Morning came far too early.
After a couple days of Damon resting, planning, and getting short morning greets from Natsuki that always ended with him telling her to wait for him, morning finally came. He'd completely forgotten.
Nyra burst into his room still in her royal pajamas.
"Big bro, wake up. You start school today. We leave in an hour."
Damon groaned and dragged the blanket over his head.
Something jumped on him. Small paws. Then big paws. Then too big paws.
He lifted the blanket.
"Daichi," he muttered, "you're flexing your size transformation again."
Daichi puffed proudly. "It's good. I can follow you to school now that I can go THIS small."
He shrunk into the tiniest wolf.
"That's cool," Damon said, rubbing his face. "But can you stay small...as a dog?"
Daichi shifted into his tiny dog form, tail wagging.
Damon leaned back into his pillow and placed Daichi on his chest.
"The first day is always the worst… let's hope for a change."
An hour later, Damon stood outside one of the garden-side buildings.
He tugged at the collar of his uniform—dark, sharp, too clean compared to Earth clothes.
The jacket was deep charcoal-black with muted blue hidden in the threads. Light enough for combat, strong enough he knew he wouldn't rip it if threw a punch. Silver tracing along the seams like faint constellations. Combat shirt underneath. Reinforced trousers. Matte boots.
And his hair, normal—black with blue highlights, thick, soft-looking, slightly wild. The shine in it caught every bit of morning light.
Nyra waved at him in her own uniform. Hers had a skirt.
For a split second he saw the little sister he always imagined pulling her big brother to school.
It actually felt right.
He greeted his mother.
Queen Thessa smirked. "Maybe dull your shine a little, hm? Or all the girls will flock to you. Natsuki wouldn't like that."
Damon murmured, "I wasn't even trying…"
Before they could enter a vehicle, Tolrex hurried over.
"Wait! A gift for your first day."
He handed Damon a flat shard.
"You can store items inside. Click twice and the opening appears. You can drop any object in. To retrieve it, think of the item while it's open."
Then he turned to Nyra—directly.
"And for you, Princess Nyra," he said respectfully, placing a necklace in her hands, "same storage function. Just whisper 'open' to activate."
They thanked him.
"Don't thank me yet," Tolrex said—and brought out a rectangular metal card. The size of a credit card.
"Damon, tap the center."
Damon tapped it.
The disc unfolded into a sleek gliding vehicle—hovering a few inches above the ground, humming softly, no wheels at all.
"This is an Aethersprint Runner," Tolrex explained. "It rides pressure fields, so it never touches the ground. Fast, silent, responds to your balance or the handles. It also balances itself so you never lose control. Doesn't crash easily. It's got other features but it's more fun if you figure it out yourself."
Damon stared at it like Tolrex had handed him a dream.
"How can I ever thank you enough?"
"By staying alive," Tolrex said simply.
Damon looked at his mom with a grin.
"Told you I'd get a car before eighteen."
She lightly scolded him.
He drove Nyra and Daichi to school, smooth as wind. When they arrived, Damon tapped the frame and it folded itself neatly back into the card. Daichi shrunk into his tiny dog form and slid into Damon's pocket.
Nyra looked up at the massive gates with him.
At the same time: "I hate school."
They laughed.
Hazel swooped down last, wings fluttering wildly.
"I wouldn't miss your first day!"
Damon and Nyra smiled.
Hazel plucked two shimmering strands from above their heads and wove them into bracelets—Damon's gold, Nyra's fiery orange.
"They're not charms," she said. "Just the courage you carried in your sleep. I'm only putting it somewhere you won't lose it."
She kissed their foreheads and flew off waving.
Ahead, Cythera walked toward them as students walked calmly into the building. Some stayed outside.
Nyra whispered, "I'll leave you in her hands," and slipped away.
Cythera gave a small, shy wave after her.
"Hi," Damon said.
"Hello," she replied quietly.
They paused, staring at each other—neutral, unreadable—until Damon turned his head slightly and Daichi copied him, peeking out of his pocket.
That snapped Cythera out of it.
Students were already whispering around them.
"Is that him?"
"The moon-crusher?"
"Why is he sooo cute—"
"No don't look at him he'll vaporize you—"
Damon pretended not to hear. Cythera absolutely did.
"Hmm," she said. "You're popular. Mostly for violent reasons. But still."
Damon sighed. "I just hope they don't turn me into some school bully stereotype."
Right before entering class, he felt Natsuki's presence brush warm against his mind.
"I've gotta go in. I'll talk to you tonight." He spoke telepathically.
"Okay… just checking on you."
"That's cute."
A soft laugh echoed and faded away.
They entered the classroom.
It was shaped like a huge C—rows of seats rising in a curve, all facing the board. The open end of the C faced the entrance, giving the teacher a full view of everyone. Clean, sharp, a little intimidating.
"This is the highest intellect class in Trineum," Cythera said as they sat at the back curve.
Damon groaned. "What did I do to deserve this?"
"Well, being the prince puts you here anyway," she said lightly. "But your combat and your mirror fight sealed it."
Damon thought "I'm in the highest level, that means they expect more." He groaned.
Then mumbled, "I hope not everyone watched the mirror fight."
"I'm glad I did," she said simply. "Now I've seen you cry."
He scoffed and dropped his head onto the desk and into his arms.
Other students entered, immediately slowing when they saw Damon slumped beside Cythera.
A guy tried flirting with her. She clearly said no. Damon raised his head just enough for his blue aura to flicker in his eyes.
The guy almost tripped, backing away.
Cythera sighed. "I can handle myself."
"My mom taught me to notice when a lady's uncomfortable."
"So?"
"If you were comfortable, you wouldn't be clenching your fist like you wanna punch him."
Cythera immediately released her fist and Damon snorted into his arms.
A moment later, the teacher strode in.
He looked like a battle-hardened nerd—sharp posture, glasses, presence heavy enough to quiet the whole room.
"Violence," he said, pulling a hologram from his briefcase, "is a question."
He lifted another projection.
"To be answered—"
He flicked it toward the middle opening of the C.
"—with intelligence."
He threw a marker at Damon without warning.
Damon caught it between four fingers, eyes barely lifting.
The man smirked. "Kael Veylor. Welcome to Applied Sciences."
Damon flicked the marker back with wind.
Even he looked surprised. "That's… the third one."
Cythera nodded. "The potion gift from King Cassian's working."
"Yeah I unlocked fire a couple days ago"
Kael perked up. "Fire unlocked? Excellent. Then come solve the question on the board. It's fire based."
"I just got here," Damon protested.
"Then you shouldn't have had your head on the desk, Prince Damon. Solve it or get punished."
Damon exhaled and walked forward.
Kael called out, "If you survive my class, you'll thank me. If you don't… well someone else will."
Daichi peeked from Damon's pocket. "Nice start to school", he muttered dryly.
The projection read: L(t) = 4t²
The derivative shows how fast the fire user's heat intensifies. Find the rate and interpret.
Damon blinked.
"…So basically Eterna Calculus."
He wrote:
L'(t) = 8t
The room filled with flipping pages and syncing pens.
He added interpretation:
At 1 second → 8 units
At 3 seconds → 24 units
At 10 seconds → 80 units
Damon muttered, "Whoever this is, he's beating someone up."
Kael adjusted his glasses.
"Perhaps I underestimated Earth intelligence."
Damon returned to his seat. "You're not taking notes?" he asked Cythera.
She stared ahead. "You're not the only smart one, Damon."
He didn't respond, but the faint softening of his expression said enough.
Lunch.
Damon set his tray down—Daichi immediately dragged half the food to himself.
"Daichi, seriously—"
Daichi ignored him.
Cythera smirked. Mirea tried not to laugh.
A boy with dark-silver eyes and neatly tied hair sat down with an apple. Nothing else.
He didn't ask permission.
"Lior Marvek," he said calmly.
Damon studied his tiny meal. "Do you always eat that little?"
Lior looked at Daichi instead.
"No. Your wolf stole your food because he's comfortable with you. That's quite rare."
Daichi wagged proudly.
Damon blinked. "That was… weirdly accurate."
Lior bit his apple. "Observation is a habit. I hope sitting here isn't an issue."
Mirea pointed her fork. "Do you stalk people for fun?"
"No," he said. "Only when they're interesting."
Daichi stole the rest of Damon's food behind him.
Lior didn't seem bothered.
Later on at a different lesson.
Rika slammed a guy onto the mat. Clean. Sharp. Fast.
Damon blinked. "She'd only been here a couple months." He thought "He's she gone from basketball to combat master."
She waved. Damon nodded.
"So what happens here?" he asked.
The instructor walked forward. Her presence alone was enough to sharpen the air.
Silver eyes. Braided raven hair. Deep-blue mantle with silver etchings. Controlled power in every step.
Her gaze landed on Damon.
Then on Cythera.
She sighed.
"Prince Damon. Lady Cythera. I'm Valora Nemein."
They shook hands—hers firm, steady.
"You two… don't actually need to be here."
The class murmured.
"Theres not much I can teach you," Valora continued. "You're free to observe or help others. Most will listen to you more than me."
Cythera nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense."
"How?" Damon asked.
"Well," Valora said, "you've unlocked your father's experience. Physical combat has its limits. King Thalor reached them before a thousand years and you've surpassed that threshold already."
"True." Cythera nodded.
Damon frowned. "How do you even know about my father?" he said turning to Cythera.
"He was the King," she said. "And I take history. Connect the dots."
He opened his mouth—
Stopped.
A pressure washed over him.
Ancient. Cold. Familiar.
Like something old turning its head toward him.
Cythera inhaled sharply. "Damon—?"
He didn't answer.
He blasted upward through the overhead glass—boom—sky cracking behind him.
Some students got startled. The courtyard froze.
Already standing above, in the air, was Draven.
Hands in pockets. Eyes narrowed.
Damon rose until they were face-to-face.
"You sensed it too?" Damon asked quietly.
Draven nodded once, gaze fixed on the horizon where the pressure was coming from—vast, impossible, older than Woewyn's history.
"When school ends," Draven said, voice low, "bring Cythera and come to the palace."
A long pause.
"…We need to talk."
Damon's chest tightened.
Something ancient… something the world whispered about in fear… was awake.