Aiyla Vernhart-The Heroine

The sprawling grounds of Rosaria Academy stretched out before me like a dream woven from marble and starlight.

High archways towered over lush gardens, and crystalline fountains glittered in the soft morning light. Students bustled around me—some chatting excitedly, others already rushing to their first classes, books clutched tight to their chests. The crisp scent of fresh parchment and polished wood filled the air.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in my stomach.

This was it.

The start of my new life.

"Alright, Aiyla," I whispered under my breath. "You can do this."

My full name was Aiyla Vernhart—or at least, that's the name I'd always gone by.

I adjusted the strap of my leather satchel over my shoulder and glanced down at the simple crest stitched into the corner of my uniform jacket. A modest mark. Not one of noble bloodlines, nor a sigil inherited through birthright.

Because, in truth… I wasn't a Vernhart by blood.

Only weeks ago, before my acceptance letter from Rosaria arrived—delivered by a courier wearing the academy's shimmering blue and gold—I learned the truth.

I was adopted.

My parents—no, the people who raised me, loved me, were my parents—had found me on their doorstep as an infant, wrapped in a cloth embroidered with strange, archaic runes they couldn't read. They'd taken me in without question, without hesitation.

They loved me. Raised me as their own.

And I loved them just as fiercely.

But still… since that day, there had always been something different about me. Something not quite explainable.

Magic.

A deep, innate connection to it, as if the very weave of the world hummed through my veins.

While most commoners struggled to even ignite a single spark without years of study, magic for me was… instinctual. Effortless. Like breathing.

It was that aptitude that caught Rosaria Academy's attention, drawing their eyes to a nameless village girl who should have been invisible to the world.

And so here I was.

I hadn't ranked high enough during the orientation trials to make it into the prestigious First Class—but that was okay. Instead, I found myself placed into Class 5—a mixed section for commoners and nobles alike who showed exceptional potential, but hadn't yet polished their skills enough to be considered elite.

Honestly?

It was a miracle I even made it this far.

And I'd make sure every step counted.

For my parents—for the ones who found me.

And for myself.

To find out who I truly was.

—

The classroom was a large, sunlit space with wide windows and desks arranged in neat rows. A warm breeze drifted in through the open windows, stirring parchment and ink across the desks.

Students had already begun filing into their seats when I arrived.

I picked a spot near the middle—close enough to hear the lectures clearly, but not so close to the front that I would draw attention to myself.

I'd barely set down my bag when I felt it—a strange, thick tension in the air.

Subtle.

But definitely there.

I glanced to my left—and nearly choked.

Elias Viremont.

The Crown Prince himself.

There he sat, impeccably dressed in his navy and silver academy uniform, his silver hair catching the light like spun moonlight. His teal-blue eyes were calm, focused, and yet somehow distant—as if he bore the weight of an entire kingdom on his shoulders.

He sat gracefully, pen poised over his notebook, an aura of quiet authority surrounding him like an invisible crown.

And to my right?

I turned my head, heart skipping a beat.

Selene D'Arion.

The newly appointed Saintess of the Azure Temple.

Her azure-blue hair cascaded down her back like a river, and her sapphire eyes were sharp, cold, analytical. She wore her uniform flawlessly, a silver pendant of the Azure Temple glinting against the white of her blouse.

She sat rigid, posture perfect, her notebook already filled with neat, precise notes.

The two prodigies of Rosaria Academy.

On either side of me.

I sat frozen between them, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks.

Why are they even here?! I thought desperately. Aren't they supposed to be in First Class?!

The other students were whispering too, glancing over at the three of us with wide eyes.

It didn't make sense. Why would two First Class elites attend a mixed class like ours?

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Elias's jaw tighten ever so slightly.

And Selene's hand paused mid-sentence, her pen hovering above the page.

There was a crackle of something in the air between them—tension, thick and unspoken.

And I was caught right in the middle of it.

Perfect.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to pretend I was invisible. My fingers gripped the hem of my skirt under the desk, and I stared hard at the chalkboard at the front of the room as the professor began the lesson.

But I could feel it.

The hostility.

Like an invisible tug-of-war stretching over me.

Occasionally, I snuck glances at each of them.

Elias's face remained composed, the perfect prince.

Selene's face remained detached, the perfect saintess.

And yet—beneath the surface—an invisible storm brewed.

Why are they like this? I thought desperately. Did something happen between them already?

The whole situation made me feel like I was standing between two feral cats, trying not to move too much lest one lash out.

The lecture droned on.

[Elemental Theory and Application.]

An introduction to the principles of harnessing ambient magic, drawing from the elements of earth, air, fire, water, and aether. Professor Margrave was passionate, speaking with sweeping gestures and sparkling eyes.

Normally, I'd have been taking notes eagerly.

But it was hard to concentrate when I was actively trying not to suffocate under the pressure between two demi-legends.

I stole another glance toward Elias.

His pen moved in smooth, practiced strokes, but there was a subtle rigidity to his shoulders, a stiffness he was carefully hiding.

Selene, meanwhile, seemed utterly composed—but her eyes occasionally flickered sideways, as if gauging the prince's every move.

The lesson finally ended after what felt like an eternity.

Students began packing up, chattering among themselves about the upcoming field exercises and lab work.

I sighed quietly, leaning back in my seat.

Survived. Barely.

Maybe if I hurried out now, I could avoid getting accidentally caught in some sort of high-tier magic duel.

—

Meanwhile,

At the very back of the class sat Caelum,twirling his pen in between his fingers.

Watching everything unfold with mild amusement.

For a fraction of a second, he and Aiyla's eyes met. He then gave a tiny, two-fingered salute—almost mockingly.

Aiyla quickly snapped her attention back to the front of the class, slightly adjusting the strap of her satchel.

She looked very uncomfortable, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, mainly due to being stuck in between Elias and Selen.

Then, as if reading the chaos unfolding in the air around him, he mouthed two words, silent but unmistakable:

"Oh boy."

He had a lot to do if he wanted his plan to work.