Chapter 13 Threads of Fire and Starlight

Zane

I barely made it out of the rec hall’s locker wing before I spotted them. It had taken longer than expected, as there was a bunch of commotion in the back room—something about a major benefactor dropping major cash on our center.

I had an idea of what was going on but was too tired to think about it. I walked right into my siblings.

Lila, arms crossed, leaned against the wall with an air that suggested she had all the time in the world and none of the patience to waste it. She wore her usual black vest and slate-gray stare, cultivating the kind of calm that could either hand you a cup of tea or knock you flat, and you wouldn’t know which until it actually happened.

Jordan, meanwhile, was spinning in slow circles beneath the flickering overhead crystals, wide-eyed and grinning like a tourist who had just been dropped into a budget magic carnival. His energy filled the space, vibrating with a childlike wonder.

“Zane!” he called, his voice loud enough to draw immediate looks from the few lingering students. “This place is awesome! You didn’t tell me they had floating mats! And—and glowing rope loops! And… is that cracked stone pretending to be dragonbone?!”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “It’s not dragonbone.”

Jordan blinked, his spinning coming to an abrupt halt. “Wait. So I’ve been lying to people?”

I dropped my gear bag to the floor, already feeling exhausted. “You weren’t supposed to be here until later.”

“We got in early,” Lila said flatly, her gaze unwavering. “He bribed the driver with mana candy.”

Jordan beamed, utterly unrepentant. “Three packs of Emberfruit. No regrets.”

I shook my head, a weariness settling into my bones. “You’re going to get us banned from guest access for life.”

“Only if someone finds out,” Jordan said brightly, then immediately turned his eager attention to the open training floor. “Can I watch class? I promise I’ll be quiet. Ish. Mostly. If no one does anything cool.”

“No kinetic ropes,” I warned, my voice firm.

“Not even to touch?”

“Especially not to touch.”

Lila stepped closer, her expression softening slightly. She gave me a long, measuring look, then reached up and touched my forehead.

[Eva: Such a good sister-in-law. So worried about her brother.]

I ignored Eva, a familiar battle I had no energy to fight right now.

“You’re running hot,” Lila said softly, oblivious to the conversation in my head.

“I’m fine,” I replied, the lie tasting stale on my tongue.

“You’re tired,” she countered, her observation cutting straight through my pretense.

I didn’t argue. There was no point.

“You look different,” she added, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “More... noticed.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

We moved toward the rear benches, Jordan half-jogging ahead before vaulting onto the third row and pulling out a snack bar. His legs swung with anticipation, his mana-sensor band flickering on his wrist as he tracked the sparring matches like they were championship bouts.

“This is so much better than tournament recordings,” he muttered, his voice hushed with genuine awe. “These are real people. And they don’t suck.”

I was about to ask him to be quiet when I noticed Jordan freeze. His entire body went rigid, his eyes wide and unblinking.

“…Jordan?” I prompted, a knot forming in my stomach.

Nothing. He remained utterly still.

I followed his gaze—and instantly regretted it.

She had just walked back in through the main entrance.

Aurelia Vael Taranis.

Her hair was like woven silver thread, glinting under the high enchantment lights. Her uniform was crisp, flawlessly tailored, trimmed in imperial violet. Her posture was all starlight elegance and quiet steel. She didn’t walk so much as glide—like the very floor knew better than to get in her way, acknowledging her effortless presence.

I had hoped she left. Apparently, that hope had been wishful thinking.

Jordan inhaled sharply, like someone who had just seen a dream materialize into real life.

“That’s—” he whispered, his voice barely a breath.

“I know,” I said, already feeling a strange detachment, as if my soul were preparing to leave my body. I recognized her earlier when she had been watching my kata work. How could I not? Her silver hair was a dead giveaway—even if she was clearly attempting to come incognito to a public recreational center.

“Oh my gods,” Jordan breathed. “That’s her. That’s actually her.”

I gave him a sideways glance. “You know her?”

Jordan turned to me, his eyes wide and brimming with an almost religious fervor. “I have her calendar, Zane. Theecalendar. The limited edition House of Taranis Honor Series. I had to enter a queue spell just to order it. She did a Solstrike Blades ad and the Imperial Foundry gala for orphaned familiars. She’s literally the face of three combat technique streams—and she’s been on the cover of Mageblood Weekly. Twice.”

I blinked, processing the deluge of information. “She’s on your wall? Wait—where did you get money for a calendar?”

“She’s on the ceiling,” Jordan corrected, a subtle note of exasperation in his voice at my ignorance. “My bedroom runs an enchantment loop that cycles her into the constellations at night.”

Lila looked up from her datapad, a flicker of amusement crossing her usually serious face. “You’re terrifying.”

“I’m invested,” Jordan whispered, his gaze already locked back on Aurelia.

“She’s just a person,” I said, my voice weak, utterly useless against his fanatical devotion.

Jordan looked at me as if I had just insulted the moon itself. “She’s so much prettier in person,” he declared, as if that settled the matter.

I knew that look. I knew that gleam in Jordan’s eye. “Jordan,” I said slowly, a sense of dread creeping over me. “Whatever you’re thinking—”

Too late.

Jordan was already moving.

I barely had time to process the words “Lady Aurelia” before my thirteen-year-old brother was marching toward her like a tiny soldier on a diplomatic mission.

I groaned under my breath. I’d dealt with bandits. I’d faced down mutated mana-beasts in back-alley realms. But nothing—nothing—prepared me for my thirteen-year-old brother operating at full fangirl throttle.

“Jordan,” I hissed, my voice low and desperate. “Come back here. Right now.”

Jordan stopped two feet in front of Aurelia Vael Taranis, gave a shaky half-bow, and blurted at lightspeed:

“You’re even prettier in person, and your duel with the Sky Blade was flawless, and your mana-wings are the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, and—I think I might love you and we should get married.”

I almost choked.

“Jordan—” I hissed again, stepping forward, but Aurelia merely raised a hand, a warm, genuine smile gracing her lips. She didn't seem offended in the slightest.

She crouched slightly to meet Jordan’s eye, her silver hair catching the light like a spill of moonlight over her shoulder. “A bold little one, aren’t you? I appreciate the offer,” she said, her voice warm and teasing, “but I’m sorry. I like someone already.”

Jordan blinked, his face crestfallen for half a heartbeat.

“And,” she added, her lips curling into a bit more of a smirk, “you’re probably a bit young for me.”

Jordan opened his mouth to object, a protest already forming, but she wasn’t finished.

“Besides… you’d have to ask my dad for permission for marriage.” Aurelia leaned in, her voice mock-conspiratorial. “He’s super scary.”

Jordan didn’t miss a beat. He puffed out his chest like a tiny general on a battlefield. “Nothing shall be an obstacle to our love,” he declared, his voice filled with newfound determination.

Aurelia laughed—a light, surprised, genuine sound that echoed softly in the hall. “Spoken like a true romantic. Is all your family like that?”

She looked at me.

Uh?

“I train daily,” Jordan said solemnly, ignoring what she just said. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Aurelia prompted, an eyebrow arched in amusement.

He considered this. “Some days I nap heroically.”

I covered my face with my hand. “I don’t know him. Never seen him before in my life.”

“I like him,” Aurelia said softly, her gaze shifting past Jordan.

I looked up—and found her gaze already waiting for mine.

“You’re Zane, right?” she asked. Her voice was smooth, poised—but there was a subtle catch at the end, just the smallest hitch. “I recognized you from class.”

I blinked. She had recognized me?

She extended her hand.

For a second, I just stared at it. Not out of disrespect, but because my brain didn’t quite compute what was happening. I wasn’t used to people like her extending their hands, not in friendship, and especially not toward people like me.

Still, I took it. Her grip was firm, her fingers cool—elegant, but faintly calloused at the palm. Real.

When she let go, she blushed. Just a quick flush across her cheeks, barely there, but I saw it.

She looked away—just for a moment, suddenly very interested in the far wall.

My internal alarms blared. What the hell is happening right now?

“I’ve never actually met anyone in the civilian combat arts program,” she said, her voice a little too fast, a little too bright. “It’s pretty cool that you teach here. I’ve been looking for chances to—uh—volunteer.”

I snorted, a small puff of air. “You start coming here regularly, and there’s going to be standing room only.”

She laughed. A little too loud. A little too fast. “Yeah. I would love to join your class though. I know a little about the sword myself, but I am always looking to improve. Joining here… well... fame and all that makes it difficult. Sucks sometimes.”

I studied her for a beat. “Aren’t you, like… close to being a princess? Can princesses say sucks? Doesn’t sound very proper.”

Aurelia blinked. Then smirked, a mischievous glint in her silver eyes. “I’m technically twelfth in line to inherit a title no one’s used in three hundred years. We’re a branch of the current royal family—Princess Persephone is like my seventeenth cousin once removed. So no, I don’t think I’ll be a princess anytime soon.” She shrugged, a graceful movement. “So yes. I think I can say sucks.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re princess-adjacent. That sounds uncomfortable.”

“Honorary footnote in an outdated bloodline, more like.”

“I don’t know. Sounds pretty princess-y to me. Perhaps I should curtsy.”

She tilted her head, a challenge in her gaze. “Would it help if I said sucks again?”

I fought a grin. Lost. “Maybe.”

“Then yeah.” She tucked a loose strand of silver hair behind her ear. “It sucks.”

We stood there for a beat—me still holding the echo of her touch, she still pretending to be fascinated by the far wall.

I studied her, watching her ears go subtly red.

It was adorable.

This was a wild conversation. And it was with Aurelia Vael Taranis.

She didn’t seem like the cold-blooded ice queen everyone talked endlessly about. She was even different from the poised girl who had walked into our lecture hall earlier that day.

Maybe that public persona was never the real her.

The person standing here instead—she felt more human. Curious. Awkward, even.

Jordan, of course, chose that exact moment to ruin the subtle shift in the air.

“Can I train with you?” he asked, staring up at her like she was the chosen one in some ancient prophecy. “I have a beginner license!”

Aurelia laughed again—softer this time, but just as real. “I think your brother might need a better assistant if he keeps collecting students.”

“I’m very coachable,” Jordan said solemnly.

“Stop talking,” I muttered, my voice low and warning.

Lila had walked in by now too, arms crossed, eyeing the interaction with sharp suspicion—clearly ready to throw her shoe at someone if this turned weird.

I exhaled and turned back to Aurelia.

“I heard the manager talking. Thanks for the donation,” I said quietly. “The center really needed it.”

Aurelia’s smile returned, smaller this time, a genuine softness in her eyes. “It’s not just charity if I get to watch something interesting.”

I raised an eyebrow, a slight challenge in my gaze. “You came to watch something interesting?”

“I did,” she confirmed, her tone shifting on the last word—not mocking, but meaningful. She let it linger.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Oh yes. I sure did.”

Then she nodded once. “Thank you for the show—and the introduction,” she added with a flash of dry humor, meeting my gaze. “I’ll try not to make it awkward next time. Don’t you dare ignore me in class.”

She turned before I could reply and walked toward the exit, one of the volunteers scrambling to hold the door open for her.

I just stood there.

Jordan nudged my side. “Are you blushing?”

“No.”

“I think she likes you.”

“She doesn’t even know me.”

Jordan smirked, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “She shook your hand.”

“Jordan—”

“She blushed too. Brother, I might have to challenge you to a duel if you try to steal my woman. I am a man of honor.”

I karate-chopped him on the top of the head.

Jordan winced.

I turned and stared at the door she’d just walked through, her presence still humming faintly in the air—like distant lightning.

I was still trying to understand the interaction.