The chamber was crimson. Every banner, every tapestry, every drape bled the same color, as though soaked in some regal violence. The room had no windows, only soft, floating orbs of light that shifted between red and blue hues. At the center stood a round obsidian table.
Seven seats, each ornately designed, encircled the table. And on them, the highest order of the Academy gathered: the Student Council, each an earned position, earned with unchallenged might and power.
"Let the meeting of the High Order commence," spoke the First Seat, her voice like polished steel.
Lady Seraphina Drakhoras. Elegant, beautiful, sixth daughter of the Emperor, and in her final year. She sat with perfect posture. Her silver and crimson armor gleamed despite the lack of sunlight. Her golden crownlet shimmered faintly, as her Dark, silky-smooth hair rested on her shoulders. Her aura dominated the room.
"Updates?" she asked, eyes surveying the others.
The Second Seat, a third-year in jet-black robes, Malrik Nocturne, spoke without raising his gaze. "The restoration of the lower dormitories is complete. The east wing's barrier issues have been resolved."
He looks up." This time there won't be any issues."
The Third Seat, the mysterious boy with the red scarf known only as Kairen, nodded slightly. "The Chimera-Class Familiar Project is a near success. We've isolated a fourth trait."
Continues to place an orb on the table, it rolls to the center, then stood still. It then dispersed into energy, shaping to reveal images of the creature in question.
"We should have it ready before the trials."He commented.
"I would've have done better." Said a young girl as she looked at Kairen.
"I don't doubt it." He replied as he took his seat.
The fourth Seat, young Lady Irielle of House Vontesse, barely twelve, yet terrifyingly intelligent, chimed in with gleaming eyes. "I'd like to recommend modifying it, I have a few suggestions. Let's include independent thought, this things just need to be let loose sometimes."
"We can't have you, sticking your fingers in these trials." Said Seraphina as she looked at the fifth seat.
The Fifth Seat giggled.
"Oooh, I like it," cooed Vexalia Delrouge, second-year and born of the Delrouge bloodline. Her violet eyes glittered with a hint of madness."I seems that someone has been spending a lot, there has been ample amounts of cargo going into the alchemy ward."
"I've noticed the same thing, do you have anything to say, Rennar." Malrik comments.
"Let's maintain order," Seraphina interjected. "Malrik and Vexalia that's not your department, and I want Accusations right now." She turns to Rennar. "We'll review policy after candidates for this year's royal trials are decided. Ranner, candidates?"
The Sixth Seat, Ranner of House Veralund, nodded and unfolded a parchment. "I suggest Tirian Caldwyn. Strong bloodline, noble discipline, and his duel with Erevan was admirable."
"Admirable, he lost an arm, getting cleaved isn't admirable, I'm sure he'll have it healed but still not... ."Vexalia rumbled, but stopped as her gaze meet Seraphina's.
Celestine raised an eyebrow at Rennar but said nothing at first. Ranner continued.
"Also, from House Verdenne, Lady Cyra. From the Eastern Nobility, Damien Hellsbane."
"I would like to propose candidates," Celestine finally spoke. The room hushed slightly.
"Tirian... and Erevan Drakhoras."
Everyone stirred.
"Again? Erevan?" Malrik's voice held judgment.
"He is a Drakhoras by blood and record. Despite his... reputation, his swordsmanship speaks volumes."
"It does," said Kairen, voice calm. "He deflected lightning with metal. That takes either stupidity or genius."
"And you believe it was genius?" asked Malrik." You know so little."
"I do believe it was genius," replied Kairen.
Ranner scoffed, folding his arms. "Tirian was clearly holding back."
"Was he?" Celestine asked.
"Enough," Seraphina stated. "Both names will be listed for vetting, support course students wanted in last year and I denied it, but this year we are short on candidates and if worthy candidates step forward we have to take them."
"What of that Noir fellow?" Irielle asked. "He was part of the alchemy team last year, before they formed that engineering lab. He might be a prodigy, like me. I heard the golem Miss Charlotte keeps around was partly her design."
"He's on the list," replied Vexalia, flipping a black-gloved finger. "My scouts have been watching him for quite sometime now. There's a storm inside him. I want to see it unleashed."
"I don't get why she's this way" Rennar said to himself.
"I also wish to nominate Arthur Drakhoras," Seraphina said, a strong command in her voice.
Celestine flinched, then stood up. "No,no,no, He's..., not him."
"So Erevan,"Seraphina said as she raised her brow.
"Arthur is not council material, and he's already in his final year, I don't see a reason for this."
"Erevan lacks allegiance," Malrik interjected." He's not represented, but Arthur is."
"I still oppose," Celestine repeated.
Seraphina's eyes narrowed. "Noted. Overruled."She stares straight at Celestine," I don't care."
Celestine bit her tongue." Very well."
The room falls silent.
Then Seraphina clears her voice.
She leaned forward. "The trials will be held at the Gate of Island Skies."
"A gate?" Irielle asked with excitement.
"Yes. This domain has been stabilized. Imaginary space, vast but contained."
Gates are tricky little things, back in the day during the holy wars there were artifacts found on this called gates. They House an imaginary reality separate from this one. They vary in the inside, some are small some are gigantic. Some are safe, some not so much, some rules of the universe shift and others are completely different.
"This is going to destroy them." Seraphina states. "Only the strongest will have a chance in their."
Vexalia licked her lips. "I like it."
Kairen whispered, "So we're just going to kill the lot."
They began debating logistics—teleportation runes, entry conditions, emergency protocols—but the narrative shifted.
---
Erevan's breath was steady. His body glistened with sweat. Training in the courtyard, he glowed with the heat of exertion. The sand crunched under his boots as he delivered his last punch on the levitating steel plate, denting it.
He rolled his shoulders and turned toward the corridor that led to the alchemy ward. The golem project still needed tuning.
As soon as he entered the corridor, his eyes narrowed.
A figure blocked his path.
Tall, golden-haired, cloaked in white and crimson coat that bore the crest of the Drakhoran bloodline on his chest, —Arthur.
His half-brother.
"Daerik," Arthur said with venom.
"I go by Erevan now," Erevan replied evenly.
Arthur's eyes flared. "You wore our name, and now you think yourself, a grown man. But your just a stinking bastard."
Erevan said nothing.
Arthur drew his sword, sleek and sharp. With a twist, a blue edge shimmered down the blade.
"Aether Slash," he shouted.
The air split as the blade carved forward, a wave of pure aether screaming toward Erevan.
But Erevan was still.
With a twist of his wrist, he drew his own sword—not enchanted, not even polished—and swung.
The wave parted. Dissipated.
The clash of forces rumbled through the walls.
Arthur's eyes widened, then narrowed.
"You've learned tricks. But you're still just a brat."
Erevan stepped forward. "You're right. A brat who's about to gut you and display you inners guts as I cleave your soul out of that husk."
They stood still, meters apart.
Then moved into mirrored stances.
The bloodlust had already consumed the air.