The morning sun spilled softly through the lace curtains of the Valerius Estate, casting long golden shapes across the training yard below. Dewdrops clung to each blade of grass like tiny crystals, catching the light in diamond-bright flashes. The air was cool, still tinged with the sweetness of roses from Lady Isolde's cherished garden.
Out on the training grounds, Anya Valerius moved with the fluid rhythm of someone who had lived her life with a blade in hand.
Her fiery black hair, tied tightly in a braid, still refused to remain completely obedient, a few strands slipped loose, sticking to her cheek every time she pivoted. Her wooden practice sword carved clean arcs through the morning air, each swing punctuated by a controlled exhale.
Step. Turn. Strike. Recover.
Her father had drilled those motions into her bones since she was old enough to stand without wobbling. And now, at seventeen, her movements carried a finesse that astonished even the seasoned guards who trained beside her.
Behind her, Lord Cassian Valerius stood with his arms crossed, watching not with softness, but with measured calculation. Even relaxed, his presence filled the space, tall, disciplined, his aura unmistakably that of a man who once commanded armies, the 20th strongest person in the kingdom.
When Anya finished her combination, Cassian's voice finally cut through the quiet.
"Your stance was too wide on the fourth form."
Anya wiped sweat from her eyebrow with the back of her wrist.
"I corrected it."
"Only after the mistake."
His tone wasn't harsh, it was precise, like every word he spoke was part of a lesson.
"In a real clash, hesitation is an invitation to die."
Anya's lips pressed into a thin line.
"I wasn't hesitating."
She rolled her shoulder, readying herself again.
"Just adjusting."
Cassian's eyes narrowed slightly, she could never tell if he was amused or annoyed.
"Then adjust faster."
Anya huffed.
"Yes, Father."
His stern expression softened by a fraction.
"Again."
She resumed her forms, carving her frustrations into the air one swing at a time.
---
Her father watched, but Anya couldn't help thinking of another set of eyes, sharp, calculating, impossibly steady. Her brother, Theron. Captain of the Vanguard. Tenth strongest person in the kingdom. Her childhood idol.
She could practically hear the way he would comment on her technique:
"Too much force in your pivot."
Or
"Good swing, but predictable."
Anya grimaced.
Predictable was worse than wrong.
Cassian must have noticed her distraction.
"Thinking about Theron again?"
She froze mid swing.
"I, maybe."
"You admire him. That's good,"
Cassian said.
"But don't chase his shadow blindly. You're not your brother."
"I know."
She lowered her wooden sword.
"I just… want to be someone worth standing beside him."
For a moment, her father said nothing.
Then
"You will be."
It wasn't praise. It was a promise and Cassian Valerius did not give promises lightly.
---
A faint crunch of footsteps on gravel approached from behind.
Anya didn't need to turn to know who it was, the air itself cooled slightly, as if the morning breeze bowed in respect.
Lady Isolde Valerius, the Snow Queen, ranked 15th among the kingdom's strongest, crossed the yard wearing an elegant pale blue gown that shimmered faintly with frost. Despite the gentle smile she wore, the sharp glint in her eyes could freeze a man more effectively than any spell.
"You're pushing her early today,"
She said to Cassian.
"Her evaluation is this afternoon,"
Cassian replied.
"She should be pushed."
Isolde raised a brow.
"Pushed. Not crushed."
Cassian didn't respond to that, but the corner of his mouth twitched, the closest he came to conceding.
Isolde stepped closer to Anya.
"Remember to pace yourself. Your strength is impressive, but uncontrolled fire burns itself before it reaches its enemy."
Anya sheathed her practice sword.
"Yes, Mother."
"And do not be nervous,"
Isolde added, smoothing a stray hair away from Anya's cheek.
"You will shine."
"I, I'm not nervous,"
Anya tried, but her voice cracked. Both parents gave her the same unimpressed look.
"Fine. Maybe a little nervous."
Her mother smiled.
"Good. Nerves mean you care."
Cassian nodded once.
"Eat. Rest. You'll need both."
---
The Academy of Aethelgard was built like a fortress maze, grand marble pillars, stained glass windows gleaming with color, and stone hallways buzzing with enchantments.
Anya stood at its center now, wooden sword at her hip, a knot of tension twisting in her stomach.
Her evaluator, a graying knight with stern eyes, circled her like a hawk.
"Form sequence: begin."
Anya drew a breath, grounding herself.
Then she moved.
Her blade sliced through the air in a blur, her body pivoting, stepping, and striking with clockwork precision. Her final spin ended in a clean downward cut that cracked against the wooden dummy.
The evaluator nodded once, murmuring,
"Excellent footwork. Aggressive tempo. Considerable killing intent. Very well."
Then came the portion Anya dreaded, magic aptitude.
The room dimmed slightly as evaluation orbs lit up around her. Five orbs, one for each primary element.
The examiner gestured.
"Begin when ready."
Anya swallowed.
She raised her palm toward the fire orb.
A spark danced.
Then a flame.
Then a swirling burst of crimson light flared around her fingertips.
Murmurs rose around the room.
"Promising,"
Someone whispered.
She turned to the earth orb.
The ground trembled, just slightly before a pebble lifted, swirling in place.
"Unexpected control…"
She lifted her hand toward the water orb.
A ribbon of liquid rose gracefully, curling like a serpent.
The wind orb responded instantly, a gust of air sweeping outward and making cloaks flutter.
But the final orb, the orb of light, remained.
Light affinity was rare. Elite. Often hereditary.
Anya hesitated, her pulse racing.
Then,
A soft glow formed around her hands, gentle yet impossibly pure. It grew brighter and brighter until the evaluators shielded their eyes.
"What in the world?"
"She has five affinities?!"
"Impossible…!"
The orb exploded in a brilliant flare of radiance, sending shards of golden light across the room like falling stars.
Anya lowered her hands slowly, blinking as the energy dissipated.
"I… didn't mean to make it that bright,"
She said sheepishly.
The head evaluator stared at her, slack-jawed.
"Miss Valerius… you have affinities for all five primary elements. This is… unprecedented."
Anya shifted nervously.
"Is that… good?"
A wave of stunned laughter rippled among the instructors.
"Good?"
One evaluator burst out.
"Girl, this is the kind of talent they write legends about."
Anya's cheeks flushed red.
---
After a brief, whispered discussion between the examiners, the head evaluator stepped forward.
"Anya Valerius. By unanimous decision, we hereby grant you the rank of A-rank adventurer."
Gasps erupted.
Students stared.
A couple of them mouthed
"A-rank? At seventeen?!"
Anya blinked in shock.
"I… I actually did it?"
"Not just 'did it,'"
An instructor said.
"You shattered our expectations entirely."
Another whispered,
"This girl may surpass even her brother…"
Anya nearly choked.
"No pressure…"
---
A Celebration of Pride
That evening, the Valerius Estate was vibrant. Music swirled through the air, nobles clinked glasses, and chandeliers bathed the ballroom in golden light.
Anya wore a sapphire gown that shimmered with every step. Compliments swarmed her like bees.
"Lady Anya, your performance was simply astounding!"
"A prodigy indeed!"
"Five affinities, why, even the royal bloodline cannot claim such talent!"
Anya forced polite smiles.
"Thank you. I'm honored."
But inside?
She was exhausted.
And overwhelmed.
After nearly an hour, she excused herself from a conversation about noble politics and hurried toward the garden doors.
She needed air.
---
Under the Stella Night Sky
The moment she stepped into the private gardens, she exhaled deeply.
Cool night wind brushed her skin. Lanterns cast soft halos of light over roses and fountains. Crickets chirped a steady rhythm.
Then she saw them, high above, shimmering through the velvet sky:
Three stars.
Golden blue.
Burning as if they were watching.
A strange warmth fluttered in her chest.
"I've seen you before…"
She whispered.
"Every night… Why do you feel so familiar?"
The stars pulsed faintly, as if in response.
A gentle breeze swept through the garden, ruffling her gown.
She sat on a stone bench, looking up, feeling something she couldn't define, longing? Recognition? Fate calling her name?
"Such a Stella night sky…"
She whispered.
Her voice trembled with something indescribable.
Something awakening.
Something ancient.
Something hers.
And in that quiet garden, beneath the three glowing stars, Anya Valerius felt the first stirrings of destiny.