Amongst the chaos that had ensued in the Arcane Assembly Ground, Dika rolled her eyes as she was the only one who didn't run. The gate of the Arcane flew open and a black horse strode in and the smirking face of Nyxoria was seen.
The Horse stopped in front of Dika and Nyxoria got down.
"Must you come to the Arcane with Penelope?" Dika said and waved and smiled sweetly at the horse. "It's getting old."
"I shouldn't come with my Princess?" Nyxoria chuckled. She touched Penelope on her head and it was as if the Horse could understand her, it nodded its head and left the Arcane ground. "I can see they all ran away, this," she pointed around the empty assembly ground, "never gets old." She added and grinned. She could still hear the running feet of the students.
Dika snorted, her defiance as sharp as her tongue. She was the only one who dared to talk back to Nyxoria and live to tell the tale—the only one who had stood by her side on her first day at the Arcane. Dika was a tall, striking young woman, standing at 5'9. Her deep, rich dark complexion complemented her dark hair, which was meticulously plaited into neat cornrows that flowed freely at the end of her ponytail, adding to her commanding presence. She wasn't just Nyxoria's best friend; she was her fiercest ally, the most skilled fighter in the Arcane, and a daughter of the Amazon Queen herself.
"Ever since what you did to Archmiagus, the entire Arcane has feared you," Dika said, her voice steady but laced with a hint of admiration. "It's not just because you're immune to all powers—you're the strongest. Stronger than me, and that says a lot. There's nothing in this world you can't take down if it stands in your way."
"Coming from you, Dika, thank you," Nyxoria said with a faint smile. She was strikingly beautiful—the most captivating young woman in the kingdom and far beyond. At 6'1, she carried herself with undeniable pride and an air of dominance. But her wicked ways overshadowed her beauty. People kept their distance, for tales of her cruelty traveled faster than admiration ever could.
The story of Archmiagus alone was enough to freeze hearts in fear. She had used her bare hands to dig out one of his eyes, laughing like a maniac as his screams echoed through the Arcane. Even now, the memory sent shivers down the spines of all who dared recall it. And what she did to Elder Rue? No one even dared to speak of that.
At the age of eighteen that most of her age mates had gotten their wolves and could transform into their beast, she still hadn't gotten hers and it made them wonder how she was still strong without a wolf.
"You didn't come last week to the Arcane?" Dika asked.
"I know what they want to say or teach so coming here is a waste of time," Nyxoria said. Dika wasn't the only person who knew how intelligent she was, well, the entire Arcane knows and she doesn't fail to rub it on their faces.
"Then why keep coming?"
"If I don't torment them, who will? Their screams, their fear—it's like music to my soul, a symphony I can't resist." Nyxoria spread her hands and was walking and Dika went to meet her.
"Well, before you showed up and sent everyone scattering, Principal Archmiagus was telling us that Emperor Tharros will be joining us and gave us rules to follow once he comes," Dika said, turning to face Nyxoria, who had suddenly stopped walking. "What? Do you know the Emperor?"
"His name..." Nyxoria's voice trailed off, her brow furrowing. "It sounds familiar, as if I have heard it before. I just can't remember where I've heard it from."
"Of course you've heard of him," Dika said, her voice lowering as if speaking the name too loudly might summon trouble. "He's mad—completely insane. They say he's locked himself away in that cursed castle of his for years. If he's coming here, to the Arcane, it reeks of danger. He doesn't leave his lair unless it's for something—or someone."
Nyxoria's lips curled into a faint, dismissive smirk. "Whatever. Come on. There's someone else I'd much rather annoy right now."
★★★
Principal Archmiagus hardly appeared in his office at the top floor of the building when he saw someone. The sight froze him in his tracks, nearly stopping his heart.
Seated comfortably in his chair was a young man, casually whistling an unfamiliar tune, his head bobbing to a melody only he could hear. The principal's one good eye widened in shock and recognition as the stranger's presence radiated an unsettling aura.
The whistling abruptly ceased. Slowly, the man turned, revealing impossibly long white dreadlocks cascading around him like a spectral waterfall. His piercing gaze met the principal's, a faint smirk playing on his lips, as if daring Archmiagus to speak.
"W-wh-when did you get here?" Principal Archmiagus tried not to stammer as he stared at his visitor, when he didn't get any reply he suddenly remembered he hadn't done what he had ought to have done. Then he bent his waist and head to greet him. "Greetings Emperor Tharros, I am so honored to have you here in the Arcane." but Principal Archmiagus didn't get to finish his words when the floor greeted him, he was spread wide on the ground, without the young man lifting up his hands or opening his mouth.
Principal Archmiagus tried to get up but he couldn't.
"When you want to bow to me, you bow correctly, not half way."
"I am so sorry my Emperor," Principal Archmiagus apologized, "It won't happen again." he added quickly and when he tried to get up, he found out he could and he was up to his feet immediately, brushing off whatever dust his clothes must have gathered on the floor.
"You can kneel down." Tharros didn't have to repeat himself twice before Archmiagus' knees gave way and hit the floor.
"Why were you running?"
"Well, she was coming and I had to hurry up here to hide." Principal Archmiagus decided not to beat around the bush and tell the truth.
The thunderous sound of hooves echoing through the Arcane was unmistakable—it was Penelope, Nyxoria's horse. Just as stubborn and unpredictable as her owner, Penelope was infamous in her own right.
It was because of that cursed horse that he'd lost one of his eyes. He could still feel the phantom pain, the humiliation. And worst of all, he could swear—swear—that Penelope had laughed at him that day, a wicked gleam in her eyes as if mocking his misfortune.
"Who is coming?"
"N-Ny-Nyxoria and Penelope, my Emperor."
One name made Tharros's blood boil, stirring an anger so intense it felt like fire coursing through his veins. It wasn't just fury—it was personal, a wound that cut straight to his heart.