In the grand chambers of Eryndor Academy, five distinguished figures sat in an opulent lounge, their attention fixed on a massive enchanted projection displaying the Awakening Ceremony taking place below.
The air was thick with the scent of rare herbs and polished mahogany. Velvet drapes hung from the high walls, and the soft hum of magic ran through the runes etched into the stone floor.
Breaking the silence was a middle-aged man clad in pristine white robes, a silver emblem of the Mage Corps pinned to his chest. His voice was smooth but carried the weight of command.
"So, Count Ashenward," said Vice Commander Ardyn Vale with a half-smirk, "how many promising talents do you think we'll see this year?"
The older man beside him let out a low chuckle, his deep blue cloak rustling as he leaned forward. His hair was streaked with grey, but his amber eyes still burned with sharpness—and mischief.
Count Darius Ashenward gave a toothy grin. "What's the matter, Ardyn? Already feeling nervous? Let's wager on it. I say we'll have at least Ten rare-element awakenings today."
Ardyn sighed, not surprised. "Of course you'd gamble on children's futures, Darius. Some things never change."
Just as the banter grew, a soft clink echoed through the room as a porcelain teacup met its saucer.
Seated a short distance away, Duke Caelan Frostveil sipped his tea without lifting his gaze. His silver hair and regal posture radiated quiet dominance.
"Still betting your coin away, Count?" Caelan said, voice cool and unhurried. "You're well past your prime, yet your addiction to losing money still burns bright. And Ardyn—if you spent half the effort on advancement as you do loitering in these halls, you might've become a commander by now."
The jab was sharp, veiled in aristocratic grace, and it hit both men squarely.
Ardyn's smile stiffened, while Darius let out a quiet scoff, his knuckles tightening slightly around the armrest. Neither responded immediately, but the heat in their eyes said enough.
Before tension could rise further, a fourth voice stepped in—gentle, measured.
"Gentlemen, please," said Alric Thorne, a well-dressed man with a shrewd glint behind his spectacles. As a leading figure in the merchant faction, Alric's voice carried influence, even among mages. "We're here to observe the ceremony, not reignite old rivalries. Besides," he chuckled softly, "it wouldn't be proper to have furniture flying in front of the dean."
At the head of the chamber sat the elderly Dean Harland Evermere, silent and unmoving. His long white beard rested neatly against his robes, his eyes half-lidded yet sharp—an Archmage with decades of experience behind him.
Though he hadn't said a word, his presence kept the room in check.
With a sigh, Ardyn leaned back, folding his arms. "Fine. We'll play nice. For now."
Darius muttered something under his breath, while Duke Caelan simply took another sip of tea, expression unreadable.
They continued watching the awakening ceremony, which had only just begun moments ago.
Arydn was the first to comment as a boy awakened the ice element.
"A good talent," he said with a nod.
Count Daroius hummed in agreement, his eyes fixed on the glowing projection.
But their attention quickly shifted as another name echoed through the hall.
In the mirror, a boy with brown hair and a sturdy frame stepped forward.
"Damon Relland," his voice rang out clearly.
"Aha!" Count Ashenward leaned forward with a glint in his eyes. "That's Marquis Relland's son, isn't it?"
All eyes turned to the display as Damon began his awakening. A golden hue enveloped him, followed by shimmering shards of metallic earth swirling around him.
"A solid awakening," Arydn commented. "Just like his father—Relland House always produces excellent defenders."
Right after him, a girl with similar features stepped into the frame.
"Lyra Relland," she declared.
"Well, well," Ashenward chuckled. "So the Relland House produced twins this time. Interesting."
Lyra began her awakening. The projection showed the metal element glowing around her, firm and precise.
Duke Caelan Forstveil finally spoke, his tone dry and distant as he sipped his tea.
"Oh… metal. Interesting."
Alaric Thorne, the merchant faction leader, gave a light chuckle and added, "Indeed, it seems the Rellands remain steady."
As silence followed the Duke's remark, Count Ashenward gave a small cough and asked, "Duke Caelan, is your daughter also participating in this year's awakening?"
The Duke gave a faint nod, still sipping his tea as if that answered everything.
Ashenward had more questions on his tongue but kept them to himself. Instead, his inner thoughts grumbled: Can you not drink that damn tea all the time? Every time I see him, he's always sipping tea.
But his thoughts were interrupted as another awakening drew everyone's attention—this time, something special.
On the screen, the image shifted to a boy standing calmly, his eyes closed in focus.
"Aaron Vellin," his voice echoed across the hall.
As the awakening began, two different forces swirled around him—fiery embers igniting with intensity, and streaks of lightning cracking through the air like a storm seeking a target.
The flames danced upward in wide arcs, while lightning snapped and wove through them. It wasn't chaotic—it was precise. The two elements spiraled together, fire and lightning moving in a dangerous, elegant dance of power.
Every person in the room straightened in their seat.
Even Duke Caelan Forstveil—who hadn't flinched during the entire ceremony—paused with his teacup halfway to his lips.
Dean Harland Evermere broke into a proud smile, his voice carrying weight.
"Now that's... That's something."
"Dual elements," Arydn murmured, eyes gleaming. "And with lightning and fire, at that."
Count Ashenward leaned back, arms crossed. "Lightning for speed, fire for destruction... quite the pair."