The sun dipped low over the academy, casting long shadows across the training fields. The day's lectures had ended, but the grounds buzzed with students practicing spells and sparring.
Elian, Kael, and Lyra were walking back toward the dormitories when a familiar, chilling voice called out:
"Elian Ardent."
He turned to see her—Elira Veylon—standing at the edge of the training ground, her silver hair gleaming like molten moonlight. A few other nobles stood nearby, watching expectantly, as though they had been waiting for this moment.
"You," Kael muttered, frowning. "What do you want?"
Elira's gaze slid past him like he wasn't worth noticing. Her icy blue eyes locked onto Elian. "A duel."
The word froze the air around them. Nearby students stopped their practice, turning to watch.
Elian blinked. "A duel? Why?"
"To test something," Elira said calmly, her expression unreadable. "Your performance during the Rift incident was… unusual. I want to see it with my own eyes."
Kael stepped forward. "Forget it. You nobles think you can play with people—"
But Elian raised a hand, stopping him. His heart pounded, but a strange determination stirred within him. He could feel the whispers from the seal again, faint but insistent.
"I accept."
Lyra hissed under her breath, "Elian, she's not just any noble. She's the Duke's daughter. If you lose—"
"If I lose, I lose," Elian said softly. "But running will only make things worse."
A circle was drawn on the ground, glowing faintly with the academy's dueling wards. Students crowded around, eager for spectacle.
Elira stepped inside first, graceful and precise. Her mana surged, shimmering like frost, forming a thin mist that clung to her every movement.
Elian stepped opposite her, rolling his shoulders. He forced his breath steady.
The instructor overseeing the practice field raised his hand. "Begin."
Elira moved first. With a flick of her wrist, ice shards shot toward Elian in a deadly arc.
Elian reacted instantly—his hand glowing faintly as he conjured a small fireball. It burst midair, scattering her shards, but his flames looked weak compared to her sharp precision.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"He's barely holding on."
"So much for the Rift hero."
"She's going easy on him."
Elira's eyes narrowed. She summoned a lance of ice and thrust it forward. Elian sidestepped, then retaliated with a string of fire bursts—precise, sharp, landing exactly where he aimed.
The flames weren't strong, but not a single one missed.
Elira paused, lowering her weapon slightly. "Your magic is weak… but your accuracy is flawless."
Elian smirked faintly. "You noticed."
Her expression didn't change. Instead, she raised her hand—and suddenly the mist around her thickened, freezing the ground at Elian's feet. His body stiffened as ice crawled up his boots, rooting him in place.
The crowd gasped.
"Elian!" Lyra called.
For a heartbeat, Elian's chest burned. The seal stirred, glowing faintly beneath his shirt. A whisper brushed against his thoughts:
Break it.
His vision blurred. For an instant, he saw not the training ground but a memory—his mother's face, pale and desperate, her voice breaking as she whispered something he couldn't fully hear.
Elian's fire suddenly flared brighter, hot enough to melt the ice around his feet. The crowd recoiled at the heatwave.
Elira's eyes widened ever so slightly.
But before it could escalate further, the instructor slammed his staff down. A ward flared, ending the duel.
"That's enough!" he barked. "This is training, not war."
The magic dissipated. Elira lowered her hand, her icy calm returning, though her gaze lingered on Elian like she'd just confirmed something.
Elian, breathing hard, extinguished the last flicker of flame on his fingertips.
"You're hiding something," Elira said softly, so only he could hear. "And I will find out what."
With that, she turned and left the circle, her noble entourage following.
The crowd dispersed slowly, buzzing with speculation. Some looked impressed. Others, unsettled.
Kael rushed to Elian's side. "Are you insane? She was about to freeze you solid!"
Lyra frowned deeply, though her hand hovered close to his arm, steadying him. "Elian… that wasn't normal fire. What happened to you?"
Elian swallowed hard, glancing down at his chest. The seal was quiet now, but its warmth lingered.
"…I don't know."
But deep inside, he knew the truth was closer than ever—and Elira Veylon might be the one to drag it into the light.