They had devoured a hearty meal, the rich flavors dancing on their tongues, each bite a welcome comfort after the long journey. The warmth from the food spread like a blanket, lulling them into a deep, dreamless sleep in soft, inviting beds.
Morning arrived with the gentle sound of a cheerful melody, whistled with such infectious enthusiasm that it cut through the remnants of their dreams. "Time to get ready for school!" Wilson's voice boomed, rich and warm, stirring the last dregs of sleep from their bones.
Zenith and Anya exchanged a bewildered glance. School? It was a word that felt foreign after the trials of their journey. They had spent their days in the wild, learning to read the rhythms of nature, mastering the skills of survival. The thought of formal education seemed out of place, almost out of reach.
As they approached Starlight Learning, it was not merely a building—they were stepping into a living testament to the city's magic. The towers shimmered like molten moonstone, their surfaces reflecting a kaleidoscope of hues in the morning light. Beneath their towering spires, the courtyards buzzed with life—lush gardens teeming with vibrant blooms, fountains gurgling
merrily, and children's laughter ringing out like a chorus of joy. The air itself hummed with the pulse of potential, the promise of something extraordinary.
Zenith stepped through the arched entrance, and unease crept up his spine. Around him, students moved with effortless confidence, their veins glowing like rivers of light beneath their skin—sapphire currents pulsed cool and fluid, ruby pathways flickered like embers, and emerald trails pulsed with quiet, unshakable strength.
He glanced at his own arms—bare, ordinary. No glow, no flicker of power. Just skin. He curled his fingers into his palms, suddenly hyperaware of how plain, how empty he looked in this world of color and brilliance.
A woman approached, her veins gleaming silver, the glow casting soft reflections on the polished floor. As she neared, the air itself seemed lighter, as if gravity loosened its grip in her presence. She smiled, the expression warm and knowing.
"You must be Zenith and Anya, sent by Wilson," she said, her voice a gentle melody. "Welcome to Starlight Learning. Your classroom is Section D, second floor."
They climbed the spiral staircase, the distant murmur of students drifting like wind through stone corridors. Section D was alive with movement—bursts of laughter, the snap of books closing, the hum of quiet conversation. But as Zenith and Anya crossed the threshold, the room stilled.
Silence clamped down like a held breath. Eyes turned. Stares lingered. The whispering started—a slow, crawling thing that spread like cracks through glass.
"Look, he doesn't have any veins."
A sharp hiss, followed by a ripple of hushed voices.
"Maybe he's a Null." A dry chuckle. "Imagine that—here."
The words dug into Zenith like hooks. His pulse drummed against his ribs, heat rising to his face. Before he could react, Anya shifted beside him. Her white veins flared, bathing her in a soft glow that pushed back the creeping shadows of judgment. She lifted her chin, gaze steady, her stance unyielding.
The air thickened, charged with unspoken challenge. Zenith felt the weight of their stares pressing in, the storm of quiet mockery circling, waiting. He swallowed hard, steeling himself.
Mockery circled like vultures, unseen but felt, their presence thick in the air. Whispers slithered through the room, their edges sharp with amusement. A muffled snicker. A half-hidden smirk. Zenith swallowed hard, his throat dry as sand. His fingers twitched at his sides, but he kept them still, forcing himself to stand his ground.
Then, the first laugh. Low. Drawn out. Others followed, soft at first, like distant raindrops before a storm.
A warmth flared beside him.
Anya.
Her veins, normally faint beneath her skin, now pulsed with soft white light, casting a subtle glow against the dimming atmosphere. She stepped forward, her chin lifted, her shoulders squared—a silent barrier between him and the growing tide of ridicule.
The air thickened. A pause stretched, tense and unbroken.
Zenith braced himself. Any second now. The first insult. The first blow.
But then—
A chair scraped against the floor. Slow. Deliberate.
The movement was unhurried, controlled, as if the person rising had already made up his mind long before standing.
Footsteps followed. Not rushed, not hesitant. Steady. Measured.
The crowd of glowing veins parted slightly, not in fear, but in acknowledgment. Recognition.
Kael.
His ruby veins pulsed like embers in a fading fire, warmth flickering just beneath his skin. He moved with an easy confidence, his presence both unassuming and impossible to ignore.
Zenith tensed. He had seen this before—the quiet walk of someone about to deliver the final blow. His stomach coiled, bracing for the inevitable sneer, the confirmation that he was exactly what they thought: an outsider.
Kael stopped in front of him.
For a heartbeat, the room held its breath.
Then, he smiled.
Not the mocking, knowing grin Zenith had expected. A real smile. Open. Steady.
"Hi," Kael said, his voice low, carrying none of the sharpness that filled the room. His presence cut through the tension, not like a knife—but like the warmth of a fire chasing away the cold.
"I'm Kael." He extended a hand, his ruby veins glowing faintly in the dim light.
A beat of silence.
Then—
"Want to be friends?"
The words settled between them, weightless yet heavy, like the hush before the first drop of rain.
Zenith stared at Kael's outstretched hand. The room, the whispers, the lingering tension—none of it mattered in that moment.
His fingers twitched at his sides. Was this real?
A warmth bloomed in his chest, hesitant, unfamiliar. He hadn't expected it—not here, not now. His shoulders, rigid with unease, loosened as though a rope had finally been cut. The tightness in his chest unraveled, the fear that had coiled inside him beginning to slip away, piece by piece.
He exhaled, slow and shaky.
Then, with only a slight hesitation, he reached out. His grip wasn't perfect—a little too tight, a little unsteady—but it held.
Kael didn't flinch. He simply smiled.
"I'm Zenith," he said, the name feeling lighter on his tongue than it had in days. The corners of his lips twitched upward, and to his surprise, the feeling that followed wasn't just relief.
It was a joy.
The silence that had gripped the room wavered, stretched thin like glass on the verge of shattering. Then—a breath.
Not just one, but many. A quiet exhale rippled through the students, breaking the stillness that had held them captive. Shoulders eased. Tense postures unwound. The weight that had pressed against the air began to lift, as subtle as morning fog dissolving under the first touch of sunlight.
Expressions shifted—not all at once, but in flickers. A few hesitant smiles surfaced, small but real. The sharp edges of curiosity dulled, their judgment retreating into something softer.
Kael's grin widened, warm and effortless, like a flame catching on dry wood. "Great," he said, his voice carrying a bright energy that seemed to pull the room forward, past the awkwardness of moments before. "Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone."
He turned to Anya, his gaze just as welcoming. "And you must be Anya. Welcome."
Anya's white veins pulsed faintly, her glow no longer a defensive shield but something gentler. She met his eyes, searching for any trace of insincerity—but there was none. The edges of her lips curved upward, cautious but genuine. The walls she had instinctively built around herself and Zenith didn't fall completely, but they loosened, allowing the first cracks of warmth to slip through.
The hum of life slowly returned to the classroom.
Kael gestured to the seats beside him. "Come on, sit with us," he said, the invitation light, but steady.
Zenith and Anya, their lingering unease melting like frost in spring, slid into their seats. Around them, conversations reignited—not quite as careless as before, but no longer weighted with scrutiny. The room that had once felt stifling now pulsed with the easy rhythm of youth, an energy that promised this was a beginning, not an end.
A quiet hush fell again, but this time, it wasn't from uncertainty.
A figure stepped forward, her presence effortlessly commanding.
Elara.
Her silver veins shimmered, catching the light like liquid moonlight. With a single glance, the room's focus snapped to her, as if drawn by an unseen force. No raised voice. No dramatic gesture. Just a quiet, undeniable authority.
The last murmurs faded.
Class had begun.
"Good morning, everyone," she said, her voice a melodic hum, coaxing the last remnants of chatter into silence. "Today, we delve into the heart of our power: control."
The lesson that followed wasn't about raw strength or flashy displays of magic—it was about balance. Elara spoke with calm wisdom as she demonstrated how uncontrolled emotions could twist their magic into something dangerous, showing how a moment of anger could turn a gentle stream into a violent flood, or how fear could snuff out the brightest flame.
"Our magic reflects who we are," Elara explained, her silver veins shimmering in the light. "It amplifies our strengths but magnifies our weaknesses. True mastery lies not in the power we wield, but in the control we have over it—how we channel it with intent."
Zenith, despite his lack of visible veins, found himself captivated by her words. He closed his eyes and thought of his father—the steady, calming presence that had always been his anchor. His
Father's quiet wisdom filled his thoughts, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of peace.
Elara's lesson continued with an emphasis on the ethical use of their abilities. She told stories of legendary mages who had used
their powers to heal and protect, and others who had succumbed to the lure of unchecked strength, bringing ruin upon themselves.
"Magic is a tool," she said, her gaze steady and unwavering. "It can create or destroy. It is our responsibility to choose wisely. Use your abilities to build, to heal, to protect. Never to harm."
As the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson, Zenith felt a quiet determination settle within him. He might not have glowing veins like the others, but he understood something far more profound—that control, not power, was the key. He was ready to learn, ready to build a future where magic and kindness could go hand in hand.
The final chime of the enchanted bell rang, signaling the close of the day's lessons. Students gathered their things with excited chatter, their faces bright with anticipation for the rest of the afternoon.
As Zenith slung his bag over his shoulder, Kael tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, you two," he said, his smile as warm as the sun. "Class was pretty interesting today, huh?"
Zenith grinned. "It was amazing. I learned so much!" Anya echoed his sentiment. "Elara-sensei is incredible."
Kael chuckled. "She is, right? Well, I've gotta head home now," he said, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. "But I had a blast hanging out with you both today."
He extended his hand to Zenith. "See ya tomorrow?"
Zenith clasped Kael's hand firmly, a grin spreading across his face. "Definitely! I'm looking forward to it."
Kael turned to Anya, his smile just as friendly. "You too, Anya. It was great meeting you."
Anya smiled warmly. "Thank you, Kael. It was lovely meeting you as well."
Kael winked playfully. "Alright, alright. Don't get all formal on me now. But promise me you'll both be here tomorrow, okay?"
"We will," Zenith assured him.
"Good," Kael said, his smile growing. "I've got tons more to show you guys. We can explore the city, check out the enchanted gardens, or maybe try Mrs. Willow's famous mooncakes."
Zenith's eyes widened with excitement. "That sounds amazing!" Kael waved over his shoulder. "See ya!"
"Bye, Kael!" Zenith and Anya called out in unison.
As Kael disappeared into the distance, his ruby veins glowing like embers, Zenith and Anya exchanged a look—one filled with shared happiness, hope, and the promise of new beginnings. The day had been a tapestry of learning, of friendship, and of joy, a stark contrast to the heavy grief they'd carried for so long.
With a sense of peace settling in their hearts, they walked toward Wilson's house, the city around them alive with the hum of possibility, the future wide open before them.
As Zenith and Anya walked down the cobblestone streets of Lunaris, the soft hum of the city seemed to vibrate beneath their feet, the air thick with the energy of magic. The bustling sounds of market stalls and children's laughter faded behind them as they made their way toward Wilson's home, their minds still abuzz with the day's lessons. Zenith couldn't shake the warmth of Kael's friendly smile, nor could he ignore the swirling mix of excitement and nervousness about the future.
But that peaceful rhythm of the city was soon shattered.
A low, rumbling voice cut through the air, sending a shiver down Zenith's spine. "Well, well, what do we have here?" The voice was thick with disdain, like gravel scraping against stone.
Before they could react, a group of figures stepped into their path. The first to emerge was tall, his broad shoulders encased in rough, jagged armor that seemed to be carved from the very stones of the earth. His skin, a deep, earthen brown, had veins of darker rock running through it, pulsing with the power of the Rock Clan. His eyes, like shards of onyx, gleamed with a malicious amusement as he surveyed the two of them.
"You're the ones who showed up in class today, huh?" he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Funny, I don't recall seeing your veins, runt." His gaze fixed on Zenith, who instinctively shrank back, the familiar feeling of being an outsider creeping into his chest.
Anya stepped forward, her white veins shimmering with a faint, protective glow. "We're just on our way home," she said, her voice
calm but firm, a quiet strength radiating from her. "There's no need for trouble."
The figure scoffed, cracking his knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion. "Oh, we're not looking for trouble, girl. We're just... curious." He took a step forward, his thick boots crunching against the cobblestones with a menacing rhythm.
Zenith's heart quickened, his veins tingling with a nervous energy he couldn't suppress. He wanted to speak, to stand his ground, but his words caught in his throat.
From the shadows, a second figure emerged—a woman this time, her eyes glowing a sickly yellow, her brown veins like twisted roots beneath the surface of her skin. She smirked, her lips curling upward in a cruel smile. "Look at them. Like lost little lambs. One with no veins, and the other trying to act like she's someone important."
The words hit Zenith harder than he expected. His lack of visible veins had always been a part of him, but hearing it spoken aloud stung more than he anticipated. He could feel the weight of their
judgment pressing in on him, making his chest tighten with the familiar suffocating feeling of being out of place.
Anya's voice rang out again, her gaze sharpening as she stepped in front of Zenith. "We don't want trouble," she repeated, her voice unwavering, but a flicker of fire ignited in her eyes. "If you don't leave us alone, we'll make sure you regret it."
The woman laughed, a cruel, rasping sound that sent a chill down Zenith's spine. "Make us regret it?" She took a step closer, her
hand raised as if ready to strike. "You think you can threaten the Rock Clan?"
Before Anya could respond, the leader of the group raised a hand, halting her. His dark eyes never left Zenith, and his lips curled into a cruel smile. "It's cute," he said, voice dripping with condescension. "You two think you can just waltz into Lunaris and be part of something. But in this city, you don't get to hide behind your 'differences' and pretend like you're normal." His voice hardened, growing colder with each word. "There are rules, and we're the ones who make them."
Zenith could feel the pressure building in the air, an invisible weight that pushed against his chest. His hands clenched at his sides, the faint stirrings of magic pulsing beneath his skin, but he wasn't sure how to harness it, how to control it like Elara had taught them.
The leader of the group smirked, noticing Zenith's clenched fists. "What's the matter, Null?" he taunted. "You gonna throw a punch, or is your magic as empty as your veins?"
Zenith felt a surge of heat rise in his chest. He had no magic, no visible power, and yet, in that moment, he could feel something stir deep within him—a quiet, unspoken strength that he hadn't fully understood until now.
But before he could react, a soft, steady voice rang out from the crowd, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Enough."
Kael.
He stepped into view, his ruby veins glowing with the warmth of a hearth, the soft pulse of his presence almost immediately calming the air around him. His stance was confident, but not threatening. His eyes locked onto the group, his gaze unwavering.
"You really want to pick a fight with them?" Kael's voice was calm, yet filled with an undeniable edge. "Because if you're looking for a real fight, I'm happy to oblige."
The Rock Clan leader's eyes narrowed, his muscles tensing as though ready to spring, but Kael's presence held him back.
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Kael continued, his voice quieter now, but firm. "You might think you're the biggest fish in this pond, but there's more to Lunaris than just brawn. Maybe you should try showing some respect to those who haven't had the same privileges as you."
For a long moment, the leader stared at Kael, his face unreadable. Then, with a deep, guttural snarl, he turned on his heel. "This isn't over, Kael," he spat. "The Rock Clan doesn't forget."
As the group of brown-veined individuals turned and stormed off, Zenith's breath caught in his chest, his pulse racing. The tension in the air didn't fade immediately, but the immediate danger had passed.
Kael turned to Zenith and Anya, his ruby veins still pulsing with warmth, a quiet understanding in his eyes. "You okay?" he asked, his tone softening.
Anya let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding and nodded. "We're fine. Thank you, Kael."
Zenith, his hands trembling slightly, managed a small smile. "I don't know what would've happened without you."
Kael's smile was warm, and his gaze was reassuring. "You don't have to worry about that. We're all in this together."
As they began walking again, the distant sounds of the city resumed, but Zenith couldn't shake the unease that lingered in his chest. The Rock Clan had been a reminder that not everyone in Lunaris would accept them. But Kael's presence, his quiet strength, had given him a new sense of hope.
He wasn't alone in this city anymore. And that made all the difference..
The wooden door creaked open with a quiet groan as Zenith, Anya, and Kael stepped inside. It was Kael's first time in Wilson's house, and everything about the place seemed to breathe a sense of calm. The low hum of the hearth echoed against the sturdy stone walls, and the faint scent of fresh-baked bread drifted from the kitchen.
Wilson, who had been standing near the fireplace, turned to greet them. His eyes softened as he saw Kael, his posture warm but steady. "Ah, you must be Kael," he said, offering a nod of approval. "It's good to finally meet you properly."
Kael flashed a grin, his eyes bright with curiosity as he took in the surroundings. "I've heard plenty about this place," he replied,
looking around the room. "It's... cozy. Feels different from what I'm used to."
Wilson chuckled softly. "It's a little more humble than what you're probably accustomed to. But it gets the job done." He waved his hand toward the seating area, inviting them to sit. "Come, sit. You must be exhausted from the journey."
As they settled around the worn wooden table, a quiet tension lingered in the air. The journey had been long, and the confrontation with the Brown Veined Rock Clan was still fresh in their minds. They had barely spoken of it yet, but it hung between them, like an unspoken understanding that they needed to address it before anything else could be said.
Zenith was the first to break the silence, his voice low but steady. "We ran into some trouble on the way back. The Rock Clan didn't take kindly to our passing through their territory."
Kael leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with interest. "Yeah, I figured as much. They never were known for being friendly with outsiders. Did you manage to handle it?"
Anya, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up, her voice soft but unwavering. "We handled it. But there's more... something that's been on my mind." She paused, as if gathering her thoughts, her eyes drifting toward the fire for a moment before turning back to the group.
Zenith's gaze softened as he noticed her hesitation, his expression quietly encouraging. "What is it, Anya?" he asked gently.
Anya exhaled slowly, as though she had been holding onto something heavy for too long. "It's about... why I'm here. Why I'm with you both." Her voice wavered for just a moment, but she steadied herself. "I never really told you what happened, how I came to be with you two."
Kael leaned back in his chair, sensing that this moment was more than just a casual revelation. He sat up straighter, his usual playful demeanor replaced with a quiet attentiveness.
Anya's eyes flickered to the window for a moment, as though lost in the past. "When I was young, I didn't have anyone. My parents... they died in a car accident. One moment, I had a family, and the next, it was all gone. I was left alone, with nowhere to turn. I don't remember much of that time. But I remember being lost. I remember the silence that came after."
Her voice faltered, and for a split second, there was a fragility in her words that none of them had expected. The air in the room shifted as the weight of her confession settled in.
"I didn't know where to go. I had no home, no one to take care of me." She paused, her gaze meeting Zenith's. "But then... I met him. Zenith." Her voice softened, a quiet gratitude in her tone. "He was the one who didn't turn away. He and his father, David—they took me in without asking for anything in return. Even though they knew nothing about me or my family, they accepted me without hesitation."
Anya's gaze dropped to the table for a moment, as if she had been reliving that moment all over again. "They didn't owe me
anything. But they showed me kindness when I had none. And I've been with them ever since."
The room was silent for a long moment as her words hung in the air. Zenith's expression was unreadable for a second, but something in his eyes softened—something that could only come from shared history, from understanding.
Kael shifted in his seat, breaking the silence with a quiet sigh. "I never realized that," he said softly. "I mean, you always seem so... strong. But I get it now. You carry more than just yourself, don't you?"
Anya nodded, the corners of her lips curling into a small, almost sad smile. "I do. And it's because of them. Zenith and David—without them, I would've been lost. I wouldn't be here."
Wilson, who had been listening intently, nodded thoughtfully. "Kindness, especially in the darkest times, can change everything. You've been through a lot, but you've found your place."
Kael shifted again, his usual light-hearted energy returning, though tinged with a quiet respect. "It's a powerful thing, finding a family when you least expect it," he said, his voice a little quieter now.
Anya met Kael's eyes and smiled, a soft, genuine smile. "It is."
There was a pause in the conversation, a moment of reflection, and then Kael stood up from the table, stretching his arms above his head. "Well," he said with a grin, "as much as I'd love to sit here and hear more, I've got to get going. It's getting late, and I
should head back. But we'll catch up tomorrow. Let's all rest for now."
Zenith nodded, his gaze lingering on Kael for a moment before he turned to Anya and Wilson. "Thanks, Kael," he said simply. "We'll see you tomorrow."
Kael gave a casual wave before turning toward the door. "See you, then," he called back over his shoulder as he stepped out into the night.
The room was quiet again as Zenith, Anya, and Wilson remained at the table, the last of their meal now a quiet afterthought. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the weight of the day seemed to settle into their bones.
Wilson cleared his throat softly and then stood to clear the dishes. "It's been a long day," he said with a gentle smile. "Why don't we all get some rest?"
Anya nodded in agreement, standing as well. "Tomorrow's another day," she murmured, though there was a softness in her voice, a quiet contentment.
Zenith stood and stretched, feeling the exhaustion of the journey and the emotional weight of their conversation. He smiled at Wilson. "Thanks for everything," he said, his voice thick with gratitude.
Wilson nodded, his eyes warm. "Anytime, my friend. Get some sleep."
The three of them made their way to their respective rooms, the quiet of the house wrapping around them like a blanket. As Zenith
lay down to sleep, the weight of Anya's words lingered in his thoughts, and he realized, for the first time in a long while, that there was a place where they truly belonged, Together..