After an hour, Princess Nyreal and Lucen found themselves in their first lesson: Mental Conditioning. Their professor was the blind, sincere, yet mysterious, Monk Vaelen.
The classroom resembled a temple more than a hall of study. Chairs and tables had been cleared away; students sat cross-legged on mats, the air hushed and concentrated. Eyes closed, breaths measured, the room pulsed with quiet rhythm. Everyone seemed perfectly in sync — except those not dressed in red.
"What are they doing?" Princess Nyreal whispered, her voice cutting through the silence. "What lesson was this again?"
"Mental Conditioning, My Princess," Lucen answered softly.
"The whole idea of this lesson is using silence as a weapon and breath as a shield," came a calm voice from behind them.
They turned to see a brunette girl, eyes closed, energy focused, mind open. "All you have to do is simple," she added, "focus on your energy."
Nyreal and Lucen exchanged a brief nod, then turned forward once more. Princess Nyreal closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and within a single breath she was already there — centered, attuned, her presence sharp as a blade.
Lucen, however, sat with his eyes shut but felt nothing. No spark, no shift. Just the reminder that he had no Talent. What was a peasant doing in a class for mages? Still, trying was better than nothing. He forced himself to focus — on food, on music, on something, anything that would keep him awake.
The hour dragged on. Princess Nyreal's stillness grew deeper, while Lucen's mind wandered further. Halfway through, he gave up entirely, slipping his headphones on and losing himself in music, oblivious to Monk Vaelen's whispered instructions weaving through the silence.
The sudden toll of the bell snapped him back. He blinked, startled, as if waking from a dream.
"What was that?" Lucen asked, disoriented.
"The bell," Princess Nyreal replied, one brow arched.
"Break?" Lucen muttered, rubbing his eyes.
"End of the day," Princess Nyreal said, rising to her feet.
"Huh?" Lucen's eyes widened.
Nyreal rolled her eyes. "Let me spell it out in words you'll understand… You. Slept." She turned and left the room without another glance.
Lucen buried his face in his hands, embarrassed
"Hey, are you coming or do I have to drag you by the hide?" Princess Nyreal said from the door.
"Sorry, My Princess." Lucen snapped back yet again and rushed behind Princess Nyreal.
They entered the cafeteria where the students were having supper.
"The school is unnecessarily big." Princess Nyreal commented.
"Maybe it is because the students are numerous, My Princess." Lucen said, scanning the crowd who ate.
"It may seem so. Come, let us get something to eat. I am famished from that lesson." Princess Nyreal said, heading to join the line, but Lucen stepped in her path.
"My Princess, let me do that for you…" Lucen offered.
"You? I'll be fine. Besides, you would not know what I would prefer, plus I do not trust you yet to handle my food." Princess Nyreal said, walking past Lucen.
"Poison? I only wanted to keep you from causing a scene…" Lucen muttered under his breath, trailing after her.
The food was mostly Solara delicacies, so Princess Nyreal didn't know what to choose, afraid that they might be too different from what she was used to.
"I apologise, My Princess. The Headmaster said that the vehicle carrying goods with your preferred dishes encountered a problem, so it would not arrive till tomorrow…"
Princess Nyreal sighed. "Why am I not surprised?"
Lucen bit his tongue, wondering if what he was about to say was appropriate or not. "My Princess, please give these dishes a try… just this once. I am certain that by tomorrow the vehicle will have arrived."
Princess Nyreal turned slowly to face Lucen, a scoff curling from her lips. "Fine, but only this once." Her gaze swept across the dishes, lingering with cool detachment before flicking back to him. "What would you recommend?"
Lucen nodded, then leaned forward. "May I?" he asked quietly, gesturing toward Princess Nyreal's plate.
Princess Nyreal looked down at her plate, then at Lucen's hands, which were offering to take it. She rolled her eyes, then reluctantly handed it to him. "Fine, but if you try anything, you are as good as dead." She threatened, then stood aside, her arms crossed.
Lucen fought back a laugh as he turned to serve her plate, then his own. When he finished, he gave Princess Nyreal a small nod, and she followed him in silence toward their seat.
Princess Nyreal lowered herself into the seat across from Lucen, her gaze unwavering. "You belong to the House of the Flame of Dawn, do you not? Then tell me, how is it you are able to serve another Royal? Is it because we are your masters?"
"It is my duty, so I have to execute it, no questions asked." Lucen answered.
"I suppose the term for that is a loyal dog," Princess Nyreal remarked, her tone laced with disdain.
"Excuse me?" Lucen raised a brow.
"You heard me," Princess Nyreal said, her voice cutting through the air. Then, as the weight of her words settled, she paused, realizing her tone might have been harsher than intended. "Oh… forgive me," she added with a faint scoff, though her correction carried a trace of sincerity. "I forgot those terms are not used here. 'Loyal dog' is what King Noctorian calls those bound to him by loyalty."
"Oh, okay…" Lucen said, trying to wave off what seemed like an insult.
Princess Nyreal glanced down at the unfamiliar food before her, then at Lucen's plate, then finally at his face.
"Are you certain it is good?" she asked, her voice edged with doubt.
"Why yes, My Princess. These are Solaran treasures," Lucen replied, gesturing to the spread before her. "Here you have Sunfire Grains with Ashspike Skewers, complemented by Firefruit and Crimson Pulse. And to ease its passage, a draught of Moonwell Essence."
"Which is your favorite among them?" Princess Nyreal asked, looking through them.
"The Ashspike Skewers. They are spicy and tasty." Lucen said with a nod.
Princess Nyreal tried to get Lucen's expression, but getting nothing, she looked down at the meat on a stick deeply coated with all kinds of spices — so much that it could be seen dripping and could even melt the table, then looked up at Lucen, who had already started to dig in. With a deep breath, she took a huge bite, then began coughing uncontrollably.
"Princess… I am so sorry…" Lucen said, alarmed as he gave Princess Nyreal, Moonwell Essence to calm the heat. "I am deeply sorry. I should have warned you first…"
Princess Nyreal took a sip, trying to soothe her heating tongue. "You like this?" She asked, still uncomfortable.
Lucen nodded lightly. "I should have asked for Your Highness's preferences first. That would have helped me choose something more to your taste. If you permit, I would like to change that for you."
He reached for her plate, only to be halted by a sharp smack across his hand, the sound echoing louder than the words that had just left his lips.
"I never said I could not eat it," Princess Nyreal declared, her voice cool but edged with defiance. She drew the plate closer, clutching it with a possessiveness that echoed a child guarding treasured toys, her eyes daring Lucen to reach again.
Lucen could not help but chuckle as he watched Princess Nyreal eat. Only then did he truly notice her beauty — forbidden, dark, yet radiant. Radiant in its own unique, shadowed way, which did not weary him but instead made him curious. How could darkness bring forth something so breathtaking that even the light longed to share its space with it? Yet was that not wrong?
Light and dark were never meant to coexist. They carried different significance, different beliefs, different origins... different motives. To envy the other was to desire becoming the other, and that desire could only distort the balance. And when that balance is distorted…
"Lucen!" Princess Nyreal snapped her fingers before his eyes, jolting him back to reality. "I have been calling you for some time. What were you thinking of? It seemed… deep." She asked, her tone cool, never pausing as she continued to eat.
"Huh? Nothing… It is nothing, My Princess. Nothing of any importance." Lucen said, sitting up. "But are you able to eat the food? Is it not too much?"
"It is fine. Noxmere and Solara may use different spices for cooking, but they both have the same effects, just different. It is no big deal." Princess Nyreal said, taking another bite.
"So, My Princess likes it…?" Lucen asked, his gaze locked on Princess Nyreal's icy eyes.
"Mmm…It is so-so." Princess Nyreal said, placing the Ashspike Skewers back down on her plate.
Lucen shook his head and continued eating.
Just then, there was a commotion outside. Students in the cafeteria were all rushing out as the curious minds that they were.
"What is going on?" Princess Nyreal asked, her eyes darting around.
"I am not sure, My Princess. Would you like to check it out?" Lucen said, looking out through the windows, trying to get a view of what was going on.
"Let us go see what all this is about." Princess Nyreal said.
Lucen rose and offered his hand. "My Princess…"
"I am not a child. I am pretty sure I can find find my way out. If anyone blocks my path, they would wish they did no such thing." Princess Nyreal said as she rose.
Lucen nodded. "Let us go then, My Princess." Lucen said, leading the way.
They arrived at the fight scene, and it was nothing short of chaos. The courtyard had transformed into an arena, though no one had planned it that way. Students crowded the edges, standing on the sidelines, their voices rising in waves of cheers and jeers as they shouted for the team of their choice.
For a moment, it was impossible to tell whether this was meant for amusement or if it had spiraled into something far darker. The fighters in the center gave no hint of play — their eyes were sharp, their movements lethal, every strike carrying the weight of intent. It was as if they were fixed on killing each other, not sparring for practice or something lighter.
The air itself seemed to thrum with tension. Magic hung thick and heavy, saturating the space until every breath felt charged. Sparks of energy flickered across the ground, and the faint scent of scorched stone lingered where spells had already collided.
Students desperate to witness the clash pressed closer, some weaving enchantments of protection around themselves before daring to step nearer. Shimmering barriers glowed faintly around their bodies, fragile shields against stray blasts. Even so, the crowd leaned forward, hungry for every strike, every surge of power.
The sound was overwhelming — chants, gasps, the crackle of magic colliding, the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground. It was a spectacle, yes, but one that carried the unnerving edge of danger. At any moment, the line between sport and death could vanish.
But the scene unsettled Princess Nyreal in a way she could not explain. The unconscious fighters scattered across the ground, their bodies limp and broken, were not what disturbed her most. It was the students who stood idly by, cheering, laughing, watching as if this were nothing more than entertainment. That indifference flared something inside her — something dark, something divine.
Her gaze sharpened, and for a heartbeat the noise around her seemed to fade. The chants, the crackle of magic, even Lucen's shifting beside her — all drowned beneath the rising pulse in her chest. It was not anger, not pity, but a deeper force, a shadowed current that whispered of judgment.
Nyreal's fingers curled at her side, nails pressing into her palm. She felt the weight of silence pressing against her, the same silence Monk Vaelen had spoken of, but here it was different. Here it was heavy, dangerous, alive.
The crowd roared again as another fighter fell, but Nyreal did not join them. Her eyes lingered on the fallen, and in that moment she knew: this was no simple duel. Something beneath the spectacle was stirring, and it was calling to her.