Chapter 122: Phoenix Academy [2]
The carriage rolled through Velmont’s crowded streets, its wheels finding steady rhythm against the fitted stone. From the window, spires and banners slid past, flashes of color and movement blurred by speed.
Inside, a young woman sat with her chin resting on her fist, elbow propped against the window frame, as she watched the capital’s bustling life pass by.
Her platinum-silver hair caught the shifting light filtering through the glass, creating an almost ethereal shimmer around her delicate features.
But her expression, however, was all sharp indifference.
"Hey, look at those buildings!"
A cheerful voice shattered the silence.
The silver-haired girl turned her head slowly.
Across from her sat another young woman, all golden-blonde hair and golden eyes, practically bouncing in her seat.
She leaned forward, face pressed near the opposite window as if she could absorb the city through the glass itself.
"They’re so tall! And those spires, are they really made of stone? How do they not fall over?"
With a sigh, the silver-haired girl rubbed her temples.
"You’ve been saying that every five streets we pass since we entered Velmont, Sera."
Sera settled back into her seat with an apologetic grin, then broke into a small laugh.
Her legs swung beneath the seat, boots tapping lightly against the floor with barely contained excitement.
"It’s not every day we get to come out like this. And this place—" her eyes widened again, sparkling with awe.
"It’s beautiful. Totally different from home."
Her eyes remained fixated at the world beyond their carriage windows.
The silver-haired girl leaned back against the velvet seat and nodded once, closing her eyes.
"Yeah, well. What else could you expect from them anyway?"
The words came out dry, almost dismissive.
Sera’s expression faltered, her enthusiasm dimming.
"Aw, come on, Lyria. Don’t be like that. They’re not bad people. They actually care about you, that’s why they’re helping, you know."
Lyria cracked one eye open, then closed it again with deliberate dismissal.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." She let her head fall back against the seat.
The ride continued in renewed silence, save for the steady clatter of wheels and the distant sounds of city life beyond their windows.
After a few minutes, Sera’s natural exuberance began to reassert itself.
She giggled softly, unable to contain her excitement.
"You know, this is so exciting! I’ve heard so much about the academy, and now we’re finally going there. I can’t wait to see what—"
"We’re going for the entrance exams." Lyria’s voice cut through, clipped and cool.
"We haven’t been admitted as students yet."
The blonde girl froze mid-sentence, then puffed out her cheeks in mock offense.
"Such a mood killer. Hmph!"
She turned her head sharply toward the window, golden hair flaring with the movement.
Though her sulk lasted only for a span of thirty seconds before wonder overtook her wounded pride again.
Lyria smirked faintly without opening her eyes.
The ride continued, the city of Velmont sprawling endlessly outside as the two girls fell into their rhythm—one bubbling with awe, the other smothering it with practiced indifference.
Then after few moments, the carriage slowed, wheels grinding against the stone path before finally lurching to a stop.
The sounds of the capital gave way to something different, an expectant hush, broken only by the distant murmur of hundreds of voices.
Knock!
A sharp rap on the door. Then it opened, and sunlight spilled across the velvet interior.
Two armored guards stood waiting.
Their breastplates gleamed white as fresh snow, polished to mirror brightness. Golden sunbursts were emblazoned across the chest pieces, while their shoulder guards bore intricate engravings of stylized flames.
White cloaks hung from their backs, trimmed with gold thread that caught the afternoon light. Even their helms bore the same celestial motifs.
They bowed stiffly, gauntlets pressed to their chests.
"My ladies," one intoned.
Lyria descended first, silver hair cascading over her shoulder as her boots touched the flagstones.
Sera followed close behind, nearly tripping in her eagerness to take in the sight before them.
The guards straightened, then stepped aside to flank them in silence.
Behind, their carriage rolled forward to join a neat line of vehicles, its flag fluttering, a white field embroidered with a radiant golden sunburst encircled by a crimson ring.
"Oh my..." Sera breathed, her golden eyes going impossibly wide as she took in the Phoenix Academy for the first time.
"It’s even bigger than I imagined! Look, look, Lyria, the banners, the crystal domes, the gates—"
She hopped in place like a child, barely able to contain herself.
"How do they make them shine like that? And those windows—"
She spun in a slow circle, trying to take in every detail at once.
Lyria stood rooted in silence, gaze slowly sweeping over the sight. Her expression stayed carefully neutral, but inside, a small, reluctant breath caught in her throat.
It’s beautiful.
She pushed the thought down almost immediately, forcing her lips into a thin line.
"Don’t gawk. You’ll make us look like country bumpkins."
They moved toward the gathering crowd, their white-cloaked guards remaining at a respectful distance behind.
As they walked, Lyria maintained her composed bearing, each step measured and deliberate.
But Sera had undergone a complete transformation.
Gone was the bubbly enthusiasm, the wide-eyed wonder, the infectious smile.
In its place stood someone entirely different—posture straight, expression neutral, movements controlled with practiced precision.
Most striking of all was the black blindfold now covering her eyes, its dark fabric embroidered with intricate golden patterns that shimmered in the light.
Her aura seemed to still, sharpening into quiet dignity.
Where she had been bright and eager, now she radiated the air of one born to be gazed upon, not approached.
The change was so complete it was as if a different person had taken her place.
As they approached the main gathering area, conversations rippled.
Some of the young men, handsome in their own right, with swords or staffs slung at their backs, straightened their collars, eager to present themselves.
But as the crest upon the departing carriage was recognized, the crowd shifted.
They respectfully parted to allow them passage.
Some bowed their heads slightly in acknowledgment, while others simply stepped aside with the deference.
The two young women took their place among the waiting crowd, neither speaking as they settled in to await the examiners’ arrival.
Around them, other examinees cast frequent glances in their direction.
Both possessed the kind of ethereal beauty that drew attention without effort.
Lyria with her platinum hair that seemed to capture moonlight even in daylight, Sera with her golden locks that rivaled the sun itself.
Several young men appeared to work up the courage to approach, taking a few steps forward before losing their nerve and retreating.
Lyria stood with her eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to the attention they were drawing. Her breathing was steady, controlled, as if she were meditating rather than simply waiting.
Sera, despite her blindfold, appeared to be taking in everything around them. Her head turned slightly as more carriages arrived, as if she could sense the growing crowd and the nervous energy that filled the examination grounds.
The hum of voices carried across the grounds, countless whispers overlapping like buzzing insects.
Then the sound of wheels ground against stone echoed as a black carriage rolled to a halt at the edge of the gathering.
Its door opened with deliberate grace.
First stepped a young woman, scarlet hair tumbling like flame, golden eyes alight with quiet pride.
Her gown shimmered faintly with threadwork.
Behind her descended a young man whose presence struck sharper. Obsidian hair catching the sun in dark gleams, crimson eyes that seemed to slice through the air itself.
The hush deepened at their arrival.
"Hey, that’s the new heir of House Glimor, right?" a boy asked his companion pointing with his gaze, voice barely audible over the general murmur.
His friend squinted toward the pair and nodded.
"Yeah, I think so. His name was something like... Adric? Alry—Alaric. Alaric Glimor."
At the mention of that name, Lyria’s eyes snapped open.
"A-Alaric?" she breathed, her voice barely audible.
Her head turned sharply, following the line of sight of the whispering youths.
Her gaze landed upon the black-haired boy, his figure cutting against the sea of silks and armor.
And something twisted deep inside her chest.
Her breath hitched. The world around her blurred.
"Blood spilling from lips, hot and dark, soaking a torn chest.
A man staggered forward then fell, eyes locking with hers.
But there was no anger in his gaze. Only hurt. Only betrayal that cut deeper than any blade.
"You too?" His voice cracked like breaking glass, and then his eye"s closed forever."
"Aah."
Lyria jerked back into herself, a shudder rippling through her body.
She shook her head, the motion quick and desperate.
"No," she whispered, one hand clutching at her chest where her heart hammered against her ribs.
"Stop. He’s not him."
But despite that, her eyes never left the young man.