The sun broke over the Academy of the Silvermoon, casting golden light through drifting smoke and scorched stone. Where once stood the proud dueling arena, now lay ruin—cracked pillars, torn banners, and the scent of sulfur lingering like an echo from the underworld.
From the sky descended the royal knights.
Leading them was Knight-Captain Arcturus, his gleaming armor etched with radiant runes, his greatsword humming with divine resonance. Behind him, elite spellblades and battlemages fanned out in silence—eyes sharp, formation tight.
But there was no enemy left to confront.
Only silence.
Only ash.
And at the center of the devastation... a body.
Or rather, what remained of one.
> "Demon general," one mage muttered, voice tight. "That crest… It's Pride. The Seventh Circle."
> "Impossible," whispered another. "He was sealed beneath the Deep Abyss... Wasn't he?"
Arcturus stepped forward. The air still pulsed with residual power—crimson sigils scorched into the earth, the atmosphere thick with the scent of burnt mana and shattered wards. Something ancient had stirred here.
He raised a gauntleted hand, murmuring under his breath.
> "This wasn't mortal magic," he said grimly. "This was something... older."
Then, movement.
At the edge of the smoldering crater knelt a girl—Felicia Silverstream, her long golden hair tousled, dusted in ash. In her lap rested a boy, unconscious and bloodied, his breathing shallow, chest barely rising.
Cassian Lionheart.
She trembled as she brushed soot from his face, her fingers shaking. Her forehead leaned gently to his.
> "No one can know what you are…" she whispered. "I'll protect your secret. I promise."
When the knights approached, she rose slowly. Eyes red from tears, but her spine straight—dignified. Commanding.
> "He fought Pride alone," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "I arrived too late. The demon was already dead."
A hush settled. Tension thickened.
Some knights exchanged skeptical glances. Others looked rattled. Yet no one challenged her.
Because in Felicia's eyes—burning with grief and unflinching resolve—there was no room for doubt.
Not even from Arcturus.
He gave a slow, solemn nod.
Felicia bowed her head.
But deep inside her calm, the storm still churned.
Cassian, still unconscious, knew nothing of the myth quietly blooming around his name.
---
Sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, soft and warm. Outside, sparrows trilled melodies in the trees.
Cassian stirred.
Pain flared in his ribs. Muscles ached. He blinked against the golden light, breath shallow. The ceiling spun faintly above him.
Then he turned his head—and saw her.
Felicia, curled in a chair beside his bed, head resting on folded arms, golden hair cascading like liquid light. Her lashes cast faint shadows on her cheeks, and her breathing was slow, even.
She looked exhausted.
Like she hadn't moved in days.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
Then memory struck.
A forest, years ago. Twilight skies. Bloodied hands. Five wolves lying dead at his feet.
And a girl—small, scared—clutching a wounded rabbit, eyes wide with wonder and fear.
> "You…"
The word rasped from cracked lips.
Felicia stirred, blinked groggily—then bolted upright, her hands flying to his cheeks.
> "Cassian?!"
Relief broke across her face like sunlight through storm clouds. And then, without hesitation, she threw her arms around him.
> "You're awake," she sobbed into his shoulder. "You made me worry so much. You've been out for two whole days. I… I thought I lost you."
Cassian blinked, stunned by the closeness, by the way her voice trembled.
Slowly, he raised his hand and rested it gently on her back.
> "I'm okay now," he murmured. "Don't worry."
A pause.
Then, with a crooked grin:
> "But I'm starving. Got anything to eat?"
Felicia pulled back, eyes rimmed with red but sparkling now.
> "Seriously?" she sniffed, laughing through tears. "You nearly die and that's what you say?"
> "What kind of hero are you?"
> "The hungry kind," Cassian grinned.
She laughed again and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
> "Then let's get you fed, idiot."
---
The dining hall bustled with students, but a strange hush followed Cassian wherever he walked.
Rumors rippled like wildfire—about fire, demons, and a battle no one saw.
Cassian sat near the windows, tray stacked high: roast chicken, garlic potatoes, spiced rice, and three slices of fruit pie. He ate like a man who hadn't tasted food in weeks.
Felicia sat across from him, barely touching her salad. Her gaze lingered on him, searching, uncertain—like she feared he might vanish if she blinked.
Cassian glanced up between bites.
> "You really stayed the whole time?"
Felicia nodded, twirling her fork aimlessly.
> "Of course I did."
A pause stretched.
Then she added, softly:
> "I owe you... and not just for Pride."
Cassian tilted his head.
> "Five wolves. Wounded rabbit. Blue ribbon in your hair."
Her breath caught. Her fork froze mid-air.
> "You remember?"
> "I never forgot," he said gently.
A small, knowing smile touched his lips.
> "You were the first person I ever saved."
The cafeteria noise seemed to fade into the distance. For a moment, it was just them—bound by something quiet and unspoken.
Felicia leaned forward, her voice steady but intimate.
> "Then let me be the first to protect you."
> "Let me be your shield this time."
---
The halls of Silvermoon buzzed with tension.
As Cassian walked beside Felicia, students turned to watch.
Some with awe.
Some with unease.
But none dared approach.
The stories had already begun to spin—of firestorms, of an ancient demon fallen, and a lone boy who walked away from the ashes.
High above, hidden behind enchanted sigils, a figure in dark robes watched from a shadowed balcony.
Eyes sharp. Presence masked.
> "So... he's awakened," the figure murmured.
> "But who is guarding him…?"
The observer stepped back—and vanished into the ether without a sound.
Unseen.
But not uninterested.
---
Outside, the air was crisp and clean.
Cassian and Felicia strolled along a tree-lined path, their steps in quiet rhythm.
Cassian nudged her playfully with his shoulder.
> "Thanks, Felicia."
She glanced over and smiled, then jabbed his side lightly with her elbow.
> "Don't get yourself killed again."
> "You still owe me lunch next week."
> "Deal."
Their laughter echoed through the courtyard, light and warm.
Behind them, the ruins of a battlefield whispered of secrets buried deep.
Before them—bonds strengthened, legends sparked, and a storm quietly rising on the horizon.