The deathmatch between the heirs of the Emberheart and Draymore families had become more than just a clash between two powerful families—it was the most anticipated event in all of Drakhelm. In a kingdom where martial prowess and magical might were revered, this match had captured the attention of nobles, merchants, and commoners alike. The capital city swelled with visitors from across the realm, each eager to witness the epic confrontation that would take place in the Arcadium Academy's ancestral arena.

The ancestral arena was a grand structure, ancient and imposing, designed for the most prestigious of magical duels. It stood as a square colossus in the heart of the capital, its massive stone walls adorned with glowing runes of protection and power. Thousands of people filled the enormous tribunes, with the commoners packed into the outer rings while the wealthy nobles and merchants occupied more lavish seats in the higher levels. Rising above them all were the four massive towers that anchored each corner of the arena, towering over a hundred meters tall.

Each tower had its own purpose. The one in the southwest was reserved for the Emberheart family, directly opposite, the northeast tower housed the Draymore family, their banners draped from the balconies, fluttering in the wind.The Emberhearts and Draymores each occupy a special alcove, where Eve, Joy, and Mira sit for the Emberhearts, and Magnus, his wife, and Darius stand for the Draymores. In the southeast stood the academy’s directive tower, where the principal, vice principal, and the most esteemed teachers would oversee the duel with solemnity. And the final tower, in the northwest, was dedicated to the royal family.

At the heart of the arena lay the battlefield—an open square of stone etched with sigils, where ancient magic would contain the fury of the duelists. The tension was palpable, even before the combatants had arrived. The air buzzed with the excited murmurs of the crowd.

In the Emberheart tower, Eden stood in her chamber, her hands trembling slightly as she stared out at the immense arena below. She knew the stakes better than anyone—the political, social, and familial weight that rested on her shoulders. Losing wasn’t an option, but the fear of failure gnawed at her heart. Her mind raced, her usually calm demeanor shaken.

Her mother, Lady Mira, entered the room quietly, her expression soft but serious. In her hand, she held a small, neatly folded letter.

“Your father wanted you to have this,” Mira said gently, pressing the letter into Eden’s hands.

Eden unfolded it carefully then, in her private chamber, a warm light surrounds her as a glowing reflection of her father appears. The figure embraces her gently, feeling a comforting and strong presence whispering, "Don’t feel afraid, we stand with you, as always." The light slowly fades, leaving Eden with newfound resolve.

A deep breath steadied her heart. Eden closed her eyes and held the letter close. She could feel the weight of her family’s legacy, but now, it didn’t feel so crushing. She was ready.

In contrast, across the arena in the Draymore tower, Valen sat alone in a dimly lit room. The flickering light of the candles cast long shadows on the stone walls. His body, hardened by his uncle Darius’ brutal training. Yet in his mind, a storm raged.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, eyes dark and brooding. His transformation was undeniable. The arrogance of his youth had been burned away, replaced with cold determination. And yet, somewhere in the depths of his gaze, there remained a flicker of doubt. He clenched his fists, feeling the mana surge through him more powerful than ever. The training had made him formidable, but would it be enough?

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Valen’s jaw tightened. “This is it,” he whispered to himself. “I will win. I must win.”

Despite his iron resolve, doubt still lingered in the shadows of his thoughts. But he pushed it aside. There was no more time for second-guessing. The match was set. Fate would decide the rest.

The moment finally arrived. The streets leading to the Arcadium were lined with people, cheering.The air buzzed with anticipation, and the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. The clash of the heirs was more than just a battle—it was a spectacle, a defining moment for Drakhelm's future.

As Eden steels herself in the reflection of her father's light apparition, her mind focused on the upcoming duel, in the Emberheart alcove high up in the tower. Joy Emberheart sat with her sister Eve. Joy, ever inquisitive, looked up at Eve, her bright eyes drawn to the unusual glasses her sister wore. With a childlike curiosity, she tugged at Eve’s sleeve. “Sister, why are you wearing those glasses?” she asked.

Eve glanced down at her, her serious expression softening. “These? Eve adjusts the fairy-wing-shaped glasses on her face. They're special,” she said, touching the delicate frame. “Father gave me a huge piece of crystal called 'Aetheris.' It's not like anything else we’ve ever seen.” She begins. “I hadn’t thought much of it at first, but when I spent time looking through it, I noticed strange things happening."

Joy’s eyes widened, fascinated. “Really? What happened then?”

Well, when I first looked through it, I noticed strange things happening to my surroundings, as if I could see deeper into the magic around me. So, I asked Father to reshape it into glasses, though it wasn’t easy,” Eve explained. “Aetheris is incredibly resistant to heat. Father had to use one of his strongest spells to cut it into lenses.”

Joy’s eyes widened. “Really? That must have been amazing to watch!”

Eve nodded, smiling. “He was fascinated by how the crystal reacted. So, he crafted two pairs of glasses. One has batwing-shaped frames with black lenses—they’re quite domineering—but these,” she gestured to the pair she was wearing, “are shaped like fairy wings. They're lighter and it suits my taste.”

Joy, ever eager, asked, “Can I try them on?”

Eve chuckled softly and placed the glasses gently on Joy’s nose. “Alright, but be careful.”

Joy looked around, her brow furrowing. “Sister, this is just like how I see things when I practice mana control.”

Eve paused, taken aback. “What do you mean, Joy?” she asked, curiosity piqued, but before she could press further, the sound of the crowd erupted into an uproar. Eve’s attention was pulled away as her mother, Lady Mira, made her entrance into the alcove, signaling that the match was about to begin.

In the distance, both Eden and Valen could be seen walking into the arena, their figures small but imposing against the backdrop of the grand stadium. Eden, though outwardly calm, felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was nervous—terrified, even. But she held onto the image of her father, the way his light reflection had appeared before her moments ago, embracing her in a protective warmth. “Don’t feel afraid,” the light had whispered, “we stand with you, always.” The memory of his words gave her the strength to move forward.

In contrast, Valen Draymore walked with cold, measured steps, his face unreadable. He had undergone brutal training under his uncle’s watchful eye, and though he exuded confidence, the shadow of doubt flickered briefly in his gaze. Still, his resolve remained unshaken as he stepped into the arena, ready to face the challenge ahead.

Eden and Valen approached the arena from opposite sides. The heavy gates groaned open, and they stepped onto the stone platform, facing the crowd that roared in excitement, the stage was set. The duel that would shake the kingdom to its core was about to begin.