"Agni, which of these three do you think I'm going to marry you off to?"
The voice came from across the room, smooth and tired at the same time.
Agni blinked.
The office was almost completely dark. The only light came from a single crystal lamp on the desk, pouring a pale gold circle over three photographs laid out in a neat row.
His father, King of the Sun Empire, could never just talk like a normal father. He had to turn every conversation into a stage play.
Agni felt his eyes want to roll on instinct and forced them to behave. He shifted in his chair instead, leaning forward until the edge of the desk pressed into his forearms. The three photos were strangely clear despite the gloom.
Then he lifted his gaze to the man on the other side of the desk.
His father.
Black hair, tied back with the usual simple band. Light blue eyes that looked…thinner than Agni remembered.
Those pale eyes didn't look like a father's eyes. They looked like a stranger's—sharp, measuring, already halfway somewhere else.
Agni had always hated meeting him like this.
Seeing his father wasn't "family time." It was an alarm bell. It meant something in his life was about to be changed, decided, rearranged.
And Agni hated change more than anything else…
He let out a quiet breath and looked back down at the photos.
Three women. Three potential brides. Three futures he had absolutely zero interest in.
Seeing left to right
At first glance, Agni thought he was looking at an instructor.The woman's posture gave it away—ramrod straight, shoulders squared, chin tilted at that exact angle.
But then he looked closer.
Her hair was long. Impossibly long. Waves of pure white cascading down past her shoulders, the strands were so thick and full that they partially obscured her face, but not enough to hide her eyes.
Different colors.
The right eye was a deep ruby red
The left was sapphire blue
Heterochromia. Rare. Striking
Agni found himself thinking of a flower.
A Lotus.
Yes, that was it. The long, lush white hair was like petals, soft and ethereal. Her body was the elegant stem—poised, graceful, deceptively strong. And the royal red dress she wore, braided with threads of gold, fanned out around her like the flower's base, rooted in nobility.
Swallowing a sigh, he studied her expression more carefully.
It was the look of discipline. The look of someone who had spent years—decades, maybe—perfecting every movement, every word, every breath. The kind of person who woke up at dawn and considered sleeping past sunrise a moral failure.
But there was something else there, too. A flicker hidden beneath the surface. A tint of... something he couldn't quite name. Something trying to come out, or perhaps something being held back.
What an odd woman.
The discipline of an instructor. The elegance of a lotus. The mystery of a locked door.
He glanced at the name inscribed below the photograph.
Ignatia Vermillion
Daughter of Duke Vermillion
House Vermillion — Fire Magic
...Yep.
He knew that name.
Even someone as politically disengaged as Agni had heard of House Vermillion. Alongside House Valen, they were the twin arms of the Sun Empire—strict bloodlines of swordmasters and war-mages who had defended the realm for generations
Better not look too long.
The one in the center was... blurry.
He rubbed his thumb across the surface, trying to clear it.
Blonde hair. The color of spun gold, falling in soft waves around a delicate face.
And her eyes...
Pitch red.
She was beautiful. Undeniably, objectively beautiful.
But the first word that came to Agni's mind wasn't "beautiful."
It was scary.
Unlike Ignatia, whose crimson eye held strength and principle—a fire controlled and directed—this woman's gaze held... nothing. No warmth. No malice. No anything.
Just emptiness.
The background of the photograph was strange, too. It wasn't a formal portrait setting—no velvet drapes, no noble crest, no carefully arranged lighting. It looked like it had been taken in a personal room. A bedroom, maybe. Or a prayer chamber.
Agni sighed.
He really didn't want to keep staring at these. Looking at women's photographs for the purpose of marriage felt... wrong. Uncomfortable. Like he was a merchant inspecting goods at an auction.
Which, in a way, I guess I am.
His father's fingers began tapping against the desk.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound cut through the silence like a blade, snapping Agni out of his drifting thoughts.
He still didn't look up.
He could imagine the expression on his father's face without seeing it. The tight jaw. The narrowed eyes. The look of a man standing at the edge of his patience, yet somehow still helpless in front of his own son.
Yeah. That's probably the one.
He forced his attention back to the photograph and read the description beneath it.
[Name Withheld — Temple Authority]
Title: Divine Healer of the Sacred Flame
Affiliation: Temple of Light
Status: Under Temple Protection
...A Divine Healer?
Second only to the Pope...
Agni blinked.
Temple of Light.
Had he heard of it before?
A vague memory surfaced. He had visited the Temple of Light once, years ago. But the only thing he could remember from that trip was—
—the cake shop.
Yes. There was definitely a cake shop nearby. A really good one. They had this honey-glazed pastry with crushed almonds that practically melted on your tongue, and—
Focus, Agni.
He shook his head and moved on to the third photograph.
His eyes widened.
Because the woman in the third photograph was, without exaggeration, the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
No—more than that. Among the three candidates, she didn't just stand out.
She was unmatched.
Agni's mind scrambled for a comparison, reaching through his memories for something—anything—that could capture what he was seeing.
A Dark Purple Gladiolus.
Yes. That was the closest he could get.
A flower known for its deep, mysterious beauty. Its petals rich with color yet tinged with shadow. A bloom that didn't demand attention—it commanded it.
Her hair was black. Pure, midnight black, falling in straight lines past her shoulders.
Her eyes were black, too. Not dark brown. Not almost-black. Black. The kind of black that swallowed light whole and refused to give it back.
Agni's heart skipped a beat.
Those eyes pulled him in like a hole with no bottom. Like staring into an abyss that stared back—and smiled.
But it wasn't emptiness he saw there.
No.
It was ambition.
A heat. A fire. A hunger that burned with purpose and precision.
These weren't the hollow eyes of someone lost in darkness. These weren't the mystical eyes of someone touched by the divine.
These were the eyes of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.
And knew exactly how capable she was of getting it.
More than anything... this one craves danger.
Agni choked on his own saliva.
He coughed, quickly covering his mouth with his fist, hoping his father hadn't noticed. (He definitely noticed.)
Clearing his throat, Agni looked at her attire.
The woman wore a simple dress—nothing elaborate, nothing ostentatious. It wasn't the kind of outfit you'd expect from nobility. It was practical. Functional. The kind of thing you could fight in if you needed to.
But there, embroidered on the fabric near her heart, was a crest.
A sword crossed over a shield.
The mark of the Thirteenth Ducal State.
The mark of House Valen.
Agni read the description.
Lyralei Valen
Daughter of Grand Duke Eldric Valen
House Valen — Thirteenth Ducal State
Special Element: Lightning
Mana Circuit: Level 5
...Huh.
How convenient.
The daughters of the two most powerful noble houses in the Sun Empire—Vermillion and Valen—were both of marriageable age. Both around seventeen or eighteen. Both, apparently, being offered as potential brides to the crown prince.
Politics.
Agni had never paid much attention to the games of power and alliance. He found them exhausting, confusing, and ultimately pointless. But even he could recognize when the board was being set up for a particularly significant match.
He just wished he wasn't one of the pieces.
Agni suppressed a sigh.
Fine. Let's get this over with.
He reached for the center photograph—the blurred one. The Divine Healer. He held it up so his father could see.
"This one."
The King's eyebrow twitched. "Explain."
Agni rubbed the back of his neck, already feeling the headache forming.
"If the Divine Healer is affiliated with the Temple of Light... and the Temple of Light is neutral among all kingdoms and races... then marrying her would increase our influence significantly. It would give the Sun Empire a foothold in an institution that's supposed to be impartial. That's a huge advantage, right?"
He waited.
His father stared at him.
Then, slowly, the King raised a hand and rubbed his temple.
Ah. Not the reaction I was hoping for.
"No."
The word was flat. Final.
"No one," the King continued, his voice carrying the exhaustion of a man who had explained this same concept far too many times, "will allow you to get close to a Divine Healer in that way. Even if, by some miracle, you managed to marry her... the Temple itself would remove her from her position immediately. They've been looking for an excuse to do so for years."
Agni blinked. "They have?"
"She is a political tool, Agni." The King's fingers drummed against the desk again. "Her abilities make her valuable. Too valuable. Every faction in the Nine Realms wants to control her—or at least deny her to their enemies. If you married her, you would paint a target on both your backs the size of the Crimson Moon."
"You think the Moon Empire would sit back and let you marry a Divine Healer?" the King asked, his voice rising. "You think the Temple would allow it? You think the other eight realms wouldn't immediately form a coalition to tear you apart?"
Okay, okay, I get it.
"She is being pushed around by forces beyond her control," the King continued, his tone growing colder. "Her healing abilities have made her a pawn. Marrying her to you—a prince who does nothing, who accomplishes nothing, who spends his days lazing about like a cat in the sun—would accomplish nothing except pinning you both to the ground like insects under glass."
Ouch.
"You would have all Nine Realms picking you off within a year."
Agni said nothing.
"And the real reason you chose her," the King added, his eyes narrowing, "is because you thought marrying a woman locked inside a temple would mean you wouldn't have to do anything."
...He's not wrong.
"By the gods, Agni." The King's voice was tight with frustration. "Do you take anything seriously?"
Agni groaned internally.
The other options weren't exactly appealing, either. The Vermillion daughter looked like she'd whip discipline into him with literal fire magic. The Valen daughter... well, she looked like she'd drag him onto a battlefield and make him fight beside her until he dropped dead.
I didn't want to marry the most beautiful woman in the world.
I don't want to get married at ALL.
But he couldn't say that.
So he stayed silent.
The King stared at him for a long moment. Then, with a flick of his wrist, flames erupted from his fingertips.
The left and center photographs caught fire instantly.
Agni watched the images curl and blacken, the faces of Ignatia Vermillion and the nameless Divine Healer disappearing into ash. The flames burned without smoke, without heat—pure magical fire that consumed only what it was meant to consume.
Within seconds, only one photograph remained.
The third one.
Lyralei Valen.
The King tapped the surviving image with one finger.
"This," he said quietly, "is my choice for you."
The King rose from his chair and walked to the window.
With a casual wave of his hand, the curtains parted. Sunlight flooded the room, banishing the dramatic shadows and revealing the Eastern Study in all its mundane glory.
Agni squinted, his eyes adjusting to the brightness.
His father stood silhouetted against the window, his back to his son. The creepy atmosphere hadn't entirely dissipated—if anything, the sudden shift to normal lighting made everything feel more ominous.
"Lyralei Valen," the King began, his voice quiet but clear, "is extremely ambitious."
I got that from her eyes.
"Among all generations of knights and mages produced by House Valen, she stands apart. At eighteen years old, her talent is unlike anything we have seen."
The King paused.
"It would be pointless to list her achievements. They would fill a book, and you would forget them by tomorrow. But know this: she is aware of her talent. Her mind is as sharp as her blade. She sees opportunities others miss and moves to seize them before anyone else realizes they existed."
So she's smart, too. Great.
"With all reasoning applied," the King continued, turning slightly to glance at Agni over his shoulder, "I believe she is fit to govern the Sun Empire alongside you."
Alongside me.
Not instead of me.
...That's generous.
"So." The King faced Agni fully. "You will marry her. Soon."
There was no question in his voice. No room for negotiation.
It was a command.
Yeah. Father's always been blunter than his magic staff.
Agni understood the subtext clearly enough. This wasn't about love. It wasn't about compatibility. It wasn't even about Agni's preferences.
This was about legacy.
The King wanted his bloodline to continue. He wanted the Sun Empire to have a strong queen—someone capable of ruling even if the crown prince turned out to be a useless layabout.
Which... fair.
Agni met his father's gaze.
Those light blue eyes were sharp. Demanding. Searching for any sign of resistance or defiance.
Agni gave none.
"Sure, Father."
The word came out easily. Almost carelessly.
The King's eyes narrowed.
"Sigh." (He actually said the word "sigh" out loud, which was somehow more disappointing than an actual sigh.) "Learn to think for yourself, Agni."
I do think for myself. I just don't share my thoughts with you.
"Learn to live like a human being. Learn to become a wise king."
The King stepped closer, his presence filling the space between them.
"A king who doesn't care for his people is no different from a slave merchant—selling lives for coins. Countless such rulers have come and gone throughout history. They rise, they fall, and they are forgotten."
He paused.
"But the Sun Empire has stood for generations. It has survived wars, famines, betrayals, and cataclysms. It has endured because its rulers understood that they were more than individuals. They were symbols."
The King's voice dropped lower.
"And you, Agni, must become more than your lazy life to embody that symbol. If you cannot... then someone else will. Someone who can."
Is that a threat?
...Probably.
"Use your life for something meaningful." The King turned away, walking back toward his desk. "You have been granted an opportunity few receive. You will be attending Aethermoor Academy."
Aethermoor Academy.
"The Academy is independent," the King continued. "Like the Temple of Light, it answers to no single nation. All races and kingdoms send their most promising youth to study within its walls. It is a place of power and knowledge."
He looked at Agni.
"You have been fortunate enough to be granted entry. Use it. Learn about yourself. Discover what path suits you. Find a purpose beyond sleep and avoidance."
Sleep and avoidance sound pretty good, actually.
"Learn to face situations of life and death." The King's voice hardened. "Growth occurs only through struggle. If you spend your existence drifting idly... you may as well be dead already."
Harsh.
"So learn to live, Agni."
There was a long silence.
Agni processed the words. The expectations. The weight of everything his father had just placed on his shoulders.
Then he nodded.
"Ah, yes, Father. I will do my best to match your expectations."
...That came out better than it sounded in my head.
The King studied him for a moment, searching for sincerity.
He apparently didn't find any.
But he nodded anyway.
"Go. Grand Duke Valen is waiting for you outside."
The palace corridors stretched endlessly before him.
Agni walked in silence, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors. Servants and guards stepped aside as he passed, bowing their heads with murmured greetings of "Your Highness." He acknowledged none of them.
His mind was elsewhere.
Marriage.
Academy.
Symbols and legacies and learning to live.
It was a lot to process.
I don't want any of this.
But when has that ever mattered?
He emerged from a side passage into a smaller courtyard—a hidden exit used primarily by those who wished to avoid the main gates. The sun hung high overhead, casting everything in harsh, golden light.
And waiting for him there was a man.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. A warrior's build wrapped in the formal attire of high nobility. His black hair was tied back in a neat bun, revealing a face that was handsome in a rugged, weathered sort of way. A sword rested at his hip—not ornamental, but clearly functional.
His eyes were black.
Black.
Just like—
Oh.
Oh, I see.
Agni blinked at the man.
I know him. I know his name. It's right there, on the tip of my tongue. Just a little more effort—
Why is it that names never come to mind when you actually need them?
The man stepped forward and bowed deeply, one hand pressing against his chest in the formal greeting of a vassal to royalty.
"Your Royal Highness."
His voice was deep. Steady. The voice of someone who had commanded armies and faced death without flinching.
"I am Eldric Valen."
Eldric Valen.
Grand Duke of House Valen.
Lyralei's father.
Agni looked at him—really looked at him—and suddenly understood where his future bride had gotten her features. The black hair. The black eyes. The aura of quiet intensity.
Like father, like daughter, I guess.
"As per His Majesty's request," Grand Duke Eldric continued, straightening from his bow, "I have prepared everything you will need for your journey."
Journey?
Right. The Academy. A week's travel.
"May your path be clear and your purpose unwavering, Your Highness."
The Grand Duke reached into his coat and produced a small box—elegantly wrapped in dark velvet, tied with a golden ribbon.
"I believe this would be... most appreciated by my daughter," he said, extending the box toward Agni. "When given by your hands."
Agni accepted the box automatically.
It was surprisingly light.
Minutes later, Agni emerged from a hidden gate on the eastern side of the palace.
A horse was waiting for him—a magnificent black stallion with a coat that shone like polished obsidian. It snorted as Agni approached, pawing at the ground with barely contained energy.
You and me both, buddy.
He mounted the horse with effort , adjusting his grip on the reins. The velvet box was tucked securely into his saddlebag, alongside whatever other supplies the Grand Duke had prepared.
The road stretched out before him—a winding path through rolling hills and distant forests, leading toward the horizon.
A week's journey.
Alone.
His father's words echoed in his mind: "From now on, you handle things yourself. That includes reaching the Academy."
No escorts. No servants. No safety nets.
Just Agni, a horse, and the open road.
He clicked his tongue, and the stallion surged forward. Wind rushed past his face as they picked up speed, the palace shrinking behind them with every stride.
Okay. This isn't so bad.
Fresh air. Open sky. No one telling me what to do.
Maybe this trip will actually be—
His thoughts stuttered to a halt.
The box.
The gift.
He glanced down at his saddlebag, where the velvet-wrapped package sat innocently among his supplies.
Wait a minute.
Did I just... receive a gift... to give to my future wife...
...From MY FUTURE FATHER IN LAW???
The wind whipped past him as the realization sank in.
What is WRONG with these old people?!