The days had slipped by in a rhythm of muted anticipation. Outside her chambers, the once-quiet halls of Ravenshade Castle thrummed with ceaseless activity. Servants hurried in and out, arms laden with bolts of silk, boxes of gemstones, and gilded accessories that glimmered like fire under torchlight.
Tailors, seamstresses, and designers of renown arrived almost daily, fussing over measurements, colors, and fabrics as though their lives depended on it. In a sense, they did; none dared disappoint the royal family of the Human Domain, least of all on a day that would be witnessed by the entirety of the nobility.
Invitations, sealed with the Ravenshade crest, were dispatched across the land. Carriages bearing messengers rattled along cobblestone roads to distant baronies, duchies, and merchant cities.
One by one, nobles who ruled in Elowen's shadow opened those letters with trembling hands, knowing that the Emperor's will was not something they could casually ignore. Jasmine knew that by the time of the ball, the castle would be teeming with guests, lords, ladies, foreign dignitaries, and ambitious guildmasters eager to curry favor with the most powerful man in human history.
Yet the girl whose name adorned those invitations felt none of their urgency.
To Jasmine, the preparations were hollow, almost absurd. She understood the truth too well: though her coming-of-age was written on parchment as the reason for the gathering, the night itself would not be hers.
No, it would be consumed by politics, schemes, alliances, and rivalries dressed in gold and silk. The guests would not toast to her maturity as much as they would whisper about the shifting tides of influence in the Human Domain.
Her stepmothers would sparkle like jewels under the chandelier light, their gowns designed less to please Elowen than to silence rival noblewomen. Her siblings, too, would preen and posture, clad in the most ostentatious attire, eager to secure their own recognition from lords and generals alike.
They would smile at her, perhaps even feign affection for appearances' sake, but Jasmine knew their true intentions. Their display was not for her. It was for themselves.
The Ravenshade family was a spectacle in its own right. Never in history had an Emperor taken so many wives and consorts, binding so many noble houses, guild dynasties, and bloodlines into one web.
What had begun as a strategy centuries ago had grown into something titanic under Elowen Ravenshade's reign. To some, it was proof of his genius, an emperor who could unite countless factions under his roof through marriage alone. To others, it was the symbol of his insatiable ambition, perhaps even a weakness dressed as strength.
Jasmine, however, could not fathom the appeal. The great man she called father seemed too far beyond such mortal distractions. She often wondered, though never dared ask, why someone like him, who stood amongst the unrivaled in the world, would surround himself with so many wives, each vying in subtle ways for recognition, influence, or favor. It was not hatred that she felt when she thought of it. Nor scorn. Only a quiet perplexity.
It was one of the many reasons why her respect for Elowen did not blossom into reverence as it did in others. Her siblings bowed in awe, their mothers whispered about his perfection, and the nobles painted him as a god draped in mortal form. To Jasmine, however, he was simply a man. A man with flaws, though his flaws towered as vastly as his strengths.
She did not despise him. Quite the opposite. He was her father, and she acknowledged all he had done to secure humanity's place in a world brimming with threats. Yet she knew that every human bore imperfections, herself included. To deny them would be to live in delusion.
And so, as the castle pulsed with frenzied preparation, Jasmine remained untouched by its urgency. She sat with quiet patience, watching with calm, curious eyes as the storm of vanity and ambition gathered around her.
The same afternoon, Jasmine sat alone at the tea porch in her courtyard. A half-played game of chess lay before her, the black and white pieces locked in silent conflict.
Her hand moved with absent grace, sliding a rook across the board as if her opponent were sitting across from her, though there was none. At her side, Lilian, the ever-present handmaiden, stood with her usual quiet composure, eyes downcast, never once intruding unless her lady required it.
The door to the porch creaked open, and the soft swish of fine silk announced the arrival of one of Jasmine's half-sisters. Vivian Ravenshade, her auburn hair cascading down in rich waves, catching the sunlight like burnished copper, stepped into view with a faint smile.
"Well," Vivian said lightly, her voice dripping with practiced ease, "I see you're sitting in solitude again, as usual."
Jasmine did not look up at once. Instead, she reached for her teacup, the porcelain delicate in her hand, and took a measured sip. Only then did her gaze rise, calm and unwavering, to meet her sister's.
"It is precisely as I desire," Jasmine replied, her tone smooth and steady, every word balanced like her chess pieces. "I will be the first to admit that I am a lonely soul… and the last to admit that I need a hand to hold."
She set the cup back down with a soft clink, her expression as serene as ever.
Vivian snorted, the sound half-amusement, half-disbelief. "Of course you would say that."
A silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. Jasmine finally tilted her head, studying her sister with the same patience she afforded her chessboard.
"What is it you require of me, Vivian?"
Vivian tapped the leather-bound notebook she held in her hand, her smile sharpening into something more mischievous. "You already know. My Mana Theory homework. As usual."
Her words were light, but Jasmine caught the slight edge of expectation there. Vivian, after all, was not just any student; she studied at the Zephyria Academy of Magical Arts, the most prestigious institution in the world, perched upon the floating city of Cloudhaven. Only the most gifted, most well-connected, or most ruthless secured a place there.
Cloudhaven City.
The very mention of Zephyria Academy inevitably brought the floating city to mind. Suspended high above the world, Cloudhaven was unlike any other place in existence. Neither kingdom nor empire, neither wholly human nor wholly other. Instead, it stood as a neutral ground in a conflict-stricken world - a beacon in the storm of old rivalries and fragile alliances.
The best academy to go to if you hoped to meet nobility from the other races of the world was Zephyria Academy.
It is said that the city was built by a Supreme Mage whose name had been erased by time, though his deeds remained immortal. They said he was the one who, hundreds of thousands of years ago, lifted the impossible city into the skies, and with it, an ideal.
He sought to bring true peace to the world. What better way to bind the world together than to raise its future leaders side by side?
Thus, Zephyria Academy was founded, its towering spires and crystalline halls becoming the crucible where the young elite of all races mingled. Princes and princesses, heirs to noble bloodlines, and scions of mighty clans studied there, competing and scheming, forming alliances that often lasted lifetimes.
Most of Jasmine's older siblings were students there, though not all of them. Emperor Elowen had twenty-seven children in total, all of them quirky in their own way, so they were often left to their own devices, well, except for the older ones, who were often bound by duty. Jasmine was the second youngest, so she got to live her life in general peace and luxury.
Jasmine's eyes flicked to the notebook in Vivian's hand, then back to her sister. "And what are you willing to pay for my trouble?"
Vivian's lips curved into a victorious smirk. She raised her hand, and with a flick of her fingers, a small object shimmered into view, an intricately forged storage ring. The metal glowed faintly with the imprint of runic seals, the magic within humming like restrained lightning.
"There's a trove of books inside," Vivian said, almost lazily, as though the treasure she held were trivial. "Return the ring once you've had your fill of them. Consider it… fair payment."
Jasmine's composure shifted, her lips tugging into a rare, genuine smile. Her slender fingers reached out to take the ring, her eyes alight in quiet triumph.
"A pleasure doing business with you," she murmured, the words rolling off her tongue with an elegance that sounded both playful and final.
Vivian chuckled under her breath, satisfied. She turned on her heel, the hem of her gown trailing behind her as she departed the porch, leaving Jasmine once more with her chessboard, her tea, and her thoughts.
The young girl twirled the ring between her fingers, her smile lingering. To her, it was not just payment. It was a doorway, another world of knowledge waiting to be devoured.
And in that moment, for the first time that day, Jasmine was not bored.