The bell sounded over Arclight Academy like the peeling of a cathedral's chime—throaty, deep, and final. It set flocks of birds scattering from the marble rooftops and silenced the low conversation of students clustered by the entrance.
I stood on the steps clutching my schedule so tightly the parchment crumpled. My new/old name—Riven Ulric—was written at the top in elegant script, almost mocking in its formality. Morning sunlight slanted across the courtyard, revealing a parade of colors as students streamed into the main building, uniforms a spectrum of noble crests and tailored blazers. I searched each face for familiarity, but every one belonged to someone I'd only read about.
It would be easy to be nervous, but I'd made up my mind to stay calm. Invisible. A true mob character.
Step one: Survive the opening ceremony without drawing attention.
A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped.
A tall boy with cropped blond hair—muscles barely contained by his jacket—offered me a smirk.
"You're the new Ulric, right? Late transfer? Don't get in the way of the upper years."
He didn't wait for an answer, already shoving past toward a pair of laughing friends.
Thanks for the warm welcome, random background character.
I trailed the flow of students, trying to recall every map and route from Arcane Hearts. Corridor left, up the grand staircase, through—damn, was it the East Hall or the West?
A hush fell behind me. Five figures glided through the doorway, and the crowd split like water before them.
First: the icy Mireille Astor, dark hair swept into a severe tail, blue eyes sharp as frost. Her white sword at her side did more to part the crowd than her reputation.
Second: slight, shy Elane Farris, all big eyes behind her studies, not meeting anyone's gaze as she trailed in Mireille's wake—though I caught a flicker of… was that her glancing at me?
Third: Seraphina Duskvale, sunlight trapped in her golden curls, books under one arm, smile just a bit too wide to be called friendly.
Fourth: Cassandra Winter, posture rigid, iron in her stride, military-issue boots already shining—from rumor, never with a hair or plan out of place.
Liora Sable came last—silent as a shadow, eyes glimmering violet, her expression distant, like she was listening to something no one else could hear.
They passed within arm's reach. I averted my eyes, heartbeat a drum in my ears.
Mireille's head twitched, just for a second. For a moment, her gaze met mine. My skin prickled. She moved on.
No. I'm not the protagonist. These aren't flags. This is just nerves. Relax.
The Great Hall was a mosaic of light and shadow. Massive banners drifted above, bearing the sigils of four Houses. The rows of seats filled quickly, students jostling and whispering. I found an empty spot near the back, taking tiny comfort in the shield of anonymity.
On stage, Headmaster Valesque waited—a wiry man in ancient scholar's robes, glasses perched on a nose that appeared designed for peering down.
His voice, when it came, sent a ripple across the crowd. "Welcome, students, new and returning, to another year of excellence at Arclight Academy. Genius flourishes where discipline reigns. Remember that."
A bored collective murmur responded.
I let my eyes wander as the speech continued. A few students already dozing, others whispering behind cupped hands. The five heroines sat in the reserved front row, dust motes haloing them in gold.
I caught Elane glancing back toward the crowd. For a breathless heartbeat, I thought she was looking for someone. Me? Impossible.
Unbeknownst to me, candles on the chandelier flickered. Five heads turned, minutely, in my direction.
The rest of the ceremony blurred. At the closing applause, I was already rehearsing how to dodge small talk on the way to Orientation.
"Riven Ulric?" A crisp voice called my name before I could escape.
I turned. Mireille Astor stood with a paper in hand. Her face was perfectly blank, eyes unreadable. Close up, she was somehow even taller, her presence twice as cold.
"There was a scheduling error," she said, voice grave. "You're paired with me for morning dueling practice."
My mind short-circuited.
Behind her, Seraphina and Liora exchanged a glance I pretended not to notice. Elane hovered several steps away, twiddling with the sleeve of her robe.
"I—yes. Thank you," I managed, trying not to let my surprise show.
Mireille's lips twitched—half-smile, half something else. She turned on her heel.
"We start at dawn tomorrow. Don't be late."
I watched her leave, very aware of Cassandra's gaze drilling into my back.
Elane lingered, eyes darting between the floor and me. I tried a smile.
"Good luck," she whispered, almost too quiet to hear. "She's… particular about her partners."
But as I made my way from the hall, I realized several things. Outside, the sun was shining. Inside, my heart was thumping with an excitement—and dread—I hadn't felt in years.
And somewhere, five heroines watched, listening to thoughts I would never expect anyone to know.
[End of Chapter 1]