Lyra stepped out of the portal and onto a narrow corner of Aurelia's city. The air greeted her like a long-lost friend—cool, open, and refreshingly unsuffocating. It smelled of freedom, something she had tasted only in secret daydreams.
She brushed her fingers along the rough cobblestones of the low buildings surrounding her. They were nothing like the towering marble walls of the palace. These walls felt alive, warm, touched by many hands and many stories.
With a small burst of joy, she hurried down the stone corridor until it opened into a wide street. Noise washed over her. People calling out, bartering, laughing, moving left and right in a colorful tide. Vendors stood in front of wooden kiosks, their tables crowded with goods. Children ran between adults with bare feet and bright eyes.
Lyra giggled softly. Choosing the right side of the bustling road, she slipped into the crowd, letting herself be swallowed by their presence. So many people… all in one place, all moving so freely. She had attended tea parties hosted by her sisters, and she had glimpsed nobles swirling at royal balls, but nothing compared to this chaotic, vibrant freedom.
As she walked, she passed a small lake beside the road. Drawn to it, she leaned over the water. A young woman with black hair and dark eyes gazed back at her. Lyra chuckled. She truly resembled Lady Fiona of the Ten Cats from the romance novel she had finished not long ago—fierce, elusive, nothing like the porcelain doll look she was born with. Even her deep blue gown was unlike anything in her royal wardrobe.
Straightening, she lifted her gaze. From afar, the palace towers rose like spires reaching into the sky, so distant now, both in space and in heart. A satisfied smile tugged at her lips as she turned away and continued onward.
She paused at a kiosk overflowing with fruit. Among them were peaches—her favorite, always. She reached out and picked the freshest one, already imagining its sweetness. But before she could take a bite, a sharp voice cut through the air.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
Lyra jolted, clutching the peach protectively to her chest. She narrowed her eyes at the seller but said nothing.
"If you want fruit, you give me Saira," the man said, pointing at the peach. His accent was unlike the polished tones she was used to in the palace. His tunic was faded, simple, worn from real work.
Is this what commoners usually wear? she wondered.
"Saira?" she asked. "What is that?"
He stared at her as though she had grown another head. "Wawu, look at this one. Were you born yesterday? You give me one Saira coin, I give you fruit." He pulled a silver coin from his pocket and held it up.
Lyra leaned closer. The coin bore the engraved figure of her father—the emperor.
"This is a Saira?" she whispered in shock and reached for it.
The man snatched it back and tugged his cap lower. "See, woman, I don't care if you're noble or foreigner. You want my peach, you give me Saira. No Saira, no peach." He extended his hand, and the peach tugged sharply in Lyra's grip. Startled, she released it; instead of falling, it flew neatly into the man's palm.
Magic. He had used magic casually, effortlessly. Lyra's lips parted in awe as he tossed the peach back with the others and began calling out:
"Fresh peaches! One Saira each! Five for three Sairas!"
She pouted, cheeks warm with embarrassment, and slipped away quietly.
Not long after, she noticed people clearing the road beside her. Several elegant carriages rolled past. Not royal ones, but certainly noble. Still, the crowd stepped aside without hesitation.
Their lives are so different from mine… she thought. There were parts of Aurelia she knew nothing about. She had never paid for food; if she wanted anything, she simply told Talia. Yet now, every strange detail sent a thrilling shiver down her spine.
"The arena game is about to start," she heard someone say as two men rushed past.
"We must hurry if we don't want to miss the fight of the King's champion," another replied.
The King's champion. The same name Rhena had spoken about with such excitement.
Lyra followed the flow of people. Soon, a colossal structure rose into view, its red bricks towering high enough to block out the sky. The roar of the crowd bled through the walls, wild and unrestrained.
Her breath caught. What did the inside look like?
People queued before a massive iron gate. She slipped into line, watching from the corner of her eye as nobles leaned from their carriages, showing some kind of seal or pass to the guards. One carriage after the other was allowed through.
"These nobles," a voice muttered behind her, thick with bitterness, "they enjoy luxury just because their magic runs high."
Lyra's heart tightened. She understood the bitterness now. She was seeing their world through unfiltered eyes for the first time, both its harshness and its wonder.
"What can we do?" someone muttered behind her. "They say the aura of magic and sun-blood decides everything. What can shadowborn like us ever hope for?"
Another voice answered, weary and resigned. "Nothing. That's our fate."
Lyra swallowed hard. Though she had never been allowed to attend magic classes with her sisters, she had learned enough, through reading and from secretly hiding behind the library shelves during lessons, to understand those words.
Shadowborn… people without a single drop of sun-blood in their veins.
And aura of magic… the measure of one's power, one's worth, one's future.
"Shadowborn indeed," another voice scoffed. "That's why the magicless princess gets to be called royal, because she has sun-blood running in her veins."
Lyra's heart tightened. Even the commoners saw her as unworthy… a hollow title held aloft only by the blood she didn't choose to be born with.
"And yet we pay taxes to protect and feed a princess who can't protect us back," someone added with bitterness.
"Solaris has fallen," another sighed.
The words struck her like a stone to the head, but she kept her expression still. This wasn't the first time she had heard such talk. Nobles whispered sharper insults. Her own sister Rhane had spat crueller truths to her face. Compared to those, these words were only shadows.
The men continued talking, drifting from complaint to gossip, until the line moved and Lyra found herself standing before the iron gate.
A bulky guard stood there. Tall, grim, with a single eye patched and the other staring at her with hard scrutiny. He looked her over from head to toe.
"Girl," he grumbled, "where is your escort?"
Lyra froze. "My… escort?"
Her mind raced. She had assumed that the hardest part would be disguising herself and slipping past the palace. She didn't know she needed anything else.
"Yes, my escort!" she tried, forcing a smile. "He just… ah… he just went to buy some peaches down the street."
"You can't enter without your escort," the man said flatly.
"What? I told you—"
He leaned down so close she felt his breath warm against her ear.
"If this is your first time here," he murmured, "then your escort should've explained better. No lady is allowed inside without a male escort."
He straightened, raised his chin, and waved the next person forward, dismissing her completely.
Lyra's shoulders sagged. If she had known this rule, she would have disguised herself as a man, not Lady Fiona. How was she supposed to get inside now?
A firm hand suddenly landed on her shoulder.
"Hey, big man," a bright, lively voice said behind her. "Why did you push my little sister aside?"
Lyra's eyes widened as she looked up. Standing behind her was a tall young man with long black hair tied neatly in a low ponytail. His expression was warm, confident—almost annoyingly cheerful.
"Keal? Is this the sister you speak of so often?" the guard asked, blinking.
"Yes, yes, can't you see the resemblance? " the man—Keal, replied casually. "Now make way and let her pass."
Lyra opened her mouth to deny it—but swallowed the words. If pretending meant entry…
"Yes!" she chimed in. "Listen to my brother. Make way. I want to see the King's champion fight."
She slipped her hand around Keal's waist, acting every bit the little sister she had never been. Keal didn't flinch; he simply winked at her. Who knew, perhaps there really was a girl out there who looked like Lady Fiona, and Keal simply assumed she was her.
The guard chuckled. "Of course, beautiful Miss Penelope."
Miss… Penelope?
Lyra lifted her chin and strode forward beside Keal, stepping through the iron gate and into the belly of Aurelia's greatest spectacle.
The arena's thunderous roar swallowed her whole. Heat, dust, magic, everything surged together as Lyra crossed the threshold.
For the first time in her life, she was not Princess Lyra Selendrae Aurelia Solaria.