Chapter 5: The Heir's Arrival
The gates of Aetheris Imperial Academy loomed high against the velvet night, crowned with ancient runes that shimmered faintly beneath the moonlight. Beyond the archway stretched marble paths and towering spires—an entire world contained within gilded walls.
The capital's pride.
The Empire's future.
Yet as the heavy gates groaned open, letting the caravan pass, a hush seemed to fall over the very stones.
Whispers carried on the wind—shadows curling along the edges of the light.
Duskthrone.
The name slithered through the night, half-believed and half-feared.
---
Asher sat poised within the carriage, his pale silver hair spilling over his shoulder. Across from him, Elysia Valtaren leaned gracefully against the velvet seat, amber eyes flicking between him and the passing scenery.
"You don't talk much, do you?"
Asher's gaze remained fixed on the window.
"No."
Her lips quirked—half amusement, half challenge.
"You'll find the Academy isn't fond of silence."
"I don't care what the Academy is fond of."
A flicker of surprise danced across her eyes—quickly masked beneath that polite, diplomatic smile.
"You'll make many friends with that attitude."
"I don't need friends."
The words came soft—final.
But not cruel.
Elysia's smile lingered, but Asher saw the subtle flicker in her gaze—like a knife testing the edge of its prey.
Crafty indeed.
"You might be right," she mused. "But friends make useful tools... and even the moon needs light to cast shadows."
That earned her a glance.
A faint glint of amusement flickered in Asher's pale eyes.
Ah... she's not just sharp. She's dangerous.
He liked her more with every word.
The carriage rocked gently along the cobbled path, the silence stretching between them like a drawn thread. The Duskguards rode in perfect formation, their crimson cloaks trailing behind them—specters stitched into the night.
Finally, Asher leaned back, folding his hands in his lap.
"You want something from me."
Elysia's amber eyes flicked toward him, her smile never wavering.
"Everyone wants something from you, Duskthrone."
"But you're the first who's honest about it."
A soft laugh slipped from her lips.
"Honesty is a luxury, not a virtue."
"I prefer it."
"Good." Her gaze sharpened. "Then I'll be honest again—I'm curious."
"About what?"
"The heir hidden behind black gates... the boy who made the gods tremble before he even stepped foot in the capital."
Asher's gaze flicked back to the window.
"I'm not that interesting."
"I don't believe that."
He didn't answer.
---
The carriage rattled to a stop within the courtyard of the Academy. The first rays of dawn were breaking across the skyline, painting the marble towers in soft gold.
Noble heirs gathered along the upper terraces—whispers rising like smoke.
They had been waiting.
Waiting for him.
The carriage door creaked open.
A hush fell.
One pale hand slipped from beneath black silk, booted feet stepping down onto the stones. Asher emerged into the morning light—silver hair catching fire beneath the rising sun.
Elysia followed, her knights flanking her in crisp formation.
The courtyard seemed to hold its breath.
Eyes flicked toward him—some curious, some wary.
None dared approach.
None dared speak his name aloud.
"Well," Elysia murmured, breaking the silence. "It seems you've already made quite the impression."
Asher's gaze swept over the gathered nobles—measuring, weighing.
"They're just waiting to see if the rumors are true."
"And are they?"
His pale eyes flicked toward her—cold, endless.
"They will be."
---
The Duskguards moved without a word, carrying his belongings toward the dormitories.
A faint ripple of tension followed them—like wolves slipping through a field of lambs.
The other noble heirs whispered behind gloved hands—names flickering like half-forgotten prayers.
Duskthrone.
Cursed bloodline.
Monster heir.
"Ignore them."
Asher glanced sideways.
Elysia walked beside him, her amber gaze flicking lazily over the gathered nobles.
"They always gossip about what they fear."
"I'm used to it."
Her smile curled faintly.
"That doesn't mean you have to tolerate it."
Asher's gaze lingered on the crowd.
"Words don't matter."
"No," Elysia agreed, voice soft. "But fear does."
Asher's steps slowed.
For the first time, his gaze turned fully toward her—measuring, peeling back the layers behind that polished smile.
He could feel it now—the weight beneath her grace.
Ambition.
She hid it well, but it was there—coiled beneath every polite word, every careful gesture.
"You play a dangerous game, Valtaren."
Her smile sharpened.
"So do you, Duskthrone."
---
By the time they reached the dormitories, the sun had fully risen.
The Duskguards vanished without a word—leaving Asher alone in the long marble hall.
Elysia lingered by the threshold, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword.
"Why did you let me follow you?"
Asher glanced back, his pale eyes unreadable.
"You amuse me."
A soft laugh slipped from her lips.
"And here I thought you'd prefer silence."
"I do."
His gaze flicked toward her—just for a breath.
"But I also like... interesting things."
Her smile lingered—wicked and knowing.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Take it however you like."
Without another word, he turned and vanished into the shadows.
---
The whispers would spread by nightfall.
The Duskthrone heir had arrived.
And the Student Council President had already fallen into his orbit.
The game had begun.