Towering stone walls rose above me on both sides as I trotted along one of the hallways of the university, on my way to see a good friend. An employee of the university nodded toward me in greeting as he lit the candles along the wall that had died overnight with quick bursts of fire magic.

At the end of the hallway, the walls opened up to a large gathering room. With polished wooden floors that reflected its occupants and ceilings as high as five stories, it was a sight to behold.

Halfway across the room, a friendly face came into view. Silas Galan was an old friend, among other things. Born among Celdic elven royalty in the great city of Celendar, he was given a free ticket through the Seran University to learn earth magic in exchange for his service as my personal bodyguard through my teenage years. At just a year over forty, he was extraordinarily young for an elf, as elves were the only race to have an average lifespan of hundreds of years. Elves were mostly known to only die prematurely by battle wounds or extreme heartbreak. Because of this, Celdic elves in particular were not fond of war or battle, and tended to favor peace whilst living tucked away lives in the deep forests of the world.

Silas was a handsome sight, as were most elves. Because of the delayed aging process elves were known for, he appeared to be no more than twenty or twenty-one, with a mop of sienna brown hair that swept over the points of his ears, and stunning, sharp green eyes. He was taller than most humans, built for speed and agility with practical muscles and a knack for attention to details. His trusty bow sat perched on his back along with a quiver of elven arrows. The weapon was a beautiful one, made out of the pearl-white bark of the trees only known to grow in the forests of Celendar.

“On your way to see Bjorn?” He questioned, spinning slowly to seamlessly go from a standstill to walking by my side. He spoke of the general of the Seran Army, and one of the few authority figures to me that I was completely comfortable around.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice holding a slight tremble. “I'm a nervous wreck.”

“You have your supporters. The only person standing in opposition to you is your father.”

“I know,” I acknowledged. “Sometimes that's the hardest fact to accept.”

Silas remained silent. I knew he agreed with me, but he was extremely intelligent, probably already thinking through how verbally acknowledging my depressing statement would only make me feel worse.

We walked together toward the front exit of the building, passing by an entire room full of people waiting to meet with members of the university to discuss magical services. Before even knowing what any of them were here for, I knew most of them would be disappointed. Most were peasants and would be unable to afford the services. Others had trekked seasons from Nahara and would be told that Seran mages dealt in gold, not trade, like many of the Naharans were used to.

I had never agreed with Sera's methods of holding its mages above the heads of commonfolk. The only thing I was ashamed of as a mage myself was being an unwilling participant to the monopoly Sera held over magic. It was illegal in Chairel to practice magic without a license from the Seran University, which, of course, didn't mean that no one practiced it without licenses at all, only that they were imprisoned if they were caught.

Silas and I exited the university, and the bustling city of Sera opened up before us. Sera was built on the side of a mountain, and was set up in tiers. At the uppermost point of the city was the Seran University, the city's prized possession. Beneath that was the sector in which the tourist attractions, merchants, and prestigious class of citizens lived, those who either had family members who were mages, or those who could simply afford our services. Beneath that, near the bottom of the mountain, was the poor sector, along the edge of the outer walls. This is where most of the people who kept the city fed and serviced lived. Some of the poor even spilled over to outside of the walls, where small farms were scattered over the surrounding plains.

From the northernmost points of Sera, the view was incredible. From the courtyard of the university, the rest of the city sloped downward for a few miles, before the plains and view beyond opened up to the horizon. It would be an easy city to defend, if there were ever a need. The view allowed defenders to see for miles, attacking the city would be an uphill climb, and Sera held one of the best armies in the world. Not only did we have the Orders of the Mages, the only army of magicians in the world, we also had the Seran Army, an army of rank and file soldiers armed with some of the best armor and weapons available to humankind. And at the very top of that army was Bjorn.

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“Hit him like you mean it! Is this a training field or a little girl's playroom? Bloody hell!”

I chuckled at the sound of Bjorn's voice bellowing out from the training fields behind the barracks. Turning the corner with Silas at my side, I caught eye of the bulky man behind the voice, yelling at two frightened men who were in a dirt arena, both wielding wooden swords.

Bjorn was my father's right-hand man in terms of the Seran Army. He was the best general we had, and also took a front seat in the training of the non-magic soldiers, putting himself in charge of melee fighters. He was a large, towering, and muscular man, with light reddish hair that held stubborn grays that he kept held back from his face in a short, messy ponytail. His face was usually covered in facial hair of some description, though he wasn't too fond of keeping it tidy. His skin was a natural tan, and his muscles stuck out in sharp angles from his body from years of training and fighting.

In comparison with my father, Bjorn was frightening in appearance. He reeked of strength and power and confidence. On the contrary, my father was thin and pale, and if one were to glance at him without knowing his name, they could be mistaken in believing he was not a threat. In a sharp contrast to what appearances would have one believe, it was my father I feared, and with Bjorn that I took solace. While I was raised as the daughter of Sirius Sera, it was Bjorn that I looked up to and admired the most.

“Bjorn!” I called. Despite being in mid-training, I knew the man would call off the day's events to make time for me if he had to.

He turned from the sparring match, his eyes brightening when he saw me. “Ah! There ya are, my girl. Word from the messengers is that your father's already looking for you.”

My heart sunk into my stomach, attempting to hide within its acidic bile. I said nothing for fear that my sudden nausea would overcome me.

“Listen, Kai, I know you're scared. Your father makes me shit my pants sometimes, myself.”

I couldn't help but chuckle a bit from the unexpected humor. I could always count on Bjorn to try to make me feel better.

“You have my support, and that will help. Your father listens to me...sometimes...as much as he tries to pretend he won't. I've already told him of your plans, and I've told him I agree.”

“What'd he say?” I asked quietly.

“Well, he had a few choice words for me, to be honest, but that's neither here or there. Just remember, you've swayed your father's opinion before. I know you remember how much he resisted siding with you on Nyx.”

Nyx. In a quick distraction, I wondered where she was. She knew that today was important for me, and yet I hadn't seen her. There had to be a reason for it. As stubborn and even arrogant as she was by nature, the Alderi held a deep respect for me after my pleas had kept her from execution. When both of us had been sixteen, five years ago, we'd met under unusual circumstances. I had been sleeping in my bed, and had awoken abruptly to find the girl standing over me, a dagger in hand.

She had noticed I had woken up, and had said, delicately, “I am here to assassinate you.”

I had heard how young her voice was, as young as mine, and had replied through fear, “Then why are you hesitating?”

She had responded, “Because I don't feel like it would be right if I did.”

Nyx and I had spent hours exchanging stories and simply talking. It had gone from me talking to her to keep her from killing me, to actually finding a lot in common with her and wanting to befriend her. She'd come from underground, where the massive cavernous cities of her race were hidden discreetly from the rest of the world's view. Like most Alderi, sometimes referred to as dark elves, she was raised to be heartless, brutal, and vengeful against the races of the above ground world. She had been employed as an assassin from twelve years of age, and though she enjoyed both the chase and the brutality of the job, she'd been searching for reasons. When I had been listed as her target, instead of adding someone high profile to her list, she had finally found someone who understood what it felt like to be raised with certain expectations while desiring something different.

Nyx had been caught in the morning when we had still been in mid-conversation, and thrown in the dungeons of the Seran University, as it also served as the city's castle. As with all caught assassins, she was to be executed for her crimes within the fortnight. With much pleading and compromise with my father, I had gotten her pardoned. We had been best friends ever since.

“You'll no doubt hear some rough words from your father today,” Bjorn went on, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Don't let him get to you. You are your own woman and you will do grand things with your life, whether or not he has planned them for you.”

I nodded, wishing my father felt the same way. “Will you be disappointed in me, Bjorn?”

“Are you kidding? You couldn't disappoint me if you tried, child. I feel lucky everyday just to be a part of your life.”

I smiled wide, before pulling the big man into a hug. His muscular arms surrounded me, squeezing lightly. He kissed me on the top of the head.

“Thank you,” I said to him.

“I'm here for you, Kai. Always will be.” He pulled back a bit, nodding behind me. “You're being summoned again.”

I turned to see a young, teenage boy running toward me. I recognized the messenger from the previous times he'd come to me.

“Kai, your father requests your presence immediately,” he said, slightly out of breath.

I tried to ignore the anxiety that traveled up my esophagus from that statement. I nodded, before turning back to Bjorn. “Call upon the Priests of Hades, Bjorn.”

“Why, my girl?” He replied, curious.

“My funeral will be held a few days from now,” I said, attempting to jest in my nervousness.

Bjorn only laughed heartily at my words. I turned back to the messenger, who was listening over our conversation with a mixture of curiosity and unease. “Where is he?”

The boy turned back toward the university. “Follow me.”