"I'm sorry," Kallias says suddenly. "About earlier…. I didn't mean those words. I don't view Winter Clan in that low light. I admire you guys actually." The genuineness in his voice coerces Catalina to listen to him.
"Every holy clan is legendary, but they all still try to be greater, better than their ancestors, yet no one can be better than the Phthartic. The Winter Clan has never tried to be anything. Every generation of the north doesn't go around shaming other clans. You guys uplift them on your own continent and are the strong center of our peace. In class earlier, I tried to bring you down because I felt down. Star Clan always tries to uplift themselves in the process of devaluing their own blood. It makes me sick."
"I'm sorry as well, and I understand," Catalina replies, her expression surprisingly gentle. "You can't help that you were raised in an environment that encourages minimizing someone to make yourself feel high."
Kallias nods slowly, muttering: "I'm trying not to be like that. It's hard… and I hate that the most. I want to handle all my problems on my own without the principles of Star Clan influencing me. It's nice to be independent of the workings of your mind, to be your savior and salvation. This academy gives me that. A place far from the southern continent, an environment where we build on our own strength by will."
"It's the first day, so don't be too hard on yourself," she says reassuringly, only lifting her head once to look him in the eyes to show her authenticity. 'People take acceptance as accountability, failing to realize that accepting is the path of accountability. I was insensitive on purpose. I've accepted that, and now I must try to make amends by refraining from hurting another to avoid hurting myself.'
Catalina pauses, her brows drawing together upon perceiving the dark shade of Kallias's eyes. She wonders for a fleeting moment, dread coiling like springs of thorns in her belly, then she confesses to him her recent humiliating feat.
After she's done, the amusement evoked within Kallias dispels the darkness, bringing forth an almost lavender hue. "You are stupid for that," he says, crackling in laughter. "You sure you have spatial memory?"
She levels him with a withering glare.
Their conversation gets interrupted by Calix's loud voice. "Every man wants a harem."
Rhea rolls her eyes; her face contorted with disgust. "You're the type of man I fear my future husband might be."
"Agreed," Catalina chimes in, and Kallias nods. They look at each other and burst into hearty laughter. Friends—she yearns to have true friends. However, deep down she knows the absence of it isn't worth the future loss of them.
****
The dark rectangle room is illuminated by oil green lamps positioned above each corner of the long oval table stretched in the center. The ghostly, pale light shines upon the five seated people, each donning exquisite business clothes. Sleek steel windows branded with pearly indigo hummingbirds permit sunlight to filter inside.
"Wystan Raviel was found dead in the dormitory just now. His blood was crystallized. It's been reported by his friends that he's been so desperate to win a duel against Rune to the point he took Crystalline Rock. Teal refuses to say anything about this incident. He was given an order of secrecy."
Sebastian Reosian's foul mood increases upon hearing the words uttered by Mallory, a fellow council member. "Utterly ridiculous!" He scowls. "This is getting unprofessional."
Bloody island of death is the nickname of Lightless. The red walls are rumored to be painted with the essence of the fallen, haunted by fogged ghosts of the wronged wandering the hills and mountains.
"With how things are going, in the future no one will want to attend Lightless even if we boast about how much they can reach god level," Sebastian says, his green eyes swirling darker in contempt, annoyed at the prospect of challengers no longer being ignorant and illiterate.
It's a known fact that attempting to enter Lightless can lead to death, yet for thousands of years, humans keep signing up. Over the years, millions of challengers turned into thousands, then hundreds, with only 30% officially becoming seekers.
"Who cares about that boy's death? His actions are a shame and taint to our legacy. The least he could have done was die quickly and silently, or at the very least, in battle or a duel, but no, he was a doper!" Callum hisses, the words fusing together swift and warm, proof of his sharp southern accent. "We should be focusing on catching Morgan's killer."
Sebastian glances at Callum, who possesses trimmed honey blonde short hair, tan scarred skin, unkempt features, and narrowed brown eyes. The man's imperious demeanor shimmers with a fear that makes Sebastian snickers.
The council are the 'heads' of Lightless Institute, considered to be the balance of the Four Holy Clans. For generations, they've consisted of a group of six that act as strings of light connecting the clans and maintaining the friendly peace between them.
Each member is from one of the holy clans and throughout the years, the pillars have been fighting through them, trying to dominate trade deals, culture honor, and advance products, attaining more profits than the others and improving their leadership over their own continent.
Three of them belong to Sun Clan—Kratos Tieran, Morgan West, and Sebastian Reosian, while Callum Oberon is to Star Clan, Hadeon Demios—Winter Clan, and Mallory Nioma—Moon Clan.
All council members are aware that they are just pawns. Bishops and Rooks moved by the Kings and Queen. It's been that way for generations and despite half the members being Ophanims, they will never be a pillar.
They may have divine power, but a land to reign over will never be in the chapters of fate for people like them. Unlike the pillars, who have lands filled with towns and cities to govern their power and might too.
Many people who aren't born of high-status dream that they can make it to the top with determination and success.
Every one of them was successful at surviving Lightless without the backing of mythical traits, thriving purely with determination and hope for a better future.
It's a miracle that they survived. Yet, they are not worshiped, praised daily, or bathing in fortune. Hell, they're hardly acknowledged. All that crawling and they're still on the damn floor.
"I'm profoundly at a loss," Kratos says mockingly. "You suddenly care for Morgan so deeply when?"
A vein pops out in Callum's neck. "Excuse me?!" he glowers. "We're on the same boat, Sebastian. If one of us falls again, we have no chance of making it out of the sea." Glaring harshly into aqua golden eyes, he continues. "I'm just trying to make sure none of us are next. The quickest way to do that is to catch the killer and then execute them."
"You make it sound like we're being hunted." Hadeon scoffs and leans forward; his knuckles tapping the table absentmindedly. "Who would dare do such a naive thing? Don't they know who we are?"
"Our backers," Mallory says with a horrified exhale. Her words cause them to stiffen. She sits with her hands stiffly on her lap, with two curly strays of navy hair framing her soft round features. The rest of her hair is styled back into a low bun.
"Peace is like a candle. So many exist, yet every single one of them harbors the same fate when lit. Melted gradually to nonexistent." She sighs, a mixture of resignation and serenity. "Is our generation's candle lit? Or is it already waxed away? People like us will never truly know, even though we're the ones making sure the candle stays upright through the whole process of sputtering."
A knock on the door interrupts their conversation.
As they sense the dreamy aura behind the oak door, Hadeon glances at it and says impatiently, "Come in, Child of Heaven."