Chapter 5 Threads of Fire and Starlight

Aurelia Vael Taranis

I set the Message Interface (MIF) down harder than I meant to. What a jerk!

The MIF pulsed once—dim and innocent on the lacquered edge of the floating study desk—before going quiet. I was in one of the upper-class lounges. It was actually my private lounge, the one Mother insisted I have. "So you can focus," she had said with that infuriating smile of hers, knowing perfectly well that "focus" meant "not be bothered by the peasantry."

I folded my arms and leaned back in my hovering chair. Students outside my lounge still whispered my name like it was forbidden, like saying it too loud would summon me.

I hated this part of being Aurelia. The reverence. The fear. The way everyone bent themselves into knots trying to impress me. No one ever talked to me. Not really. Except one person. SwordWannabe.

My lips twitched at the name. Ridiculous. Crude. Unrefined. And completely unlike anyone I'd ever met.

We’d first crossed blades six months ago in the Ashglass Arena—one of the hardest practice dungeons inside the Crucible Realms, a realm-based training system licensed and maintained by the Arcane Military Directorate. Not a game. Not an illusion. Pain real, fatigue real, results very real. But no death—unless your pride counted.

I’d been bored. Everyone in the top tiers either groveled or broke the second I took them seriously. But he didn’t. He fought like someone who had nothing to lose—gritty, messy, relentless. His sword style was full of unconventional stances and smooth fluxing of power that I still didn’t really understand. This wasn’t a polished style, but practical and unconventional. But there was beauty in the way he adapted. No pride. No wasted motion. No fear. He beat me. Badly. I hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.

In the last six months, our sparring sessions in the Ashglass Arena—one of the hardest practice dungeons inside the Crucible Realms—had become my singular obsession. The Ashglass Arena was pure combat, brutal and unforgiving, designed to push mana users to their breaking point.

But I had thought our friendship had transitioned. We also spent time in the Sword Master's Sanctum, another specialized corner of the Crucible Realms. The Sanctum was less about direct combat and more about scholarly pursuit, a magically conjured space where enthusiasts and scholars gathered to discuss the elusive Sword Master's Manuscript. Rumors claimed that fragments of the manuscript were hidden within various realms, waiting to be discovered by someone worthy—a testament to techniques so powerful they could shift the balance of power. SwordWannabe was undeniably obsessed with it.

And his style... that was the real puzzle. While most mages relied on bursts of channeled mana or complex spell glyphs, his fluid control of mana, that near-invisible "fluxing," was almost too controlled for the sheer power he unleashed. It hinted at a deeper understanding of mana than anything taught in conventional schools. But of course, we never talked about anything related to our personal lives.

"Stupid boy," I muttered, but there was no real heat to the words. More frustration.

I reached for the MIF again but stopped. A half-eaten mana fruit floated nearby—untouched since the plaza landing. My grand entrance to school was already trending on social media. That whole spectacle had been Mother’s idea. Grand entrance, full diplomatic detail, aether-silk uniform, combat-class escorts. Ridiculous. It wasn’t that I hated the attention. It was that it meant nothing.

Everyone already knew who I was. Aurelia Vael Taranis—heir of House Taranis. Daughter of High Enchantress Thelya. Direct bloodline of the Starlight Collective. My mana affinity was the highest-ranked natural manifestation recorded in the Kingdom in the last 100 years. My wings weren’t vanity or artifice—they were a bloodline inheritance, encoded spell-structures passed down through eight generations of spellweaving brilliance tied specially to my mana signature. I didn’t just hold starlight mana. I was starlight.

I’d won duels at nine. Crafted my first weapon circuit at eleven. Outmaneuvered trained officers by fifteen. They called me the best. Expected it. Demanded it. And it was exhausting. Because the better I got, the less real everyone else felt. Their praise rang hollow. Their awe wore thin. No one challenged me—not really. Not without expecting to lose. Until I met him.

He didn’t know who I was. The realms’ dungeons were made for anonymity. For people to not know who you are. He’d once called my specially forged swordsmanship “a neat set of forms.” He wasn’t impressed. He wasn’t intimidated. He joked with me. Teased me. Fought with me. Called me out on my bullshit. And he never asked for more. He gave even less. No name. No history. Just jokes and cryptic one-liners. But with surprising insight into life and times. And his movements told me things his words never would. Because in every spar, in every shift of stance, he made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Present.

I tapped the crystal again, hoping. Nothing. “Ugh,” I muttered, pushing back from the desk. My stockings rustled softly beneath my skirt as I paced the chamber. My room was too elegant, too polished—high windows, floating sigil lanterns, half a dozen spell-synced tablets. I’d take a cluttered sparring pit over this palace any day. “He’s really not going to meet me,” I whispered, annoyed and almost... hurt.

Aurelia Vael Taranis, the most powerful prodigy of her generation, could command an entire fleet with a gesture. I had mages twice my age groveling for my signature. But I couldn’t get one moody sword nerd to come say hi. I even showed him my shockingly clad legs.

Who ignores that?

"Jerk."

I sighed and pulled my long silver hair out of its bun. "I hate this school," I mumbled. But that wasn’t true. I hated feeling alone. And worse—I hated that he didn’t care about meeting me for no reason that I could see.