CHAPTER 3

As Aric settled into the plush interior of the carriage, his gaze drifted lazily out of the window. The bustling streets of Eldoria parted ways for his carriage, the common folk bowing their heads in reverence as they caught sight of his family's sigil - the mythical Ignisaur, a majestic creature wreathed in flames, said to dwell within the mist-shrouded peaks of the Mistveil Mountains.

Aric's eyes narrowed as he observed the peasants, his expression filled with disdain. To him, they were nothing more than lowly beings, devoid of the gifts and privileges he had been bestowed. In his arrogant mind, their pitiful existence seemed unworthy, as most of the population of Eldoria lacked the mastery of elemental magic that allowed the fortunate few to perform wondrous feats.

He watched as a young girl clumsily attempted to lift a pail of water with a feeble display of magic, only managing to spill it upon herself in the process. Aric scoffed, his lip curling in derision. "Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with condescension.

As Aric's carriage neared the academy, the grandeur of the magnificent old building of Arcane came into view. The sprawling structure stood tall and proud, its stone walls weathered by the passage of time, yet still emanating an air of mystique and wisdom. Towering turrets reached towards the heavens, adorned with intricate carvings depicting ancient spells and symbols.

The front of the academy was a flurry of activity, bustling with energy and anticipation as it marked the beginning of a new academic year. Carriages lined the cobblestone path, each bearing the sigils of influential houses. Young lords and ladies, dressed in their finest attire, descended from their carriages with an air of excitement and privilege. Their parents bid them farewell, their expressions a mix of pride and anticipation for the future that awaited them within the hallowed halls of Arcane.

Amidst the noble-born students, Aric's eyes caught sight of another group. Children of peasant folk, their faces lit up with hope and anticipation, made their way towards the academy. For them, this was more than just a school—it was a chance to break free from the chains of their humble upbringing, an opportunity to forge a different path and change their lives. They entered the academy with wide eyes and hearts filled with determination, ready to grasp the knowledge and power that lay within.

Aric scoffed, his arrogant demeanor evident as he stepped down from his luxurious carriage. The contrast between the privileged nobles and the hopeful peasants was not lost on him. He saw the academy as merely another stage for him to assert his superiority, a place where he would be surrounded by those beneath him. The dreams and aspirations of the common folk were inconsequential to him, mere inconveniences on his path to self-aggrandizement.

With a dismissive flick of his cloak, Aric made his way towards the entrance of the academy. He entered the academy and walked walked towards his classroom. Aric pushed open the heavy wooden doors to his classroom, his gaze sweeping across the familiar faces of his lackeys. The boys, mostly heirs and second sons of influential houses, gathered around him with eager expressions, vying for his attention. They were always ready to do his bidding, seeking to build a connection with the esteemed son of Celdric Raledron and the betrothed of the princess.

Aric barely bothered to remember their names. To him, they were merely pawns to him. Their loyalty was predictable, as they saw him as a stepping stone to higher social standing. They hung on his every word, eager to please and earn his favor. But in truth, Aric saw them as nothing more than convenient tools to use.

Even the women of noble houses couldn't help but cast secretive, coy glances his way. Their eyes held a mixture of desire and ambition, hoping to win his affections and secure their own place at his side ,since the very first day at the academy. But Aric paid them no heed, his heart belonged to Lyra and Lyra alone. No amount of attention or flattery from others could sway his unwavering devotion.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he commanded his lackeys to fetch his books and prepare his study materials. They hurried to carry out his orders, eager to fulfill his every request. Aric leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant as he thought of Lyra, her enchanting smile, and the way her laughter made his heart soar.

As Aric patiently waited in the classroom, his thoughts consumed by Lyra, the door swung open, and his heart skipped a beat. There, standing in the doorway, was the epitome of beauty and grace: Lyra.

Her tanned brown skin seemed to glow under the gentle sunlight that filtered through the windows, accentuating her natural radiance. Her long, flowing black hair cascaded down her back, contrasting beautifully against her fair complexion. Every movement she made was filled with a captivating grace, as if she were dancing even in the simplest of steps.

Aric's eyes locked onto Lyra, unable to tear his gaze away. He felt a rush of warmth spread through his chest, his heart pounding with an intensity that echoed his profound affection for her. To him, she was a beacon of light in a world shrouded in darkness, an ethereal presence that brought joy and solace to his soul.

Aric extended his hand, gesturing towards the seat beside him at the front of the class.Lyra's gaze flickered briefly in his direction, her expression impassive, before she turned her attention elsewhere. Without acknowledging his offer, she approached a girl seated near the corner of the room and whispered something to her. Aric's heart clenched as he watched the girl nod and obediently vacate her seat for Lyra.

A mixture of emotions swirled within him as he witnessed Lyra purposefully choosing a spot far away from him. Disappointment, hurt, and frustration mingled with the ever-present thread of hope that one day she would reciprocate his feelings. He couldn't help but question himself, wondering what he had done wrong, what he could do differently to win her affection.

He had tried, endlessly and earnestly, to show her his love. From small gestures of kindness to grand displays of devotion, Aric had poured his heart and soul into capturing her heart. But all his efforts seemed to fall on deaf ears, met with nothing but disdain and indifference. The memory of that day, when the king announced their betrothal and he saw the unmistakable loathing in Lyra's eyes, still haunted him.

Aric's mind drifted away from his musings of Lyra as the hushed silence fell over the classroom. The door swung open, and Master Henrik, a stern-looking man in his fifties, entered with an air of authority. His presence demanded immediate attention and respect.

"Get in your seats, everyone!" Master Henrik's voice boomed, filling the room with authority. Students scrambled to find their places, shuffling their books and quills into position. Aric hastily straightened up, adjusting his posture to appear attentive while inwardly battling his disinterest in the subject matter.

Master Henrik began the lesson, delving into the intricacies of elemental manipulation—a topic that failed to ignite any spark of enthusiasm within Aric. He stared at the teacher, his eyes glazed over as if lost in a daydream. Nevertheless, he maintained an expertly crafted facade of engagement, nodding along at the appropriate moments and occasionally jotting down a few notes in his elegant script.

ric's attention flickered to the side, catching a glimpse of Lyra diligently absorbing every word that fell from Master Henrik's lips. Her focused gaze, the way she meticulously transcribed the lecture into her notebook, sparked a strange mix of admiration and frustration within him. He couldn't help but wonder how she managed to find such zeal in the subjects that left him utterly disinterested.

Though his mind wandered, Aric maintained the illusion of attentiveness, aware of the watchful eyes of both his fellow students and the ever-vigilant Master Henrik. He occasionally stole glances at Lyra, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than necessary. It was a bittersweet sensation, to admire her from afar while yearning for her affection.

As Master Henrik continued his explanation of the class material, the sudden sound of the door bursting open drew the attention of everyone in the room. An expression of annoyance crossed Master Henrik's face as he turned to face the intruder, his voice laced with irritation.

"Who dares interrupt my class?" he demanded, his gaze focused on the newcomer.

With a confident stride, the young man stepped forward, unperturbed by the tension in the air. "My apologies for the interruption, Master Henrik. I am Rylan," he introduced himself, his voice steady and composed. "I have been promoted to the elite class this year."

Master Henrik's surprise flickered across his features for a brief moment. He had received the scroll confirming Rylan's promotion only the day before, and the news of a new addition to the elite class had piqued his curiosity. He motioned for Rylan to find a seat and reminded him sternly not to be late in the future.

Aric scowled from his place in the classroom, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Rylan. His clothing, clearly not as refined as the noble students, betrayed his humble origins. Aric's prejudice and arrogance fueled his disdain for the newcomer, his mind quick to judge and belittle.

Rylan scanned the room, his eyes briefly landing on Lyra. He spotted an empty seat behind her and made his way towards it. Aric's gaze followed Rylan's every move, a mix of jealousy and possessiveness clouding his thoughts. He could sense the attention Rylan was directing towards Lyra, and it only fueled his growing anger.

Once seated, Rylan reached into his bag, searching for a quill among his belongings. Realizing he didn't have one, he mustered the courage to ask Lyra for assistance. The classroom fell into a hushed silence as the audacity of Rylan's request hung in the air. All eyes turned to Aric, curious to see his reaction.

Aric felt a surge of anger and indignation rise within him. How dare this commoner approach Lyra so boldly? His grip on his quill tightened, his knuckles turning white, but he maintained a façade of calm composure. Aric's eyes met Lyra's for a moment, silently conveying his displeasure at the situation.

However, Lyra surprised everyone by giving Rylan a brief nod, acknowledging his request. She reached into her satchel and retrieved an extra quill, passing it to Rylan. The act of kindness caught the attention of the students, their eyes flicking between Lyra, Rylan, and Aric, sensing the tension in the air.

Rylan thanked Lyra graciously, his gaze returning to the front of the classroom as he prepared to listen to Master Henrik. As the lesson continued, Aric's attention wavered, his focus drawn towards Rylan. A sense of unease mingled with his smoldering anger, as if he sensed that Rylan was not someone to be dismissed lightly.