Ari was sitting beneath a quiet spell-lantern in the east Sanctum garden, half-heartedly reworking a Signum glyph that refused to stabilize. The sky above shimmered with soft mana currents, flowing like rivers of aurora.
"Stupid resonance values..." he muttered, tapping his finger against the rune slate. "Stupid autocorrect system overriding my base structure..."
Then he heard it.
A throat clearing.
Twice.
Louder than necessary.
He turned.
Standing there, arms crossed, was Princess Seralune Vastelune. Dressed casually for once—if "casual" meant silken black training pants with Luxthread embroidery and a fur-lined half-cloak—her golden hair tied into a combat braid.
"You." She said it like an accusation.
Ari blinked. "...Me?"
"Yes. You. Don't act innocent."
A pause.
"I wasn't?" he said, confused.
She stepped forward in that elegant-yet-stiff way nobles do when they're trying to look aloof but are nervous beneath it.
"We're going to talk."
"Okay."
"Not because I want to." She hesitated. "But because there were… inconsistencies in the duel."
"Inconsistencies," Ari echoed flatly. "Right."
"And you—" she jabbed a finger toward him, "—you... did something stupid."
"Right," he said again, more amused now.
"You threw the duel. Don't deny it."
"You'd rather I didn't?"
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked away.
"That's not the point," she said stiffly.
He smiled. "You're welcome."
"I didn't ask for—" She stopped herself. "Fine. Maybe it was... beneficial. Strategically. And..."
She shifted uncomfortably.
"...thank you," she muttered, barely audible.
"What was that?" Ari asked, half-leaning closer.
"Shut up."
He chuckled. "You're really bad at being normal, huh?"
"Royalty doesn't need to be normal," she huffed, cheeks tinting crimson. "And I'm not here to be friends. Just... just don't throw duels like that again. Not for me."
"Even if it saves your life?"
She paused. Looked him in the eye.
"Especially then."
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked off in perfect imperial posture.
But her ears were still bright pink.
The Next Morning – A Veiled Summons
Ari awoke early, expecting another day of tedious glyph classes and polite glares from nobleborns.
Instead, he found an envelope sitting on the corner of his nightstand.
No one had knocked. No messenger had entered.
The seal was unusual—a silver thread woven through a pale violet wax, shaped into an eye closed in sleep.
Larkveil.
He unfolded the parchment.
To Ari Solen of Null-Origin,Unbound by System, Yet Touched by It,
You are cordially requested to attend a private audience with House Larkveil.Time: Immediately upon the next dusk.Location: The Observatory Without Time,Sanctum Sublevel Theta-Null.Alone.
We know what you are.And more importantly, what you might yet become.
-Larkveil Custodian of Echoes
"Well, that's not ominous at all."
Not much was known about House Larkveil among the student body.
Cerys had once mentioned them in passing: "They don't teach like us. They remember differently. Their Thread deals with memories... and things that shouldn't be remembered at all."
Larkveil was said to be descended from the Time-Speakers—Weavers who had glimpsed the original Script Before Chronos, the language the System used to write history itself.
Their magic wasn't flashy.It wasn't even always visible.
But sometimes, it rewrote past cause instead of just effect.
A spell Larkveil cast today might make a student forget they ever failed a test yesterday.
A duel fought with a Larkveil mage might seem like it never happened—except for the scar you couldn't explain.
And now… they wanted Ari.
Ari descended the spiral staircase into Theta-Null, led by guiding threads of moonlight woven through the dark.
When he reached the observatory, it was as if he'd stepped outside existence. The walls shifted in slow fractals. Runes drifted through the air like forgotten dreams.
Waiting in the center was a girl.
Or at least, she seemed like one. Her hair shimmered between black and starlight, and her eyes glowed a faint blue—irises shaped like spirals.
"Ari Solen," she said, voice like lullabies. "The System bends around you. It corrects for you."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Lirael, Threadweaver of the Echo-Circle," she said. "And I'm here to show you how the future bleeds backward… and how to write your own."