voice to sing it.
The line moved slowly forward, each demonstration stirring whispers of admiration or pity. Clara's heart hammered in her chest as her turn drew closer. She clenched the parchment in her hand, the letter that marked her as an official candidate.
And though she tried to stay calm, deep down she knew—her fate, whatever it was, would begin here.
The murmurs in the hall fell silent when the massive doors swung open once more. The examiners, who had until then treated each candidate with measured patience, straightened at once. A herald in crimson struck a golden staff against the floor, his voice booming through the vaulted chamber:
—"His Highness, Prince Leon of the Valorian Empire! Her Highness, Princess Alicia of the Declan Empire!"
The candidates parted like waves before a ship. Clara, like many others, held her breath. She had seen Leon the day before—only for an instant—yet the strange pull in her chest still lingered. Now she watched him stride forward, regal in his ceremonial armor that seemed to trap the very light. At his side walked Alicia, graceful and poised, her white gown traced with golden runes that shimmered in the ambient mana.
The two were led directly to the central platform, where a crystal sphere rested upon a stone pedestal. The examiners bowed low, and the chief among them spoke with solemn reverence:—"As tradition dictates, heirs with magical talent must demonstrate their gifts before the Academy, that their destinies be inscribed in our annals."
Leon stepped forward first. He showed no outward nervousness, yet deep within his chest, his circuits still burned with the memory of those eyes from yesterday. Placing both hands upon the sphere, he released his mana.
Light burst within the crystal—first golden, then black, then a fiery red, and finally a white brilliance breaking into silver sparks. The sphere shook violently, runes on the floor flaring to life like constellations igniting.
The chief examiner's voice trembled:—"A fourfold affinity! Time… Light… Darkness… and Fire!"
A wave of astonishment swept the hall. Few ever revealed even two affinities. Three was a rarity. But four—four of such caliber, with Time among them—was the mark of legend.
Mana surged through Leon's body, his veins glowing like threads of gold and onyx. The examiners exchanged looks of awe, even fear.—"Supreme-grade circuits. Perfect mana acceptance… stable, expansive, unyielding. A talent destined for the pinnacle."
Leon slowly withdrew his hands. His expression remained composed, yet within, his heart was far from calm. That strange stirring in his soul was not born solely of power—it was her eyes, that fleeting spark, haunting him still.
Then Alicia stepped forward. She placed her hands gently on the crystal, and it bloomed with a serene blue glow, rippling outward like water, before shifting into a radiant silver-white light that filled the chamber.
—"Dual affinity: Water and Light," the examiner declared. "Rare and of great prestige within her kingdom."
Mana coursed through her circuits with fluid grace, as if rivers of power flowed in harmony.—"Circuits of high quality," the examiner continued. "Stable, vast—an exceptional potential."
The crowd applauded with reverence, though whispers still centered on Leon's unmatched display.
Clara, standing among the applicants, felt her chest tighten. Awe, confusion, and that same inexplicable pull tangled within her. While others spoke in hushed tones of the prodigious prince, Clara understood—deep down—that their meeting had not been chance, but the beginning of something that defied both fate and the strict laws of this world.
As the applause still echoed through the chamber, Leon's gaze swept across the gathered candidates. His eyes searched, restless, as though drawn toward something—or someone—he could not name. For a fleeting moment, he thought he felt it again, that silent pull in the depths of his soul. But before he could linger, Alicia touched his arm lightly, her voice soft yet firm: "Leon, we should go." With a final glance at the crowd, the prince allowed himself to be led away, though unease flickered behind his composed expression.