Thursday Morning – Festival Day
The Aetherion Arcanum Academy buzzed with color.
Streamers of red and gold floated lazily through the halls, suspended by celebratory runes. Mana-lanterns swirled overhead in slow patterns, glowing like embers. Students walked with painted faces and enchanted sweets in hand, their robes accented with flame-thread embroidery and festival pins. The smell of caramelized spicebread and incense drifted through the air.
It was the Flame God's Day—a celebration of rebirth, passion, and fire. The academy had the day off. Clubs held open booths. The cafeteria served flamefruit jam and grilled honeycakes. There was even rumor of a fire-dancer showcase near the lake later that evening.
Lucian Valemire, however, looked like he hadn't seen a minute of sleep.
He stepped out of his dorm, rubbing his eyes, squinting at the brightness. Students bustled past in color and cheer.
He blinked once.
"...Right. Festival day."
The world was vibrant. Lucian was not.
He made his way to the cafeteria, grabbed a tray of bread and fruit, and returned to his dorm in a haze. When he entered his room—still messy, with notes and scrolls strewn across every surface—he exhaled and gave a tired grin.
"Half the school's partying while I study ancient gods," he muttered.
He tossed the bread onto the desk, flopped onto his bed, then stared up at the ceiling, thoughts sluggish from sleeplessness.
A fleeting idea crossed his mind. He still didn't have the funds for the Broker's gear.
"…I could ask Nerida for a loan?"
The silence answered for him.
He imagined the look on her face. The eyebrow. The judgment. The probable fireball.
"Right. Terrible idea."
He sighed, reached over to grab the half-eaten bread, took a slow bite, and finally closed his eyes.
He'd figure something out.
Eventually.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Solstice Gardens – Afternoon
Even here, the festival spirit lingered.
Nerida Virellia sat beneath a flowering mana-blossom tree, the petals above glowing faintly in the sunlight. Velvet blanket beneath her, soft wind threading through her hair, she looked… at peace.
Pauline—her second-year best friend and unofficial school-sister—sat beside her, sipping tea with practiced grace, lemon bread in hand.
The air smelled of lavender and slow-burning incense.
It was quiet. Calm.
For once, Nerida's flame wasn't raging.
They talked about simple things. Dresses. Familiar training. That student who tried to use enchantment to grow taller overnight.
Pauline eventually tilted her head.
"You've been… different lately."
Nerida raised a brow. "Different how?"
"I don't know. Less... 'burn everything to the ground.'"
Nerida rolled her eyes, but she didn't disagree. Her cup of tea steamed gently—undisturbed. Even her inner flame felt quiet. Gentle.
Her mother once said she would meet someone who could calm her flame. Someone who understood it.
Nerida glanced at Pauline and smiled faintly.
She must have meant Pauline.
Then Pauline smirked.
"So… I heard something."
"What?"
"Are you dating a certain new guy?" she asked sweetly. "Lucian, right? I even saw a poster yesterday."
Nerida blinked. Once.
Then set her cup down.
"No, I'm not. But he's… interesting," she admitted. "I only talk to him because he's a genius."
"Oh?"
"He beat me in a duel—barely. Now I'm keeping him around for... research."
Pauline grinned. "Research."
"I need his knowledge," Nerida said, arms crossed. "That's all."
Pauline raised an eyebrow. "Suuure."
Then, as if casually:
"So… you invited him to your dorm?"
A pause.
The tea cracked in Nerida's hand.
Steam hissed up, the cup evaporating instantly. One of the runestone lights above flickered violently—then shattered.
Pauline laughed.
Nerida turned away, ears flushed.
"Shut up."
Solstice Hall – Thursday Evening
Lucian stood outside the tall entrance of the girls' dormitory, a satchel under one arm, clean robes pressed neatly against his frame.
He walked the velvet-carpeted corridor, every step echoing louder than it should've.
Whispers followed.
"...So it was true."
"Room 54?"
A girl near the stairwell fumbled her water bottle. The dorm matron peeked from her office, saw Lucian, then gently—wordlessly—closed the door again.
He exhaled once.
Knocked.
The door opened.
And there she was.
Nerida Virellia, not in uniform.
She wore a soft crimson robe with flame-thread embroidery along the sleeves, cinched at the waist, the hem brushing her bare ankles. Her flame-toned hair was loosely tied back, still slightly damp from a bath. Warm light from the crystal sconces behind her lit her skin like gold.
Lucian blinked.
Just once.
She looked… softer like this. Still intense. Still regal. But human. Warm. Almost reachable.
He flushed—just barely.
"Are you going to stare all night?" she asked, arms crossed.
Lucian recovered with a smirk. "Just admiring the embroidery. Very aggressive color palette."
She rolled her eyes. "Come in."
He did.
The door shut behind them.
Inside
Two cups of tea. Scrolls. Ink pots. Spellbooks.
Lucian circled a glyph.
"You need a dual anchor. Otherwise the flame collapses too early."
Nerida leaned in. "...Showoff."
"And yet, you're using my glyph."
She scowled, then grabbed his wrist to adjust a gesture. "You're too slow. Fire doesn't wait. You push it. Make it obey."
The hours passed.
They sparred. Revised formulas. Studied. Tea refilled.
Lucian teased. Nerida endured.
Once or twice… their hands touched.
Once… she looked at his lips a second too long.
Eventually, Lucian slumped mid-scroll.
Asleep.
Nerida stared. No blush. No frown. Just… stillness.
She stood slowly.
Then walked over and gently draped her cloak—flame-stitched and warm—over his shoulders.
Her fingers hovered near his cheek.
Then she turned away, crossed her arms.
Faced the window.
And wondered
"I'm only keeping this idiot around for knowledge… right?"