“The most perfect disguise for eternity is the fragility and innocence of a mortal body.”

  [ Troysk capital of Tarvarian Empire | Illumora ]

  The arrival of Arta in this world was mundane. Alice’s twelve-hour labor in the Nox estate in Troysk ended with the birth of an unremarkable baby girl. I was just another child, born to a family both noble in blood and powerful in influence. No one could have suspected that behind the body of their “sweet little baby,” as they called me on the first day, stood I—Order-Darkness. It was I who was the mind of this girl, her essence, her true form. This was my new body, my organic vessel, and through it, I came to know the Realm of Illumora.

  From birth, I was a quiet and calm child, crying only when my growing organism required food or a change of diapers. Alice, seeing my behavior, immediately suspected that I was not just a child, but a conduit for Order magic, and that was why I behaved so. She did not wait for me to walk or speak. Instead, she carried me to a hidden gathering of the Cult of the Silent Star, where a ritual confirmed what she already knew—that I was a conduit of Order magic. It was there that I was initiated as the future “High Priestess of the cult.”

  From that moment, everything in my life changed abruptly. Even my older sisters were no longer left alone with me; everything happened exclusively under Alice’s strict supervision.

  The first year of life, which in Illumora lasted exactly 640 days, passed quietly and peacefully, despite the hyper-vigilance of my mortal mother. Although the year was long, aging and growth in this world were slow due to the deep influence of the Veytra—the magical leylines of this Realm. Shortly after my first birthday, which was celebrated in a close family circle, I decided that simply lying in a cradle was too inefficient for me, and I began to walk and speak in full sentences. And though at first I deliberately spoke only in simple words, for Alice, watching me was a real joy; she literally glowed with happiness.

  After these events, my life changed completely: I was dressed in unremarkable gray or blue dresses, and I was regularly taught Order magic by either my mother or the cult priests, whom my mother simply called “family friends.” Unlike my older sisters, who studied etiquette, socialized with others, and learned when and how to smile, I studied—or rather, pretended to study—the theory of Order magic.

  My life was one of asceticism, a discipline etched into me from the beginning. I had no friends and no attachments, only my mother, who loved me and was strict with me at the same time. This was convenient for me, as such an upbringing was closest to my natural state. Alice, without realizing it, was carefully creating the perfect disguise for me, for which I was sincerely grateful.

  At the age of six, my father Fed abruptly intervened in my life. He convinced my mother that it was foolish to let my magical talents go to waste. Together, they decided to send me to “Chrysolite,” the best school for magically gifted children. For Alice, this was a difficult step, and for me, my first social adaptation. It was from then on, in parallel with school, that she personally began to teach me the social etiquette of a High Priestess—cold, calculating, but polite and upholding all the social standards of this world.

  School was too boring a place for me. I patiently waited as time went its own way. I already knew all the magical theory, all the techniques they tried to teach me, and I easily imitated the learning process. Perhaps I would have become the best student at Chrysolite if not for my “innate problem”—a complete inability to use the magic of Light and Chaos, which every other student possessed. Among the other students, I became an outcast; they laughed at me, which, for their age, was just a simple way to assert themselves.

  The magic of Light and Chaos contradicted my nature, but I was an excellent wielder of elemental magic: Fire, Water, Air, Earth, and Aether, and a perfect wielder of the primordial types of magic, such as Order and Darkness.

  In addition to theory and practice, it was customary at Chrysolite to practice in magical duels. I tried not to participate in this meaningless activity, but some students, seeing my weakness in Light and Chaos magic, so wanted to assert themselves that I simply had to break such upstarts. Watching their tears amused me; they lost without a chance, every time. But this stage, like my entire time at Chrysolite, was coming to its logical conclusion.

  The years went by, and on the day of my sixteenth birthday, I went to my mortal mother to convince her that I could move on.

  My words to her were measured and calm, just as she had taught me. And, looking her straight in the eye, I said: “Mother, I would like to study at the Academy of Duality in Valtheim.”

  Alice hesitated for a long time; she did not like the idea of parting with me, as it was a tormenting choice for her. Although she loved me, she wanted me to always be under her unseen control. But I saw those notes of doubt, and in the end, she agreed to my persuasions, for she had always wanted the best for me.

  Leaving Troysk was an event, of course, not for me, but for my parents, brothers, and sisters. For me, everything that was happening was just another step in my mission. Alice and Fed volunteered to accompany me personally to the empire’s border city, Stavin.

  On that summer Veytra of Aetheros, we stood early in the morning at the border post of the Tarvarian Empire. My mother, despite her inner turmoil, tried to look calm. She had gathered her silver hair into a neat bun, and her golden eyes seemed about to shed tears. She knew she was letting her daughter go not just to another country, but to a place where her destiny could unfold in the most unexpected way.

  “Remember who you are,” she said softly, fingers threading through my hair, her voice quiet but firm. “You are the successor of our line. A bearer of order. Do not forget this, even if the world tries to make you act otherwise.”

  Unlike my mother, my father stood silently beside me. He was tall and stately, as always, in the military uniform of the Ice Guard. His jet-black hair shone in the morning sun, and his violet eyes were as silent as the abyss. When it was his turn to say goodbye, he simply placed a hand on my shoulder and, with a slight smile, said: “Be strong, only then can you prove to yourself and others your place in this world. And remember: darkness is not a weakness. It is a power that must be controlled. But I don’t need to explain that to you, daughter.”

  To me, their words were sentimental and meaningless. They did not understand my true essence, for I am Order-Darkness, and I know exactly what I need to do without anyone’s advice. Nevertheless, I allowed these words to remain in my consciousness, for, in the end, it was thanks to them that I was able to incarnate in this world.

  The further journey from the border town of Stavin to Eldenbridge, a city in the kingdom of Valtheim, took a little over a week. The entire road was under the strict supervision of my father’s people, and even in the carriage, their eyes never left me. This journey, unlike the first, which had taken almost a whole Veytra, was completely different. I was used to the harsh landscapes of my native Troysk with its snow-capped passes and the steppes near the military outpost of Trizubiy, on the border with Arzanir, where the wind rustled the withered grass. Even the fertile southern territories of Tarvar, which we crossed on our way to the border, with their dense coniferous forests and countless farms that supplied the entire empire with food, could not compare to what awaited me. As soon as we were in Valtheim, the contrast became too striking. The road led us through lands full of riotous life. There were many rivers, deciduous forests were ablaze with bright colors, and fruit trees grew on their own. It seemed that in Valtheim, everything was different: brighter, warmer, as if the sun itself had decided to show special favor to this kingdom.

  Despite this, my body, accustomed to the cold climate of Troysk, felt uncomfortable here. I was hot, and I tried to stay in the shade to avoid getting sunburned.

  The Academy of Duality, which we were approaching, rose above the surroundings like an ancient temple. From the first glance at its ornate and monumental architecture, it was obvious that it was built not just as an educational institution, but as a monument to the sacrifice that has permeated the history of Valtheim for almost its entire existence. Two queens—two twins who ruled many centuries ago—offered themselves to the local gods to save the kingdom from imminent catastrophe. Since then, only girls were taught here, believing that it is women who are capable of true sacrifice. To me, this idea was absurd and senseless. Sacrifice belongs not to gender, but to weakness—the lack of power and control. However, arguing with local traditions would have been unnatural for such a “modest girl” as myself.

  After another half hour, the carriage creaked to a halt at the eastern gates of the academy, and having said goodbye to my father's people, who were forbidden to enter the school grounds, I headed straight for the central building, where the main exams were to be held.

  『 ?? 』━━━???━━━『 ? 』

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  [ 01th of Harvestor, 1748 | Eltar | 08:30 | Academy of Duality | Valtheim kingdom | Illumora ]

  The entrance trials began with a theoretical exam in the high, echoing lecture halls of the Central Building. While hundreds of noblewomen chewed on their quills and whispered nervously, trying to recall the dates of the queens' reigns or the formulas for the simplest spells, I filled out my parchment in ten minutes. The questions were primitive, based on the distorted, human understanding of magic inherent to this world. I answered them as their textbooks required—flawlessly, dryly, and without unnecessary reflection, even though most of the information there did not correspond to reality.

  Handing in my work first, I left the auditorium, catching the surprised glances of the instructors. Theory was merely a boring prelude to the practice, where I would have to bare my main weakness.

  On the main square of the academy, a “proving ground” had already been prepared to test the students' skills. Today, mages from the Ministry of Education had arrived at the academy to verify the competence of the future students. However, it was unlikely that this would prevent anyone from entering here for a simple bribe. All this ostentation was nothing more than dust in the eyes for those who were influential enough in the kingdom.

  Students gradually accumulated on the main square; some of them were pleased, others—likely the most talentless—were in tears, but the practical exercises did not begin until every applicant had passed the theory.

  The atmosphere of waiting was once again saturated with the nervousness of other girls, the smell of elemental magic, the sterile scent of ozone, and the overly cloying aroma of women's perfume.

  I awaited my turn, observing those around me with indifference and maintaining absolute calm, while other girls trembled with excitement, constantly adjusting their hairstyles or whispering nervously to each other.

  The magic tests proceeded in a strict sequence. First, elemental magic: Water, Earth, Fire, Air, Aether. Then, higher magic: Light, Darkness, Chaos. No one conducted an exam on Order magic here; it was too rare a talent to waste time on, watching the awkward movements of students.

  When my name was called, I walked to the center of the circle, outlined in chalk and surrounded by protective runes.

  “Demonstrate your potential,” the examiner, a stout woman in the robes of an elemental magister, said in a bored tone, not even looking up from her list.

  I didn't waste time on the flashy hand gestures that local mages loved so much. I simply raised my palm. First—Water Magic. Then—Earth, Fire, Air, and Aether Magic. The simplest magic, maximum effect of control and management.

  The magister nodded. “And now demonstrate your aptitude for higher magic.”

  In this world, 99% of people gifted with magic possessed at least one type of higher magic. It was either Chaos or Light, sometimes it was Darkness. And here began my main problem, because without minimal skills in at least two higher elements of magic, one simply wasn't enrolled in the academy.

  “Miss Nox, there is no need to demonstrate this magic, the runes are designed only to contain the elements,” said an elderly thin woman, one of the examiners.

  I stepped out of the circle and approached the woman. Before me stood three spheres. White, red, and violet. For the three elements of higher magic. I stood in a relaxed pose and lazily extended my hand toward the first white sphere. I didn't try to force out of myself something that was never in me. And the orb sadly dimmed, finding not a drop of magic in me.

  The elderly magister frowned, and a look of slight disappointment froze on her face. “Don't be shy, Miss Nox. Try to release emotions for Chaos,” she said confidently, as if I were supposed to have abilities for this magic.

  I approached the red sphere, extended my hand. The sphere went out again.

  A ripple of laughter ran through the rows of aspiring girls. At first quiet, then it grew into open giggling. “Look, a hollow shell!” “And how does she plan to study without higher magic?” “So much pathos with elemental magic, but inside—emptiness!”

  The chief examiner, hearing this, looked up, and then lowered her eyes again, making a note that I had failed the exams.

  However, I did not react and approached the next sphere, releasing into the orb a particle of my true magic. Darkness. The orb did not glow violet or black, as happens with other talented students in this type of magic. It became absolutely black, emitting violet rays in different directions. It was a particle of primordial Darkness—Calm and absolutely eternal.

  The laughter in the stands cut off instantly. A ringing silence hung in the air. The chief examiner recoiled, looking at the orb with superstitious horror.

  At that moment, a specialist invited from the Ministry of Magic rose from the examiners' table. A tall woman with gray hair and golden eyes. She leaned forward, examining the unusual magic effect.

  “Such a level of purity of Darkness... It is impossible to control without a rigid structure,” she muttered, and then said loudly: “Miss Nox. Please demonstrate Order Magic.”

  Hearing these words, the crowd gasped. No one was used to hearing here about what was spoken of only in history textbooks. I removed my hand from the orb, and the sphere of darkness immediately went out. Turning to the woman, I made a slight gesture with my fingers. Golden threads wove themselves from the air. They didn't look like the light everyone was used to. These were golden lines, like the laws of physics made visible. With a quiet, melodic ringing, they wove into a complex geometric figure rotating around my hand. Perfect symmetry. Absolute power over form.

  “Order...” someone exhaled in the front rows.

  Now they looked at me not with mockery. I felt the air thicken with sticky, heavy envy and fear. Those who had laughed a minute ago were now turning pale, realizing the abyss between us.

  “You are enrolled,” the tall woman's voice trembled, but she quickly pulled herself together. “Unconditionally enrolled.” She glanced sideways at the chief examiner, who sat nervously clutching her quill. “Next!”

  I stepped aside, maintaining a mask of icy indifference on my face. Their envy was as indifferent to me as their laughter. Everything was executed perfectly. I showed power, but a specific, frightening power that would force them to keep their distance and not interfere with my observations.

  The crowd of “noble” aristocrats now parted before me as if I were a leper queen. They averted their gazes, afraid to meet my eyes. And it was at this moment, in the corridor of emptiness that had formed, that I first fixed her.

  The girl stood at the edge of the platform, leaning on a pair of simple wooden crutches. In this world full of magic, cripples were a rarity—they were either treated, investing huge amounts of money in them, or hidden away from prying eyes. Chaos reigned around her: someone was sobbing over failure, someone was squealing with joy, the crowd pushed, rushing to the lists to see information about their enrollment.

  And in this chaos, a tall brunette, running past without looking where she was going, rushed toward the entrance to the central building and roughly brushed against the girl with her shoulder.

  The impact was strong and unexpected. The girl's right crutch—on the side where she had no leg—hit the cobblestone with a dull thud and flew aside, out of her reach. She didn't fall, miraculously keeping her balance on her single leg and the second crutch. But to retrieve the knocked-out support, she had to, clenching her teeth, lower herself onto one knee.

  A vacuum of feigned sympathy immediately formed around her. “Oh, poor thing...” some girl in silk whispered, covering her mouth with her palm. “How awkward,” another echoed, making no move to help. “Is she in pain? Maybe call someone?” came from the other side.

  No one offered a hand. They just stood in a circle, whispering and enjoying their superiority over the “broken doll.” There was more poison in their pity than in open contempt.

  I was passing by; the trajectory of my path intersected with the site of the incident. The girl on the cobblestones wasn't crying. She didn't look around for a savior. She silently reached for the fallen crutch. Her face was pale, but a cold, stubborn fury burned in her eyes. She hated their pity. She despised her weakness.

  I didn't slow my step or stop to help her up—that would have been a humiliation to her will. Passing by, I merely, with a slight, calibrated movement of the toe of my boot, hooked the crutch lying on the stones. It slid across the cobblestones and stopped exactly at her hand. No words. No unnecessary eye contact. No “are you alright?”. This wasn't sympathy. It was the restoration of functionality. A fallen element was returned to the operator's reach; it was a simple optimization of the process.

  I walked on without looking back, but I could already feel her gaze on my back. Not grateful, not surprised. It was the gaze of an analyst who had just discovered the single logical variable in the chaos.

  Having paid the fee for the first year of study, and receiving the keys to a room in the dormitory, I went to the academy's ceremonial hall, where the ceremony for first-year students was to begin in a few hours.

  There was plenty of time, and as I walked through the academy's park grounds, in a secluded corner before an artificial labyrinth grown from shrubs, I saw them again—Reina and Nova, sitting sweetly on a bench and talking about Light magic.

  Reina was a shorter girl with a slender figure and fiery red hair, like a flame dancing under the influence of Chaotic Light. Her silver eyes, fixed on Nova, shone with a feverish gleam, betraying a mixture of adoration and internal tension. A nervous grace was felt in her movements, and sometimes faint reddish sparks—a trace of Chaos magic—could be seen in the air around her. Every gesture, every look brimmed with power too vast for such a fragile body.

  Nova, however, was nearly her complete opposite. Tall and stately, with long platinum hair among which only occasionally silvery strands could be glimpsed—the only sign of Chaotic Light’s influence, though ordinary people would never notice. Her gray eyes remained as cold as a winter morning, although in their depths lurked a constant struggle between her duty to the ancient Cross lineage and her forbidden feelings. In every movement, one could read the aristocratic haughtiness inherent to her lineage.

  It was clear that their relationship was already in full swing. Reina did not hide her adoration; her gaze was always full of unconditional devotion. But Nova… her gaze was more complex. In it were intertwined affection for Reina, a sense of duty to her family, and an understanding of the forbidden nature of their bond. Every gesture spoke of an internal struggle between heart and mind, between desire and duty.

  Somewhere in the void, I felt a barely perceptible flash of Chaotic Light’s energy. She was watching their connection, which grew stronger with each passing day, and was sincerely pleased with what was happening: for her, such chaos was like a flower to a bee.

  I watched them for a while longer, keeping my distance. Every movement, every gesture and word—it was all part of the problem I had to solve. But I was in no hurry, for haste is sometimes worse than inaction. Only when they noticed me did I feign the confusion of any first-year student and went to the ceremony, where my new life at the Academy of Duality was beginning. And in this new life, I must unravel not only the true cause of the anomaly, but also secure the continuation of the Cross bloodline. Only then will balance be restored to this Petal.