The Sun Wardens around the castle were countless, their forms gleaming in the early morning light. Crystal emeralds lined the polished marble halls, catching the sunlight and scattering prisms across the floor. Birds hummed softly, flitting between the intricately carved fountains and the indoor gardens, their wings brushing against the golden leaves of ornamental trees. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and polished stone. This was Ivander's fourth year in the Crystal Castle, and though he had walked these halls many times, the scale and beauty of the place never failed to take his breath away. Each step felt like walking through history itself, a history steeped in power, tradition, and responsibility.
"In, out… in, out…" Ivander muttered under his breath, pacing nervously before a massive emerald door. His polished black-and-gold uniform gleamed in the morning light, shoes reflecting the patterned marble beneath him. Weeks of preparation had gone into every detail—the folds of his uniform, the shine on his shoes, even the careful smoothing of his dark hair. And yet, standing there now, he felt a strange tension knotting in his stomach. Finally, summoning every shred of courage, he pushed the door open with a quiet creak that echoed through the hall.
Two guards, perfectly still and alert, fixed their sharp gazes on him. They wore armor inlaid with emerald accents, and their eyes missed nothing. Behind the guards, the Anchor of the Zodiac Realm stood, a figure whose presence seemed to fill the hall itself.
"This year is going to be different from the rest," Anchor Lucian announced, his voice carrying through the ancient hall. He stood five meters from his seat, which had been carved from the finest cedar and polished to a deep mahogany shine. The council hall's architecture bore the marks of an age long past—arches etched with glowing runes, floors patterned in gold inlays, and walls that held the faint, eternal hum of old magic.
"Come on, Lucian. You've been saying that forever," Duke Virgo of the Eastern Mountains said with a skeptical tone, folding his arms. He stepped lightly across the floor, each movement measured, the echo of his boots seeming almost exaggerated in the vast hall. His voice betrayed his doubt, as if he expected Lucian's words to fizzle into nothing.
"Kenneth, I can feel it," Lucian replied, unwavering. "I've been cautious about the future. The walls are weakening… not just the physical ones, but the protective wards as well."
Ivander cleared his throat, stepping a little closer, his heart beating in rhythm with his careful steps. His dark hair was perfectly straightened, each strand in place, reflecting the light of the emeralds above. He forced a confident smile, rehearsed a thousand times in front of the mirrors of his chambers. He sought approval from his father—the man whose presence alone seemed to demand attention, whose eyes could pierce through layers of pretense.
"Ivander, shouldn't you be packing for school?" Lucian's voice was formal, tinged with the weight of authority. The Blood Crown atop his head gleamed in the light, a silent reminder of his power.
"Anchor Lucian, I have a proposal for this year's annual student recruitment at Varsa Academia," Ivander said, steady despite the butterflies in his stomach. He had waited for this moment, yet the words felt heavy, like stones rolling off his tongue. Last-minute ideas were common for him, a way to prove his worth without the shadow of expectation crushing him.
Lucian's eyes narrowed slightly, measuring, calculating. "Kid, I like how you think," he said, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "But when it comes to Varsa Academia, I need no ideas. Its legacy speaks for itself."
Prince Elijah interjected dramatically, his voice cutting through the tension. "What your dear father means," he said, voice full of mock solemnity, "is that he takes no opinions from children when it comes to that academy." Elijah was short, blond, and impeccably neat, each movement precise, controlled, almost theatrical. Lucian, by contrast, was tall, his dark messy hair falling in deliberate disarray, his aura commanding the room like a storm waiting to break. The two brothers radiated contrasting versions of royalty—discipline and chaos, order and unpredictability, two halves of a whole that both inspired and intimidated.
"Anything else? The rest will be handled tomorrow," Lucian said, trying not to react overtly to Elijah's quip. His gaze swept the hall, pausing briefly on Ivander, who fidgeted slightly, nerves mingling with determination. "I want a word with my family," he added. Only Ivander and Elijah remained in the grand chamber.
"Once, zodiac bloodlines were immortal," Lucian began, his voice low but filled with authority. "That changed when darkness multiplied, when shadows crept into the edges of our realm." His tone betrayed the fatigue of repeating the same truths over and over.
"Word is the Anchor of Zodiacs is a drama king now," Elijah muttered under his breath, a smirk curling his lips. Etiquette may have been his strength, but his tongue wielded sharper knives than any blade.
"Drama king… that's funny," Ivander said softly, his voice barely audible, yet carrying a note of intrigue.
"Varsa Academia isn't just a school," Lucian continued, rising from his throne like a figure carved from legend. "It's the main asset this realm has. It's where alliances are forged, enemies exposed, and future rulers are tested."
"Says the guy who hated it," Elijah smirked again, leaning casually against a pillar, his voice laced with sardonic amusement.
"Your Highness, please," Ivander pleaded softly, stepping forward. "At least tell me what you're planning."
"Ivander—language," Lucian barked, his magenta eyes narrowing as if the word "Dad" had pierced a veil of propriety.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Ivander whispered, bowing respectfully.
"Kid, get up," Elijah commanded, almost impatiently, though his smirk had faded slightly in the shadow of his father's presence.
"Varsa Academia is a warzone that shapes future rulers," Lucian explained, his voice now tinged with gravity. "Potential allies, venomous serpents, hidden powers—every student who walks through those gates becomes a player in the realm's intricate chessboard."
"Spare him the noble speech," Elijah interrupted sharply. "Varsa Academia is also the birthplace of the Shadows. We try to erase your sins with power, not teach them morality."
A flicker of anger flashed in Lucian's eyes, his gray irises slowly tinged with blue. A cold wind swept through the hall as if the air itself held its breath.
Suddenly, with shocking swiftness, Lucian slammed Elijah against the wall, his hand gripping his throat.
"Don't ever question my motives for ruling this kingdom," Lucian hissed, his voice low and dangerous.
Everything happened so fast that neither brother noticed Ivander's barely concealed smirk. He watched, wide-eyed yet fascinated, the subtle thrill of witnessing power play out firsthand.
Elijah struggled to breathe, tapping Lucian's arm repeatedly, vision blurring, the cold stone of the wall pressing against his back.
"Luke! I'm still here!" Elijah choked out, voice fading, desperation creeping in.
The courtroom doors burst open. Queen Ariella rushed in, her usually serene smile faltering as she took in the scene. Her eyes glimmered green with raw power as she summoned magic, energy swirling around her hands.
"Lucian, let go!" she shouted, her voice both commanding and pleading.
He didn't. With a forceful gesture, she blasted him back, cracking the window behind him. The sudden impact sent shards of glass scattering, catching the sunlight like tiny stars. Lucian's eyes slowly returned to normal.
"Elijah… I'm sorry," Lucian said, his voice thick with guilt. "I… I got carried away."
"You almost killed me," Elijah coughed, voice hoarse, struggling to draw in air.
"You should see the Pisces," Ariella said softly, extending a hand to help him up.
"Thanks," Elijah gasped, steadying himself. Ariella's composure returned instantly, her elegance a reminder of her Virgo nobility.
"Lucian, who would you be without Ariella?" Elijah muttered, grabbing a chair among the splintered furniture, a faint smile returning despite the lingering tension.
"That really hurt," he added, rubbing his shoulder.
"You better behave next time," Ariella said, walking over to Lucian, massaging his tense shoulders with gentle authority.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
"I prefer Lucian explains," Elijah muttered, unusually quiet for once.
"Ivander, stand up," Lucian said, his tone softened with guilt. "Take a seat."
Ivander sat beside Elijah, who was now picking grapes Ariella had magically sent. He tried to appear calm, though his mind raced with thoughts of power, legacy, and what he had just witnessed.
"Varsa Academia is going to experience a change this year," Lucian announced, raising his wine glass, excitement sparkling in his eyes.
"That's new," Ariella said, pausing mid-massage. "Varsa only holds trials at school, right?"
"Yes," Lucian nodded. Everyone leaned in, sensing the weight of his words.
"Lucian, Varsa Academia isn't a topic for jokes," Ariella warned. "Especially with our family history involved."
"I know. But Citadel will never be safe if the Shadows still exist," Lucian said, stubborn.
"So what are you planning?" Ivander asked, leaning forward.
"Varsa Academia is the key to ending that problem once and for all," Lucian replied.
"That academy is the problem," Elijah slammed his hand on the table. "We should just shut it down."
"I agree," Ariella said softly. "Even mentioning its past sets you off."
"I still have one child there," Lucian reminded them.
"Varsa Academia is ancient," Lucian continued, his tone resolute. "Ivander is just the fourth generation to study there. It's part of our legacy—and the kingdom's."
"Okay… so what's different?" Elijah asked.
"Everything," Lucian said with a confident, dangerous smile, one that made the future feel uncertain and thrilling at once.