"Your summon is truly remarkable," came a smooth voice from behind me.
I turned to see Prince Valkas von Thane approaching, his crimson eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. His presence was magnetic, the kind that demanded attention without effort. Bowing lightly, I murmured, "Thank you, Your Highness."
His gaze shifted back to Aria, scrutinizing her with open intrigue. "Does she have a name yet?" he asked, his tone casual but laced with genuine curiosity.
"Yes," I replied, my voice steady despite the lingering nerves his attention always seemed to stir. "Her name is Aria."
"That's a lovely name," he said with a chuckle, though his expression turned contemplative. "Still, it doesn't quite seem to match the title of Heavenly Demon, does it?"
His words made me pause, unsure how to respond. Did it matter that her name didn't sound as grand or imposing as her title? Before I could decide, Aria's voice cut through the moment, clear and unyielding.
"My name is Aria," she stated simply, her tone neither defensive nor offended—just a calm assertion of fact.
The prince blinked, clearly taken aback by her directness, though his surprise quickly melted into a soft smile. "I wasn't suggesting you change it," he said, his voice light with humor. "I just found it interesting."
"Name?" Aria asked, tilting her head as she pointed a slender finger toward him. Her tone was curious, not demanding, though her lack of decorum made me stiffen.
'By the heavens, please don't take offense,' I thought desperately, my mind scrambling for a way to smooth over her bluntness.
To my relief, Valkas only smiled wider, the kind of smile that felt more like a shared joke than an insult. "I'm Valkas," he said easily. "And don't worry. I don't expect a Prime Eterna to bother with human manners just because she's a summon."
"Okay, Valkas," Aria replied with a small nod, her voice pleasant yet utterly unconcerned. She turned her attention away from him almost immediately, her gaze wandering with the aimless curiosity of a child.
I stifled a sigh. She looked exactly as she was acting—like a distracted preteen—and while that was far from the reality of her being, it still made me uneasy. Her behavior was endearing, yes, but the weight of what she was—a Prime Eterna, the pinnacle of existence—hung over me like a cloud.
"You have an interesting summon, Elara," Valkas said, his tone warm but laced with something deeper—admiration? Amusement? It was hard to tell. "We'll be seeing more of each other, I'm sure. I hope we can get along."
"Of course, Your Highness," I replied, dipping my head slightly.
As he walked away, I glanced back at Aria, who was now staring intently at a bird perched on the academy's stone wall.
She tilted her head, mimicking the bird's movements, and for a moment, she looked so innocent it was easy to forget the terrifying power that lay beneath her childlike demeanor.
"Aria," I whispered softly, more to myself than to her.
She turned, her dark eyes meeting mine with a calm that belied her otherworldly nature. "Yes?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, shaking my head.
As I watched her turn her attention back to the bird, I felt a flicker of something unexpected—gratitude. For all her power, all the overwhelming expectations tied to her existence, Aria was… herself. Unapologetically, unmistakably herself.
And for that, I was grateful.
But gratitude was fleeting, and peace even more so.
No sooner had the prince walked away than I caught sight of an auburn-haired figure making her way toward me. The sight sent a chill down my spine.
'Oh gods, why have you forsaken me?' I thought with quiet despair, the question directed at whatever cosmic force had decided to make Mary Greenward my next challenge.
She approached with her usual air of confidence, her emerald eyes locking onto me with an intensity that made it hard to tell if she was impressed, irritated, or both.
"You're... strong," she said at last, her tone measured but grudging.
I forced a polite smile, though my muscles ached from the effort. "Thank you," I replied. "You were as well."
Mary's brows rose sharply, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Strong?" she echoed, her tone incredulous. "Your summon basically slapped mine around like it was a baby."
The imagery was unpleasant but, to my dismay, not entirely inaccurate. Still, I resisted the urge to wince and instead offered a faint, noncommittal nod.
"Anyway," Mary continued, her smirk fading as her expression turned colder. "It seems like you've finally become deserving of the legacy you've inherited."
Her words were like a knife, sharp and precise. My fists clenched involuntarily at my sides as I fought to keep my composure.
The legacy.
My family's meteoric rise to power had been the talk of the kingdom for years, driven by the combined strength of my parents. My father, a Gold-grade summoner, was among the strongest in Thane. My mother, though less renowned, was also a Gold-grade summoner of considerable talent.
Together, they had forged a reputation that cast a long, unyielding shadow over me and Kael. Expectations had been set long before the Manifestation Ceremony, and while Kael thrived under the weight of those expectations, I had always lagged behind.
I could still remember the whispers—the quiet comparisons, the doubts, the subtle but cutting remarks from noble families like Mary's.
Now, even as a Diamond-grade summoner, those memories felt as vivid as ever.
As I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat, a voice cut through the tension.
"Weakling."
Mary and I turned in unison, startled.
It was Aria.
Her dark eyes narrowed as she regarded Mary with a calm but unyielding gaze. "A weakling cannot speak," she said, her words simple but devastatingly pointed.
Mary's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her confident demeanor cracking for the first time. She opened her mouth to retort, but no words came out.
I stared at Aria, equal parts horrified and impressed. Her bluntness was as disarming as it was effective.
"Aria—" I began, but she tilted her head slightly, her gaze unwavering.
"She is weak," Aria stated, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world. "Why does she speak like she is not?"
Mary's hands balled into fists, her flushed face contorting with indignation. For a moment, I thought she might lash out. But instead, she spun on her heel with a huff, muttering something under her breath as she stormed off.
The silence that followed was palpable.
"Aria," I whispered, unable to suppress the faint edge of exasperation in my voice.
"Yes?" she replied, her tone innocent, as though she had merely commented on the weather.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "You can't just say things like that."
"Why?" she asked, tilting her head again in that birdlike way of hers.
"Because…" I hesitated, searching for the right words. "Because people have feelings."
She blinked at me, her expression unreadable. "Feelings are irrelevant to the truth," she said matter-of-factly.
I groaned inwardly. How could I argue with that?
Still, a small, treacherous part of me couldn't help but feel a flicker of satisfaction. Mary's cutting remarks had stung, and Aria's blunt retaliation, while socially disastrous, had been… satisfying in a way I wasn't proud of.
"Let's just try to be... kinder next time, okay?" I said at last, though my voice lacked conviction.
Aria nodded slightly, though her expression suggested she didn't entirely understand. "As you wish, summoner," she said, her tone carrying the faintest hint of mock solemnity.
I sighed again, my grip tightening on my grimoire. If nothing else, Aria's presence was never boring.