The quiet hum of crystalline lamps filled the corridor leading to the true throne room, their faint pink glow illuminating the smooth, dark walls of polished stone. Unlike the public throne room, which was grand and ornate for the benefit of noble audiences, the true throne room was a place of solemnity and ancient purpose. The air itself seemed thicker here, heavy with the weight of centuries of rulership, as if the room bore witness to the burdens of those who sat upon the Rhodonite Throne.
As Empress Serkai stepped through the arched entryway, the subtle thrum of energy emanating from the throne filled her chest like the beat of a second heart. The throne itself was awe-inspiring—a single solid piece of rhodonite, carved eons ago by the planet’s first inhabitants. Its surface shimmered with veins of pink and black, faintly glowing as though it pulsed with the lifeblood of the world. The throne’s back rose high, its crystalline facets catching the light and scattering it across the walls in fractured rainbows. It wasn’t just a symbol of power—it was power itself, directly connected to Umbralumara's core, an ancient artifact that played a role in selecting the planet’s ruler.
The floor beneath the throne was a mosaic of obsidian and rose quartz, depicting the planet’s twin moons in phases of alignment. Around the room, the walls were unadorned except for the faint etching of runes, their purposes long forgotten by most. This was not a place for vanity or ostentation; it was a place for truth, where decisions were weighed with gravity and finality.
Serkai lowered herself onto the throne with practiced grace, her long coat of carmine fabric spilling around her like liquid fire. The moment her body touched the crystalline surface, a faint hum filled the room—a resonance that traveled through her spine and into the floor, as though the planet itself acknowledged her presence. Around her, her trusted advisors stood in a loose semicircle, their postures stiff with formality. At the center of the group stood Headmaster Reenes, his hands folded behind his back, his piercing eyes flickering with subdued anticipation.
Marcus stood near the door, his usual role of sentry unshaken even in this private space. He watched silently, his weathered face betraying nothing, though Serkai knew him well enough to sense his quiet unease.
Serkai’s gaze swept the room before settling on Reenes. “Speak,” she commanded, her voice sharp and controlled, a blade that cut through the tension.
Reenes inclined his head. “Your Majesty, I believe the Academy Council will approve Alden Fairwood’s admission, provided we frame his condition as a unique research opportunity. Starlight is no stranger to accepting students with... unconventional circumstances, provided the benefits outweigh the risks.”
Serkai’s sharp blue eyes narrowed. “Explain what you mean by ‘benefits.’”
“Starlight Academy thrives on knowledge, Your Majesty,” Reenes replied smoothly. “The mark on Alden’s arm—its absorption of arcane energy—has likely never been documented before. The council will see the potential for advancement in magical understanding. It is, frankly, the kind of anomaly that would draw researchers and scholars from across the galaxy.”
“And the risks?” Serkai asked, her tone unrelenting.
Reenes’s gaze flicked to the floor for the briefest of moments. “There is, of course, the risk that the mark’s nature is not fully understood, which could lead to unforeseen complications. However,” he added quickly, “Starlight’s resources far exceed anything available here. If there is a chance to stabilize Alden’s condition—or, at the very least, to uncover its origins—it is there.”
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Serkai leaned back in the throne, the faint glow of the rhodonite casting soft pink highlights across her angular features. Her advisors exchanged quiet glances but did not speak. Marcus, standing near the wall, shifted slightly, his boots scraping against the stone floor.
“Do you believe this is the best course of action for the boy?” Serkai finally asked, her voice quieter but no less commanding.
Reenes straightened. “Yes, Your Majesty. Without intervention, his condition may worsen. At Starlight, he will be safe, supervised, and given the best possible chance for recovery.”
For a moment, Serkai said nothing, her expression inscrutable. Then she placed her hands on the arms of the throne, her fingers lightly brushing the crystal surface. “Very well,” she said at last. “You have my approval to seek the Academy Council’s consent. But know this, Reenes—if they fail him, I will hold you accountable.”
Reenes bowed deeply. “Understood, Your Majesty.”
Serkai’s gaze swept the room once more, lingering on Marcus. “See to it that the investigation into Fairwood Manor continues without delay. I will not tolerate negligence.”
Marcus bowed as well. “Yes, Empress.”
With a subtle motion of her hand, Serkai dismissed her advisors, and they filed out of the room in silence. The resonance of the throne faded slightly as she rose, the hum receding back into the planet itself.
***
Later that evening, Serkai and Elkianara stood together in the Empress’s private study, the air heavy with expectation. The crystalline echo on the desk glowed softly, projecting Reenes’s image above its surface.
“I have secured the Academy Council’s approval,” Reenes said, his tone calm but edged with triumph. “Alden Fairwood will be admitted as a medically disabled student. The council was particularly intrigued by the potential for research into his condition.”
Serkai nodded, her expression carefully neutral. “And the terms?”
“Standard,” Reenes replied. “His condition will be monitored, and any research will be subject to Academy oversight. They have agreed to maintain discretion regarding the boy’s background.”
Elkianara stepped forward, her brows furrowing. “What about his lack of magical ability? Won’t it become obvious?”
“The council has authorized special accommodations,” Reenes said. “His medical status will serve as a cover, allowing his inability to use magic to be overlooked. To the wider Academy, he will simply be a student undergoing treatment.”
Serkai’s gaze flicked to her daughter, sharp and assessing. “Are you satisfied with this, Elkianara?”
“Yes, Mother,” Elkianara said, her voice steady. “It’s the best option for him.”
“Good,” Serkai said curtly. “Then prepare yourself for departure. You leave in two days.”
Reenes inclined his head. “I will meet you both at the launch platform.” With that, the projection flickered and disappeared.
***
Shortly after the call, Reenes sought out Elkianara in one of the palace’s quieter halls. She was leaning against the balustrade of a balcony, gazing out over the city as the twin moons cast their silver light over Marlugrathara.
“Princess Elkianara,” Reenes said softly, stepping into the light. She turned to face him, her expression unreadable.
“Headmaster,” she replied.
He approached slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. “I wanted to speak with you privately before you leave. What you’re undertaking—it’s no small thing.”
“I know,” Elkianara said. “But Alden needs someone, and I can’t stand by while he’s alone.”
Reenes nodded. “You’ll need to be more than just a companion to him. The Academy is... competitive. Ruthless, at times. You’ll have to protect him, but also ensure that you succeed in your own right. If you fail, it will reflect poorly not just on you, but on Umbralumara.”
Elkianara’s jaw tightened. “I understand.”
“I hope so,” Reenes said, his tone softening. “But know this—I believe in your potential. If anyone can navigate the challenges ahead, it’s you.”
For a moment, Elkianara said nothing. Then she straightened, her confidence returning. “Thank you, Headmaster. I won’t let you—or Alden—down.”
Reenes gave her a small, approving nod. “I’ll see you at the platform.”