Saga bade her teacher farewell and headed home, her mind swirling with new revelations. She never would have guessed that her kind and generous teacher had such a tragic past, or that she had been part of a legendary party, a fact that took Saga completely by surprise.
Her eyes drifted over the streets as she walked, uncertain about her next move. Going straight home didn't feel right. The house would be empty; Siren was still at her school, where idle boys and girls gathered to ogle at the trainees: fit girls in short clothes and shirtless hot boys.
Come to think of it, didn't Siren mention a test today? Curious, Saga decided she'd go see what kind of test her sister's school involved.
The training grounds of the Havensol Protector Academy sprawled before her as she reached the front gate, where a large sign read:
HAVENSOL PROTECTOR ACADEMY
CURRENT HEADMASTER: KC SIR BORIS WILDHEART
As she expected, the spectator benches surrounding the enormous field were filled with onlookers, mostly girls but a few boys too, eager to watch the trainees in action. How shameless, Saga thought, before joining them.
Choosing a cool bench beneath the shade of a large tree, she settled in. A group of chatty girls and unabashed boys sat nearby. She flipped open her Grimoire of the Arcane to half-conceal her face. But her attention soon shifted elsewhere. Across the field, seated on the opposite benches, were the chronali: seven of them, four women and three men, all observing the field with silent focus.
Saga knew their names well. The men were Arrius, Titus, and Rufus; the women, Biria, Cosmus, Fabia, and Grata, all draped in flowing togas of pristine white fabric. Each of them had strikingly defined features: high cheekbones, angular jaws, and strong, rectangular face shapes, distinguished by broad foreheads and noses with a slight hook. Their deep, dark eyes held a steady, penetrating wisdom. The men were fit and muscular, with broad shoulders and well-proportioned limbs that gave them an aura of strength and authority.
The women, in contrast, had oval or heart-shaped faces, their olive-toned skin glowing under the sunlight. Their black hair was gathered into intricate buns and braids, and they had soft, full figures that radiated elegance. None of them wore a hint of cosmetics, yet their natural beauty was undeniable, enhanced by expressions of serene confidence and calm. In the center sat Cosmus, a woman whose hazel eyes were deep-set, projecting an air of composed strength. Her posture was upright, shoulders back, with a grace that conveyed quiet dignity. She seemed almost like a statue in a meditative state, letting the sunlight spill over her, with an expression both soft and proud.
Saga knew that among the chronali, there was no hierarchy; they treated each other as equals. It made sense, none of them aged, and they were believed to be immortal. Ever since her childhood, Saga had seen them, looking as if they were perpetually frozen in their forties, unchanging. Even the oldest navian she'd spoken to confirmed it: the chronali were timeless, eternally bound to the same age.
They didn't eat, but they drank water. They owned no houses and loved to spend their days outside in the fields, basking under the sun. Saga thought they were a lot like trees.
But Saga noticed they held a special regard for Cosmus. For instance, they allowed her to sit in the very center, and when they spoke, they let her speak first. It was clear there was a hierarchy among the chronali when it came to her. Saga had spoken to them many times, as had all the navians. The chronali were friendly, speaking to Saga with kindness, yet there was something about them that she found unnerving, something past the fact that they didn't age. A subtle distance lingered between them, a feeling she couldn't shake, as if she were speaking to people who knew everything there was to know.
They weren't cold; they cared for the navians like family. But perhaps their behavior was shaped by their age as if living forever altered their view of the world and the people in it. Or maybe it was simply their piercing gaze that unsettled her. She felt that they looked at her as a strict teacher might look at a child, making her wonder if she'd done something wrong, even if she hadn't.
Following Cosmus's gaze, Saga tried to see what held her attention. She realized Cosmus was watching her twin in the field. Saga was taken aback; she thought she saw a hint of admiration and approval in Cosmus's eyes. It didn't surprise her, everyone in the village treated Siren like a celebrity, a future champion.
But then Cosmus's gaze shifted, landing on her. Saga felt the gravity of those deep-set hazel eyes, sharp and intense as if they were reading everything about her. The approval she thought she'd seen turned to something colder, like disapproval.
Saga swallowed, nervously hiding her face behind the Grimoire of the Arcane. After a moment, she dared to peek over the book and saw Cosmus's attention had shifted to the field's activities. Saga breathed a quiet sigh of relief, surprised by how nervous the chronali could make her.
She scanned the field. At first glance, it seemed like a small skirmish was underway. Some fought one-on-one, others in pairs, trios, or even quartets. The fighters were divided into two groups: those without armor, who struck each other with blunt wooden swords, and the armored ones, who moved cautiously with real blades. Their movements seemed careful and intentional, rather than hasty or reckless, and each step and swing was measured as if they were dancing, wary of a fatal slip.
The field seemed divided into numerous circles, but Saga's gaze was drawn to the one at the very center. It was the smallest of all, yet it featured the elite, with Sir Boris himself directly in charge, sparring with the trainees. They were armored and wielded real blades. Among them was Siren.
Is this the test Siren spoke of last night?
From what Saga understood, the boys and girls were attempting the moves against Sir Boris that she had watched Siren practice just hours before. Yet, each one of them seemed to fumbling, yielding to Sir Boris far too quickly. Every young hopeful at this training camp aspired to one day obtain the "Oath of Seren" and wear the chronali badge known as "The Bestowed Mark." This badge conferred upon its bearer the honor of being a protector of Serenvale. There was glory and honor in that achievement.
But as Saga observed their struggles, a nagging thought crept in: how would these kids fare in a real war against foes like Sir Boris, who would show them no mercy and use every skill in their arsenal to kill them?
Do they not realize that? Don't they fear death?
A conversation between a pair of girls floated to Saga's ears as they sat on the front bench.
"I can't believe it's still forbidden for us to leave serenvale."
"I know, right? It feels like we're still living in the first Age of Chaos."
"So true! I told my dear mother about my human boyfriend yesterday—"
"Oh really? How did she react?"
"Surprisingly well. But when I told her I wanted to leave havensol and move to my boyfriend's villa in the kingdom of Mancrest, she freaked out! You wouldn't believe it! I bet she would have been less appalled had I expressed a desire to become a prostitute at the pleasure house of serenvale."
The other girl laughed. "That is so unfair!"
"Yes, indeed. They act like it's a proposal for treason. I just want to be with my boyfriend, that's all. And is it so wrong to want to see the outside world? Do you have any idea how incredible the cities are in the kingdom of Mancrest?"
The other girl sighed. "You have guts, my dear Else. I can't imagine ever voicing such desires. Navians leaving serenvale? My parents would never allow it."
"Rayna, my boyfriend is a merchant's son. Do you know what he told me? At the capital city of Trinityford in the Mancrest kingdom…"
Saga sat in stunned silence, guilt filling her for having underestimated these girls. They hadn't come here merely to enjoy a spectacle; they genuinely cared about individual rights and aspirations. Well, at least, not all of them...
Saga noticed her sister rising from the circle. It was her turn to take the test.