Soul-BInder

[Celerius]

Chapter 1: Solstice

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It all began with her death.

The orphanage's rusted bells tolled a mournful clang, a sound that tore through the village, sharp as broken glass. Aksel hardly flinched anymore, though the other children rushed toward the orphanage fence, eager for any glimpse of a passing stranger that wouldn't look their way. Today, however, Aksel allowed himself one fleeting hope.

The sleek carriage of Silvermoon Academy glided into view, its silence unnatural, as though it rode on currents of wind, untouched by horse or beast. The door creaked open, revealing a shadowed interior, and from the front descended a solitary figure, tall and dark, his wide-brimmed hat casting shadows over a sharp, inhumane, birdlike face.

The children whispered nervously, but Aksel remained still, refusing to believe his own eyes. Selenne appeared beside him, clutching her bag with a grip so tight her knuckles were pale. She pressed Aksel's meager belongings into his hands, a faint smile breaking through her irritation.

"Finally," she murmured in relief, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. After sixteen long years, the day had finally come.

"Mr. Night, at your service," intoned the cloaked figure, his voice a rasp like wind scraping against stone.

The stranger extended a pale hand toward Selenne, who took it cautiously, stepping into the carriage with haste. Aksel followed, settling into the plush seats, feeling the subtle hum of the wheels as the vehicle set off.

They glanced back one last time at the orphanage—the only home they had ever known—and felt… almost nothing. No sorrow, no satisfaction, not even when they locked eyes with the Mother Superiora. The broad woman stood, red-faced, her heavy breathing betraying her frustration, watching them leave toward a future most could only dream of. A future she would forever believe they didn't deserve.

Through the village, a hush followed their path. Infants stared, some brave enough to wave, while their parents whispered, pointing with cautious curiosity. It was rare, almost unheard of, for the Academy's carriage to venture this far into the countryside. And never had two Homeless left together.

As the vehicle passed the village's last crooked fence, Aksel stole a glance at Selenne. Her dark hair fell loose over her shoulder, her face a mix of determination and exhaustion. He could see the weight of countless sleepless nights, the restless fear she tried so hard to suppress, waiting for any sign—any news.

He reached over and touched her shoulder gently. She looked up, offering a small smile, though her hands remained tightly clenched in her lap. "Don't worry," he whispered. "Whatever comes, we'll face it together."

Selenne turned, her mood shifting as she kicked the side of the box with a defiant laugh. Her voice rang toward the front. "Hey, you!" she called, addressing the strange conductor, whose nature seemed as foreign as the carriage he steered. "What took you so long?!"

The conductor's voice floated back, smooth and oddly elegant. "For that, I must apologize. Lady Adelaide's passing… has complicated affairs in the capital. My master has been exceptionally occupied, and I am but a humble servant."

Lady Adelaide Elysandre Silvermoon—the greatest sorceress of her age, the headmaster of Silvermoon Academy, and the de facto queen of Fiore in all but name—was gone. Her death had sent tremors through the kingdom, a crack in the course of history that would echo through the centuries.

Yet even this monumental event did little to soothe the turmoil in Selenne's heart. She could still recall the nights spent clutching her chest, praying that their letter to the school had not been lost in the bureaucratic whirlpool of the capital, fearing they would remain forever trapped in their forsaken village, too close to the western border to ever escape the looming shadow of the war.

For Aksel's sake, she forced herself to breathe deeply, willing her anger to subside. There was no room for rage, not now. No more time or space for her to lash out like a caged animal. This was it—the life she had dreamed of, now within reach. All she had to do was steel her resolve and not destroy it before it had even begun.

❖
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Aksel wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he woke up as the carriage jumped. The road, flanked by twisted trees, seemed to narrow, drawing them toward the heart of the kingdom.

Two weeks late. Two weeks late, but their chance had finally arrived, summoning them on a five-day journey toward their new life.

His eyes drifted over Selenne's sleeping form—surprisingly delicate, despite the many fistfights and the dirt that clung to her black dress. He could tell how tired she was by the way she slept, her face tilted against one shoulder, a strand of drool betraying her usual hard-edged composure. It was a sight Aksel would never speak of, not even to her—not if he valued his life.

"You might want to take a look," came Mr. Night's voice.

Startled, Aksel reached for the small window connecting to the front, but stopped himself, and instead he threw open the box's door, standing on the threshold as the world beyond unfurled before him.

"How… how?" he whispered, his short hair ruffling in the cool breeze.

The capital city of Solstice lay before him, bathed in the golden light of the morning sun. Wide streets, lined with grand buildings, stretched into the horizon like rivers of stone. Half-timbered houses stood shoulder to shoulder, their designs a blend of wood and stone, an elegant freedom of architecture that took Aksel's breath away. Logs from a dozen different trees had been selected to contrast, complementing facades painted in shades of yellow, blue, red, and cream.

"Selenne! Selenne, wake up!" Aksel shook her, and the carriage tilted, crossing a narrow wooden bridge. They tumbled together as it swayed.

"Huh—What the...?" Selenne jumped to her feet, ready for a fight, though her body lagged behind her drowsy mind. "How long was I—?"

"Two hours," Mr. Night answered.

"Two hours?!" Selenne's eyes widened. "Then why... Holy shit, we're here!"

Selenne poked her head out just as they rolled into a round plaza. Children playing around a fountain stopped and stared, and within moments, their parents joined them, shouting in delight.

"Are they... happy?" Selenne asked, half in awe, half in disbelief.

"Of course," the conductor answered, tipping his hat toward the crowd. "They are here because of you. The Academy and its sorcerers are the heart of Fiore. Your mere presence brings trade and wonder to these otherwise unremarkable lands—and wonder, Miss Selenne, is worth more than gold."

Selenne snorted, retreating to her seat, though her gaze lingered on the bustling scene outside. "I'd take gold any day."

"You'll hear a million tales of men and women emptying their pockets for a taste of wonder," the conductor said. "But no one boasts of profiting from their own misery."

"But they'll do it anyway."

"Indeed. Yet you won't hear about it, for dead men tell no tales. And what is a life of misery, but a story of death stretched through many years?"

Selenne sighed, the frustration melting into resignation. She appreciated the speed of their journey, but nothing could have prepared her for the feeling of standing on Academy grounds before the day was out. Her body, eager to press on, resented the effort with a passion.

As the bustle of the city faded behind them, the carriage entered the quiet outskirts of Silvering Lake. The sandy shore stretched out, alive with the hum of trading posts and the briny scent of the waters, a lively hub of commerce just beyond the capital's foot.

The carriage, its wheels still gliding, approached the water's edge. Aksel's heart leapt into his throat, his mind rushing to plan for the worst. But the wheels touched the water—and kept rolling. Smooth. As though the lake were just another stretch of solid, silvery earth.

The boy exhaled, his fear dissolving like mist.

Beside him, Selenne stifled a giggle behind her hand before reaching out to ruffle his hair. "We're safe now," she whispered through a smile. "You don't have to worry anymore."

The lake stretched behind them, its glassy, platinum waters eerily undisturbed. No boats, no ripples—just the drifting silhouettes of ethereal cherubim. Some were familiar: the small, spider-like orbs of blue light known as Surawes. Others were more unsettling—larger swan-like creatures with multiple pairs of skeletal wings and elongated forms that moved like specters through the air.

Both younglings let out a breath as solid ground met their march again, relief settling in their bones.

The moment they reached land, the illusion of an empty island shattered. Before them, a colossal manor unfurled from the haze, a fortress of stone crowned in ruby, perched atop an emerald-green plateau framed by jagged slopes and distant forests. The carriage continued forward, rolling along paths of intricately laid stone that converged at a central courtyard marked by the academy's eight-pointed insignia.

The conductor slowed, then stopped before the grand double doors. Mr. Night disembarked with practiced precision, his movements elegant, deliberate. "Please, follow me. Your first class is about to begin."

Selenne planted her feet. "Our first class?!" She tugged at the front of her dust-stained dress. "We don't even have uniforms!"

The servitor turned, his empty gaze catching the dim light. "My master's orders are to bring you directly to your first lesson. That is my reason."

Aksel caught the flicker of panic in Selenne's eyes just as it was about to ignite, and without thinking, he reached for her hand. His fingers tightened around hers—a silent promise of stability, and together, they stepped inside, following Mr. Night through cavernous hallways thick with silence and the scent of old stone. Neither of them had time to marvel at how impressive the palace-like building was, as in just moments they stood in front of an unsuspecting door before taking the final step inside.

Aksel barely had time to take in the room before something shot past his face in a blur of wings and chitin. He recoiled instinctively. A burst of blue light followed, forming a glowing sigil midair that snatched the fleeing cherubim and flung it back into its cage.

"Ah, the Homeless." The speaker stood tall, his golden mane framing a sour expression. "Well done, Mr. Night. You may rest now."

The servitor bowed—and then collapsed. His body disintegrated into a fine dust, scattering across the floor until only a polished, avian-shaped skull remained. The man scooped it up with practiced disinterest.

"Mr. Adam Becker," he continued, addressing a red-faced, rounded boy near the front. "Please sit down. You've demonstrated your complete inability to catch anything other than a cold."

The boy mumbled an apology and sank into his chair.

With an air of weary obligation, the man turned to Aksel and Selenne. "You two, take a seat. If you're inclined to follow the lecture, there's a blank grimoire in the drawer beneath your desk."

It wasn't the grand reception they had imagined. Instead of ceremony, they were met with sharp stares and an unsettling sense of scrutiny. The other students watched them like one might observe exotic creatures on display—curious, cautious, waiting to judge.

"For introductions' sake," the teacher continued, his voice as dry as parchment, "I am Amadeo Greco Angelopoulos, your prefect in the realm of history. Due to certain… recent events, I'll also be overseeing other aspects of your education until a more appropriate fit is found."

He slumped into his chair, rifling through a stack of papers before glancing up again. "Now, who among you is brave enough to demonstrate their abilities without making a fool of themselves?"

His gaze swept the room, pausing on each reluctant face. Then, with a tap of his fingers, he singled someone out. "Mr. Varian, you've had a week to adjust to the rhythm of this class. Show your fellow Homeless what you can do."

"Yes, sir." A tall boy rose from his seat.

By appearance alone, no one would have guessed he was an orphan. His uniform was pristine—an emerald-green coat trimmed in gold, with hints of red and black beneath. His sharp eyes, barely obscured by the frames of his glasses, carried the weight of someone wholly assured in himself.

Varian opened his grimoire. Amadeo walked up to the cage and pushed the door open.

A crackling storm burst forth. The cherubim—a small but fiercely radiant creature—flashed into the open, its wings pulsing with electric charge. It moved with wild unpredictability, a being of untamed energy. Lightning elementals were incredibly rare, and even more dangerous.

Without hesitation, the boy centered his pen and began to trace. A circle. Then one spike. Three spikes. The projections leaped from the page into the air, forming shimmering outlines to try and trap the creature. But before he could finish, the cherubim charged into the unfinished barrier, shattering the fragile magic with ease.

The creature dove at Varian with terrifying speed, forcing him to roll aside. He flipped to the next page, undeterred, his movements quick but focused. The cherubim buzzed, restless, disrupting his spells again and again with each discharge of electricity.

"Mr. Varian," the professor grunted, his voice carrying a thin layer of impatience.

The boy's jaw tightened. He exhaled sharply, wiped sweat from his brow, and turned the page again. His pen swept forward in one decisive motion. No hesitation. A single, unbroken stroke.

The circle sealed.

Walls rose, locking into place. The spikes followed, anchoring the binding incantation.

The cherubim's wild thrashing ceased. Its energy, once untamed, now bent to the will of its captor.

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Varian swayed under the strain but did not fall.

A slow clap broke the silence—a silver-haired girl, smirking in quiet approval. One by one, the rest of the class joined in.

Amadeo did not.

"As you've just witnessed," he murmured, "this class will, at the very least, ensure you achieve a pitiful measure of success." He waved a hand dismissively. "Continue with your practice."

Aksel and Selenne exchanged glances. The casual air in the room felt at odds with what they had just seen. A Homeless boy had captured a lightning cherubim, caging its power as if it were nothing more than a moth trapped in glass before gently returning it to its cage.

They opened their own grimoires, eager to learn.

The first pages laid out the steps for the spell they had just seen, Silvermoon's Binding Vow—Fiore's most iconic magic. With careful eagerness, following the instructions, they pricked their fingers, allowing a drop of blood to seep into the ink of their pencils. The books responded, the magic binding itself to their names as they were signed.

For the next hour, they attempted the very first step: a perfect circle, drawn in a single stroke.

They failed. Again and again.

The high-noon bells rang, their chimes slicing through frustration, signaling the end of class.

"That… was quite the introduction," Aksel muttered, rubbing his sore wrist as he studied his broken attempts.

"Not what you were expecting?" Selenne teased, though the spark in her eyes betrayed her own excitement.

"More than I expected," Aksel admitted, a rare grin breaking across his face. "Maybe I'll actually fit in here."

Just as they turned to leave, Amadeo's voice pushed through the chatter.

"Mr. Aksel. Miss Selenne."

They froze.

"Two things before you go. First, official lessons end at midday. You're dismissed, but I strongly advise extra practice. Two weeks of missed work will not be easy to recover—especially for the two of you."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "Second, there will be a field-practice event in two days. Prepare thoroughly. You will be facing your own classmates in battle, and they will not be forgiving if you aren't ready. That's all. Enjoy your afternoon. And remember, your day now starts at seven sharp."

Selenne clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. Aksel gave a small, knowing smile but kept his thoughts to himself until the professor was out of earshot.

"Umm… I-I'm sorry…"

The silver-haired girl from earlier hesitated, reaching toward Selenne before freezing at the hard lines of tension on her face. "I'm sorry!" she squeaked, retreating a step.

As the timid girl shrank behind him, Varian stepped forward. "Hey," he called. "We thought you two might need a hand."

"A hand? For free?" Aksel's usual grin started to form, but Selenne swiftly grabbed his arm, fingers digging in like claws.

"Not now," she hissed, her gaze sharp as daggers. "Look at them."

Aksel relented, rubbing his arm. She was right—there was no malice in their eyes, just an odd mixture of expectation and maybe… sympathy?

The girl beside Varian fidgeted, her elegant outfit at odds with her uncertain demeanor. Her dress, trimmed in a vibrant green that faded into soft waves along her sleeves, was stylish yet modest. Over it, she wore the academy's vest and cape, half-hidden by her voluminous silver hair. She looked like she belonged, yet something in the way she held herself reminded Aksel of his own uncertainty.

Selenne offered a tight, polite smile. "What my friend meant to say," she began, shooting a sideways glare at Aksel, "is that we'd appreciate a tour of the premises. If that's alright with you."

"The premises? We were actually planning to head into the city." Varian tilted his head. "I don't want to judge, but it looks like you've had a rough… day? Week? Life?"

"Ehhh… We weren't in the mood for a swim," the girl raised a worried brow, recalling their way to the academy.

Varian blinked, then chuckled. "A swim? Oh. No." He shook his head. "The bridge lifts every day from noon until dusk. Just don't get stuck on the other side or the teachers won't be happy."

Aksel huffed. "One can only imagine that old man happy."

Varian and his companion both smiled. "And this one here is Elowin, my trustworthy shadow." He nudged her forward.

Forced into the spotlight, Elowin gave an awkward wave, clearly hoping her knowledge of magic would soon allow her to disappear on the spot.

Aksel took a glance around. It wasn't immediately obvious, but most of the other students were steering clear of their small, unruly group. Deliberately.

"A personal tour, from one Homeless to another, huh? Sounds fine by me."

Without further delay, the four of them made their way outside. Just as Varian had said, they reached the shore and found the bridge—a massive structure of carved stone, worn smooth by time, with tufts of grass sprouting from its cracks. Students crossed in both directions, chatting in tight groups, their voices carrying a buzz of casual excitement. It was a stark contrast to the orphanage. Everyone here, no matter their reasons for coming, looked like they belonged.

Elowin and Varian had their own dynamic—one that became clearer as they walked. She was slowly opening up, her hesitations softened by his effortless, easygoing manner. It was like watching two mismatched puzzle pieces that could only fit each other.

"First stop!" Elowin suddenly declared, skipping ahead.

The shop in front of them was ancient. It had clearly been a house once, but little of that remained. Pure-white walls contrasted sharply against dark wooden beams, forming a lattice across the storefront. A vitrine showcased an array of exquisite outfits in a spectrum of colors—from elegant formalwear to simple, handmade pieces. Inside, it was a clothing library, with racks stacked to the ceiling, each holding garments clearly gathered over many generations.

"Nana!" The girl pushed the door open, guiding them inside. "We've got friends!"

Aksel barely held back a chuckle as an elderly woman emerged from the depths of the shop, moving with the painful grace of someone who had long mastered the art of patience. She looked ancient enough to have gone to school with Lady Adeleide herself, her deep-set eyes gleaming with warmth beneath a halo of silver curls.

"Oh, Elowin, my dear…" she crooned, voice rasped by time. Her gaze landed on Selenne, and she took the girl's hands with an appraising hum. "And where did you find this lovely young lady?"

Selenne tensed under the unexpected attention, but before she could form a response, Elowin leaned in conspiratorially. "Her family's from the west, Nana. Near the border."

The old woman clicked her tongue in sympathy. "Oh, you poor thing." Without another word, she wrapped Selenne in a warm embrace before guiding her toward the back. "Come, child. We'll find you something proper."

Selenne shot Aksel a look—half plea, half warning—but he merely shrugged, fingers idly counting the coins in his pocket.

"How much do you have?" Varian asked.

"Ten golden suns, give or take."

The other boy smirked. "You'll be fine. Just play along."

By the time the three women returned, Selenne was unrecognizable.

A small, wide-brimmed hat adorned with carmine roses perched atop her head, her dark hair spilling beneath it like midnight. A crisp white blouse, tied with a crimson bow at the throat, peeked from beneath a tailored dark coat. The corset—somehow laced to perfection without protest—accentuated the flowing gold-trimmed skirt that trailed behind her, the sheer weight of it making her look like she belonged in a ballroom rather than a marketplace. The dark, puffed sleeves and regal silhouette transformed her into a noblewoman of high standing.

Or, in other words, she couldn't have looked less like herself.

"I feel like an asshole." The words fell from her lips flatly.

Aksel's didn't miss a beat. "Then it must be a perfect fit."

The old woman chuckled, eyes twinkling. "Oh, sweetheart, is that your boyfriend?"

"She's still working on that."

"Well, if you're going to be so witty, boy, you'd best dress the part." The storekeeper tugged him toward a nearby rack with a firmness that left no room for argument.

Aksel let out a long-suffering sigh but complied, going through the options with minimal enthusiasm. He had no love for frills or embellishments—practicality always won over prestige. In the end, he settled on a deep wine-red shirt, layered beneath a snug black vest, paired with fitted trousers and the first pair of decent shoes he could find.

When he stepped back, Varian appraised him with a lazy glance. "Winds, she wasn't lying. You really have no taste, huh."

Selenne, having abandoned all pretense of noble poise, seized him by the collar and yanked him toward another rack.

"Stay here."

"Selenne, we're—"

"Oh, shut your mouth before I do."

"But—"

"You were the one saying we needed new clothes, so don't try to pin this on me now!" It had been a while since she had raised her voice at him, but after such a day the girl was clearly starting to show some cracks. "It's your money, anyway. Like you said, I'm not your girlfriend, so stop thinking about me. If we're going to fit in here, we need to play the part."

Without further debate, she took a beautiful, snow-white scarf from the rack and fastened it around his neck. Then, with unexpected care, she removed one of the crimson roses from her hat and tucked it into his breast pocket.

"There. Now you can try to convince others that I like you."

Aksel's fingers brushed against the familiar leather pouch tucked in his old clothes. He took a slow, steadying breath before pulling out two golden suns.

"How much do we owe you?" he asked politely, biting the inside of his lip.

The old woman hesitated, her faded eyes flickering as she deliberated. "For the pair? Let's settle on four silvers."

Aksel and Selenne exchanged a glance, their eyes drifting to the fine golden trimmings on their new ensembles. The price wasn't just low—it was insulting. Not nearly enough to cover the cost of the materials, much less the craftsmanship and work put into them.

Selenne's voice broke the moment, charged with indignation. "We don't need handouts, we—"

"Now listen to me, girl, and listen clearly," the woman interrupted bluntly. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm old. Old enough that one of these days, I'll just die, and your coins… they'll rust away in some forgotten corner of this shop."

Aksel stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "Then why keep working? You could have sold this place and lived a good life somewhere else. You could get a lot of money for an old house right at the center of Solstice."

The woman's eyes widened in disbelief, a brittle laugh escaping her lips—half sorrow, half pride. "Why work, you ask? Boy, I've been here for sixty-five years. This store, these walls… they're all I've ever known. What would I do without them?"

Her voice wavered, and for a moment, her strength faltered. Elowin rushed to her side, steadying her as she sank into a rocking chair. Her hands gripped the armrests, knuckles white, as if fighting against time itself.

She looked up at them. "I always wished I could be a sorceress. Since I was a little girl, that's all I ever dreamed of. But fate…" She exhaled. "Fate can be cruel. There's no place in the sun for someone like me, born without gifts, without talent. But you…" Her eyes softened. "You came to the academy, didn't you? You were born with greatness in your blood. You'll walk paths I could never tread, see wonders I could only imagine."

Her fingers gestured lazily at fabric of their clothes—the work of her own hands. "So take them, boy. Take the wings I've woven for you, and let them carry you far from here. Take that beautiful girl's hand and fly—fly away from this tomb I've built for myself, on the wrong end of this wretched shore."

Selenne swallowed hard, guilt tightening in her throat.

Aksel placed the coins gently on the counter, pushing them forward. "Thank you," he whispered, the words heavier than they should have been. A promise, perhaps.

No one spoke for a long time after they left the store.

They wandered the city for hours, letting the afternoon sun warm their faces as they drifted through bustling streets and lively markets. The capital thrived around them—merchants calling out their wares, street performers gathering clusters of laughing children, the scent of fresh bread and roasting meat carried on the wind. It was vibrant, chaotic, alive.
Eventually, they found themselves by the lake, settling at a modest establishment for a warm meal. Whether it was hunger, exhaustion, or the need to process the whirlwind of the day, they welcomed the break in silence.

It was only once the food arrived that Selenne finally spoke.

"What was that back at the store?" Her dark eyes locked onto Elowin. "How did you know we're from the west?"

Elowin went still, her face draining of color. Across the table, Varian chuckled.

"She was lying," he said, casually breaking a piece of bread. "Here in the capital, it's common for nobles to say 'go west and die' as an insult. If you ask where the poor and the miserable live, people will point toward the setting sun. If you want to earn people's sympathy, tell them you come from the west."

Selenne stiffened, but the explanation made painful sense.

Regenia, the kingdom west of Fiore, was infamous for its violence. Every Fioran villager had lived through at least one of the wars ignited by their barbaric neighbors, and many took pride in having survived multiple conflicts, as if mere survival granted them wisdom, even if they never stood anywhere near a battlefield.

As for Selenne, the girl had always been different. The moment a careless sister let slip that her parents weren't Fioran—that they were travelers from the west—everything had changed. No family in the village wanted to associate with the child of western barbarians, and the other orphans—they acted as if she had murdered their parents herself.

But to Aksel, she was just Selenne. Another abandoned child. Another Homeless sorcerer, severed from her past by forces beyond her control. The details of her birth didn't change the fact that she was his only friend. The one person he could trust.

He leaned back, arms crossed. "Why not just tell her we're Homeless, then? Were you afraid we'd lose the discount?"

Elowin visibly recoiled, but Varian remained unfazed.

"Every noble house is based here in the city," he said. "Even the ones without sorcerers. To some people, the Homeless are worse than commoners. We just… don't give them a reason to hate us. Not worth the risk."

Aksel narrowed his eyes. "You seem to know a lot for someone who's been here a week."

Elowin hesitated, glancing at her partner.

"We grew up in Solstice," she admitted finally. "So once the academy started… after a week, we just… presented ourselves."

Selenne didn't look convinced. "Let's say we believe you. Why go through all this trouble for us? And please don't say it's because 'we're all the same here.'"

The question hung between them, thick with suspicion. Across the table, Elowin and Varian exchanged a glance—an entire conversation passing between them in silence. Then, after one final sweep of their surroundings, Elowin gave a small nod.

"Alright," Varian conceded, exhaling through his nose. "We do need a favor from you. But before we discuss that, I need to ask—do either of you have an inheritance?"

The air shifted.

Inheritances for Homeless sorcerers came in two forms. The first was monetary. Aksel carried his own inheritance—ten Golder Suns, left by his parents at the orphanage for a situation like this. Ten Golder Suns was a significant amount, enough to cover their basic expenses for the year, assuming the academy provided food and lodging.

But that wasn't what Varian meant.

He was talking about something far rarer.

Inherited techniques—arcane abilities passed down through bloodlines, honed by generations. Every noble house guarded theirs fiercely, their power shifting and evolving with the tides of magic and time. But not every child inherited them. Some bloodlines left no mark. And in many families, if a child showed no sign of their gift, they were discarded—abandoned, stripped of their name and birthright.

They became Homeless.

"I do," Selenne murmured.

Elowin's face lit up, her relief almost tangible.

"Well, that's unlucky for us," Varian said with a wry smile, mockingly sympathetic to Aksel's silence. "But two should be enough."

Selenne's grip tightened around her fork. "Are we planning something dangerous?"

Varian tilted his head "I wouldn't call it planning. More like an… inevitable situation." He leaned back, drumming his fingers lightly against the table. "There's a 'test of courage' for those retaking their first year… And for the Homeless. You're allowed to bring a partner—but it can't be someone you knew before coming to the academy."

"So, you want us to team up with you? Just the four of us?"

"I wouldn't say you have much choice." Varian's answered lazily. "Unless another lost soul appears in the next week, we're all there is. And refusing the test?" He shrugged. "That'll just give the others an excuse to treat you like shit for the rest of the year, or until you choose to finally quit."

Aksel exhaled slowly, his mind already working through the implications.

For Selenne, the answer was obvious—she thrived on challenges like this. It was the kind of trial where her inheritance could turn the tide, a test of her strength, of which she had plenty.

For Aksel, it was something else entirely.

This wasn't just a test.

It was a gamble. A choice made under pressure, with consequences he couldn't yet see, with barely any time to consider the outcomes.

And all he could do was hope their new allies were worth the risk.