Erevale Academy wasn't just a school. It was a kingdom in disguise — its marble towers ruled by Archmages who smiled by day and schemed by night.
Kyle had been sent here with one goal: to uncover who killed his father, the former Grand Magus of Strings — and to reclaim the forbidden art of Soul Puppetry.
Every student here was dangerous, but Kyle had no friends. Only tools.
That morning, the academy was alive with chatter about the upcoming Duel Festival, where students showcased their talents before nobles and patrons. But Kyle's attention was elsewhere. He'd received a message. A note, pinned to his dorm door with a silver pin in the shape of a crescent eye:
> "I know what you are. Meet me under the clock tower at midnight."
His pulse quickened.
Someone knew.
When the clock struck twelve, he stood beneath the tower's great pendulum. Mist coiled around the courtyard like ghosts. Then footsteps — soft, deliberate.
Lira stepped into the moonlight, holding the same silver pin.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"Neither should you," she replied, eyes glinting. "But here we are… puppeteer."
She raised her hand — a magic circle flaring around her palm. Kyle's strings shimmered in answer, weaving through the air like living threads.
For a moment, they stood there — power meeting power, tension and curiosity tangled like the strings that bound them both.
Then Lira smiled faintly. "Let's see who's really pulling the strings here."
And the night exploded into light and shadow.