Chapter 13: Basics
The room hummed quietly under low amber lights. Most of the desks sat empty, the day's final bell long past.
Kael sat near the back, arms crossed, watching her.
Not in some weird way. Just… curious. The green-and-black-haired girl was just so focused —elbows on the desk, eyes fixed on Professor Ingram's glowing board like it was the only thing left that mattered.
She didn't blink much. Didn't shift in her seat like other crowned did when the theory got boring. She absorbed every word like it fed something raw inside her.
Then, without even turning her head, she spoke.
"What, are you in love with me?"
Kael blinked. "That obvious?"
She glanced at him, finally. Her smirk was thin and tired, but it landed.
"I mean, I get it," she added, brushing her green strand behind her ear. "Most crowned can't resist tragic allure."
Kael rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you nailed it. Definitely not because you were just laser-focused on glyph theory like your life depended on it."
"Maybe it does."
That quieted the air for half a second.
"I've seen you around," he said. "In the days I've been here seems I can't avoid you."
"I could say the same." Her gaze flicked down, then back up. "But you? You're an anomaly."
Kael raised a brow. "Is that an insult or a compliment?"
She shrugged. "Depends on the day. You've got power, clearly—but no clan name, no group. You keep to the edges like you're not interested."
He smiled slightly. "Rich, coming from someone who gets roughed up by the Ashborne and still shows up."
Her expression flickered—something between annoyance and acceptance.
"I don't really have a choice," she said quietly, eyes back on the front display. "Verdant Reign doesn't like my clan. I'm the only Thorne here. You think they'd bend a branch for me?"
Kael leaned back, letting her words settle.
"I know my place," she added. "Not good enough for the elites. Not brutal enough for the sword clans. So I joined where I could. Even if they hate me for it."
He tilted his head. "And yet you're still here."
She nodded once, slowly. "Because they'll never get to say they broke me."
Kael didn't answer. He respected that too much to undercut it.
Before either of them could say more, Professor Ingram's voice cut across the room with a sharp clap of his hands.
"Alright. Enough soul-gazing. Eyes front."
The board pulsed again, reshaping itself into a rotating triangle inscribed with circles and half-formed runes.
"This", he said, "is a base frame for an Imprint Sigil. Most of you won't form one in your first year. But if you want to survive long-term duels or differ from your clanmates, you learn them."
Kael leaned forward slightly. So did Iris.
Ingram continued, pacing slowly. "Imprint Sigils are rare. Not because they're hard to cast, but because they bind to the psyche. Their brand intention is what separates the hundreds of flame clans. If your intent wavers, even for a moment when forming it , the whole structure fractures—and sometimes, so do you."
He paused, glancing at the class—or rather, the two of them.
"Now", he said, "let's talk implications. The new PsySnapse-linked clans are using base frames like these to lock in behaviour patterns from childhood. Discipline. Loyalty. Obedience."
Iris frowned, shifting in her seat.
"They say it builds stronger warriors. I say it builds better slaves."
Obedience Kael's jaw tightened; he didn't like something about it.
Ingram nodded to himself and kept going. "We're already seeing echoes of it in the Ashborne clans. Enhanced memorisation. Reflex tracking. Memory partitioning."
Kael caught Iris's glance as her expression darkened.
"They're rewiring kids before their aevums even bloom," Ingram said.
"Why?" Kael asked, finally.
Ingram smiled thinly. "Because control looks prettier when it glows."
The room went quiet again.
Outside, the black sun hung low in the void sky. Faint trails of crown light shimmered in the clouds like glass veins.
Iris broke the silence first. "I don't think anyone's coming here for beauty."
Kael looked at her. "No. But they stay for power."
And neither of them said what they were both thinking.
That power always came at a cost. And not everyone paid in coin.
Just as the tension settled, the door burst open with a clack—and a gust of air that swept a few stray papers off Ingram's desk.
"Iris!"
The voice echoed through the empty classroom like it had no respect for walls. A girl stepped in—taller than Iris by a few inches, her uniform half unbuttoned, the crest of the Verdant Reign sewn boldly into her collar in forest green thread. Her hair fell like coiled vines, dark and lush, and those same pitch-black eyes gleamed as they locked onto her friend.
You'd think they were sisters.
The same elegant posture, the same sharp cheekbones and subtle, curved noses that made people look twice. But where Iris was reserved and tightly coiled like a blade in a sheath, this one radiated with energy, walking like the room belonged to her.
She crossed the space in a few steps and dropped into the chair beside Iris, scanning Kael with thinly concealed judgement.
"I hope I haven't interrupted something," she said sweetly, resting her chin on her hands.
Kael blinked, keeping his tone dry. "Just my spiritual awakening."
Iris snorted under her breath.
Professor Ingram, unfazed, clapped his hands together. "Ah, another warm body. Wonderful. Sit tight; we're wrapping up with foundational sigils."
The green-cloaked girl didn't even blink. She waved him on like she'd been teaching the class herself five minutes ago.
Ingram turned back to the board, which shifted again into three concentric circles with a glowing line running through them.
"Now", he said, gesturing at the rings, "every Crowned manifests three core Sigils. Some call them paths. But the first one—the base—is almost always born from instinct."
Kael tilted his head. "Instinct how?"
Ingram smiled, pleased. "Think of it like a reflex tied to your Crownlight. For flame-based Aevum's, it might show up as intensity—heat responding to adrenaline. For Crowned with kinetic or impact aspects, maybe it's velocity or momentum. Whatever it is, it's not trained. It's triggered."
He looked over at the Verdant girl beside Iris.
"In your clan's case—Verdant Reign—it's often spontaneous growth. A default creation impulse. very erratic. Plants that shoot up when you're scared. Vines that tangle when you flinch."
The girl smirked. "You've been reading our recruitment briefs."
"I've been grading them," Ingram muttered. "But yes."
He tapped the outer circle of the diagram.
"The second Sigil is where focus begins. choice. Refinement. This one's trained. You're taught it, guided into it. Where the first is instinct, the second is will."
"And the third?" Iris asked.
Ingram's face darkened, just a little.
"The third is belief or consequence," he said. "That one doesn't always come. And when it does, it tends to hurt."
Kael felt that settle into the back of his thoughts like a thorn working under skin. Belief. That meant something. Maybe too much.
Next to him, Iris didn't move—but Kael could see her knuckles were pressed tight against her desk, like she was thinking of something far away.
The Verdant girl leaned closer to her. "You sure you're not dragging me into weird Crown cult lectures again?"
Iris just smiled faintly. "You showed up, didn't you?"
"Because you vanished after drills and left your comm off."
Kael couldn't help but ask, "Does she track you often?"
The girl gave him a look. "Only when she disappears with quiet boys who wear shadows like jackets."
"Fair", Kael said, smirking.
Ingram cleared his throat, giving them a long, tired look—but didn't stop them. He just walked back to his desk and started organising crystal glyph slides with lazy efficiency.
The lesson, for now, was over for now, but Kael couldn't shake the feeling that the two girls would become important.