The academy's training yard was quieter than usual that morning. The sky was still pale with dawn, painted in soft strokes of pink and gray, as students lined up for their routine exercises. Elian stood among them, his body still weary from the strain of the previous day's test. Though his wounds had healed unnaturally fast, his mana core felt like an empty vessel.
He forced a smile, not wanting anyone to notice how heavy his chest felt.
"Today, we'll focus on refining your control," Instructor Ravel announced, his sharp eyes scanning the group. "A mage's strength is not only in how much power he wields, but in how precisely he can bend it."
The students murmured in agreement, excitement buzzing.
Lyra, as usual, stood slightly apart from the crowd. Her silver hair shimmered under the morning light, her noble air impossible to ignore. She looked toward Elian for a moment—her gaze sharp, questioning—before quickly turning away.
Elian chuckled softly to himself. She probably still thinks I'm showing off. But… if only she knew.
The session began. Each student conjured flames, water whips, earthen shields, and bolts of lightning. Magic crackled and shimmered in the air, filling the yard with a dazzling spectacle.
When Elian's turn came, the crowd went silent. The memory of yesterday's incident was still fresh.
He extended his hand toward the training target. A small flame flickered at his fingertip—weak, fragile compared to the roaring fire of others. Whispers rippled through the students.
"Still so weak…"
"Wasn't he the one who suddenly healed yesterday?"
"Maybe it was a trick…"
Elian ignored them. He focused, steadying his breathing. With precise control, he molded the small flame into a sharp stream and launched it.
The fire arrow struck the bullseye dead center.
Gasps spread through the group. Not a miss. Not even slightly off.
Ravel narrowed his eyes. Perfect accuracy… again. But such little mana. What are you hiding, boy?
Lyra crossed her arms, looking half-annoyed and half-intrigued. "Hmph. Accuracy doesn't mean much when your magic is that weak," she muttered, though a small flicker of respect crossed her eyes.
Elian only smiled. "A hit is still a hit."
The training moved on, but whispers lingered. Some students looked at Elian with envy, others with suspicion.
Later that evening, after classes had ended, Elian wandered the academy courtyard. Lanterns glowed faintly along the stone path, casting long shadows across the walls. He felt the fatigue of the day catching up with him, and his chest ached with a strange, restless energy.
As he passed under the arch of the old library tower, he froze.
A chill ran down his spine.
For just a moment—like a flicker of lightning—he felt something stir inside him. A presence. A warmth, yet heavy with sorrow.
"Elian…"
The voice was faint, almost like a whisper carried by the wind. It wasn't his imagination. It was soft, familiar, filled with longing.
He looked around sharply, but the courtyard was empty.
"Who… who's there?" he whispered.
The voice faded as quickly as it had come, leaving only silence. His heartbeat thundered in his chest.
He stumbled back a little, clutching his shirt where the faint outlines of black and white wings seemed to pulse under his skin, the hidden seal glowing faintly.
And then—just for an instant—he saw it.
A blurred vision flashed before his eyes: a woman with flowing silver hair, her back marred by a wound, cradling something close to her chest. A baby. Her lips moved, forming words he couldn't fully hear—yet the sound of her voice tugged at something deep inside his soul.
The vision shattered, and Elian gasped, falling to one knee.
"What… was that?" he muttered, trembling. His chest burned as if the seal itself had responded to the call.
At that exact moment, far away from the academy, in the lands where angels ruled the skies and demons stalked the shadows, two factions stirred.
A surge of power had been felt. Brief, fleeting, but unmistakable.
The demons whispered, "Could it be… the heir?"
The angels murmured, "The cursed child stirs…"
And in the academy courtyard, Elian knelt alone, unaware that both heaven and hell had just turned their eyes toward him.