Nélle hated her parents. Born as an aristocrat, she could do whatever she wanted, and get away with it. And so could her parents. Her father, Tarus Zepherys, was a noble who spent his money lavishly on parties and gifts for the king, drank heavily, and was infamous for his dungeon, where he held commoners in prison for defying him.
Her mother wasn’t any better. Under her father’s negligent eyes, she would go off with other men, waste gold on riches, and often hit Nélle for no reason. The only reason Nélle didn’t hate her as much as she hated her father was because her mother sent Nélle off to the Magister Academy. Of course, the primary reason was that her mother didn’t want to see her, but Nélle didn’t want to see her mother either. It was better for both of them.
Two years ago, when she first arrived at the academy at the age of eleven, many, including the professors, didn’t seem to welcome her. After all, they knew who’s blood ran in her veins. The only one who didn’t pretend that Nélle didn’t exist was a tall, skinny boy with jet black hair. His eyes were so dark that it seemed to absorb all the light entering it.
Never smiling, Marco had a frozen heart. Many respected him as a prefect and a prodigy, but no one came to like him. He always ate alone, sat alone, and lived in his dorm by himself. Thus, many called him the Darken Ice King.
Whenever Nélle passed by, Marco would often glare at her from above, almost as if he was superior than her. No one had ever looked at her like that before, mostly because she was a noble. Nélle felt ambivalent about this; grateful one one hand (for acknowledging her existence), and on the other hand, afraid.
It wasn’t until a year later when Nélle finally mustered the courage to talk to Marco.
“H-hey,” she stammered, uncertain of whether Marco would respond. It was during the cold, snowy dawn of winter, when the sun had yet to rise. Marco was standing on the balcony of the dining hall, silently staring at the ever-blooming roses in the garden.
The howling wind fluttered against Marco’s dark hair, as the snowflakes softly matted on his hair, gone as soon as it landed. Nélle was unsure of whether it melted or if Marco absorbed it. But for some reason, he looked lonely and depressed. Nélle wanted to change this.
Marco tilted his head and stared blankly at her, waiting for her to say something. When Nélle quietly stared back, he sighed.
“What do you want?” he asked coldly.
Nélle hadn’t thought of anything to say.
“Cold day, isn’t it?” she blurted out thoughtlessly, wondering if Marco ever got cold.
“Not really,” Marco answered curtly, cutting off the conversation. With that, he walked off, leaving Nélle alone in the snow.
For the next couple weeks, Nélle tried to initiate a conversation with Marco, but to no avail. The boy would cut her off with piercing words as cold as snow. They hurt, but Nélle was determined to melt Marco’s frozen heart.
Refining her magic day by day, Nélle’s healing magic grew tremendously. The faint aura of green would now glow luminous enough to light up a whole room. The process, however, wasn’t easy.
Before the sun rose, she would run laps around the school grounds for stamina. After breakfast, she would, unlike her friends, attend every class, no matter how boring or irrelevant it seemed. During the night, she would absorb the energy of the muju stones that she ordered. Unfortunately, every process of the consumption was both risky and agonizing.
The first step was easy. One had to simply close their eyes and channel all her energy into the process. Then, it got severely difficult. She would have to fend off demons and darken beasts in her mind, and the purer the stone, the stronger the entities were. During the endeavor, if one was slain or subjugated by them, then the individual’s soul would be torn apart, or even worse, devoured.
Despite the hazard, Nélle never backed down. Sometimes, the absorption would take a few minutes. Some would last for a whole night. And on days when she ran out of muju stones, she would spar with other trainees or visit the forest in search of magical beasts. Nélle never liked fighting, but it was the only viable option to grow stronger rapidly. Sweating and panting heavily, Nélle would trudge back towards her dorm, crossing out the days left until the monthly trial.
The first trial was rather disappointing, for she had only gone up an eighth of a rank towards becoming a diviner. The next trials, pleasantly, were satisfactory. Sometimes, she would go up by a quarter, and other times, she would go up by half a rank. The elder noticed Nélle’s gradual growth.
On the last trial before moving onto the upper classes, everyone was called to the assembly in the stadium. As the students were called up to place their hands on the crystal, Nélle grew more and more anxious. She was usually the first one to be called in her class, but now nearly everyone in her class had gone and graduated to the next class.
Her classmates gasped and began to mutter under their breaths when the elder moved onto the next class without calling her name. Nélle herself was disconcerted. She had finally distinguished herself from others through all these improvements and made friends through this.
Tears began to stroll down her cheeks as the elder kept on with the speech. She couldn’t imagine how frustrated her father would be when she learned that Nélle didn’t pass the class. She didn’t want to be a failure, no matter how much she despised them.
At last, the last person was called up to the crystal. Nélle stood in awkward silence, staring down at the wooden platform. The other students simply stared in pity.
As the elder finished her speech, from the prefect seat in the upper part of the stadium, Marco leap down next to the elder. Nodding without eye-contact, he called out in an ice-clear voice,” Nélle Zephyrs, congratulations. You are now the 322nd prefect of Magister School.”
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