Morning came soft and gray, the kind of light that never quite reached warmth. The rain from the night before still clung to the windows, tracing slow, silver lines across the glass.
In the dining hall, long tables stretched beneath banners of every House, each one fluttering faintly from the rising draft. The smell of roasted coffee, butter, and old paper mixed in the air — Aethergard's strange perfume of intellect and exhaustion.
Precious Wolfë sat near the end of the Philosopher's table, a half-eaten croissant beside her notebook. Her grey eyes followed the lazy spiral of steam from her mug. Around her, conversations buzzed like quiet thunder — gossip, debates, secrets disguised as small talk.
Danielle Adaeze plopped into the seat beside her, wearing her usual grin and a headwrap patterned in green and gold. "You're famous, you know."
Precious blinked. "What?"
"The debate last night." Danielle smirked. "Half the school's still arguing about whether you 'humbled' Arthur Conan or 'enchanted' him."
Precious groaned. "Can I disappear now?"
"Nope. Visibility is your new destiny, Miss Philosopher." Danielle stole a grape from her plate. "Welcome to the spotlight."
Before Precious could reply, a polite voice interrupted. "May we join you?"
She looked up.
Two students stood across the table — elegant, poised, and immediately recognizable. Akira Kurosawa and Alexa Chung.
Akira looked as she always did — immaculate. Her black hair framed her face like silk ink brushed against porcelain skin. Her brown eyes were calm, but there was something new in them this morning — a faint, lingering curiosity.
Alexa, by contrast, was sunlight personified. Honey-brown hair in loose curls, warm amber skin, a sharp smile that hinted at mischief. "Don't worry," Alexa said, settling beside Akira. "We're not here to interrogate you. Yet."
Danielle raised an eyebrow. "That's comforting."
Alexa laughed. "I'm Alexa Chung, Strategy House. Akira's second-in-command, occasional translator, and full-time chaos manager."
"Danielle Adaeze," Danielle replied easily. "Philosophy House. Professional troublemaker."
Akira's lips twitched — almost a smile. "Accurate."
Precious hesitated, then nodded. "You can sit. But I can't promise I'll be interesting."
"Oh, you're interesting," Alexa said, taking a bite of toast. "The entire Symposium this morning is buzzing about you."
"Symposium?" Precious echoed.
Danielle leaned closer. "Weekly student assembly. Think fancy debates and quiet assassination attempts. You'll love it."
Alexa grinned. "It's less violent than she makes it sound. Mostly."
---
The Aethergard Symposium was held in the Sun Court — an open hall of marble and glass where sunlight pooled like liquid gold. Students from all six Houses gathered, dressed in their colors, notebooks clutched like shields.
Professor Thornwell sat near the front, his silver eyes sharp as ever. When he caught Precious's gaze, he gave the faintest nod — approval, or warning. She wasn't sure which.
"Today's theme," he announced, "is Power and Intention. Each House will contribute a speaker. A dialogue, not a duel — if you can manage that."
A low chuckle rippled through the crowd.
Arthur Conan was already there, lounging at the Rhetoric table beside his friend Nathaniel Grey — tall, bronze-skinned, with sea-green eyes and a quiet confidence that contrasted sharply with Arthur's charm. Nathaniel noticed Precious first and gave her a brief, genuine smile. Arthur followed his gaze, his grin slow and deliberate.
"Well, well," Arthur murmured. "If it isn't my philosopher."
Precious looked away quickly, heart fluttering against her will.
Nathaniel elbowed him. "Don't scare the poor girl."
"Scare?" Arthur laughed. "I'm enlightening."
"Annoying," Nathaniel corrected.
Across the room, Danielle whispered, "If he winks at you again, I'm throwing this teacup."
---
The Symposium began with short speeches — polished words about ambition, order, innovation. The air was thick with competition disguised as civility.
Then, Akira rose from her seat.
She walked to the center platform, and the room fell silent. Her voice was smooth and deliberate — every syllable measured like steps on glass. "Power," she said, "is not merely possession. It is perception. Whoever controls what others see controls what they believe."
Her gaze drifted, almost imperceptibly, to Arthur.
He smiled lazily back. "And what happens when perception lies?"
Akira didn't flinch. "Then you learn to lie better."
Murmurs rippled through the hall. Professor Thornwell's mouth twitched, half amusement, half warning.
Arthur rose to respond, words slick as honey. "Or perhaps truth, in the right voice, can outshine any lie."
"Perhaps," Akira said coolly. "If anyone still listens."
The tension between them crackled — familiar, magnetic, dangerous. Precious watched, feeling caught between admiration and unease. They were playing a game she didn't yet know the rules of — but somehow, she'd already been placed on the board.
---
When the session ended, the crowd spilled into the courtyard where lunch was being served under marble arches. Precious lingered with Danielle near the fountain, unsure if she wanted to be noticed or forgotten.
That choice was taken from her.
Arthur approached first, carrying two cups of tea. "You look like you need rescuing."
"From what?" Precious asked.
He handed her one. "The social politics of intellectuals. Far deadlier than swords."
Before she could answer, a soft voice joined them.
"I see you're expanding your audience, Mr. Conan."
Akira had returned, standing beside Alexa, the faintest trace of challenge in her tone.
Arthur chuckled. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Miss Kurosawa."
"Neither does arrogance," she replied.
Nathaniel arrived just then, balancing a stack of books and rolling his eyes at the scene. "Are we really starting this again? It's lunch."
Alexa grinned. "You'll get used to it, Nate. They argue the way other people breathe."
Danielle snorted. "They could sell tickets."
---
And so, there they were: six of them gathered beneath the ancient arches — the first fragile constellation forming around Precious Wolfë.
Akira Kurosawa, precise and untouchable.
Arthur Conan, brilliant and infuriating.
Alexa Chung, quicksilver wit and effortless charm.
Nathaniel Grey, steady as tidewater, always watching more than he spoke.
Danielle Adaeze, warm, grounded, fierce.
And Precious, unsure whether she was the observer or the catalyst.
The conversation shifted easily — books, classes, a debate about ethics versus instinct that ended with Alexa declaring, "Ethics are just instincts in nicer clothes."
They laughed. Even Akira.
It was the first time Precious had heard her laugh. It wasn't cold or restrained. It was soft — rare and real, like a crack in something polished too long.
For the first time since arriving at Aethergard, Precious felt almost at ease.
But then Arthur leaned closer, voice low. "Careful, Miss Wolfë. This—" He gestured toward the group. "—is how the game starts. Friendships are just the first move."
Precious's smile faded.
Across the table, Akira met her gaze — steady, unreadable. "And the only way to win," she said quietly, "is to know which pieces you're willing to lose."
The wind caught her words and carried them away. The fountain murmured on, its rhythm steady, ancient, indifferent.
And somewhere deep inside her, Precious realized she wasn't afraid anymore.
She was intrigued.
---