Soraya:
That night, the moon hung low over the rooftops. The streets outside were finally quiet after the day's commotion. Inside, the room was dimly lit by a single flickering oil lamp.
Rhea sat cross-legged on the floor, folding clothes and talking endlessly her voice carrying the same excitement she'd had all day.
"…and then when the gates opened, you should've seen how the crowd cheered! Mage Zhalik himself was there to welcome them! And the robes, Soraya,oh, the robes! They were so elegant.I swear,if i were one of them i will make sure to show off so well,can you imagine Soraya,That we were one of them?"
Soraya didn't answer. She sat by the small wooden desk near the window, chin resting on her hand, eyes distant. Her mind was far from Rhea's chatter.
Now that she had seen the palace gates open today, she had an idea but not a complete one.
"Even if I pretend to be one of the new mages", she thought," I still need an acceptance scroll to be let in".
She sighed heavily, tapping her fingers against the desk. No matter how she turned the thought around in her head, it led nowhere. Every path required that scroll.
Frustration built slowly inside her chest until it finally broke through.
"Ugh!" she yelled, her voice echoing through the small room.
Rhea jumped, clutching a half-folded dress to her chest. "Stars above, Soraya! You scared me!"
Soraya didn't answer. She rubbed her temples, staring at the window, her thoughts spinning again.
Rhea frowned but soon went back to her folding. "You've been acting weird all day. Anyway, like I was saying,there was this girl with silver hair, you'd love her outfit..."
Soraya wasn't listening.
Maybe… just maybe… there was a way to get that scroll.she thought out loud.
**********
Mage Zhalik:
That night the High Council of Arcadia Academy sat,in the council hall their robes outlined in gold.
The Crown Prince sat at the head, his posture composed but his eyes sharp,watching, listening.
Mage Zhalik, ever stern, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Mage Hiro tapped his quill impatiently against the edge of a parchment. Lysander's expression remained unreadable as always, his fingers laced calmly before him. Isandro's gaze drifted between them, his jaw tight with calculation. Lilura and Neriah whispered quietly to each other, their voices soft but firm.
For a while, they discussed the Academy's schedules, security, and the upcoming induction ceremony. But toward the end of the meeting, Mage Zhalik finally broke the calm.
"There is… one more matter," he said. "It concerns the younger prince,Prince Eldan."
The air stilled.
"Ah. The boy with the purple reading," Mage Hiro said, brows raised. "A troubling sign, isn't it?"
"Unheard of," added Isandro, voice low. "Purple has never been recorded before. Neither purely Alchemy nor Arcane. A mix? A corruption? We don't know."
Lysander tilted his head slightly. "Or perhaps… a new form. Something we do not yet understand."
The Crown Prince exhaled softly, as if weighing the words. "So what do you propose we do?"
"Expel him," Hiro said flatly. "Arcadia is not a playground for royal experiments. The boy could be dangerous."
Lilura frowned. "He's still young. The energy might simply be unstable. Banishment seems cruel."
"Cruel?" Hiro laughed under his breath. "You call caution cruelty?"
Neriah spoke next, calm but firm. "I agree with Lilura. The prince deserves guidance, not exile. Arcadia was founded to teach, not to condemn."
The table erupted into quiet murmurs again. The Crown Prince said nothing, only watching as each mage cast their stance.
"Enough," Mage Isandro finally said. "Let us vote, as we always do."
Eight small stones, one for each member present, were set before them half white, half black. White for stay, black for leave.
One by one, the mages cast their votes. The faint clink of stone echoed in the silence.
Mage Hiro — black. Mage Isandro — black. Mage Lysander — white. Mage Lilura — white. Mage Neriah — white. That made three for him to stay, two against. All eyes turned to Mage Zhalik, the last to vote.
The room fell into stillness. Even the torch flames seemed to quiet as his calloused fingers brushed the last stone.
"He will stay" Zhalik said finally.
He dropped the white stone.
Four to two.
The Crown Prince rose from his seat, nodding in approval.
"Then it is decided," he said. "Prince Eldan remains in Arcadia."
**************
Soraya:
The morning sun spilled across the bustling streets of Arcadia's lower market. Smoke rose from roasting fires, mingling with the scent of spices and freshly baked bread. Voices rang from every corner.
"Buyyourroastedcornhere! Hot and sweet!" Rhea's voice pierced above the noise, loud and cheerful as always.
Beside her, Soraya repeated the same words, though her tone lacked conviction. "Buy your roasted corn… here," she muttered, waving half-heartedly at a passerby.
Rhea shot her a look. "You call that selling? If you keep whispering like that, we'll still be here by noon!"
Soraya sighed, adjusting the tray on her head. "Then maybe you should do the shouting for both of us."
Rhea only grinned and yelled even louder, "Buyyourroastedcornhere! Stillhot!"
Before Soraya could roll her eyes, a sudden uproar came from the far end of the market.people gasped, and voices began to rise.
"What's going on?" Rhea asked, frowning.
"I don't know," Soraya said, already moving toward the sound. "Come on!"
They pushed through the crowd until they reached the wheat stalls near the main road. There, a palaceofficial, dressed in deep blue robes trimmed with silver, was in a heated argument with an old wheat seller.
"Doyouknowwhoyou'respeakingto?!" the official barked, slamming his gloved hand against a barrel.
"These wheats were meant for the MagesofArcadiaAcademy! And you dare send me spoilt ones?"
The old man bowed over and over again, wringing his cap between trembling fingers.
"Mercy, my lord! I,I didn't know they were bad, I swear on my children, I didn't! It was a mistake!"
"Amistake?!" the official's voice echoed.
"You think I can feed the Academy's mages rottenwheat?".
The wheat seller continued to apologize, bowing repeatedly. He quickly turned to his workers and ordered, "Load new barrels into his wagon,now!"
The workers obeyed at once, rolling and stacking the fresh barrels carefully.
The palace official gave the seller a cold glare. "Do not let this kind of mistake happen again," he warned, brushing the dust off his robe.
Then he climbed into the wagon and signaled to his driver. "Stop by the tavern first," he said. "I could use a drink before returning to the palace."
The driver nodded, snapping the reins as the wagon rolled away down the busy street.
An officer appeared immediately, sword at his hip, shouting, "Back to your stalls! Market business continues! There's nothing to see here!"
The crowd began to scatter. Rhea sighed. "Well, that was exciting. Come on, Soraya, before the customers finish buying everyone else's corn."
But Soraya didn't move.
She was still staring at the retreating palace carriage, a slow, thoughtful smile spreading across her face.
Rhea frowned. "What now?"
Soraya turned to her, eyes glinting with mischief.
"I think…" she said slowly, "I just figured out how I'll enter the palace."
Rhea blinked. "Huh?"
Soraya's grin widened.