The halls of the Royal Academy towered like cathedrals carved from moonstone and marble. Pillars etched with sigils of old gods spiraled toward the heavens, and the stained glass above cast fragments of light onto the polished floors—dancing hues that shimmered with power and history.
Gold adjusted the crest pinned to his new cloak—silver thread woven into deep navy, marked with the symbol of Ilyrion's nobility. It felt foreign on his chest, like a name not yet earned.
"Still fidgeting?" Irethiel asked beside him, her voice laced with soft amusement.
Gold grunted. "It's itchy."
"It's silk-blended soulweave from the eastern isles."
"Still itchy."
She laughed quietly. "You'll get used to it. Or you won't. Nobility here prefers discomfort if it looks good."
They walked past a long corridor where other students whispered, casting glances. Most were younger nobles, robed in layered uniforms, their eyes widening as they passed.
"Is that him?"
"The Unbound one…"
"I heard he made a pact with a forgotten god."
"I heard he is a god."
Gold heard them all. He kept walking.
"Ignore them," Irethiel said.
"I'm trying. They're loud."
"Welcome to court politics. Just in school uniforms."
They arrived at a large door engraved with the crest of the Academy—an open book wreathed in flame and stars. Irethiel pushed it open.
"This will be your classroom."
Inside, a semicircle of stone benches faced a floating obsidian lectern. Two students already sat inside—one, a tall boy with pale violet hair and silver-rimmed glasses; the other, a girl with bronze skin and a hood pulled halfway over her face.
Irethiel gestured toward them. "You're early. These two will be your… classmates."
The boy stood, straightening his coat with practiced grace. "Lord Gold of House…?"
"No house," Gold replied. "Just Gold."
The boy's brow lifted slightly. "A noble with no banner. Curious."
"Ryn Serevas," Irethiel introduced. "One of the highest-ranked minds here. Top of the theory division."
"I prefer the term efficient thinker," Ryn said, bowing lightly. "I specialize in pact analysis and divine lore."
He adjusted his glasses. "I must admit, meeting a living case study was not on this semester's syllabus."
The girl in the hood didn't rise. She just tilted her head.
"And she?" Gold asked.
"She doesn't speak much," Irethiel said. "Name's Yvaine. She's not from the noble families. Sponsored by the Mage-Scribes."
At the sound of her name, Yvaine glanced at him. Her eyes glowed faintly silver beneath her hood.
"Hi," Gold offered.
She blinked. Said nothing.
"Right."
"She likes animals more than people," Irethiel whispered. "Give her time."
Gold looked around. "This… isn't a full class."
"No," Ryn replied. "This is your class. You're not exactly normal."
Gold frowned. "So they isolate me?"
"They protect you," Irethiel said carefully. "And the others."
Gold looked at her, and for a second, the playful light in her eyes softened into something gentler. "You're not a prisoner, Gold. But you are… significant."
He didn't respond.
The moon hung like a pale eye over Ilyrion, casting long shadows across the palace gardens. Gold leaned on the stone balcony of his new quarters, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the stars. The cool breeze rustled through vines climbing the marble columns behind him.
Footsteps approached, soft and slow.
"You're not asleep either," Irethiel said, stepping beside him. Her silver hair shimmered under the moonlight, loose and untied for once.
Gold didn't turn. "Didn't feel like sleeping."
She followed his gaze to the stars. "Is it about Kane?"
He hesitated. "Among other things."
They stood there in silence for a moment. Then she tilted her head slightly, watching him.
"You've changed since she left. Your eyes. The way you carry yourself." She stepped closer. "What happened to you two?"
Gold's jaw tensed. "Nothing dangerous."
"That's not what I asked."
He looked down at the garden below. "We did something… old. Forbidden, maybe. Something we had to do."
Irethiel's brow furrowed. "A ritual?"
Gold didn't answer right away. Then he nodded slowly. "Something like that."
"And it gave you your memories back?"
"It helped," he said, voice low. "Not just fragments—everything. Who we were. What we lost. What we chose."
She exhaled softly. "And you won't tell me how?"
"I can't," he replied. "Because I don't fully understand it myself. And because… if I say it aloud, it might make it real in ways I'm not ready for."
Irethiel nodded slowly. "Then I won't push. But I hope, one day, you'll trust me enough to share it."
He looked at her. The moon reflected faintly in her violet eyes.
"Maybe I will," he said. "If I don't forget again."
"Well," she said, changing the subject. "I brought something."
She held out a bottle—crystal, with a liquid inside glowing a soft blue hue.
"It's called Skymoon wine. It helps calm the mind. You sip it under starlight. An old Ilyrian tradition."
Gold raised a brow. "You bring that to all the unstable nobility, or just the ones with cursed gods in their heads?"
She grinned. "Only the special ones."
He took the bottle and sipped. It was cool, sweet, with a strange warmth that spread to his chest.
"I'd forgotten what peace tastes like," he murmured.
"You'll get used to it," she said, sitting on the balcony ledge. "This is your home now."
Gold leaned back against the railing, quieter now.
"Home," he echoed. "It's been a while since that word meant anything."
The night air settled between them like a soft cloak. Irethiel's silver hair caught the moonlight again, framing her face in a way that made Gold forget, just for a moment, the weight pressing on his shoulders.
"So," she said, her voice gentle but teasing, "what's the first thing you're going to do tomorrow at the Academy?"
Gold took another sip of the Skymoon wine, savoring the strange calm it brought. "Survive."
Irethiel chuckled softly. "Ambitious."
He shrugged. "Better than 'conquer.'"
She glanced out over the gardens, her expression thoughtful. "There's a lot to learn here, Gold. Not just magic or history. Politics, alliances, old grudges... The Academy isn't just a school. It's a battlefield."
Gold's eyes narrowed. "Sounds like you've been here long enough to know the rules."
She smiled, a little wistfully. "Long enough to see how dangerous it can be to trust too easily."
He looked at her, curious. "And do you trust me?"
Her smile faltered for a heartbeat, then returned—warmer this time. "I'm not sure yet. But I want to."
Gold let the words settle. "I want to trust you too."
A breeze stirred, carrying the scent of jasmine and the distant echo of laughter from the lower courtyards.
"I'll show you around tomorrow," Irethiel said suddenly, standing and brushing off her robes. "There's a place you need to see. Somewhere even the professors rarely go."
Gold raised an eyebrow. "Sounds mysterious."
She winked. "That's the idea."
As she turned to leave, Gold called softly, "Irethiel?"
She paused, looking back over her shoulder.
"Thank you. For the wine... and for tonight."
She nodded once, then disappeared down the corridor, leaving Gold alone with the stars and a quiet hope blooming in his chest.
But as Gold turned back to the balcony railing, a faint shimmer caught his eye—an unnatural ripple in the night air near the palace walls. His breath caught as a shadow twisted and writhed, forming into a shape he recognized too well.
A messenger.
But not one sent by the king.
And the seal he bore? Broken.