LOCATION: DUSKRANE PALACE, DUSKRANE COUNTY
DATE: 12th, MONTH OF THAWEN, 2012 A.G.
CREAK.
The grand oak doors of Duskrane Palace parted with a reluctant groan, revealing a modest ebony carriage resting just beyond the steps. Its silver trims caught the morning light, glinting like polished frost.
STEP. STEP.
A boy descended the stairs with measured confidence—his white undercut hair tousled by the mountain breeze, amethyst eyes gleaming beneath a maniacal grin.
"I'm very excited, Father," he declared, practically vibrating with anticipation.
Henry Duskrane looked down at his son, a rare softness warming his stern features.
"I am too," he said simply.
TAP. TAP.
The carriage door opened. A poised woman stepped out, her gloved hand holding that of a young boy with copper hair and golden eyes. The woman's black hair was tied in an elegant bun, and her deep violet gown shimmered faintly with imperial embroidery.
"I greet Count and Countess Duskrane," she said with a respectful incline of her head. Her gaze swept over the gathered figures. "To think, the entire family has assembled."
Countess Orianne Duskrane stepped forward and gently placed a hand on the woman's shoulder.
"Countess Wynn. How are you holding up?"
The other woman hesitated. Her lips trembled slightly before she forced a polite smile.
"What can I say, Countess Duskrane... My husband is still confined to bed, and Kael is off to Eldrin Academy's talent division." She blinked rapidly, fighting a tear.
Orianne pulled her into a gentle embrace.
"It will all work out," she whispered, her hand stroking the woman's back with quiet reassurance.
Countess Wynn gave a small nod as she stepped away, dabbing her cheek with a silk handkerchief.
"Thank you... truly."
"Vinnie!" Kael waved enthusiastically.
"Kael!" Vincent rushed toward him with a boyish grin.
"It's time to go," Henry called, glancing at his silver pocket watch with a flick of his wrist.
Vincent nodded, a spark of resolve flickering in his expression.
"Hm."
Suddenly, a high-pitched squeal broke the moment.
"Cinnamon Roll!"
"Cupcake!"
Vincent turned—only to be ambushed by a pair of women racing down the steps. Behind them followed his cousins.
Amelia threw her arms around him, planting a kiss on his cheek.
"Study well, cupcake."
Sophie ruffled his hair, grinning wide.
"All the best, cinnamon roll. Knock them dead!"
Raphael and Leon approached more hesitantly, yet their voices came together in practiced unity.
"Take care, Vayren."
"Vaywen!" Evangeline cried, tugging at his coat. "Where are you going?"
"I want to go too!" Elise wailed, flinging her small arms around his waist.
"Why are you leaving, Vaywen?" Delphine whimpered, clinging to his other arm.
Vincent knelt, his expression softening as he faced the little ones.
"Haha, my dear sweeties," he murmured, placing a kiss on each forehead. "Vayren is only leaving for a few days. I promise—I'll come whenever you ask."
"Rweally?" the trio sniffled in unison.
"Of course, Evangeline, Elise, and Delphine," he said, brushing away their tears. "You have my word."
He turned to the rest, raising a hand in farewell.
"Goodbye, Mother. Father. Everyone."
"Take care, grandson," Thomas called, his voice deep but warm.
"Send word when you arrive," Olivia smiled, her eyes glassy with pride.
"Be brave, nephew," Alexander added with a smirk.
"Don't forget to visit," Edward said, voice quieter than the rest.
Henry approached, laying a firm hand on Vincent's shoulder. His tone lowered.
"Son, when you step into that academy… there will be envy, mockery, and cruelty. Some will try to tear you down, simply because you carry our name." He clenched his fist slowly, each word deliberate. "But if anyone crosses the line—anyone—flatten them. No hesitation."
Vincent tilted his head, curious.
"Where do I draw the line?"
Henry's grin widened, teeth flashing like a wolf's.
"Wherever you want."
The two burst into dark, mirthful laughter. Orianne frowned faintly but said nothing as she stepped forward.
"Vincent," she said, cupping his cheeks with both hands, "you're strong, but you don't have to be alone. If anything troubles you—even the smallest thing—you tell Mother, alright?"
He nodded once, a quiet seriousness settling behind his eyes.
Henry turned to the old butler.
"Uncle Jonathan."
Jonathan bowed deeply before climbing up to sit beside the carriage driver.
Henry gave one final thumbs-up to the carriage window.
"All the best, Countess Wynn. Kael—study hard!"
Both Countess Wynn and her son chuckled softly in reply.
NINE YEARS LATER
DATE: 12th, MONTH OF THAWEN, 2021 A.G.
LOCATION: ELDRIN ACADEMY, ELDERREACH BARONY
The carriage shuddered to a halt. Outside, the wind sang a highland song—crisp, cold, and laced with magic. Vincent leaned forward, his amethyst eyes narrowing as the curtains were drawn aside.
There it was.
Eldrin Academy.
Built upon the soaring cliffs of Cindralune Ridge, the academy was less a school and more a city of marble, brass, and myth. Towers loomed like spears aimed at the heavens, their tips crowned with floating rings of arcane runes that shimmered faintly in the light of the noon sun. Aether-lines—the glowing veins of raw mana—ran beneath the stone, pulsing with quiet life beneath students' boots.
A colossal archway marked the entrance, flanked by statues of the academy's founders: one a knight in burnished plate, the other a mage with a tome ablaze in her hands. Above them, engraved in ancient Imperial script, read the academy's motto:
"From Knowledge, Dominion."
Carriages from across the continent were lined up before the gates, each bearing noble crests or merchant guild sigils. Armored knights stepped out beside potion-brewers. A girl in a high-collared velvet cloak gestured with her fingers, and her luggage floated beside her like loyal birds.
Two boys stepped out onto the cobbled landing, the scent of parchment, soot, and storm-charged air washing over him.
"Is this... all one academy?" one asked, his greeneyes wide as they scanned the sprawling structures stretching into the mist.
It was.
To the west, The Argent Hall stood proud—its training fields echoing with the clang of steel and barked orders. To the east, the crystalline spire of the Aetherium pierced the sky, its balconies filled with robed figures and flying familiars. Behind it, plumes of smoke marked the forges of Emberforge Wing, where sparks leapt like fireflies and anvils rang like war drums.
There was even a distant bell chiming from The Gilded Hearth, the culinary quarter, where the scent of saffron and spiced meat drifted over the walls. Somewhere farther off, wind-carved cheering rang from the Iron Vale, where athletes and spellbound warriors clashed in games that bent the rules of gravity.
The boys could hardly decide where to look—each part of the academy was its own kingdom.
A greenr-uniformed upperclassman approached, clipboard in hand, a floating orb trailing behind him. "Elite Batch?" he asked.
The boys nodded.
The boy glanced him up and down—his hair, his grin, the unmistakable Leonhart carriage behind him—then checked something off.
"Welcome to Eldrin Academy," he said. "You're exactly on time. But don't be late again—some of your professors have been known to duel students for lesser offenses."
The brown haired one smiled wider. "Sounds fun."
The upperclassman arched an eyebrow and moved on.
As they passed through the archway, the shift was immediate. The temperature dropped a degree. The air thickened—not with fog, but with possibility. Ancient wards hummed against the skin like static. Magic was not just taught here.
It lived here.
From every hallway carved with house crests, to the shifting staircases of the Ivory Forum, to the dragonbone bridges linking towers in the Brass Nexus, this was more than a place of learning.
This was the crucible of an empire.
And our protagonists had just stepped into the fire.
A familiar figure stood in their path, halting them with an easy, knowing smile. His skin was tanned from travel, copper hair tousled by the breeze, and golden eyes glimmered with mischief and recognition.
"Brother Kael!" Leon and Raphael shrieked together, elation bursting from their voices.
They rushed forward and wrapped their arms around him in a tight, tumbling hug. Kael staggered slightly but caught them both with ease, laughing heartily as he did.
"You two haven't changed at all," he said, giving each of them a rough pat on the back. "Still full of noise."
He pulled back, eyes scanning the area. "Where are your companions?"
"Young master!"
Two exasperated voices called out from behind them, followed by the unmistakable sound of dragging bags and shuffling boots.
First came a shorter boy, slim and wiry, with crimson hair that stuck to his brow and bright red eyes narrowed with effort. He was comically overloaded—one heavy pack slung on his back, another strapped across his front like a soldier marching into war. Despite the weight, his grip didn't falter, and there was fire in his step.
"Hold up—don't drop it!" the second boy called as he jogged up beside him.
Taller and lean, this one had tousled chestnut hair and calm hazel eyes. He carried two enormous suitcases, one in each hand, arms stiff with strain. Though clearly winded, he maintained an air of quiet control, the only sign of stress being the beads of sweat sliding down his neck.
Kael raised an eyebrow.
"Let me guess. These are your companions-slash-porters?"
Leon grinned. "They insisted."
"We did not!" the tall one snapped, wobbling slightly as the weight of the suitcase pulled at his balance.
"I can't let young master Raphael carry the luggage," the shorter boy huffed, tightening the strap across his chest as sweat dampened his collar.
Raphael's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Theo!" he said, rushing to him and grabbing a satchel. "I completely forgot about the bags."
THUD!
A suitcase flew across the air—and nearly knocked Leon off balance as he caught it with a startled grunt.
"Sig!" Leon yelped, stumbling.
"Please carry your own luggage, young master," Sigmund muttered, brushing his bangs from his forehead as he stooped to reclaim his other case.
Kael snorted at the sight, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Well, within these walls," he said, voice tinged with amusement, "only strength determines hierarchy. Nobility means nothing when you're bent double under your own wardrobe."
Theo muttered something inaudible about laundry carts and revenge, while Sig adjusted the weight on his shoulder with a resigned sigh.
Then Raphael asked, "Where is Vayren?"
Kael's expression shifted.
That playful glint in his golden eyes darkened, replaced by something colder—something knowing.
A slow, menacing smile crept across his face.
"You'll meet him soon."
Just then, the iron bells of Eldrin Academy tolled—deep, sonorous, and ancient. Their chimes rang through the stone arches like a heartbeat rising from the bones of the mountain itself.
A magically amplified voice echoed through the hallways:
"All new students are required to assemble in the Grand Assembly Hall. Orientation begins in ten minutes."
The boys exchanged glances. Dust motes drifted in the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows overhead.
"Well," Kael said, turning toward the towering archway at the end of the corridor. "Let the chaos begin."
INSIDE THE GRAND ASSEMBLY HALL.
The Grand Assembly Hall of Eldrin Academy was an architectural marvel, a blend of ancient stone and modern grandeur designed to inspire awe in all who entered. The hall stretched outward in a wide, open space, where the new students gathered, hearts racing in anticipation of their first taste of the academy's legendary reputation.
At the base of the hall, the students stood in orderly rows, the first-years packed together in a tight cluster, their gazes shifting nervously around them. The echo of their murmurs bounced off the high walls, a quiet buzz that filled the air with excitement and anxiety. The floor, made of smooth, polished black stone, reflected the flickering torchlight that illuminated the space, creating a sense of infinity beneath their feet.
In front of them, the grand podium was a towering structure of gleaming silver and obsidian, framed by intricate columns that rose like giants to the high ceiling. At the center of the podium stood the Headmaster, an imposing figure with an aura of quiet authority. Beside him were the dean of each department and the faculty, all of whom would be watching the new students with a careful, critical eye. The Headmaster's voice would set the tone for everything that followed. Behind them, large banners of the academy's emblem fluttered in the cool air, their golden threads catching the torchlight, casting a regal glow across the stage.
Above the first-years, the hall opened out into multiple balconies, where the upperclassmen—sophomores, juniors, and seniors—watched from their elevated perches. These students stood or sat in casual groups, their eyes constantly shifting between their juniors, some with expressions of boredom, others with barely concealed amusement. The balconies rose in steep tiers, each level slightly more distant from the students below, adding a sense of grandeur to the gathering. The laughter of the seniors echoed down toward the first-years, who were still adjusting to the gravity of the moment.
The balconies seemed endless, stretching high into the air, a testament to the academy's power and history. From these lofty heights, the seniors eyed their juniors, some with the calm indifference of those who had already survived the crucible, while others watched with curiosity—or, in some cases, barely veiled judgment. Their faces were half-hidden by the soft light of the torches, creating an almost ethereal glow as they looked down upon the fresh crop of students.
Above it all, massive chandeliers hung like stars, their crystal lights illuminating the entire hall with a soft, golden glow, casting long, graceful shadows across the marble floor. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of anticipation and tradition, as if this moment had happened a thousand times before, and yet, to the first-years standing at the base, it felt as though they were standing on the precipice of something entirely new.
As the final bell rang, signaling the start of orientation, the quiet hum of voices stilled. All eyes were drawn to the podium, where the Headmaster stepped forward. His voice, amplified by magic, echoed across the hall, a steady, powerful tone that silenced the room in an instant.
"Welcome to Eldrin Academy."