The city's lamps pulsed faintly as Elviana slipped through the streets, the notebook pressed tight against her chest. Every flicker of light reminded her she was different, that she carried something dangerous.
Her mind replayed the blaze behind her — the estate devoured by fire, the shadow that had watched in silence. She clenched her jaw. They burned it all. Which means this book… this book is the only evidence left.
She ducked into a narrow alley, the smell of damp stone and smoke clinging to the air. Her fingers itched to open the notebook again, but instinct told her to wait. Too exposed. Too many eyes.
Still, curiosity gnawed at her. She found a quiet corner beneath a broken archway, lantern light spilling weakly across the pages as she flipped it open.
Names. Transactions. Lists of people bought and sold. Nobles, merchants, mercenaries. And then — the words that made her stomach twist: "Potential candidates with unusual gifts are to be delivered discreetly. The military pays well for rare talent."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. Unusual gifts. Rare talent. That's not me. I'm ordinary. Forgettable. If anything, I'm the opposite of rare.
Still, the words gnawed at her. If the military was paying for people like that, then this notebook wasn't just evidence of corruption — it was a map of a system built on exploitation.
The air shifted. A prickle ran down her neck. She lifted her head slowly, eyes narrowing. At the edge of the alley, a figure lingered — tall, indistinct, watching.
Elviana's grip tightened on the notebook. "I know you're there," she said, voice steady despite the unease crawling through her chest. "If you want something, speak."
Silence.
The figure did not move, did not answer. Only observed.
Her pulse quickened, but she forced herself to snap the notebook shut. "Fine. Stay quiet. I don't have time for ghosts."
She rose, tucking the book under her arm, and walked past the shadow without hesitation. Each step felt heavier, but she refused to give them the satisfaction of fear.
The city stretched ahead, lamps flickering faintly. The estate was gone, the patron dead, and the notebook's secrets now hers alone. She thought of the nobles, the merchants, the military — all tangled in the web of names she carried.
I can't run forever. If they're hunting gifted people, then the only way to survive is to walk straight into their system.
Her jaw set. The decision crystallized. She would apply for recruitment. Not because she believed she was special — she wasn't. But because it was the only path left. The only way to gather information, to stay close to the truth, and maybe, to understand why she was being watched.
Elviana stepped into the night, resolve burning beneath her unease. The silent watcher remained behind, swallowed by shadows.
The next morning, Elviana stood before the recruitment hall. Its stone walls loomed high, banners of the Royal Academy fluttering in the wind. Lines of hopefuls stretched across the courtyard — farmers' sons, merchants' daughters, mercenaries with scars and steel.
She adjusted her cloak, clutching the satchel tight. I don't belong here. I'm not like them. But I have to try.
The guards at the gate eyed her as she stepped forward. One raised a brow. "Name?"
"Elviana," she said, voice steady.
"Purpose?"
She hesitated, then forced the words out. "Recruitment."
The guard smirked, scribbling her name onto a ledger. "Go on"
Inside, the hall buzzed with tension. Candidates whispered nervously, some boasting, others trembling. Posters lined the walls, the chance to serve the kingdom.
Elviana's gaze lingered on one: "The Academy seeks talent. Ordinary or extraordinary, all are welcome."
Her lips twisted. Ordinary. That's me. Maybe that's enough.
She was ushered into a training yard where instructors barked orders. Wooden weapons clattered, candidates sparred, sweat and grit filled the air.
When her turn came, Elviana stepped forward, dagger in hand. Her opponent — a broad‑shouldered recruit — sneered. "You don't look like much."
She didn't reply.
The signal rang. He lunged. She sidestepped, fluid and sharp, her dagger flashing. Within moments, he was disarmed, sprawled in the dirt, staring up in shock.
The instructor's eyes narrowed. What was that? Her fighting skills are quite different. Where did you learn that?"
Elviana shrugged. "Far from here."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. She ignored them, sliding her dagger back into its sheath. I'm not rare. I'm just trained. That's all.
Later, she was led into a chamber lit by glowing runes. At its center stood a crystal orb, pulsing faintly. One by one, recruits placed their hands upon it, the orb flaring with colors that revealed their elemental affinity.
Elviana's stomach knotted. This is it. The part where they prove I'm ordinary.
Her turn came. She stepped forward, placing her palm against the orb.
For a moment, nothing happened. The silence stretched.
Then — a faint shimmer. Not fire, not water, not earth, not wind. Just a flicker, like static, before fading into nothing.
The officials exchanged glances. One scribbled notes. "No clear affinity. Possibly null."
Elviana forced a smile, though her chest ached. Null. Ordinary. Just as I thought.
She stepped back, the orb's glow fading. Around her, recruits whispered, some pitying, others dismissive.
By the end of the day, her body ached, her mind weary. Yet as she stepped out into the courtyard, she felt something unexpected — resolve.
As she left the hall, the crowd dispersing around her, she felt it again — that prickle at the back of her neck.
She turned sharply.
The same shadow lingered at the edge of the courtyard. Silent. Watching.
Elviana's jaw tightened. So even here, they're following me.
The next morning, the courtyard outside the recruitment hall was packed. Candidates jostled for space, craning their necks toward the gates.
A hum filled the air, and then — with a shimmer — a transparent digital screen flickered to life above the entrance. Names scrolled across it in glowing script, each line accompanied by a symbol denoting rank, placement, and privileges.
Elviana's breath caught. So this is how they announce results here…
The crowd erupted in cheers and groans as names appeared. Some candidates shouted in triumph, others slumped in defeat.
Her eyes darted across the glowing list, searching.
There. Her name. Elviana.
Beside it, a mark she didn't recognize — until the recruiter's voice rang out, explaining: "Scholarship recipients will have full accommodations provided. Food, lodging, and training expenses covered. You are considered assets of the Academy."
Elviana blinked. Scholarship? Me? But how? Why would they—
Whispers rippled through the crowd. Some stared at her, others scoffed. She ignored them, her mind racing. They saw my combat skills. That must be it. They think I'm useful, even without magic.
Later that day, she was escorted through the Academy's sprawling grounds. Towers of stone and glass rose high, runes glowing faintly along their walls. Students in crisp uniforms hurried past, their chatter filling the air.
Her guide stopped before a dormitory. "This will be your residence. You'll share quarters with three other scholarship candidates."
Elviana nodded, clutching her satchel. Free accommodations. A place to stay. For now, that's enough. I am so happy. All these times I was just roaming here and there.
Inside, the dormitory was warm and bustling. She was shown to a room with four beds, neatly arranged with desks and shelves. Three were already claimed — blankets folded, belongings stacked, small touches of personality scattered across each space.
Her bed was the last, waiting.
She set her satchel down, exhaling slowly. So this is it. My new life. My new battlefield.