Who are the Divines?
If you were to ask any Aldorian that question, the answer would co swiftly, as though it had been carved into their bones from birth.
"Divines are those who have transcended mortality. Beings who have stepped beyond the realm of n and into the embrace of divine energy."
In simpler words:
They are those who walk the edge of godhood.
And standing before the class now, with every eye fixed upon her, was the youngest individual in recorded history to ever reach such heights.
Illiana De Vorth.
A figure of terror in demon kind and black spirits.
Her long violet hair flowed down her back like woven silk, and her eyes—an otherworldly shade of erald—swept across the room with sharp precision.
She said nothing at first. She didn't need to. Her presence alone silenced the air.
Then, with a faint curl of her lips and a voice calm but weighty, she spoke.
"I trust you all had a good night's rest."
A simple sentence, laced with deeper aning.
Everyone knew what she referred to.
The attack.
A demon had broken through the barrier just the night before.
While there had been no deaths, several cadets had suffered cuts, burns, and broken bones.
Minor, on paper. But not in the mind.
Because for most of them, it was their first ti feeling true demonic energy—the suffocating, corruptive force that felt like it clawed at your soul from the inside out.
It would leave no physical mark, but it would haunt them.
So would carry the mory in their dreams. Others, in the way they flinched at shadows.
But things had cald—thanks in part to Professor Alaric's speech afterward, promising increased protections and tighter security across the campus.
His calm presence had soothed many.
Still… not all.
Those who couldn't stop shaking.
Those who broke.
They were gone now.
Quietly dismissed.
Expelled.
The academy did not tolerate weakness, no matter how understandable it was. This was a place built to forge warriors, not cradle the faint-hearted.
Why enroll in an academy known for producing the continent's strongest if the very first brush with death made you falter?
The world would not coddle them.
Nor would the Divine standing before them.
In simple novel words:
If you can't even take the first wound, you'll never survive the battlefield.
"Good," Illiana said, her tone carrying a note of approval.
Then, with a flick of her finger, the stack of papers on her desk lifted into the air, fanning out like a flock of white birds.
Each sheet drifted toward its intended student, landing neatly on their desks.
One of them—a form for selecting electives—floated down in front of Azhriel. He caught it with a light touch, his gaze lowering to the crisp parchnt.
"I trust you've all given thought to your electives," Illiana said, her voice firm but not unkind.
Several students nodded, pens already moving across the page.
They'd been told to confirm their choices through their manabands, but a written copy was required as well.
At the academy, students were free to choose as many electives as they wished, but only five would count as major electives.
Those five determined their academic standing.
And if a student failed to maintain their ranking in those majors… all their minor electives would be revoked without warning.
Glancing to his left, Azhriel caught sight of the main cast already filling out their forms. He didn't need to guess what they'd choose—he already knew.
He began writing his own choices, unaware of the sharp erald gaze fixed on him from the podium.
'Hm. Odd.' Illiana thought, her eyes narrowing slightly.
She had heard the rumors among the instructors—the whispers about a first-year whose rank not even seasoned professors could sense.
It piqued her curiosity. The na she found was
Azhriel.
Yet now… she could sense his rank easily.
An artifact, perhaps? she mused, her fingers brushing thoughtfully against her chin. But after a mont, she dismissed the thought.
Pens scratched against paper until one by one, the students set theirs down. Azhriel reviewed the neat list he'd written:
1. Advanced Spell Casting
2. Survival and Tactics
3. Combat and Weapons
4. Advanced Mana Manipulation
5. Enchantnts and Runes
Almost exactly what the rest of the main cast had chosen.
As he finished, the paper rose from his desk, whisked away by invisible threads of mana, and drifted back toward Illiana's waiting hand.
"Now that we're done here, let's move on to your affinity checks," Illiana said, her voice calm but carrying an authority that left no room for hesitation.
She turned and walked out of the classroom without another word.
The students rose from their seats, following her in a loose line. Footsteps echoed through the quiet corridor until they reached a tall set of double doors, which slid open at her touch.
Inside was a large, pristine chamber.
The walls were smooth white stone, and in the very center stood a towering crystal, easily twice the height of a person.
It shimred faintly, swirling within with a soft white mist that shifted like breath.
The Affinity Crystal.
A relic capable of revealing the elental affinities of anyone who touched it.
The room was alive with movent and chatter.
Professors from Class A stood in small groups with their students, speaking in low tones while the academy staff who managed the crystal checked readings and made adjustnts to its base.
The faint hum of mana filled the air, mingling with the swirl of white mist inside the towering crystal.
Illiana stepped away from the doorway and joined the circle of instructors.
Class A had already completed their tests—so smiling, others looking disappointed.
Now, it was ti for the most elite group of first-years.
Class S.
Her erald gaze swept over the gathered students, sharp and asuring.
"Those whose nas I call," she said, her voice cutting cleanly through the noise, "step forward for the test."
The students answered with a unified nod, tension settling over them.
"Elizabeth," Illiana called, her tone even.
The first-ranked student stepped forward. Her stride was steady, neither hurried nor slow, and her expression carried the sa calm confidence she was known for.
She placed her palm against the crystal, the white mist inside shifting as her mana seeped in.
A soft glow blood within. First, a deep violet shimr, crackling faintly—lightning. Then, a smooth surge of deep ocean blue—water.
"Water and Lightning," Illiana confird with a short nod. "You may step back."
Elizabeth inclined her head and returned to her place without a word.
Most of the students in the room already knew the affinities of the main cast.
It wasn't exactly a secret—these were the heirs and heiresses of the most influential noble houses of their generation.
Their nas alone carried weight, and their elents had been the talk of countless banquets, alliances, and whispered rivalries long before they even stepped foot into the academy.
Still, there was always a certain anticipation in watching them touch the crystal in person.
Rumors were one thing, but seeing the raw glow of an affinity was sothing else entirely—proof that the power was real, undeniable.
"Arianne," Illiana called next.
The crimson-eyed girl stepped forward, her long hair swaying slightly as she approached the crystal.
Her fingers brushed its surface, and the swirling white mist churned violently before changing color.
First ca an inky black, spreading through the crystal like spilled ink—darkness.
Then, a vivid, almost living crimson flared within—blood.
"Blood and Darkness," Illiana noted, her expression unreadable.
Arianne stepped back into line, the fading black and crimson of her affinity leaving the crystal calm once more.
One after another, the rest of the top ten followed.
Raymond's touch brought forth a blaze of gold—pure light—quickly followed by a fierce, consuming red of fire.
Samuel's was the opposite in nature, an oppressive, pure raw darkness blooming first, then shifting into the cold gleam of pale ice.
When Azhriel's na was called, he stepped forward without haste.
His fingers t the crystal, and it responded with a muted, steel-grey glow—thunder and storm—before a light, crystalline blue spread through it like frost forming on glass.
Chloe's result ca as a soft, earthy brown entwined with a refreshing green—nature and wind.
Sydelle's flared in quick succession—first, the searing red of fire, then the sharp, restless violet of lightning.
Nyverra's was deep and absolute, the crystal turning almost entirely black—pure darkness.
Kevin's result were the shade of earth and water.
Then—
"Alicia."
She stepped forward, her expression composed but her movents almost too deliberate. Her palm t the surface, and the white mist stirred.
A calm, pale blue glow appeared first—gentle, almost soothing. But then, without warning, the light swelled.
The crystal blazed with a furious crimson so intense the air seed to shimr from its heat. Those closest to it instinctively leaned back, the warmth licking against their skin.
Yet Alicia's eyes did not reflect awe. They were shadowed—filled with a quiet, deep-rooted hatred that clashed with the brilliance before her.
Azhriel watched in silence, a line surfacing in his mory—one written in the ga's lore.
The One who was loved by true flas, yet the sa one who hated those flas more than anything in the world.
The Progenitor of Fire.
The Mistress Loved by Crimson Fla.
Alicia Von Burns.
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