The morning was heavy with stormlight. Dark clouds pressed low, and the air smelled faintly of rain and iron.
Lucian sat in the study with his mother, Empress Selene, as she oversaw correspondence. Scrolls and letters lay across the polished table, each sealed with wax in the colors of noble houses.
Selene's hands were delicate, but her eyes were sharp as she read, lips tightening at every complaint and demand disguised as courtesy.
"Another from House Kaldros," she murmured. "Renard insists the Emperor reduce levies on his mines, or he will claim the crown bleeds his coffers dry."
Lucian's jaw tightened. Always greedy, always gnawing at the empire's bones.
"Why does Father not dismiss him outright?" Lucian asked.
Selene gave him a weary smile. "Because a ruler cannot dismiss a viper without first ensuring its fangs are broken."
Her words struck him deeper than she knew. In another life, those very fangs had sunk into her.
Before he could respond, a knock came at the door. A steward entered, bowing low. In his hands lay a single scroll, bound with the deep crimson seal of the Imperial Academy.
The room stilled.
Selene set down her quill, eyes meeting Lucian's.
"The academy letter."
Lucian's pulse quickened. He rose, crossing the chamber in deliberate steps. The steward placed the scroll in his hands with exaggerated care.
Lucian broke the seal and unrolled it. The words were crisp, the script formal:
To Lucian Ardelion, son of His Imperial Majesty Kael Ardelion and Her Imperial Majesty Selene Ardelion,
By decree of the Council of the Academy, you are hereby invited to sit examination and trial for entry into the Imperial Academy. Upon successful completion, you shall be granted the rights and honors befitting your birth and station.
Signed,High Chancellor Malrik Veynar
Lucian's fingers clenched on the parchment.
Malrik. Of course it was Malrik's name at the bottom. The spider had always held sway over the academy's council, weaving influence into every corner of the empire.
His mother smiled faintly, though relief touched her features. "You have been accepted for trial. That is well. Once enrolled, you will be beyond petty gossip."
Lucian kept his voice calm. "And yet the letter comes late, does it not?"
Selene blinked. "Late?"
Lucian unrolled the parchment further. "The trials begin in one fortnight. Letters were sent weeks ago. Yet mine arrives only now."
The steward flinched as if struck. Selene's eyes sharpened. "Is this true?"
Lucian's mind burned with memory. In his first life, he had barely made the trials, branded as careless for his tardiness. Whispers had followed him: unfit, disorganized, weak. A seed of doubt planted in every noble mind.
"Yes," Lucian said softly. "It seems someone would prefer I miss my chance entirely."
Selene's lips pressed into a thin line. "That cannot be tolerated."
But Lucian forced a small, cool smile. "It will not be. I will sit the trials. And I will not merely pass—I will ensure none forget the name Ardelion."
His mother reached, brushing her hand against his cheek. "You've grown different, Lucian."
He bowed his head slightly. "Perhaps I've simply learned."
Inside, his thoughts coiled dark. This late letter is not error. It is a warning. Malrik moves already.
That evening, Lucian found Adrian sparring in the courtyard. The boy waved his sword eagerly when he saw him. "Did the letter come?"
Lucian nodded. "Yes. I leave within the fortnight."
Adrian's grin faltered, replaced by worry. "The academy is dangerous, isn't it? All those nobles' sons… all their games?"
Lucian knelt, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Yes. Dangerous. But necessary."
Adrian swallowed hard. "Then promise me something."
"What?"
"Promise me you'll come back. That you won't… vanish like others do."
The memory stabbed like a knife. In his first life, Lucian had not come back. He had left his family vulnerable, swallowed by the academy's cruelty, only to return years later already broken.
He held his brother's gaze. "I promise," he said firmly.
Adrian searched his face, then nodded.
But Lucian's vow was heavier than Adrian could know. I will come back. And I will come back strong enough to keep this house from burning.
Days passed in tense preparation. Lucian studied until candles guttered, reviewing tactics, history, law. He drilled his body relentlessly, sharpening every instinct.
But his mind was never free of that letter's seal, of Malrik's name scrawled at the bottom.
Why deliver it late? To shame him publicly? Or had Malrik hoped he would fail to arrive altogether?
Perhaps both.
It was a reminder: even as a boy, he was marked. Even before stepping foot in the academy, the spider had spun his web around him.
But Lucian Ardelion was no longer a fly.
On the eve of his departure, he sat alone in his chamber, staring at the parchment map of names and threads. He drew a bold circle around Malrik Veynar, the ink dark and heavy.
Beneath it, he wrote three words: Enemy Above All.
The storm outside broke then, rain lashing the windows, thunder growling across the sky. Lucian leaned back, eyes glinting in the candlelight.
"Send me your trials, Malrik. Send me your whispers, your knives, your chains. This time, I will not kneel. This time, I will weave the web tighter than you ever dreamed."
His hand closed around the academy letter, crumpling it slightly.
"To the academy, then," he murmured. "Let them see the boy they tried to break… and the man he has already become."
And with that vow, Lucian Ardelion set his eyes on the path that would either crown him—or consume the empire in fire.