Bilric Ramel
As my father and the old man stepped into the house, Simon turned to me.
“Karl Benoit… I think I’ve heard that name before,” he said.
“You have?” I asked.
But my attention was elsewhere. Something felt… off. My father looked bothered when that man arrived. Or maybe I was just imagining things.
“He said we both did a good job… impressive, even,” I muttered. “But I failed. Is he mocking me?”

Simon Ramel
He’s probably just using us as an excuse to talk to Father. He’s clearly a noble—from another nation, most likely.
“Benoit…” I said aloud, thinking. “Yeah, I remember now. The Benoit family rules the northwest nation—Opeur.”
And “Karl”?
Right. Karl Benoit—he’s a legend in Opeur.
But what’s a man of his caliber doing here, in Charta? No wonder Father seemed tense.
“You noticed too, didn’t you?” Bilric said. “Dad’s nervous.”
“Well… yeah,” I replied. “He’s in the presence of a living legend. That’s normal.”
“I don’t mean that kind of nervous,” Bilric insisted. “He looked… scared.”
I glanced toward the house, uncertain.
“Maybe you’re overthinking it,” I said. “Dad’s a good leader. He can handle himself.”
I grabbed my brother’s arm gently. “Come on, we should go. This isn’t our business.”

It’s been a couple of months since we started training at Tunois Academy.
I’ve been working with my sand element for about a month and a half now, and my progress has been steady.
Bilric, on the other hand, awakened his element—Water—a little over two months ago. But he’s still struggling.
I guess it can’t be helped. I’m using sand, just like everyone else in the Ramel family. That means guidance comes easily. I can look at how our father uses it, how our older cousins shape it… There’s a path for me to follow.
But for Bilric… it’s different.
Dad said he doesn’t remember anyone in our bloodline ever using water before. Maybe not even outside it. That’s… strange. And it’s got him a little worried, I think.

We arrived at Tunois Academy, one of the oldest institutions in all of Charta—maybe even the world. It was built over 150 years ago, and still stands with the kind of elegance only history can shape.
The academy is laid out in three large, circular buildings that intersect at the center like spokes around a wheel. Each structure serves a different purpose, but together they form the heart of learning in the region.

The first building is for general education—students who study science, history, and all the “normal” things, as we like to say.
The second belongs to the military division—strict, disciplined, and always echoing with drills.
The third is where Bilric and I study—reserved for elemental users. Those born with natural energy in their blood.

Though the academy is located in the lush, temperate north—where fields are green and citrus farms stretch as far as the eye can see—it’s built from sandrock brought up from the southern deserts.
Mother once told us the stone was chosen not just for its strength, but to remind us that all parts of Charta—north and south, scholar and warrior, ordinary and gifted—are connected.

The golden-tan walls shimmer gently under the sun, like echoes from the past. And though the breeze here is cool and fresh, the building always holds a hint of dry warmth, as if carrying a memory of the desert where its bones were born.

As we stepped into our classroom, a sharp voice rang out,
“You’re late, you two.”

It was Biljana, our theoretical element studies teacher. Her tone was stern, but her eyes always gave her away—there was a warmth behind them.

“We're sorry,” I said quickly, throwing up a hand in mock surrender. “We ran into an old man and had to help him find his way.”

Behind me, Bilric tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh.

Biljana narrowed her eyes slightly but didn’t push it. “Well, that’s very kind of you… Now take your seats. Today we’re discussing how elemental energy flows through the body.”

We shuffled to our usual spots, the wooden chairs creaking beneath us as we settled in. The smell of chalk and old paper filled the air, and the soft humming of energy stones lining the walls made the room feel like it was quietly breathing

Teacher Biljana tapped the chalkboard twice, the sound sharp and commanding.
“Well, since our two wanderers missed the start of the session,” she said, giving us a pointed look, “let’s begin again from the top.”

She paused briefly, then continued, her tone shifting into lecture mode—but with her usual casual twist.

“Elemental energy is exactly what it sounds like. It’s the energy that flows through and from the natural elements around us—earth, fire, air, and so on.”

She rolled her eyes slightly, smirking.
“But let’s not talk like dusty old scholars. I’ll give you my version of the theory.”

She turned to face the class fully now, hands folded behind her back as she paced slowly.

“Most families have a natural affinity—a connection passed down through generations. The Ramel family, for example,” she gestured toward us without looking, “has a known affinity to sand. So it’s almost guaranteed—if not completely certain—that every child born into the family will awaken the sand element.”

She stopped for a beat, letting the idea settle.

“Of course,” she added with a glance at Bilric, “we do get the occasional anomaly.”

Several heads turned toward my brother.

“Take Bilric, for instance. He’s awakened an affinity to a substance that behaves like liquid, though we haven’t identified it yet.”

At that, I couldn’t help myself. I leaned forward and blurted out,
“Liquid? It’s water, right?”

Bilric groaned quietly and elbowed me, trying to shut me up.

Teacher Biljana raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “We don’t know,” she said. “But it’s unlikely.”

She walked back toward the front of the class, picking up a piece of chalk.
“Water, as far as we understand it, carries no elemental energy. It’s inert. Passive. Useful in life, but not in power. So no—practically, it should be impossible for anyone to manifest it as an element.”

She underlined the word “affinity” on the board, then turned back to us.

“Now, let me finish before you interrupt again,” she said dryly. “Questions come after the lesson.”

Teacher Biljana paced slowly in front of the chalkboard, her hands moving as she spoke, emphasizing the rhythm of her words.

“So, over the generations, each family has adapted their bodies to focus specifically on the element most abundant in their environment,” she explained. “It’s a natural evolution—shaped by time, location, and affinity.”

She turned to face us, then added with a flick of her wrist,
“Now, how does the body actually interact with or extract energy from the world around us? Well, here’s where it gets fun.”

She smiled faintly, tapping the center of her chest.

“There’s a complex network of internal pathways—veins, but not for blood. They’re what we call energy veins. And instead of being powered by a blood-pumping heart, we each possess something far more special: an energy heart.”

The class was quiet now, fully locked in.

“This energy heart is the core of your elemental flow. It stores and regulates energy throughout your body, keeping you connected to your affinity.”

She paused, giving us all a knowing look.
“As you grow, your energy heart grows with you. Its natural capacity increases over time—but if you rely on that alone,” she said with a smirk, “you’ll be weak.”

A few chuckles spread through the class as she chuckled along with us.

“That’s why you train,” she continued. “To strengthen that capacity—to expand it far beyond what nature would give you on its own.”

“But more importantly,” she said, now serious again, “you must learn to draw from the environment. That is the true challenge. Relying only on your internal energy is dangerous.”

She looked across the classroom, her eyes sharp now.

“Because once you run out of that energy... well,” she added, her voice dropping just enough to be ominous, “you won’t get a second chance.”

We continued listening to Teacher Biljana until the school bell rang, echoing through the halls and signaling the end of the lesson. Like a flood, the students quickly gathered their things and poured out of the classroom.

As we made our way into the corridor, someone bumped into Bilric—hard enough to make both of them stumble slightly. It was a girl with long black hair and large hazel eyes.
Lisa Bloodrose. One of the most well-known names in Charta.

“Ah! Sorry, Bilric—I didn’t mean to,” she said quickly, brushing her hair back and avoiding eye contact.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Bilric replied, straightening himself, his voice calm as always.

But I narrowed my eyes slightly.
I’d seen this happen before.
Same spot. Same girl. Same awkward bump.
Yeah, this wasn’t just a coincidence.

“I think she’s interested in you,” I whispered with a smirk, nudging him in the side with my elbow.

“Stop it,” he muttered under his breath, glancing toward the classroom.

I followed his gaze. He was watching Teacher Biljana.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, lowering my voice a bit.

“Nothing,” he replied, avoiding my eyes. “I just want to ask the teacher something.”

I hesitated, wanting to say more—maybe tease him again—but the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, I just watched him walk away.

He always keeps things to himself.
And no matter how much he tries to hide it...
He worries me. He always has.