Morning light spilled across the Royal Academy courtyard, silver leaves glinting in the gentle breeze, mana threads drifting lazily through the air. Lucien lounged atop a hovering platform, teacup in hand, observing the courtyard below. Students murmured about yesterday's sparring, the talking dog, and the mysterious aura that seemed to settle wherever Lucien appeared.
"Rorio," Lucien murmured, swirling his tea, "the threads shift once more. Our silver flame draws near."
Rorio, lying beside him, yawned. "Mostly interesting. Slightly tense. Snacks afterward?"
"Always," Lucien replied with a faint smile.
The courtyard gates opened, and a gust of crisp wind carried the scent of disciplined mana. Lucien's eyes narrowed subtly, tea swirling in his cup.
"There," he murmured. "Destiny approaches. But this one… he already knows her fire."
Ryn Althas stepped through the gates, his silver hair catching the morning light. His armor gleamed, polished and bright, but the look in his pale blue eyes was tempered with restraint. He had been here before—weeks ago in Aria's town—speaking to her about the prophecy, the fate that bound them. Yet then, he had left abruptly, citing reasons that had frustrated Aria and left her questioning his motives.
Rorio's tail flicked. "Mostly nostalgic. Slightly tense. Excellent for entertainment ratios."
Lucien's lips curved. "Ah… restraint, charm, and subtle intrigue. Exactly as I hoped. Watch carefully, Rorio. The fire remembers, but the embers are still warm enough to spark."
Aria stiffened the moment she recognized him. Her flames danced unconsciously, betraying the mix of irritation and unresolved curiosity she felt. "You! You're the one who showed up in my town… talked about some prophecy, and then left without a word!"
Ryn lowered his gaze slightly, a shadow of regret crossing his features. "I had to leave, Aria. It wasn't your fault, nor mine… circumstances forced my hand. But I've returned, properly this time."
Lucien's eyes twinkled as he swirled his tea. "Ah… sincerity layered beneath quiet regret. Excellent. He does not need force to be likable; his absence itself was a tool. Fascinating."
Ryn stepped closer, tone soft but steady. "I don't expect forgiveness immediately, but I hope you can trust me now. The prophecy… it still calls for us to meet, and I will not falter this time."
Aria's cheeks flushed slightly, and her flames flickered brighter, though she quickly masked it with a smirk. "Hmph. So now you show up at the academy, in front of everyone, as if nothing happened?"
Ryn gave a small, apologetic smile. "Not as if nothing happened. I only hope we can continue where we left off—and learn from each other."
Lucien, perched above them, murmured with a chuckle, "Observe, Rorio. Recognition, subtle tension, curiosity… all perfectly natural. Sparks without fire yet, but oh… the possibilities."
Rorio tilted his head. "Mostly promising. Slightly suspenseful. Excellent ratio."
The students around them glanced with interest. Darius's brow furrowed slightly, muttering to himself, "Variable...need to check, destroy or use."
Myra's eyes widened, and Kellen whispered, "He… doesn't seem like the usual overbearing hero."
Lucien's gaze lingered on Ryn, tracing the silver threads of mana radiating from him. "Yes… potential, restraint, warmth… enough to intrigue fire without consuming it entirely. This will unfold beautifully."
Lucien gestured, shifting the floating arena platforms, runes flickering, elemental nodes hovering.
"Your task," Lucien announced, his voice carrying across the courtyard, "is to demonstrate control, adaptability, and creativity. Coordinate, adjust, and perhaps… discover more about yourselves—and each other."
Aria's eyes met Ryn's. This time, there was no formal confrontation, only recognition and faint curiosity. His tone carried respect, not arrogance. His presence, even amid the chaos of Lucien's arena, was steady. Aria felt the faint pull of intrigue, the memory of their first meeting coloring her thoughts.
Lucien's lips curved in satisfaction. "Ah… fire and silver, reacquainted. Embers stoked, curiosity piqued, tension simmering. Observe, Rorio… the slow burn begins."
Rorio wagged his tail. "Mostly subtle. Slightly dramatic. Excellent beginnings. Snacks later?"
"Indeed," Lucien said, swirling his tea. "Always."
As morning gave way to midday, Lucien sat atop his platform, arms crossed, watching the subtle dance of interactions below. Fate, after all, was far more amusing when allowed to stumble naturally—and the silver flame had returned, ready to test its boundaries against the fire he had already touched once before.