Kael was walking toward the exit of the Dawn Acropolis, his pace slow, his mind still tangled.

  As he passed by the entrance, he ran into Vernia, leaning against her counter as usual. She was leafing through a ledger, seemingly perfectly indifferent to the world around her.

  Kael stepped closer with a sheepish smile.

  “Good morning, Vernia…”

  She didn’t even look up.

  “I hear you really outdid yourself again this time,” she said, a hint of irony in her voice.

  “You got stuck in a ‘survival course’—if you can even call it a course—during the only week you had at the Institute.”

  She snapped the ledger shut, finally lifted her eyes to him, and added with a mocking smile:

  “I’d like to congratulate you on your incredible bad luck.”

  She mimed a small, sarcastic round of applause.

  Kael rolled his eyes, then replied in an ironic tone:

  “Don’t mock me. I almost died several times.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second,” Vernia shot back, still in the same tone.

  “It shows on your face.”

  Kael squinted.

  “My face? What’s wrong with my face?”

  Vernia looked at him, perfectly serious.

  “You have the face of someone who just escaped a horde of Overdrawn. Or worse… an offended noble.”

  Kael let out a dry laugh.

  “Oh, no. This morning, I woke up feeling fresh, clean, in a good mood. I went down to the bearers’ hall to eat—everything was fine…”

  He paused, raised an eyebrow.

  “And then she decides to come sit at my table. I don’t mind that, really—but she starts looking at me like I murdered her brother.”

  “You must have done something wrong, then,” Vernia replied, not even trying to hide her sarcasm.

  Kael sighed.

  “That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out. But no matter what, she starts throwing things at me like, ‘You’re deliberately putting yourself on display so girls can ogle you.’”

  He stopped, shaking his head.

  “And she wouldn’t stop bouncing her leg under the table. Really—like she was about to take off.”

  “And?” Vernia asked, intrigued despite herself.

  “So I ended up grabbing her leg. To make her stop.”

  Vernia arched an eyebrow.

  “You grabbed her leg?”

  “Yeah. It was that or she was going to flip the table.”

  He shrugged.

  “And then… she froze. Not a word. Not a movement. So I figured I’d maybe gone too far. I took my hand away.”

  He threw his arms up, exasperated.

  “And then she goes, ‘Who authorized you to remove your hand?’”

  He stared at Vernia for a second, then added, pleading:

  “I don’t understand anything, Vernia. Nothing at all. Please, help me…”

  He took her hand between his own, his gaze imploring.

  Vernia, still leaning against her counter, didn’t pull her hand away.

  She looked at him, weary, and said in a flat tone:

  “You’re stupid.”

  Kael straightened slightly, almost offended.

  “Stupid? Seriously? I’m the one in the wrong here?”

  Vernia slowly turned her head toward him, with the expression of a woman speaking to a complete idiot.

  “You’re already lucky a girl is interested in you. And you’re too stupid to realize she’s jealous.”

  Kael frowned, incredulous.

  “Jealous? Althéa? Don’t make me laugh.”

  Vernia raised an eyebrow.

  “Althéa? Princess Althéa?”

  “Yes.”

  At that very moment, an icy voice rang out just behind him.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “And then you say you’re not doing it on purpose…”

  Kael froze.

  Althéa had just passed behind him, and she was staring at him. Her gaze was dark. Very dark.

  Her tone was sharp, venomous. She looked at him as if she were about to disintegrate him.

  Then she walked away, stiff, furious.

  Kael hastily let go of Vernia’s hand, panicked.

  “You see? I’ve been dealing with this since this morning!”

  Vernia, who had been watching Althéa leave, slowly turned back to him.

  “Kael… I don’t know if you realize.”

  “Realize what? That I’ve been living through hell since this morning? Thanks, yeah, I noticed!”

  Vernia sighed deeply, took off her glasses, and rubbed her eyes.

  “I don’t know how an Ombrevu, half-illiterate on top of it, manages to earn the favor of a princess… it completely escapes me.”

  She put her glasses back on, looked Kael straight in the eyes, and said more seriously:

  “But you should go after her.”

  “But she’s just going to brush me off again…” Kael protested, hesitant.

  Vernia fixed him with a piercing look.

  “Go. Now.”

  The tone was sharp, final.

  Kael didn’t argue. He sighed, straightened up, and hurried toward the exit.

  As he passed beneath the great arches of the entrance, he slowed abruptly.

  Right in front of him—Althéa… accompanied by Velara.

  The tall woman with platinum-blond hair, always upright, immaculate, imposing.

  A very particular terror seized him. An icy shiver crawled up the back of his neck.

  Not now…

  He immediately turned around, ready to head back the way he came.

  “Kael!” Velara called, her voice sing-song, gentle… but not quite.

  An angelic—yet diabolical at the same time—smile stretched across her lips.

  “Do come over here.”

  Kael froze. He complied reluctantly, turned around again, and approached slowly, his steps hesitant.

  “Good morning, Velara…”

  She placed a hand on his shoulder.

  He flinched instantly, as if a blade of ice had just been pressed against his back.

  Beside him, Althéa was glaring at him. Silent. But heavy with menace.

  This really isn’t my day… Kael thought.

  “Althéa seems to be in a bad mood this morning,” Velara said lightly.

  “Is that your doing?”

  Kael sighed.

  “This is going to come back on me again, isn’t it?”

  Velara, her calm smile still in place, asked:

  “Would you mind telling me what you did to put her in this state?”

  Kael, who had been tense, frustrated, on the verge of snapping, finally exploded:

  “But I didn’t do anything, damn it!”

  Althéa barely lifted her eyes, visibly irritated, but said nothing.

  “It’s her! She’s looking at me like she’s about to cut me in half!”

  “She says it bothers her that other girls look at me, and I don’t even understand why!”

  Silence fell.

  Althéa looked away, arms crossed, rigid.

  Velara, meanwhile, turned red. It wasn’t obvious—just a faint flush rising in her cheeks—but Kael, who knew her just well enough by now, noticed.

  She seemed unsettled, just for a second.

  But she recovered quickly.

  Very quickly.

  “Well… I may have been a bit too quick with my accusations,” she admitted, slightly hesitant.

  She crossed her arms, looking thoughtful.

  “You clearly didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Her tone had returned to calm, but she seemed… disturbed.

  Not by Kael.

  By something else.

  Perhaps by Althéa.

  Althéa took a deep breath, then gave herself two light slaps on the cheeks.

  Velara blinked, taken aback by the gesture.

  Althéa’s cheeks were slightly flushed, but her gaze had hardened. She was cold again. Controlled. A princess.

  “You’re right, Velara,” she said in a calm, icy tone.

  “It would seem that I… overreacted a little.”

  Velara raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself.

  Althéa then turned toward Kael, who was still a few steps away, half-smug, arms crossed, quietly basking in his small sense of victory—satisfied with having “won” the exchange.

  The two women stepped closer.

  Velara clapped her hands sharply, the sound cracking through the air like an order.

  Kael flinched and straightened at once, his smile vanishing instantly.

  “You two,” Velara said in a tone that brooked no objection, “you’re coming with me.”

  She paused.

  “I’ve also summoned your friend Lucanis. Today, I’ll be personally preparing you for your Trial.”

  Kael frowned, then, in a theatrical reflex, adopted a tone of feigned protocol-bound respect:

  “I doubt Dean Ford will approve of that. I’ll go make sure immediately.”

  He gave a brief bow and turned on his heel, already starting to walk away.

  Run. That’s it. Always run when it’s Velara. Especially when she starts smiling like that.

  He thought he’d pulled it off.

  But behind him, the sound of Velara’s footsteps echoed.

  Velara grabbed Kael by the back of the collar, effortlessly, and yanked him backward like an overly curious kitten.

  “Hey, hey, hey, big guy. Where do you think you’re going?” she said, her tone falsely stern, as if scolding a child.

  Kael froze.

  “I’ve already settled the details with the Dean,” she added with a broad smile.

  “And believe it or not… he’s completely on board.”

  Kael felt a bead of sweat slide down his temple. He didn’t resist any further and said, resigned:

  “Uh… alright. But… what exactly does this training involve?”

  “I’m going to attune you to Elan,” Velara replied, turning toward him.

  “And for you, I’m going to teach you how to properly wield a weapon.”

  She crossed her arms, wearing a falsely innocent expression.

  “And by the way… didn’t the princess give you an order?”

  Kael placed a hand on his chin, looking thoughtful.

  “Hm… oh, right—”

  He didn’t have time to finish his sentence.

  Smack!

  Althéa had just slapped him—clean, fast, silent.

  A few students passing nearby stopped briefly, shocked, before pretending they hadn’t seen anything and continuing on their way.

  Kael stood frozen.

  Velara nodded with a satisfied smile.

  “Very good. I see you understand. Go fetch your Needle-Blade.”

  Kael complied, sheepish. He returned a few minutes later, weapon in hand.

  “I was planning on reading all day, you know…”

  Althéa, outraged:

  “You were planning to read all day when there’s a chance you could die tomorrow?!”

  Velara let out a deep sigh, weary and amused at the same time.

  “Alright. Enough time wasted…”

  She snapped her fingers, suddenly cheerful.

  “Let’s go.”

  And everything vanished.

  …

  They reappeared in a cavern.

  A small waterfall flowed at the far end, forming a calm pool where it landed. Torches fixed to the walls cast a warm light, making the shadows dance across the rock. The place was spacious—almost comfortable.

  A large table stood not far from the pool, and a cauldron simmered gently over a controlled fire.

  Kael froze, confused, his face pale. He staggered slightly, stepped aside…

  And vomited. Again.

  He straightened slowly, his mouth twisted in disgust, then snapped, clearly annoyed:

  “That’s twice I haven’t been able to keep my food down because of you!”

  He was pointing at Velara, his glare dark.

  She shrugged and let out a:

  “Sorry…”

  …that wasn’t sincere in the slightest.

  Althéa, still perfectly upright, looked down on him with a hint of contempt.

  “Pathetic. Vomiting over something so minor.”

  Kael turned to her, indignant.

  “So minor?! Seriously?”

  And by the way… can you tell me how you manage to teleport like that?

  I didn’t see any teleportation circle!”

  Velara walked over to the cauldron, stirred its contents without even looking at it, and replied calmly:

  “What teleportation?”

  Kael frowned.

  “Well… the one we just did.”

  “There was no teleportation,” she replied evenly.

  “I simply grabbed you and ran to this cave. That’s all.”

  Kael blinked.

  “That’s all?”

  Yes. Of course. That’s all…

  He immediately gave up on trying to rationalize anything.

  Then his gaze drifted toward the pool.

  A man was sitting right at the edge, legs crossed, perfectly calm. He turned his head toward them.

  Lucanis.

  “Ah, you’re finally here,” he said in his usual neutral tone.

  “I was starting to wonder if you’d show up.”