Chapter 1 Elarion Academy of Wonder #2
And his eyes found me, held me. It was not a curious gaze, not cold, just steady, and sharp enough to cut.
I stopped walking.
He said something to a Sunheart male next to him. He didn’t respond, he just followed his gaze. My gaze.
Magic twisted in my hands, ran up my arms, pulsed through my chest like a second heartbeat.
Then his expression shifted.
His eyes were suddenly shadowed with anger, maybe even hatred. The sharpness of that change startled me, and I felt a coldness bloom beneath my own lingering curiosity. It hit me like sunlight through glass.
He didn’t move, didn’t blink. He just stared, like I was something he’d already decided to destroy.
And yet I couldn’t look away.
I forced my legs to move.
The tension lingered in my chest like smoke even as my feet moved forward.
My magic hummed louder now, stirring with a strange rhythm I didn’t understand.
I let my gaze slip away from the male in green just as we neared the final arch, the spires of Elarion rising above us like a crown carved from storm light.
We stepped beneath it, the threshold swallowing us in shadow and silence. The sound of the courtyard dimmed behind us, and all that remained was the pulse of magic beneath my skin and the echo of eyes I couldn’t forget.
I leaned close to Shakari. “Do you know who that was?”
Shakari glanced over her shoulder again. “I don’t know who he is. With his green uniform and his tattoo, he is from the Dragontail legion.”
Then I turned to Shakari, my voice low.
“He was burning me alive with his gaze,” I muttered. “I’ve never seen him before and I just got here. Already I need to watch my back.”
Shakari smirked. “What did you expect? You’re not in the Glass Castle of Solenhart anymore, Thea.”
Whoever that was, he was going to be trouble. Smoldering, dangerous trouble. “Tragic, really,” Shakari sighed with theatrical despair, cutting through my thoughts. “Another absurdly hot Moonveil, and I can’t even lay a finger on him. It’s like the gods sculpted them just to torment me.”
I looked at her, eyes wide. Shakari was right, the Moonveil was gorgeous, but Moonveil beauty was something dangerous to admire.
As we crossed into the main corridor into the Grand Hall, a figure stepped into our path.
He was tall and lean, with streaks of silver threading his dark hair and silver Moonveil eyes.
He moved with the kind of indifference that came from years of watching too many wide-eyed students pass through the archway, and wearing a long, sun-faded black cloak that rustled softly with each movement.
“Professor Hog, Dragontail Legion commander,” he said with no flourish, handing us a pair of scrolls. “You’ll be in the Solphire Tower. Quickly leave your belongings in your room. You are expected at sundown in the arena for The Calling.”
He glanced briefly at me but didn’t bow. “Here, you're just another student. No special preferences, Solenhart.”
“Good,” I replied. “That’s how I want it.”
He nodded and walked off.
Shakari gave a low whistle. “I like him already. I am sure he will be my professor.”
I probably made a face that my best friend caught and recognized that she said, “Don’t look so disappointed, Thea.
You need to enter The Calling with intention.
Perhaps you can ask the Siren to be in Dragontail like your father used to say.
Maybe she’ll take pity on you and let you into our legion. Wouldn’t want you to miss me too much.”
“I wish that were true, but I am a Solenhart. The rest of my life is pretty much written, including The Calling,” I responded hopelessly.
But her words almost gave a glimpse of hope. This was exactly the kind of thing my father used to say before he passed eight years ago. Half-truths wrapped in warnings, always laced with secrets.
When I was small, I used to play in the palace gardens with Shakari and my father, pretending to defend the borders. We would hunt imaginary dragons, hiding ash-smudged knees from my mother.
Shakari had always dreamed of the front lines and fire in her veins, daring the dragons to strike first. The daughter of a noble and my father’s dearest friend, she was a rebel in every breath. A fighter to her core. There had never been any question. Shakari belonged in Dragontail.
At Elarion, there were three legions: Emberkeep, Auroric, and Dragontail. The Glass Castle tutors had a saying: Emberkeep is the reason, Auroric the heart, Dragontail the strength.
But my mother, the Queen, classist as ever, never hid her disdain.
To her, Dragontail were brutes. Powerful, yes, but directionless without Emberkeep’s logic to control them.
Most nobles, especially Solenharts, were placed in Emberkeep, ruling from the safety of the court, far from bloodshed and flame.
I was always meant for Emberkeep. It was expected; it was in my blood.
Each legion shaped your magic differently.
Disciplined it, sharpened it, forged it for a purpose.
And I had always been captivated by the raw, destructive beauty of Dragontail’s power, even if I was destined for Emberkeep.
No Solenhart had ever been placed under the Dragontail Legion.
The court's law was clear: the heir to the crown must rise through Emberkeep or forfeit the throne entirely.
If I was called to any other legion, the line would pass to my cousin. The polished, perfect noble who bowed flawlessly and lived for royal etiquette. Everything I was not.
In a few hours at sunset, we would stand before the Siren who spoke for the island itself. One by one, we would step into the arena and offer our blood, binding ourselves to the island and to a legion. We were going to be seen, to be judged. We were going to be called to a legion.
The thought lingered in my chest like a quiet ache as we turned left, following the stream of Sunheart students toward the white-veined spires of Solphire Tower.
The marble stairs shimmered under the fading light, catching gold along their edges.
Each step etched with magic that pulsed faintly beneath our feet.
Across the main hall, a separate line of students moved in the opposite direction. Moonveils and their shadows made their way toward the darker halls of their own tower.
Rionis was built on balance. Sunheart and Moonveil were two halves of the same breath. Here at Elarion, we trained together. We fought together. Some of us even dared to become friends.
But the divide was always there unspoken, yet constant. A line drawn in the marrow of who we were.
And we... we never crossed it. Not even for desire.
Romance between factions wasn’t merely forbidden. It was cursed.
The old tales weren’t myths, but warnings carved into our blood.
Lovers torn apart by unraveling minds. Bondmates consumed by power were too volatile to endure.
They burned too brightly.
And in the end, they broke.
Madness. Despair. Death.
Always. It was gospel. It was unchallenged and immutable.
This academy was the closest we ever came to one another, suspended between light and shadow, united only by illusion.
Even here, the sun and moon were never meant to mix.