CHAPTER 46
The morning sun spilled gently across the courtyard of Sterella Academy, gilding the stone walkways in gold and soft rose. A low breeze stirred the banners that bore the Aethenroth crest while the Grand Duke's carriage waited nearby, guarded yet dignified.
Sorayael stood beneath one of the ancient marble arches, arms folded gently across her chest.
Her silver hair shimmered as it caught the light, the way moonlight dances on still water.
Krios stood in front of her, hands clenched into small fists at his sides, trying to appear composed, but his eyes betrayed the tight pull of emotion.
Sorayael stepped forward and gently brushed a hand through his hair, like she used to when they were younger and he clung to her after nightmares.
Krios pouted. "You better read them all."
He looked away quickly, blinking hard. Then, without another word, he threw his arms around her waist and held her tight. Sorayael let out a small breath, startled by how fiercely he clung.
She smiled against his hair, voice low and aching. "I won't. I promise."
Not long after, Krios pulled back, nodded firmly-despite the gloss in his eyes-and returned to the Grand Duke's side.
Zerathiel offered Sorayael a warm smile and mumbled, "Ad Astra Per Aspera" and pat her head.
Sorayael smiled, "Ad Astra Per Aspera"
Sorayael watched them leave.. and then they were gone. The carriage disappeared beyond the gates, wheels echoing softly over the cobblestones.
...........
Later that same day, under the descending cloak of dusk, Sorayael stood again-this time in the academy's outer courtyard.
Reinhold, dressed in traveling leathers lined with elegant sigils, adjusted the bow strapped across his back.
He looked ethereal beneath the twilight, like a carved statue come alive-graceful, poised, and distant.
He turned toward her and pressed a hand over his heart, bowing his head respectfully.
With that, he turned and vanished into the horizon, the wind trailing the edge of his cloak like mist caught in moonlight.
As twilight deepened, Deimon lingered by the academy's high gates, his figure half-draped in shadow. Unlike Reinhold, his departure wasn't met with fanfare or quiet farewells. He gave Sorayael a two-fingered salute and a lopsided grin.
Sorayael arched a brow. "And you'll behave while watching, right?"
He walked off whistling, vanishing into the dark like a spirit bound to mischief-and now, justice.
.............
The warm hum of chatter filled the academy cafeteria, a grand atrium of sunlit windows and ivy-draped beams.
Long wooden tables lined the space, filled with students in uniforms of varying colors, each indicating their class divisions and magical paths.
In one lively corner of the room, a group stood out-not just because of their unusual energy, but because of who they were.
Sorayael sat at the center of the long bench, tray in front of her barely touched.
Across from her, Zarethian argued with Karsen about sword grip techniques, the table clinking every so often when Zarethian dramatically tapped his fork for emphasis.
Celene, poised and serene, calmly sipped her tea while raising an unimpressed brow at their bickering.
Silas had conjured a small orb of healing light and was using it to make his rice glow in odd colors-something Zacchaeus was watching with horrified fascination.
Silas just grinned. "It's just experimental mana diffusion."
Meanwhile, Kieran sat with one leg propped on the bench, lazily munching on a cinnamon bun he'd traded with Ravelia, who now grumbled softly about the unfair exchange.
Amid the familiar teasing and bickering, Sorayael leaned back, arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her lips quirked upward. This moment, this warmth, was something she had missed. Something she hadn't even realized she'd craved while she was gone.
Azi sat beside her, quietly eating as he always did when surrounded by the group's chaos. But now and then, his eyes would flicker to Sorayael, as if checking that she was still here, still safe.
Then, Kieran straightened abruptly, as if just remembering something important. He looked around the table with mock seriousness and said, "Did you guys know... there's actually a way to graduate earlier?"
Everyone turned toward him at once.
Karsen raised an eyebrow. "Is this another one of your 'heard it from a squirrel in the hallway' things?"
'Originally we need to spend our time here in Academy for 4 years.. but if it will decrease atleast 2 years..'
Celene tilted her head thoughtfully. "I've heard of that. But they only offer it to extremely qualified candidates. No one's done it in the last five years."
Sorayael raised a hand. "I did not disappear for the sake of aesthetics."
Zacchaeus leaned forward, brows drawn. "So if this is true, what's the catch?"
Kieran wiggled his fingers. "The trials. Apparently, you have to show you're not just book-smart or strong, but also politically competent. You're tested on diplomacy, magic under duress, historical recall, and even leadership. It's meant to simulate life beyond the academy-as a ruler, a scholar,
a defender."
The group fell into a thoughtful silence. It was the kind of silence that came not from disbelief, but from possibility beginning to take shape.
Sorayael glanced down at her tray, then back at Kieran. "You're sure it's real?"
Azi chuckled, nudging Sorayael with his elbow. "Sounds like something you'd take on."
She shrugged, a small glint of determination in her eyes. "We'll see. If it's real... it might be worth looking into."
And for a moment, the table returned to its usual chaos-forks clinking, magic flaring harmlessly, teasing zipping back and forth. But underneath it all was the quiet, shared understanding that something had just shifted.
A new path had opened for Sorayael.