The golden clouds above the Celestial Academy moved slow, thick like drifting honey. A hush lay over the Garden Courtyard where Nocth stood, shirtless, sweat beading across his youthful form. Beneath his pale skin, glowing lines branched and curled—fourteen veins now formed, each dense with strange spiritual texture.
From a distance, they resembled ordinary cultivation veins. But any teacher worth their status would have shivered in silence if they looked too closely. The veins didn't merely draw celestial energy—they devoured it with eerie hunger.
Nocth exhaled, his breath visibly misted despite the warmth. That last movement—he'd dodged and spun on instinct, as if the air itself whispered how to move.
"You're holding back again," Imius said, leaning lazily on a rock. "What's the point of training if you don't burn through at least half your soul?"
Nocth smirked. "Maybe I'm saving it... for people like you."
Imius laughed loud and free. "He jokes now! Maybe the next time we spar, you'll actually land a hit."
Their banter was cut short by a low voice.
"Enjoy your last few peaceful days."
Nocth turned. Ezrel Dreviir, flanked by two other disciples of House Dreviir, stared with smiles that didn't reach their eyes.
The Dreviir Clan—smallest of the Nine—lacked prestige, yet its scions were known for their cunning and bitterness. Once great, their glory had faded across centuries. Now they grasped for power with jealous hearts.
Ezrel's cousin, Varhen Dreviir, stepped forward. His eyes lingered too long on Shae', who had just arrived silently near the garden steps, adorned in a flowing robe of storm-grey.
"What's your game?" Imius asked coolly.
Ezrel's smile grew sharper. "A simple match. The Garden Trials are rotating again. And Nocth has been... specially recommended for the next challenge."
Nocth frowned. "By who?"
"Let's just say," Ezrel leaned in, "some watchers believe you're rising too fast."
---
Meanwhile...
Inside a moonlit chamber within the girls' wing, Shae' held a letter between delicate fingers. It bore the broken sigil of Valshura—her former clan. Her eyes narrowed.
The message was short:
"If you truly wish to be free, don't let that boy bloom."
She laughed quietly, a sound like a knife behind silk. Shae', the demoness, had returned.
She twirled the scroll, incinerating it with a flicker of her veins. Her mind wandered—not to her past—but to Nocth's strange, glowing eyes.
"He's more dangerous than he knows," she whispered, her tone unreadable.
Then she smiled.
And gods help the boy she smiled at.