Ever since that night, the woman has followed. In the shadows, he would see those golden eyes staring at him. In the wake of dawn, when his eyes would open, she would stand in the corner and wait for his trembling gasp.

She was a ghoul—one he could not decipher between fact or fiction.

Because of this terror, as well as the newfound scandal involving the scholar Cateline, he had to ensure the safety of just one person in this Kingdom. If he could do that, he would be content no matter the outcome of that night.

“But you promised!” Senevia’s voice echoed into the nearby forest. Varin sighed, looking all around to make sure her father did not come running at him with a pitchfork and fire.

“I promised that you would get to go to Lunarseve with me and my friends if you practiced your form. You are just as clumsy as you were the day I brought you to Lighthelm."

Varin’s heart shattered when his little friend’s lip began to tremble, her wide eyes glistening with a tear. She was clearly so excited to visit such a grandiose event—with music and magical ceremonies that only happen once every Lunarseve. For the regular citizens, such as Senevia and her family, the tales of the Lunarseve ball were something to gossip about from afar.

Varin could only wonder how circumstantial it was that the headmistress chose this year of all years to host the very first public Lunarseve ball.

Should I be questioning circumstantial happenings instead of the vision of a wicked witch stalking me? Varin asked himself.

He had little time to ponder on the answer. Senevia threw her wooden sword on the ground and crossed those tiny arms over her chest, eyes squinting up at him with the intensity of the sun. Her cheeks, too, grew rosy and her nostrils flared before she let out a defeated sigh.

“You are properly mean, Varin!”

Varin’s eyes grew wide at this attack. That, of course, was the last thing he wanted to be called by Senevia, but he could expect no less. On the surface level, it would seem unfair to banish her from attending the kingdom’s first public banquet at Lighthelm. Those doors were as closed to the public as a castle gate. Only those who were lucky enough to be accepted would know what life was like beyond that grand entryway.

Unbeknownst to them, it was rather mundane outside of a few magical mishaps here and there.

Now that he thought about it, Senevia had seen much more of Lighthelm than any other average citizen had. From the courtyard, which housed the Fountain of Runes, to the armory where he put up his own weapons after training.

“I am not trying to be mean, Senevia. I have to abide by my word. For your own safety.”

Senevia kicked her sword with all the force she could, which only sent it a few arms length away from her, before tearing her stare from him. “Cateline has surely gotten to go to all these exquisite banquets in her life. You, too, because you’ve been at Lighthelm for so long! It is not fair.”

“What about Cateline?” Varin asked with a furrowed brow. “What makes you think she has been to many? She is new to Lighthelm.”

Senevia’s lips twitched, her gaze jumping all around the grassy meadows before resting back on Varin. This time, her cheeks were not as flushed and her fists were unclenched at her side. She approached him carefully, leaning in so she could speak to him quietly.

“Not that I should tell you, for it is a secret I promised to keep, but Cateline is a princess. Royalty, to be clear. I want to be like her—with her long hair and proper manners.”

Senevia’s bottom lip pulled into a pout before she fell to the ground dramatically, sitting criss-crossed and picked at the pieces of grass. Her blonde, curly hair shone beneath the sunlight that casted a shadow over her face. Clearing his throat, he kneeled down to be closer to her level. His head was throbbing.

“Senevia, how did you find that out?”

“She told me! But, please, do not tell her you know. I was sworn to secrecy!”

The child looked at Varin with such a sincere plea, a tear glistening at the tear duct. He took a deep sigh, looking around as he nodded. “Trust me, Senevia—your secret is safe with me. I should warn you that her royal status is not at all what it seems. Be careful, especially over the coming nights. You have improved your swordsmanship greatly, but I fear you will not be safe that night. Understood?”

“What does that mean?” she asked with a sniffle.

“None of your concern, really. Just a general word of caution. My statement stands—no Lunarseve ball. Please listen to me, and I promise I will make it up to you.”

Senevia grumbled a protest and stood to her feet. Picking up the sword from the ground, she struck at a nearby tree, chips of the bark falling to the ground. “Fine, Varin, but you owe me greatly.”

Varin looked beyond the meadows they practiced in, toward the watery horizon. Standing by the lake in the morning fog was a glistening figure, long blonde hair waving in the horizon and golden eyes boring into him. Even from a distance, he could not mistake that aura.

“I do. I do. Come along, we have to go before your father realizes you are gone.”

With that, Varin grabbed her by the arm and tore her away from that tree. He feared how safe he could keep Senevia while also unraveling the secrets Cateline had sewn up.

Cateline sat outside, as she did many times between lessons. She had grown fond of her lessons with the headmistress, but those had grown even more infrequent. It was no surprise she preferred those—they were typically more hands on and involved harnessing the energy that she yearned to understand. She had to stick to her word, though—her magical advancement would not be hindered by Aiora’s disbelief or Leolina’s availability.

As a child, the energy consumed her so much that it made her ill. She would wake up after a fever dream with sweat dripping from the center of her forehead. She would scream things at the servants in her sleep when she could have sworn she was frozen in time. Often, her father kept her tucked away in her chambers during evening parties because he feared she would doze off somewhere and awake in a fright.

This was far before she first realized her powers. The moment her mana exploded from her fingertips and froze half of the dinner table was the exact moment any love her father had for her was negligible at best.

She scowled. It was a wonder how her mother loved that man, or if any love existed at all. Emmeline Bennett, Queen of Axulran, was a kind ruler. She made it known that she would help those in need, and do it with her heart on her sleeve.

Airen Bennett, however, wanted to be known as the almighty and ruthless King of Axulran. Not only did he lead his own military force, but made it known that he supported smaller militias—disguised as 'guilds'—in any way he could. His priorities resided in status and unrelenting power rather than the wellbeing of his kingdom.

Now that she put her head to it, perhaps that pair was as strategic as it could get. One ruled with an iron fist that would level his cities if need be, while the other healed the wounds onset from the trauma.

What a joke.

Closing the book she had stolen from the library, she let out a frustrated sigh. The headmistress refused to allow her to see any more history of the Firstborn during the wake of Lunarseve, and it was driving her mad.

It kept her up at night thinking of that child that was walking through the blazes of that meadow, staring right at her. It didn’t feel natural, but her words were purposeful. So much so that she wondered if each scholar got the same glimpse into history as she did.

She lifted her stare from the book, watching a few people crowd around the fountain and laugh amongst each other. It was intriguing seeing these different creatures. Aiora and Leolina, as well as a large group of other scholars, were some of the first elves she had seen since she was a child. Alleyn was an elf as well, but Axulran was not diverse when it came to species.

King Airen made it known that any species remotely related to the origins of magic were strictly forbidden—as a result, that left humans, and humans alone. Even then, there were a few that appeared humane but harnessed magic thst were banished because of it. She had her theories that pointed these unfortunate souls to imprisonment and death, but there was no evidence backing up this theory. Only a gut feeling.

One of Aiora and Varin’s acquaintances, Thaddius, also perplexed her. Satyr’s were almost extinct, at least on this half of Denzethea, and to see one with such strong features was amazing. She had been around him for very little time, but she wanted to learn about his origin. What his homelands were like. How many satyr’s lived there, and if they existed in harmony with other species and races.

In Axulran, her father would pay a bounty for any Satyr horn brought to his throne room.

Suddenly, a headache ensued.

Bringing her hands to her face, she covered herself from the sunlight and shook her head. She figured, by this point, all this knowledge and experiences would help her clarify things. But as an unfortunate result to her curiosity and wandering mind, it only made her more frustrated. She had no idea if she was sent here by her father, or if it was by fate's sick and twisted hand.

Similarly, Cateline had no clue who that woman that kept reappearing like a bad nightmare, nor did she know if she could trust the very people who ran this academy.

Afterall, they struck the two twins under a comatose that resulted in short-term amnesia. Very similar to what happened upon her arrival to Traburg.

Something landed next to her, tiny little claws dancing atop the wooden table. She raised her head, locking eyes with a white owl. It had large golden eyes, ones that followed her as she sat upright.

“Hello there.”

Silence. For some reason, she expected it to speak back to her. It would be the least concerning happening over the past few days.

It jumped closer, flapping its wings as it cooed at her. Attached to a ribbon on its ankle was an envelope. She carefully untied it, the owl flying off the second it could. The strangest part was it did not return to Lighthelm—instead, it flew toward the mountains that kissed the horizon. Alone, again.

On the front side of the envelope was her name written proudly in cursive, the silver ink reflecting against the black paper. Humming, she opened it and took the card out. It was a one-sided note that had elegant handwriting covering the entirety of it.

Cateline Bennett, of Axulran —

It is my pleasure to extend a formal invitation to the first public Lunarseve Banquet. I have seen you explore your magic, and while there is much to be learned, I would specifically like to honor you and a handful of other scholars.

There will be a dress awaiting you, and a tailor will fit it to your body as needed.

At the bottom of the note was the time and date. The banquet was approaching quickly, and she was supposed to be prepared to be honored? For what?

Cateline felt that the knowledge she had absorbed, while great in volume, paled in comparison to what was left to endure and understand. She felt as clueless as she did upon entering this academy.

“Are you going?” came a gentle voice.

Cateline turned her head to the side and met Aiora’s gaze. It was slanted, but her smile warmed that cool stare. “I have had all but about thirty seconds to take in the invitation. The headmistress wants to recognize me.”

“You’re her little pet.”

While this jab offended her, all Cateline could do was clench at the fabric of her skirt and force a smile. How Cateline loathed those little jokes, but even she could understand it was supposed to be a joke. The elvish girl sat across from her, folding her hands on the table.

“I saw you with the headmistress doing a lesson a few nights ago. You should know it’s very rare for her to lecture so intimately.”

Cateline cleared her throat, her eyes averting to the Fountain of Runes again. “What is the story behind that fountain?”

Aiora followed her stare and chuckled. “Runes are archaic magic—they serve little purpose now.”

“Why?”

“We’ve grown too powerful. Runes serve a purpose, sure, but that purpose transitioned from strengthening our mana to simply stabilizing it. You will find these in the areas that house a large number of magical creatures.”

Cateline hummed and looked back at her. Aiora had her light hair pulled back into a french braid, a red ribbon looping through the sections of hair. The golden runes tattooed along the backside of her neck tucked beneath her dress, shimmering beneath the sunlight. “What are your runes for, then?”

Aiora cleared her throat and reached up to rub the back of her neck. “Stabilization, Cateline. What else?”

Eyes growing wide for a second, she nodded and folded the invitation in half. “I apologize. I simply wish to know more—to understand.”

“If I can give you a piece of advice, Cateline, I would suggest you stop chasing answers. Focusing your efforts on becoming a stronger mage will serve to be beneficial. Worry less of figmented imaginations of some estranged woman.”

Cateline’s teeth gritted, but she pressed on. “Then why did you throw me in that fever dream of a history lesson?”

“So cross. You need to know your origins. We all stem from the firstborn’s energy.”

Sighing, Cateline nodded and folded her arms across her chest. “How did you discover your magic, then?”

Aiora flashed her brows. “It’s quite a story, one I’m not sure we have time for. I wasn’t born here, though my home is close by, but I reckon I would have had a better journey discovering my magic if I was born at Lighthelm’s doorstep. People here are far more accepting of the existence of mages.`

“They were not so kind when I first arrived.”

“Takes them a bit to warm up, Cateline. Besides, you did not arrive in the most normal of circumstances.”

“This is fair…”

Aiora smiled toward her gently. “You come from Axulran, yes? Surely your discovery of magic was no easy feat, either.”

There was an underlying tone to Aiora’s voice, one of doubt. Although it made Cateline shift in her seat, the statement alone was correct. When her magic first surfaced, Cateline found herself battling with her father and siblings constantly. Her siblings were far more considerate of course, and most of their bickering came from a place of good faith and fun, but her father was a different beast.

Her eldest brother, Terrence, alongside their younger sibling Kristof, would point fingers at Cateline and blame their misfortunes on her. They were rarely allowed to visit town because their father worried powers would surface in one of them one day. That strict mentality lasted until Terrence was nineteen, and Kristof twelve. Unfortunately, it was entirely her fault for being magical.

King Airen did everything he could to get her up and out of Axulran the second she turned eighteen, but their search for a suitor was cut short when she woke on the shoreline of Traburg. She wondered if he would have been successful given different circumstances.

She wondered if her magic would still be concealed in her new home.

The only reason Cateline was able to protect herself and keep her secret under wraps was because of that pendant her mother gifted her. It was freeing, knowing it was missing—likely somewhere in the ocean—but part of her yearned for the comfort and security it held.

One night. A single tantrum thrown at the dinner table that froze her half of the table, nearly cutting her right hand off. The look of horror that raced across her mothers eyes as she ran to get help, while her father gazed in disgust. Her chances at a normal life were taken from her.

One. Night.

“You could say that, Aiora. Perhaps that is why I ended up here.”

Aiora’s eyes narrowed at Cateline’s cryptic response, bringing her shoulders up in a shrug. “Perhaps. We all need a mentor, though. I have one—or, had—and I will continue to be yours until you ask me to leave.”

Cateline has only had one mentor in her life. Alleyn, one of the only elvish citizens that touched foot near the castle of Axulran, took her to pick potatoes and lettuce heads with the purpose of educating her. She had little clue as to why he took her under his wing, but she would thank him a million times over for helping her understand the mysteries that extended beyond those large kingdom walls. He told her of dragons, ogres, and creatures that were never named. He even told her of magic under the ruse that it was nothing more than a myth.

She never got to thank him, though. And she probably never would be able to.

“Thank you Aiora. I do not think you know how much that sentiment means to me.”