The morning sun spilled through the tall arched windows of the Phoenix Wing dormitory, painting the polished marble floors with streaks of gold. Elira stirred in her bed, the silken canopy above her draped with embroidered constellations that shimmered faintly under the daylight. For a moment, she didn't move. Her mind replayed the arrival—the grandeur of Heaven's School, the way its spires touched the sky like a kingdom raised on magic, and the echoing laughter of her new roommates the night before.
Her chest rose and fell slowly. She had dreamed of fire again—an endless sea of crimson flames curling like a dragon's breath, calling her name. But when she had tried to reach for it, it slipped away, leaving behind only warmth in her veins.
"Still in bed? You'll miss the first breakfast."
The voice was melodic, slightly teasing. Elira blinked and found herself staring at one of her roommates: Lyssandra Veriselle. She was tall, graceful, with hair the color of spun silver and eyes sharp as jewels. Even in a simple dorm robe she carried herself like royalty. Her posture, her movements, her faint smirk—it all screamed noble upbringing.
"I wasn't asleep," Elira muttered, sitting up and pushing her hair back.
"Mm, just dreaming with your eyes closed," Lyssandra replied, already fastening her golden brooch. "Hurry. The Phoenix Wing does not wait on stragglers."
From across the room, another laugh rang out, brighter, more mischievous. "Ignore her, she was born with a stick glued to her spine."
Elira turned to see her second roommate, Kaela Dawnroot, a girl with chestnut curls and freckles scattered across her nose. She wore her uniform crooked, one sock pulled higher than the other, and there was already ink smudged on her fingers. Books lay stacked messily around her bed. Her smile, however, was genuine—warm in a way that immediately softened the edge of Lyssandra's pride.
The third roommate hadn't spoken yet, though Elira had noticed her last night. Sitting at her writing desk now was Selene Veyra, quiet and composed. She had dark raven hair that fell smoothly down her back and striking golden eyes that seemed to look through walls. Unlike the other two, Selene hardly glanced at Elira. She just dipped her quill into ink, writing in a small leather journal, as though the world outside her thoughts hardly existed.
Elira's gaze lingered a moment longer. Something about Selene unsettled her—not hostile, exactly, but mysterious.
Lyssandra clasped her cloak. "Breakfast. If you're late, don't expect me to save you a seat." She swept out of the dormitory like a queen leaving her throne.
Kaela rolled her eyes. "Don't let her scare you. She talks like that to everyone." Then she winked. "Come on. The dining hall's supposed to have food that refills itself. Magical platters! I'm determined to eat until I burst."
Elira laughed softly and climbed out of bed. The dormitory itself took her breath away again—the tall pillars etched with phoenix feathers, the chandelier that burned with a flame that never dimmed, the four-post beds carved with runes that shifted when touched. Each corner of the room seemed alive, humming faintly with enchantment.
She dressed quickly and followed the others out.
The Dining Hall of Heaven's School was nothing short of spectacular. A domed ceiling painted with a moving night sky shimmered above hundreds of long tables. Floating chandeliers of pure light drifted between the rafters, and the scent of warm bread, roasted meats, and sweet fruit filled the air. Platters appeared and disappeared in a rhythm only the magic understood.
Elira barely sat down when a familiar voice called her name.
"Elira! Over here!"
It was Marcell, waving from a table near the center. His smile was as boyish as ever, his blond hair catching the morning light. Relief spread through her chest—his presence was a thread of familiarity in this overwhelming place. She hurried over, sliding into the seat beside him.
"You survived your first night?" he asked, teasing.
"Barely," she admitted. "My roommates…" Her gaze flicked toward Lyssandra, who sat two tables away with other noble-looking students, nose tilted in the air.
Marcell chuckled knowingly. "Ah, so you've met the Phoenix Trio."
"The what?"
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Your dormmates. Each one's got a reputation."
Elira raised her brows, interested despite herself.
"Lyssandra Veriselle," Marcell began, nodding subtly toward her. "Daughter of Duke Veriselle, one of the most influential houses in the empire. She's brilliant, skilled with spellcraft, and unbearably proud. People either admire her… or can't stand her."
"That checks out," Elira murmured.
"Kaela Dawnroot," he continued, gesturing toward the girl now trying—and failing—to balance a spoon on her nose. "Scholarship student. Comes from a family of scribes. She's got a sharp mind, especially for ancient languages, but she can't sit still for long. A troublemaker, but a loyal one."
Elira smiled faintly. "I like her already."
"And then there's Selene Veyra." Marcell's tone grew quieter, more cautious. His eyes slid toward the raven-haired girl still scribbling in her journal even while eating. "Not much is known about her. Some say she's from the Eastern Courts, others think she's tied to… well, darker bloodlines. She doesn't talk much, but she's talented. Dangerous, maybe."
Elira's fingers tightened slightly around her cup. "Dangerous?"
Marcell shrugged. "Every year, Phoenix Wing gets a few students who carry secrets. Just… keep your guard up."
Elira nodded, though unease coiled in her chest.
Before she could ask more, the hall grew quieter. A figure strode in, commanding attention with every step. His uniform was the same as theirs but tailored sharper, his crimson cloak flowing behind him like living fire. His hair was black with streaks of molten red, his eyes golden and piercing like the sun. He walked with an aura of power that pressed against the air itself.
Whispers filled the hall.
"That's him—"
"Ardyn Kaelor…"
"The prodigy of Phoenix Wing."
He stopped not far from Elira's table, and for a brief moment, his gaze met hers. The weight of it struck like a blade—sharp, unyielding, and impossible to ignore. A flicker of heat stirred in her chest, her dragon flame twitching awake. She forced it down, gripping her fork too tightly.
Ardyn smirked faintly, as if he had seen the flicker. Then he looked away, continuing toward the high table.
Marcell noticed her tension. "Careful with him," he whispered. "Ardyn Kaelor… he's top of our year. Talented in combat, fire magic, and… well, arrogant as hell. He's the kind who'll push anyone who looks like competition."
Elira exhaled slowly, but her pulse didn't calm. Something about him felt familiar, though she couldn't place it. Rival, her instincts whispered.
Later that morning, their first classes began.
Elira found herself in the Hall of Convergence, a circular chamber where magic thrummed in the very walls. Dozens of students gathered around as the instructor, a stern man in robes lined with starlight, raised his staff.
"Welcome to Heaven's School," he announced. "Here, you will be tested. Some of you will rise to greatness. Others will fail. Remember—power alone means nothing without discipline."
He clapped his hands, and glowing glyphs appeared in the air, swirling around them. "Your first lesson: channel your inner flame. Show us who you are."
Students stepped forward one by one, conjuring sparks, streams of light, bursts of frost, and waves of wind. Lyssandra summoned a cascade of crystalline fire that burned in perfect geometric patterns, earning murmurs of admiration. Kaela tripped, nearly dropping her wand, but somehow produced a storm of glowing paper birds that flew around the chamber. Even Selene, quiet as ever, released a tendril of shadowy flame that coiled like a living serpent.
Then it was Elira's turn.
She stepped forward, her palms damp. The glyph before her pulsed, demanding a response. She reached inward, searching for the warmth she always felt in her dreams. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Panic clawed at her.
Then—Woooosh!
Flames erupted from her hands, not ordinary fire —deep crimson and gold, curling in shapes that resembled wings. Gasps echoed through the chamber. The heat pulsed wildly, cracking the glyphs, making the air shimmer.
Elira's heart pounded. She forced herself to reel it back, extinguishing the blaze before it consumed the room.
Silence hung thick.
From across the chamber, Ardyn Kaelor's eyes locked onto hers again. And this time, he smiled—not mocking, but fierce, like a predator recognizing another of its kind.
Elira swallowed hard. She had just drawn his attention.
And she knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning