"Feelings," he said. "We all have them. We all hate them."
A pause. The children smiled.
"But unfortunately for you, you have to learn to control them. Or they'll end up controlling you."
The entire classroom looked at him with admiration and sprinkle of confusion.
There he was. Standing in the front of the wooden amphitheater of the Arcane Tower.
The State Arcanist. A tall, slender man with long, dark hair always tied in a half-up ponytail. His face was angular, sharp, but undeniably handsome. There were always students among the upper grades who took a liking in him beyond his academic skills, but none would ever dare admit it.
His golden eyes never gave away his true emotions. To the children, they always showed only kindness and warmth. But behind those eyes lay immeasurable knowledge that they were always eager to take in. He wore an intricately embroidered dark robe, with massive sleeves that only contributed to his undeniable regal presence. You could tell he was royalty from a mile away.
And now, the most powerful man in the country was talking to the younger students about… feelings.
"Everything starts there," he said. "For each of you, it will be something different. The it I am talking about is a certain trigger that can channel your arcane. A powerful little piece of knowledge that I hope you take in and cultivate on your own every day."
He gestured lightly with his hands, pausing every so often to glance at a student.
"Beware of one thing. The feelings pallete is vaster than you think. For some of you, it might be happiness. For others anger. Sadness, melancholy, grief, amazement. Even simply trust. Find it. Harvest it. And—"
A voice cut in.
"C'mon, Master! The Veil, the Trials, spells, Royals—there's so much! Why... feelings?"
The Arcanist smiled.
"Conar, I almost believed that you were actually paying attention to my calss and I was starting to feel concerned. If you're so burdened with my seemingly uneffective teaching style, then why not demonstrate to the class just a simple shield spell?"
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. The children didn't know whether to laugh or not.
Still, Conar, not being able to read the room properly at his green age, continued.
"Ok... Fine. But what is your trigger, Master?"
The Arcanist took in a deep breath. He knew this question was coming sooner or later.
It almost looked like he was debating wheather to tell the children the truth or not.
"Since you are so eager to learn about the Royals, I will let you in on a little story."
The children all looked at him in amazement. Their favorite teacher would not easily stray from his lessons. They jubilated every time it happened.
"I was saving this one for later, but I think you'll like it."
He looked at them, all leaning forward, perched on the edge of their seats.
"You know this already. It wasn't by any means a quiet event. There used to be many other Royals. Today there are about… maybe ten, but fifty years ago, there were dozens more. Then, one night, they were simply gone."
His voice dropped low.
"Some say there was a mysterious assassin in the palace. One who bypassed every guard, even the king himself. Others say they were poisoned at a banquet. The papers enjoyed that last story quite a bit."
He paused.
"But among those, there were four with incredibly rare titles."
"But all Royals have special titles," one student said.
"You're right, Laine. Very right. But these four were even more special than the rest."
He let the silence build. He was enjoying keeping the children captivated.
"These four passed through the Veil."
Another pause.
"And made it out with the sacred water."
"Is that true? Do people like that really exist?" a student asked amist some audible gasps.
"Who knows…" he replied with a wry smile.
"But the story goes—there once were four very powerful Royals. Inherently different. Couldn't see eye to eye most of the time. But their friendship ran deep and their arcanes were almost cosmically compatible. Through their bond, they succeeded in obtaining the water, and, luckily for our dear king, went on to share that bond with him, helping him claim the throne from the previous one."
He scanned the room, taking in the childrens' faces. It was uncertain if they reflected back shock or disbelief.
"What do you think their titles were?" he continued.
The children burst out with wild guesses—none of them right.
"Tarot Cards!"
"Dice!"
"The Incredibles!"
The State Arcanist chuckled. "Ah, no, but I like that one."
A pause.
"They were called The Seasons."
"Spring. Summer. Fall. And, of course... Winter."
The children continued asking questions frantically.
"Master, it's true, isn't it? Has to be!
Did you meet them?
What were they like?"
"Lookwise or personalitywise?"
"So it is true!"
"Tell us both!"
"Well... besides being incredibly powerful, as fully ascended Royals, who passed the Veil's Trials would be, they were pretty true to their titles."
He paused again, smiling faintly as if the memory touched something that was stored away long ago.
"Summer—born from liquid fire, just like a dragon. Loyal to a fault. Dangerous, if provoked. Even unprovoked. A woman that could make kings fight a never ending battle just for her entertainment."
"Fall—sharp. Some say he was the shadow's shadow. I say that's an understatement. Unstable, I agree. He made some people feel insecure, but he was irresistible to many other."
His sudden change in speech made a few students that noticed giggle.
"Spring..." His voice dipped, regaining his usual mannerisms. "Kind. Stronger than all of them, although she might have been half their size. See, she was a half-elf, which is now, tragically, an extinct species. As for her personality, she had a way of… making any room she walked in brighter."
Softer now, almost a whisper.
"She brought in the smell of flowers."
"And Winter—"
Just a breath—but enough to break his rhythm.
"—was precise. Cold. Brilliant. The kind of person you wouldn't want to mess with. He really didn't know how to take a joke. A man with an ego greater than any of their titles. He took a special interest in Spring."
He stopped. The glamour on his face was thinner now. A little too forced.
The class sat in silence, trying to take in what The Arcanist said, picturing those almost mythical figures he described.
The Trials represented the ultimate test to all of the children present in the room. They were far from the moment they would pass through them, but the fact that the moment will come wasn't to be questioned. At their current age, the children could only dream and play pretend that each of them would finish The Trials, ascend to be one of the all powerful people in the kingdom—The Royals— and, hopefully, take the sacred water from fountain at the end of those Trials, that would grant them an imense boost of power.
The fact that there were people that actually managed to take the water was astonishing. If they didn't know their Master the way that they did, they would consider this story just a fairytale. Some of them actually still did. But it was something in the Arcanist's voice that sounded too real for even children not to notice.
Their Master, on the other hand, turned to the wall sized table behind him, mindlesly drawing magical runes on it's surface, as if trying to make sense of the story as well.
Until a boy in the back leaned forward.
"What happened to them?" he asked. "Those Royals. Why does no one remember them? They managed to do the one thing everyone wanted and no one knows that? It's weird."
The Arcanist didn't turn.
"No one really knows" he said softly. "They vanished just after the current kings' succession to the throne. Long before the stories of assassinations and banquests ever existed."
"What do you think, Master?" another girl asked.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he lifted his hand, and the glowing runes on the board shimmered and dissolved into a swirl of mist.
Class was nearly dismissed when a small voice rose—quiet, uncertain.
"Master," another student asked, "do you know any Royal alive today who looks like... well, actually like Spring in a way? Green eyes, long, brown and golden hair, pink robes, funny ears? The half-elf thing made me think of..."
The Arcanist stilled.
Not dramatically, but something in the air changed.
He turned, slowly.
For the first time, the children caught him off guard.
"Where did you…?"
The student shrank in her seat. "Oh. Uh… I—I saw someone that looked like that in the library yesterday. She was… really pretty."
The silence that followed was immediate. Dense.
The State Arcanist said nothing. Just stood there, unmoving.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Dismissed."
————————————————————————————————————————————
There were only a few days left until the Trials. The entire city was tense. You couldn't walk to a corner of any street without hearing about them. Parents uplifting their children, upper years Academy students sparring in alleyways, vendors yelling over each other trying to sell maps, charms, and tickets for rides to Wright Mountain, where the Trials would take place.
In the midst of it all, a small young lady weaved desperately through the crowd, trying to squeeze past the people gathering everywhere.
"Excuse me!"
"Pardon!"
"So sorry!"
She clutched a leather bag brimming with papers that clearly needed delivering somewhere. And judging by her frantic pace, she was very late. The crowd, however, couldn't care less.
It was Spring.
People cursed after her as she passed. She was disturbing their excitement, and their excitement was sacred. The Trials were the most important event of the year, not just for the participating students, but for everyone connected to them. Family. Friends. Even someone who knew someone who knew someone. All of them held their breath, waiting to see who would be elevated. A rare event. High stakes.
Spring began mentally berating herself.
No, I can't do this. There's no way I'll make it to the castle in time like this. Ugh… I should've taken the back entrance. But the town was empty just last week…
She glanced around, thinking fast. Then she darted into a shadowed alley, pulled up her hood—and leapt.
Up the walls. Over the rooftops.
A blur.
Some people caught a glimpse, but she moved so quickly that all they saw was a flicker of dark pink in the corner of their vision. Just a trick of the eye.
Moments later, she landed at the castle gates.
That should do it.
The guards tensed instantly. Visiting hours had just ended, and no one was allowed in.
Then she pulled down her hood.
The guards froze, their expressions dropping from alarm to reverence. They dropped to one knee in unison.
"Your Highness!"
Spring smiled. "The king always insists on being formal, doesn't he?"
She strode past them and bolted through the castle with the same inhuman speed she'd used to get there. The palace was beautiful—but she didn't stop to admire it. No time. She headed straight to the Throne Room.
The Throne Room was vast but far too quiet for its size. Light poured in from tall arched windows, carving slanted shapes across polished marble floors. At the far end, raised upon a platform, stood two thrones—equal in height, unequal in presence.
One was empty. No one sat there now and no one would ever sit there again.
The other held King Dante, poised as always. Dante looked older than the others in the room with him, though he wasn't. His age hadn't carved itself into his skin but his life experience certainly did.
He was not a muscular man—not even close. Strength had never been his weapon. His witt was.
He rarely looked at the second throne anymore, but the room never let him forget it was there. Not that the room was the only indicative of the past. The loss of his beloved wife was the only dream he had left. Such a tragic end for such a beautiful flower.
Beside him stood his personal assistant, Samuel—silent, efficient and never far. The man spoke rarely but missed nothing.
The ceiling arched high above like the underbelly of a cathedral, holding symbols etched in gold—sigils of old bloodlines, constellations, and fragments of the First Scripture. The book that held the secrets of the Veil.
"Your Highness!" Spring called, bowing with a hand on her hip in theatrical flourish. There was a lilt of mischief in her voice. She was teasing him, but clearly fond.
At the sound of her voice, the king brightened. His worst day had just become his best.
"Ah, Spring, darling!"
He stood quickly, descending the steps to meet her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at her as though she were a long-lost child returned home.
"My gods, Spring, it's not like you to be late. I've been waiting all day!"
"Dante, you flatter me. I ran into a bit of a... crowd. They're all so excited! I can't help feeling a little riled up myself."
"Of course you are! It's going to be captivating. I've heard the students are more prepared than ever. This Trial will be one for the centuries. Many will rise—hopefully more than a few. We've been painfully short-staffed."
"Huh… How come?"
Dante chose to answer only the first question.
"The State Arcanist is the best we've ever had," he said, smiling.
"I don't remember you ever inviting me to be your State Arcanist," Spring quipped.
Dante chuckled, the sound echoing warmly through the marble hall.
"Bright, as always."
A pause. Then, almost too casually, he added:
"He liked that about you."
She blinked. "Your State Arcanist... knows me?"
"He's been mentoring the children daily. Claims it's exhausting—but he's better at it than anyone I've seen. The children adore him."
Spring tilted her head. Curious, despite herself.
"That's not what I asked. You don't usually praise your court like that."
Dante's face softened even further.
"Yes, you didn't. No, I don't."
She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Who is he, exactly?"
The king met her gaze, voice calm.
"An idiot. Impossible. Regretably excelent at anything related to arcane. And far more dangerous than I'd like to think about."
She paused—expression unreadable.
Then suddenly remembered why she had rushed here in the first place.
"Ah—Dante! The books. You said it was urgent." She opened her bag and presented it.
"Yes, darling. Thank you." He turned to his aide. "Samuel?"
Samuel nodded wordlessly and took the bag from her hands.
"Is something wrong?" she asked. "It's a bit unusual to need books so fast you'd send me to fetch them. I didn't know you were such a picky reader. Those are from every corner of the country. Look at this one, 'Ancient hereditary curse handling'. Oddly specific…"
Spring smiled—but a trace of concern lingered in her voice.
Dante paused.
"I can't answer that yet."
Her smile faded. She wanted to press him—but she knew better. Dante never said more or less than what he intended to.
So she let it go.
"Actually… I wanted to ask you a favor as well."
He blinked slowly, then grinned. "Aren't you full of surprises today? Anything you want, darling."
"I want to train. Like we used to. I still don't know how much of my power I can use. I stopped trying after… well you know, and… that makes me feel very empty."
"Since me and Winter arrived here a few weeks ago, seeing everyone so alive, so passionate... I don't know. Something stirred in me."
For once, Spring didn't look mischievous or bright. She looked tired. That alone would've been enough to silence any tyrant.
Dante's concern showed at once.
"Spring, love… why would you ever think you're not allowed to do as you please in any part of Rowen?"
She gave him a look. "I knew you'd say that. It's just… Besides the Academy, there's nowhere safe. Nowhere covered. And there are so many people there…"
"Then go after dark. There shouldn't be anyone around—though I wouldn't bet on it. But truly, Spring... why do you still feel the need to hide? How many times have I asked you this? What good does it do you now? How many times have I told you to settle down here? I would always help you with anything you'd like."
She looked down, silent. Thinking.
After a pause, Dante turned and slowly ascended back to his throne.
He stopped halfway. Still facing away.
"Besides," he said softly, "I might need that power of yours sooner than you think."
Spring's head snapped up.
She stared at him, disturbed. He didn't say things like that lightly. Not between them.
Never had.
His words meant that something was coming and she needed to be prepared.
"Your Highness!" she called out—seriously this time, and darted from the room.