The vehicle came to a stop near the designated area.
The door opened, and two figures emerged.
The young woman stepped down first, moving with careful precision. Her inky black hair was arranged in an elaborate style that spoke of hours spent in preparation, while her dress of midnight blue silk bore subtle silver embroidery that caught the light. Yet something in her posture seemed different—more guarded, as if she carried invisible armor beneath the finery.
Behind her came a young man whose golden-brown hair hung in tousled waves. His blue eyes were half-lidded but alert, like someone perpetually ready to doze off yet missing nothing around him. Dark circles shadowed the skin beneath them.
As they moved away from their carriage, he stayed close to his sister’s shoulder, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.
Elina observed quietly. "Caleb, Livia."
Her tone softened slightly. "I hope she’s doing okay."
Alaric raised a brow and turned toward her. "What happened to her?"
Elina’s expression immediately hardened. She glared at him and spun away.
"Why are you asking about other girls?" she hissed. "You already have a fiancée. Care about her."
Alaric’s eyes narrowed, but he followed anyway, hands sliding into his pockets.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue. "What would it take for you to talk to me like a normal person?"
"Your head."
Alaric blinked, genuinely taken aback.
"That’s too cruel, sister. To say something like that with a straight face—"
Elina stopped so abruptly he nearly walked into her.
She whirled around, golden eyes blazing.
"Don’t call me that. I’m not your sister."
Then she turned back around and continued walking, her pace noticeably faster.
Alaric only exhaled and maintained his leisurely stride, letting the distance between them grow. Some battles weren’t worth fighting.
The examination grounds stretched ahead, filled with potential rivals and political complications that would require all his attention soon enough.
Soon, a group of figures emerged from the academy’s main gates, moving across the field with purposeful strides.
They wore robes of deep crimson, the hems and collars trimmed with gold thread that caught the morning light.
Each bore the academy’s emblem on their chest.
A stylized phoenix rising from flames, its wings spread wide in eternal ascension. Their movements carried the confidence of those accustomed to authority, and conversations across the field began to die as hundreds of young examinees turned their attention toward the approaching instructors.
At their head walked a tall woman with steel-gray hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her bearing spoke of military background, while the numerous commendation pins on her robe suggested a distinguished career before joining the academy’s ranks.
Behind her came a diverse group, some clearly former soldiers, others bearing the softer look of scholars, a few whose aura shimmered faintly in the air, unsettling the senses of nearby onlookers.
They fanned out across the examination grounds, each taking position at predetermined locations marked by small banners.
The lead examiner stepped onto a raised platform that had been erected near the field’s center, her voice carrying clearly across the gathered crowd without need for amplification, a simple application of essence manipulation that demonstrated the casual competence expected of academy faculty.
"Welcome, candidates, to the Phoenix Academy entrance examinations."
The field fell completely silent.
"Today you will be tested not merely on your individual capabilities, but on your potential to grow, to lead, and to serve the greater good. Some of you will walk these halls as students. Others will find their paths lead elsewhere."
Her gaze swept across the assembled examinees, taking in the mix of nervous anticipation and determined confidence that marked every gathering of ambitious youth.
"I am Marcelline Draavos, Senior Examiner of this years entrance exams."
Her tone was clipped, professional.
"All of you will be under my authority and that of the faculty. Treat this ground as though it were already the Academy itself. Any disrespect, any disorder, will be met with immediate disqualification."
She paused, allowing the weight of that statement to settle over the crowd.
"The examination will be conducted in three phases.First, a written assessment covering history, mathematics, strategic thinking, and general knowledge. This will separate those with proper foundational education from those who have neglected their studies."
Several examinees shifted uncomfortably. Academic preparation varied wildly depending on one’s house and tutors.
"Second, aptitude. We will test your essence manipulation capabilities, your resilience under strain, your capacity to adapt. Raw power means nothing without the wisdom to wield it properly."
"Third and final is personal evaluation—individual interviews where we assess your character, motivations, and suitability for the responsibilities that come with an academy education. We admit no braggarts without spine, no cowards with sharpened minds, and no savants who lack discipline. This phase is final. Pass, and the gates open to you. Fail..."
She let the word linger. "...and you will walk away with nothing but experience."
The hush was absolute now, every candidate caught in her cadence.
"As for rules... Cheating will not be tolerated. Nor will bribery, coercion, or essence interference. Should you attempt it, your name will be blacklisted from this institution and all affiliated academies across the kingdom of Vedgard. If you doubt me, try it and see how far disgrace follows your bloodline."
The edge in her voice left no doubt.
Then, abruptly, she clapped her hands. The sharp sound cracked like a whip through the air.
From the side of the grounds, academy staff appeared, each carrying a large chest bound with iron fittings and marked with glowing sigils. They set them down before the crowd with synchronized precision.
"Form lines," Marcelline ordered. "One before each faculty member. Within these chests are your candidate tokens. Each token bears your examination number and your designated hall. Lose it, and you will not be admitted."
The crowd stirred to motion, hundreds of young men and women alike filing into orderly rows.
Alaric and Elina found themselves in one of the middle lines, neither rushing to be first nor dawdling at the back. Around them, other examinees chatted nervously or stood in tense silence.