Cateline sat on the stone bench, her fingers digging into the fabric of her gown as she took deep breaths. The absolute nerve of that woman, she would hardly live a day in Axulran without being beheaded. Such cruel words towards someone of higher status should never be warranted, nor tolerated. The fact that her parents would put her through this was unspeakable.

She looked over the horizon, watching as the sun peered through the clouds, godly rays invading the branches of the large oak trees that surrounded Lighthelm. The Kingdom of Traburg was woodsy and warm, a stark contrast to the snowy and chilled Kingdom of Axulran. Her home was surrounded by snowy mountains that peaked well above the clouds, towering over every inch of land the eye could see. This land, however, was lowly built, only rolling hills surrounding the academy of magic. Standing to her feet, she walked towards the open field and kicked her feet at a few dandelions. The feathery seeds flew into the air and blew away in the wind, landing many miles away and surely to sprout more. Cateline sighed, falling to her behind and picked at the grass, sulking in her own misfortunes.

A murmur was heard a few feet away as a group of men walked from the academy doors. They were varying in ethnicity and size, each holding themselves at different levels of respect. The most pompous of them all was an Elf, his hair a fiery red and his eyes a bloody crimson. He walked in front of the rest, hardly peeking back as he responded to the gentlemen who tailed him, who of which were clearly unamused by his stature and arrogance. His walk resembled Mistress Leolina, both legs gracefully treading over the grass in perfect steps that hardly made a dent in the soft dirt. Behind the Elf was the same satyr and warrior the princess peeped on just the day prior, their faces the most irritated by whatever the companion was saying.

Cateline smiled at the sight of a Dwarf tailing behind, waving his fist at the group who would not slow down. The Dwarf had ginger hair, and a beard that nearly touched his toes. His skin was freckled and pale, and his voice echoed the loudest against the stone walls. She was unsure what exactly he was saying, but she was positive it was a curse of some sorts. They stopped in the center of the courtyard, still many feet away from the Princess, and stood in a circular formation around the Elf.

Cateline watched as they began to chant something, each with a grin so wide it radiated into the sky. She had never seen such variation in creatures all working in harmony before, the Kingdom of Axulran, unfortunately, had their races clearly segmented into groups. Elves were so frowned upon, in fact, that the King and Queen had banished most, and those who were not exiled were sent to indentured servitude. Not that the Princess had much of an opinion on the matter, it was all irrelevant to her. A person was a person, their status in society was simply social.

Her eyes lowered to the ground at the thought. Perhaps she overreacted with Aiora in the classroom, it was not made public that she was a Princess in a kingdom far away. She had not exactly made that an audible confession; although, she was unsure why. In any normal circumstance, she was very direct about her status; being royalty was in her blood. It was her lifestyle. Here, though, she was out of her element. She had no workers or laborers to order around, it was simply not her place. She had no land to rule, for this land belonged to another King. Her family name had no impact. Who was to say she had the right to treat another human the way she treated Aiora?

It was then that a vibration so forceful and evident shook her core. As Cateline looked up, she watched a radiant blue lightning strike the center of that circular formation. Her breath faltered, and her eyes grew wide. That was where the Elf once stood. The bolt of light was so powerful it blinded the Princess for a moment, the earth only calming when the lightning returned to the crystal-clear sky. She stood and ran towards the group, screaming that they needed to move. Most of them stared at her in concern, but some quizzically eyed the crazed woman who clearly was worried of the injured Elf. Surely, anybody who had been struck by lightning with such force would have seen it prove fatal.

“What are you doing, just standing about?” The Princess hollered and pushed one of the people to the side, expecting to see a charred man laying dead on the ground. She expected the smell of burnt skin to overwhelm her senses, and for the sight to make her sick to her stomach. She expected to see her very first dead man, aside from the man she stabbed with an icicle a few days prior. To be fair, though, she did not see the man die—she merely exploded from her cube of ice and allowed the debris to do its lethal job. When she managed to push through the unmoving crowd, though, the tall Elven warlock stared at her in delight.

Cateline stood in bemusement, her brows furrowed as she looked back up into the sky. Surely, her second day at the academy did not warrant insanity. She was certain what she saw: a lightning strike so powerful it shook the heart of the earth and could have split the ground in two.

“Gentlemen,” the Elf spoke silently, those red eyes never faltering from the curious Princess as his palm slowly opened to reveal a mystical wonder, “this is a prime example of how the virtue of patience serves well in the minds of our warlocks and witches.”

Cateline’s eyes lowered to the palm of his hand, a blue ember of light bouncing across his hand. The illumination was so strong it cast shadows across his sharp features, the fiery red hair glowing with electric highlights as he lifted his hand back into the air, releasing it into the sky. Cateline watched the strike reverse upwards, colliding into the white clouds in a mesmerizing grid of asymmetrical lines. When her gaze returned to the Elf, his smile only grew wider. It was daunting, and evidently condescending.

“Welcome to Lighthelm, newcomer. While I envy your sympathy towards my wellbeing, please refrain from interrupting a group discussion on the power of light again.”

Cateline backed away from the group, her cheeks flushing at the feeling of their stares that followed her every movement. She mumbled an apology before returning inside. Perhaps she should find Aiora and stick to the simplest of magic that she seemed she had a hard time mastering and figure out whatever else there was to learn at this academy later.

───── ❝ 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝖊𝖓𝖛𝖞 & 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 ❞ ─────

Cateline walked into the dining room that evening, her eyes flickering across each stranger that resided in the hall. Some were sitting already, half finished with their meals, while the others pushed each other through the line to grab a bowl of whatever they were serving. Cateline was hardly focused on the meal, though, she wanted to mend the broken bridge she had destroyed earlier that day.

She walked up and down the aisles; her eyes focused in front of her to somehow recognize that only familiar face in a crowd of strangers. As she passed by a table, a group of Elves snickered towards her and mumbled something incoherent to each other. Surely, word hadn’t traveled so quickly in regard to her outburst in the courtyard when she thought that man had been struck by lightning?

Perhaps I should not be so naïve, the Princess told herself. With a sigh, her eyes landed on a group of men and women who sat together at a circular table. They were the only ones in the room smiling, genuinely enjoying each other’s company. Their roars of laughter bounced off each wall, echoing throughout her eardrums in a rush of joy. It was an envious sight, one that Cateline had rarely felt in such a strict and uncompromising life. There, though, she saw Aiora sitting in between the satyr and warrior she saw fighting yesterday.

Carefully, she took confident strides towards the group and looked at nobody but Aiora. They all stared at her, their laughter dying out abruptly at the sight of the newcomer. After clearing her throat, she spoke with as much confidence she could muster, “Aiora, I wanted to apologize about my behavior earlier.”

Aiora furrowed her brow and eyed the girl up and down, leaning back in her seat before responding, “You caused quite a ruckus today, huh? First with that scene in the classroom, and then interrupting Terrowin’s instruction? You seem to have no respect, Cateline.”

She pursed her lips and opened her mouth a few times to speak, however her voice did not seem to follow. Eventually, though, she was able to speak in a whisper, “I must say, it has been quite the adjustment here. You will have to give me a learning period—but I do hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”

It was then that a man chuckled. Her gaze darted to the source, eyeballing the dark-haired warrior who caught her peeping. His hair was jet black, and his eyes even more vibrant up close than they were from afar. He, too, studied the Princess before explaining his outcry of laughter, “No, I apologize, Princess. We just are not so used to such formalities.”

There was a certain tone of mockery that coated his sentence, something that made her cheeks blush and her teeth clench. Somehow, Cateline managed to stay composed, “Mock me or not, I know what I said to be true. I acknowledged my behavior and apologized. Accepting or not is your prerogative. If your answer is satirical jibing then I know I needn't have bothered.”

“I am definitely beginning to see how she may be royalty,” Aiora said with a sigh. “It’s fine, Cateline. If I can deal with these fools, I can deal with a bratty lady—I mean, Princess. If that’s what you really are.”

A small smile crooked at her lips, a feeling of relief washing over her, “I appreciate your generosity, Aiora. I do hope we can continue that lesson on fire, soon.”

The girl flashed her brows and took a sip of her mead, “Sure thing, ‘Your Highness.’ Meet me in the courtyard tomorrow morning, bright and early. I will recruit some help and we’ll make that fire come out of you soon enough.”