The Second Realm did not exist for the eyes of ordinary mortals.
Suspended between the misty borders of the celestial kingdom and the rugged earth below, it was a place of eternal twilight. Massive floating islands were tethered by arched stone bridges, where the architecture was a seamless blend of ancient rock and pulsing glow-crystals.
Usually, the air hummed with the disciplined resonance of the Mage Army. But today, the atmosphere felt different. Charged. Heavy.
Ember hated how calm the world looked.
She stood on the eastern terrace, arms crossed, boots planted as if she were daring the floating island to drop. Fire flickered faintly around her fingertips, racing to the beat of her racing heart.
"Unbelievable," she muttered.
Behind her, the realm stretched out—a masterpiece of floating academies and glowing rivers. It was perfect.
And that was the problem.
Prodigy.
Future Official of the Heavenly Court.
Leader of House Arson.
The titles were weights stacked on her shoulders until even breathing felt like a chore. She clenched her jaw, forcing the sparks back into her skin.
To lose control—
even for a second—was to fail.
"You'll burn a hole through the terrace if you glare any harder."
Ember turned sharply.
Melissa stood a few steps away. Her long hair moved softly in the breeze, and the very stones of the terrace seemed to settle more firmly under her feet.
"Maybe it deserves it," Ember snapped.
Melissa didn't flinch. She was the earth; she never did.
"You're awake early. Again."
"Couldn't sleep," Ember replied, her voice dropping.
Below them, students crossed the bridges, their distant laughter drifting upward.
"Must be nice," Ember muttered, her irritation sharpening. "To exist without the weight of the world breathing down your neck."
Melissa looked at her—not just at her, but into her.
"You don't have to be perfect every moment, Ember."
Ember's eyes flashed with a sudden, orange heat.
"Yes. I do."
The warning bell rang—a deep, metallic toll that vibrated in their bones.
Clang. Clang.
Heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed from the archway.
Kai approached with a presence that straightened spines and silenced whispers. His dark attire was sharp, and the air magic humming around him felt like a localized storm.
"Assembly in ten minutes," Kai said. His face was a mask of cold stone, but Ember saw the tension in his eyes.
"What happened?" Ember demanded.
Kai hesitated. "The Headmages called it. That's all I know."
"That's never good," a cheerful voice chirped from behind him.
Felix practically bounced into view, his blond hair catching the twilight glow. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, grinning at the grim trio.
"Wow. The tension is so thick I could cut it with a dagger." He straightened, winking at Melissa. "Relax, guys. Worst case scenario? We all die dramatically."
"Felix," Kai warned, his voice low.
"What? I said dramatically. Style matters, Commander Doom."
Ember snorted despite herself. "You're impossible."
"And yet," Felix placed a hand over his heart, "I am beloved."
As they began to cross the bridge toward the Great Hall, Ember glanced back at the horizon. Her chest felt tight. The air felt... wrong.
High above them, in the First Realm—a place even the Mages feared to tread—the great bells began to toll. Not for assembly. Not for war.
They were ringing in mourning.
And thousands of miles away, in the "ignorance" of the Mortal World, an eighteen-year-old boy bolted upright in bed. He gasped, clutching his wrist where a star-shaped mark burned with a sudden, searing white light.
He didn't know the name "Avalon." He didn't know about the five lives already shifting toward him.
But the realms had begun to move. And nothing—no fire, no earth, no air or water—would remain untouched.