The Experimental Arcana class was held not in a bustling lecture hall, but in a secure, secluded training annex specifically designed for high-power spell testing. The group was small and specialized: Prince Damon, Knight Elias, Master Mage Cyril, Lunessa Vaelion, Alya herself.
Alya's chaotic morning attempt at the assignment (a silver ladle instead of a fork, a mana-rich amethyst instead of a rock) had already earned her extreme suspicion.
"Sir Cyril, I must state that my elemental output appears to be uniquely subject to… subconscious thematic association," Alya explained earnestly, trying to sound like a PhD candidate, not a frantic villainess.
Lunessa, sitting nearby, leaned in with soft concern. "Sister, are you truly feeling well? You seem distressed."
"Never better, Lunessa! Just… scientifically invigorated!" Alya replied, avoiding her sister's genuinely kind eyes. She knew Lunessa was meant to be the heroine—sweet, kind, and entirely unaware of the chaos Alya was suppressing.
Cyril, already fascinated by Alya's "methodical chaos," clapped his hands. "Now, for the practical application."
He directed the three key participants—Damon (Light), Elias (Earth), and Alya (Anomaly)—to stabilize a small wooden figure placed on a reinforced pedestal.
Alya closed her eyes, trying to focus on nothingness. No cooking utensils. No forbidden texts. Just absorb. Be inert.
Damon and Elias channeled their elemental magic.
Alya's golden core recoiled violently, rejecting the stabilizing force of their pure elements.
A loud, disconcerting snap echoed in the training annex.
The wooden figure vanished, replaced by a floating, ornate, leather-bound book. The title was stamped in gold: The Book of Forgotten Ecstasies and Forbidden Lore (Volume I: Introductory Charms of Proximity and Binding).
The resulting energy discharge struck Damon and Elias mid-channeling.
A flash of pink-lavender light exploded, lashing out from Alya's core.
When the light faded, Alya found herself in a deeply compromising position. Damon was gripping her waist, his face inches from hers, his aristocratic composure shattered. Elias was awkwardly leaning against Cyril, his bulk pinning the thin mage against the wall.
Damon recovered first, pushing Alya away, his face rigid with fury. "Stellaria! What is your end goal?!"
Elias, rubbing his shoulder, scowled. "She's trying to manipulate us with magical influence! That's the only explanation for the proximity spell!"
Cyril ignored them both, his eyes fixed on the floating text. "Volume One," he whispered, his voice laced with awe. "A lost text on non-elemental binding charms, traditionally used by ancient Queens to, ah, ensure the devotion of their consorts."
Cyril finally looked up, his amber eyes blazing with intellectual possession, directed solely at Alya.
"Lady Stellaria, your 'anomaly' is too dangerous for generalized study in a shared environment, It poses a risk of creating highly destabilized, potentially corrupting artifacts."
He pointed to the book. "I require closer observation. Effective immediately, Lady Stellaria, you are assigned to me as a private research subject. We will conduct these experiments alone, in my personal research lab."
Damon instantly objected, his voice a low growl. "Cyril, she is a political threat. She needs supervision."
"And who do you think will be providing that supervision, Prince?" Cyril's gaze hardened into something territorial. "I will. She is my experiment now."
Alya was escorted from the training annex alone, her heart pounding with a mixture of terror and strategic triumph. She had achieved phase one: securing intimate, isolated study with her target.
But the success felt hollow because her knowledge of the novel was flooding her mind.
Six weeks. I have six weeks until the Royal Charity Auction, Alya thought, hurrying down the secluded pathways toward the Ravenshade Research Wing. That's when Stellaria ruins Damon's political career. I need to be his confidante, not his saboteur, before that happens. And I still don't know who the true villain is, pulling Stellaria's strings.
The weight of this knowledge—of who was plotting against whom—was immense. Her book knowledge was a blueprint, but her chaotic magic was already tearing pages out of it.
They arrived at the Ravenshade Research Wing, a sleek, imposing structure of black glass and steel, entirely isolated from the magical campus.
Cyril's personal laboratory was enormous, a cathedral of science on the top floor. In the center stood a massive, cylindrical Containment Field .
"This is a Tier-4 Dimensional Stabilizer," Cyril explained, his voice entirely professional as he secured Alya inside the cylinder with a soft hiss. "If your magic destabilizes, this will prevent a catastrophic fusion of matter. Your task is simple: materialize a single iron nail."
Alya stepped into the cylinder. She faced Cyril through the thick, clear energy wall, barely a meter away.
She began the channeling process, trying to focus on the cold, hard simplicity of a nail. The golden, chaotic light surged inside her core, too hot, too fast.
"Stabilize it, Stellaria! The core reading is spiking too high!" Cyril commanded, his expression tense.
"I can't!" Alya gasped, fighting the overwhelming surge.
"I need to manually regulate the core output!" Cyril swore. The door hissed open.
Cyril grabbed her shimmering wrist.
The contact was immediate and overwhelming. His touch was cold and bracing against her searing skin, a physical anchor for her chaotic power.
Their faces were inches apart, separated by the surging gold energy that wrapped around them. Alya's core was reacting to him, accepting his power as a grounding rod.
Cyril's dark eyes were wide with intense focus. He wasn't seeing a person; he was seeing the universe's most interesting problem, held tightly in his hand.
"Your core… it's rejecting the containment, but accepting the… the connection," he murmured, his thumb rubbing against the silver ring on her hand where the core energy originated.
Alya felt an intense wave of dizzying energy pass between them. The desperate physical connection caused her heart to race.
"You are incredibly unstable, Stellaria," he whispered, his voice dangerously low. "But highly effective. Keep still."
Under the pressure of his touch, Alya's magic finally complied. The golden energy condensed, shrinking back from the catastrophic surge. It focused and solidified in her palm.
When the light faded, Cyril let go of her wrist and stepped back.
Alya looked down.
In her palm lay not a simple iron nail.
But a perfectly formed golden earring in the shape of a miniature, highly detailed serpent.
"A serpent?" Cyril frowned, picking up the small gold object. "The design is an exact replica of the Ravenshade family crest."
Alya stared at the golden object, mortified. I was supposed to be thinking of 'cold, hard metal.' I was thinking of 'hot, dramatic professor.' This is terrible, symbolic failure.
Cyril looked at the golden serpent, then back at Alya, a slow, possessive smile spreading across his face.
"It seems, Anomaly," he concluded, pocketing the earring, "your subconscious is far more ambitious than your conscious mind."
He closed the Containment Field. "This is just the beginning. The next session is tomorrow evening. We must quantify the emotional triggers of your materialization. Do not be late."
Alya stood frozen, realizing she had gone from anonymous villainess to the genius mage's private, romantically-implicated experiment in one afternoon. The grind for survival had officially begun.