We live in Auralis, a world where status isn't just a word, it's a glow around your neck.
In 2147, every person wears a bead, a small, shimmering orb that pulses with light to show their place in society.
Bronze beads flicker faintly, marking the working class who toil for a living.
Silver beads glow brighter for those with ambition and some wealth.
Gold sparkles for the elite, the ones who own businesses and estates.
Diamond beads radiate a sharp, crystalline light, reserved for the near-royalty, the families who control industries and influence.
And then there's Obsidian, our bead, the only one of its kind, black as night but glowing with a deep, molten red that commands fear and awe. No one else in Auralis wears Obsidian. It's ours alone, the Vespera family, a name that makes hearts race and heads bow.
We're the Vespera triplets—Valentina, Vittoria, and Viviana—sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in our private jet, soaring over the glittering skyline of Luminara, Vionica's capital.
The city below sparkles like a jewel box, its towers wrapped in holographic displays and streets pulsing with autonomous cars.
Our beads hang heavy against our throats, their red glow reflecting off the jet's polished interior.
We're dressed in identical black suits, tailored to hug our slim waists and broad shoulders, with gold chains dangling from our wrists and ears.
The suits are sharp, almost severe, but the gold adds a touch of fire, a reminder of who we are.
Outside, the world bows to the bead system, where power is visible, tangible, and undeniable. Inside this jet, it's just us, our secretary Elena, and the hum of a life that never slows down.
The jet's cabin smells of leather and jasmine, the air cool and crisp despite the warmth of our conversation.
Elena sits across from us, her Silver bead glowing softly against her navy blazer. She's typing on a holographic tablet, her short brown hair tucked behind her ears, her face calm but focused.
She's been with us for years, her loyalty as solid as the obsidian walls of our mansion.
We're flying back from a summer in Calyria, a coastal nation where we lounged on private beaches and dined under starlit skies.
Now, autumn calls us home to Luminara, to the Academia di Stelle, the high school where the world's richest and most powerful send their heirs.
It's a place where money talks louder than words, and we're about to step back into its glittering chaos.
"Ready for school?" Vittoria asks, her voice low, almost teasing, as she leans back in her cream-colored leather seat. Her gold earrings catch the light, glinting like tiny suns.
I, Valentina, smirk, adjusting the cuff of my suit. "Ready to own it, you mean."
Viviana, always the quiet one, flicks her eyes toward the window, where Luminara's skyline grows closer. "It's the same game every year. We walk in, they stare, we win."
We laugh, a soft, shared sound that fills the cabin. It's our rhythm, our way of facing the world—together, always together.
The jet's stewardess, a Bronze-beaded woman with a polite smile, glides toward us with a silver tray. The food is a work of art.
Delicate slices of seared tuna drizzled with truffle oil, roasted figs stuffed with goat cheese, and crystal flutes of sparkling lychee juice.
The plates are obsidian, naturally, edged with gold to match our jewellery. We eat slowly, savouring each bite, the flavours bursting like summer on our tongues. Elena sets her tablet aside to join us, picking up a fig and smiling faintly.
"School's going to be intense this year," she says, her voice warm but professional. "The new security measures are tighter than ever. Kings, queens, mafia heirs—they're all sending their kids to Academia di Stelle."
Vittoria pops a piece of tuna into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "More security means more eyes on us. Not that it matters. No one's stupid enough to cross us."
I nod, swirling my lychee juice. "The school's a battlefield, Elena. Constellation houses, rich kids throwing parties, Bronze students scrubbing floors to pay their way. It's all a show, and we're the stars."
Viviana cuts in, her voice sharp. "Don't forget the teachers. Some of them think they can play games with students. Gifts, favours—it's pathetic."
We all nod, our beads glowing brighter as our emotions spike. Academia di Stelle is a world of its own, a glittering cage where status is everything.
The school's residences, named after constellations like Orion and Cassiopeia, are little palaces for the rich and dorms for the scholarship kids.
You pay for everything—water, electricity, security—and the Bronze and Silver students work as maids or cleaners to afford it.
We've heard rumours of galas, auctions, and trips to museums or rival schools, all dripping with wealth. It's our kind of place, where we can shine as bright as our Obsidian beads.
"Do you think the Diamond girls will be there?" Vittoria asks, her tone casual but curious. She's talking about the rumours we've heard—three girls from Diamond families, supposedly, are almost our equals in wealth, if not status.
I shrug. "If they are, they'll learn their place. No one outshines us."
Elena raises an eyebrow but says nothing, taking a sip of her juice. We eat in silence for a moment, the jet's engines a soft hum beneath our thoughts.
School is a game we've mastered, but something about this year feels different. Maybe it's the way our beads pulse, like they know something we don't.