Damian begrudgingly made his way back to the rest of the students, the sting of yet another failure settling deep.

  Gone was the bold, reckless boy who charged through slugs and threw himself into daring plans. In his place walked a muted, withdrawn figure—one who would sooner face explosions and monsters than endure another day of judgmental stares from his peers and the disappointment of instructors.

  Hurry up, Cadet Vearez!” The Drill Sergeant barked across the yard. Without missing a beat, her sharp commands turned to the rest of the students. “Everyone—sluggers, helmets, flak jackets, and magic dampeners on the rack. Line up with the rest of the class. If you need first aid, see Medic Mira. And I don’t care if the bells are ringing—no one leaves until I say so.

  A synchronized, exasperated sigh rippled through the class as they removed their gear and sluggishly formed a shoulder-to-shoulder line.

  A handful of stragglers trickled in, pausing by the school nurse, who calmly tended to their cuts and burns as she healed them with her medical wand, its soft pink glow making their burns and bruises vanish in an instant. The rest stood idly, shoulders slouched, until the Drill Sergeant corrected their lax posture with a single sharp glare and a low, menacing clearing of her throat.

  The Drill Sergeant loomed over the students, her presence as commanding as the crisp, well-fitted officer’s uniform she wore. A striking red coat with golden epaulets on the shoulders, cinched at the waist with a black belt, and extending into a fitted, slit-front skirt. A peaked officer’s cap with the symbol of the Education Corps—a book—emblazoned in its center, sat atop her neatly styled dark bob, adding to her already formidable height. She cast a sharp, scrutinizing gaze over the cadets, her expression a permanent mix of annoyance and disappointment, that dared any of them to test her patience.

  The Drill Sergeant began to pace in front of the students as she inspected them.

  Now that their padded flack jackets had been removed, they looked less like soldiers and more like boy scouts. Their uniforms were simple—red military boots, shorts barely reaching their knees, and matching collared shirts neatly fastened with black ties. Most of the students bore the common features of Solaran Natives, sun browned skin with dark eyes and hair that ranged from straight to light curls. Though a few of the students could easily be recognized as coming from the Middlelands with more varied hair and lighter skin tones.

  Damian, however, blended into the crowd rather than standing out. His skin bore the same warm brown hue as most of his peers, and his unkempt hair—which couldn’t seem to decide whether it wanted to be straight or curled—only added to his lack of distinction. He leaned toward the shorter side of average, often finding himself looking up at the other boys in his class. Though not out of shape, any muscle he had was softened by a thin layer of softness—likely the result of too many lonely weekends and an all-too-accessible fridge. And currently like many on his squad, he was in desperate need of a shower. Perhaps the only thing that truly set Damian apart from his classmates was his eyes—deep, striking green, vibrant even beneath the layers of grime.

  “Now then. Evaluations,” The Drill Sergeant began. “Cadet Franko!”

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant?” responded a frightened boy, his face somehow even filthier than Damian’s.

  “Well I’ll give you this Cadet. You are certainly ready for our night camouflage course next week.”

  “S-sorry, Drill Sergeant,” the boy stuttered out.

  “So tell me Cadet, have you uncovered some sort of new forbidden necromantic spell? Perhaps you are planning to rise from the grave and lead your squad as some sort of ghost?” she asked dryly.

  “No, Drill Sergeant.”

  “So tell me, Cadet, why were you busy rolling around on fire while the rest of your squad ran around like headless chickens?” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead turning her attention to the class as a whole.

  “Soldiers without leaders are useless! None of you are the Silver Fox, so rid yourselves of any foolish notions of heroics. A commander must maintain control of their unit—even in the direst of moments. If you can’t even keep yourself alive, how do you expect to keep your men alive?”

  For a moment, she cast a lingering glance at Damian, as if considering whether to speak. He braced himself, fully expecting to be called out after everything she had just said. But instead, she simply let out a sigh—heavy with disappointment—and moved on.

  Somehow, that felt even worse. A scolding he could handle. But it seemed that just like all the others, she too had given up on him.

  “Now then, Cadet Dominique,” The Drill Sergeant now moved on to a rather smug looking girl with long amber hair.

  Veronica Dominique, the star pupil.

  With a broad shouldered, tough, yet still fairly feminine build, she looked just as suited for a beauty pageant as she was for a wrestling match. Her amber eyes seemed to be furrowed in a near constant look of disdain, and not a single strand of her matching long hair seemed out of place after the mock battle. Her magical aptitude was leagues ahead of the rest of the class, a fact she carried with great pride.

  She stood there smugly, chest puffed up and chin held high, fully expecting praise for her latest victory.

  “Cadet Dominique, are you aware that spell development was the last course?”

  At this, her confidence wavered and her brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean? I won, didn’t I?”

  “If I wanted to see you take a leisurely stroll down the field, I’d have just made you do laps,” the Drill Sergeant snapped. “This mock battle was meant to assess your ability to command. And while you may have won—thanks to your opponents being about as coordinated as a pack of feral goblins—this was not a test of brute strength. We all know you’re perfectly capable with magic, Cadet Dominique. But while you were busy showing off, you left your flank easily being flanked.”

  At this, Vera’s expression darkened, and her sharp brown eyes immediately locked onto Damian from down the line. He barely held her gaze for a second before looking away, as if avoiding the glare of a territorial beast ready to pounce.

  “As Mage Soldiers, you will inevitably face threats far beyond your own strength. Monsters, Channelers—foes capable of magic and power that no single mage soldier could hope to match alone. That is why strategy and teamwork are your greatest weapons. No matter how outnumbered or outmatched you may be, you must always be prepared to use strategy and outthink your enemy.”

  She let her words hang in the air for a moment before demanding, “Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant!” The class echoed in unison, their voices sharp with discipline.

  “Now then you will receive your grades upon your return next week, but before I dismiss you we need to go over the Reclamation Day rally one more time,” she began, prompting another collective sigh from the class. “Yes, I know your instructors have already drilled this into your heads, but that should only tell you how serious this is.”

  She paused, scanning their faces before continuing.

  “As you all know, this class has been chosen to represent Providencia at tomorrow night’s rally. This is a responsibility, not a privilege. Your conduct will reflect directly on this academy. It is your duty to display the discipline and honor expected of a Provedencia student. If any of you so much as think about causing trouble or embarrassing this institution in any way, there will be serious consequences—including possible expulsion.”

  “Many important figures will be in attendance,” she continued. “Generals, Aces—and most importantly, the Supreme General himself. His speech will be broadcast across all of Solar. The eyes and ears of the entire nation shall be upon us, so you had better be on your best behavior. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant!” the class responded in practiced unison.

  “Very good,” she said with a nod. “We will be meeting in front of the gates of Castle Sentinel at oh-eight-hundred. Do not be late. You are dismissed!”

  With that, a unified sigh rippled through the students as shoulders sagged in relief. The line broke, and the cadets dispersed, merging into the growing throng of teens filling the campus. Conversations picked up, laughter and chatter replacing the rigid silence of formation as they funneled toward the main school buildings, eager to leave the week's trials behind.

  Damian in particular was doing his best to avoid notice on his walk back to the dorms, something he had become quite good at lately. He could already see the whispered chuckles and quick glances from a few of his classmates that often meant that he was the butt of some joke.

  But most of all he wanted to avoid Vera’s notice.

  There was a reason she had earned the title Demon of Provedencia. Her competitive streak was infamous, and her idea of restraint was nonexistent. Cadets dreaded facing her, knowing full well that a spar with Vera often ended in a trip to the medic’s office—especially so for anyone who happened to make her look anything less than perfect. A fact Damian was well aware of, having been the victim of quite a few painful jabs and second-degree burns from the girl who clearly didn’t know her own strength.

  So Damian was intent on avoiding her, hoping she might let go of her grudge by the time they returned from the weekend. All he had to do was slip back to the dorms unnoticed, grab his things, and get off campus before she had a chance to corner him. Blending into the crowd, he carefully positioned himself behind her—right in her blind spot, praying she’d be too distracted to notice.

  Luckily, at the moment, she was too busy venting to her friend Jade Willow—a sharp-eyed girl from the northern territories.

  Jade’s short, straight black hair was always neatly kept, one side tucked behind her ear, held in place with a small skull-shaped pin she never seemed to part with. But it wasn’t just her piercing blue gaze that made people uneasy. Jade had a way of unsettling others, seemingly relishing in her uncanny knack of getting under people's skin and making others squirm with her morbid interests.

  Honestly, Damian was still a little suspicious of her too. At least ever since that one time, she insisted on treating his scratches and he could have sworn she pricked him with something.

  But the important thing right now is that Vera was distracted, and if he played his cards right, he could slip past unnoticed and make it to his room unscathed. All he had to do was stay quiet and move carefully—then maybe, just maybe, he'd avoid yet another miserable encounter.

  That was, until a sudden slap on the back nearly wrenched a startled yelp from Damian’s throat.

  His shoulders tensed as he spun around, only to find Leon strolling up beside him, an ever-present, false grin plastered across his face like a business man about to close a deal.

  “So, you’re gonna make good on our deal, right?” Leon asked, his tone far too casual for Damian’s liking.

  “I mean… Things didn’t exactly go to plan.” Damian said, hoping Leon might let him off the hook. He had already been embarrassed enough and he wasn’t looking forward to bothering his dad with whatever awkward conversation Leon had planned.

  “Oh, you never said anything about your plan working. I helped you, now it’s your turn. You wouldn’t want to tarnish the good Vearez name as untrustworthy now would you?”

  Damian had no real attachment to the “Vearez” name. After all, it wasn’t some grand legacy—just him and his dad. But it was clear Leon wasn’t going to drop it, and Damian wasn’t in the mood to argue.

  “Fine, I get it,” Damian sighed. “But why do you care so much about meeting him anyway?”

  “Are you kidding? If I get noticed by the Silver Fox, I can hold it over my brothers and sisters forever. Who you know is everything in this world. Just look at that no-rank friend of yours—one day he’s a nobody, then he gets chummy with you and your dad, and now he’s climbing the ranks in the Intelligence Corps.”

  “That’s not really—” Damian started to correct him but stopped, suddenly aware of Leon’s loud voice. If Vera overheard, things would only get worse. He needed to end this conversation fast. “I don’t even know when he’ll be back.”

  “Isn’t he supposed to be at the rally tomorrow?” Leon pressed.

  “I haven’t heard from him in weeks while he’s been out at the front, so your guess is as good as mine.”

  "You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you with your father," Leon mused, his voice light, almost conspiratorial. "And, well... some people have been saying you’re not actually the Silver Fox’s kid. That you’ve just been scamming the school—not me, of course. That’d be ridiculous."

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  "Yeah, hilarious…" Damian muttered. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that one, and at this point, he was starting to wonder if there was some truth to it.

  Then something suddenly occurred to Damian. He could solve both his problems at the same time.

  “You know I heard Vera’s brother is going to be at the rally. Maybe if you cozy up to her too, you might be able to get his attention.”

  "Vera, huh? She’s been on my radar too. But well... she’s a tough cookie to crack." Leon rubbed his chin thoughtfully, like a merchant weighing a deal, before his expression suddenly brightened with confidence. "But, as old Grandpa Paulo always said—there’s no profit without risk!"

  With the overeager grin of a magicar salesman, he strode forward toward the two girls, his usual flair of misplaced confidence leading the way. Damian wished he had shown even a dash of that confidence during the test.

  “I have to say, Dominique, that was quite the show. I was shaking over there. Absolutely terrified." Leon placed a hand on his chest in mock distress as he popped up in front of the girls. "What else can I expect from a future Ace? You know—”

  “Can it, Leon. I can smell your Danero greed from here,” Jade cut in.

  Leon turned, feigning offense. “I’m sorry, northerner, but I wasn’t talking to the help.” His smirk not trying to conceal his condescension. “Especially not someone so… uncouth.”

  “Uncouth? Cute,” Jade shot back. “You know, I heard that when your grandfather betrayed the old royals, he invited some nobles over for a big dinner. And just as he made a grand toast, everyone started hacking and foaming at the mouth before dropping dead. Rumors say that the skeletons are still hidden under the Danero Manor basement to this day. Maybe if you give us a tour, we’ll think about helping you out.”

  “That is an unsubstantiated rumor!” Leon huffed. “He did no such thing. Though… admittedly, I try to avoid going down there. It’s admittedly kind of dark.”

  “Cool it, Jade.” Vera chimed in with a sadistic confidence to her voice. “It’s okay, as a ‘future ace’ it’s important to always have time for the little people.”

  “Ha ha! See that quick wit is what makes you so interesting.” Leon continued unfazed by the girl’s obvious revulsion. “And what your friend over here calls greed, my family would call foresight. We Daneros always know a good investment when they see it and you my dear are a good investment. You see, you have all the magic and personality down but you need someone to promote you, a manager of sorts.”

  “A manager? Funny. I don’t think I need to get my name out, my father is a high general. I think everyone knows my name.”

  “Your family name, sure. But your name?” Leon’s voice took on a bored drawl. “Do you want to be Vera Dominique?” He lazily gestured, then straightened up dramatically. “Or Vera Dominique!” he declared, holding up his hand as the crystal on his wrist began to shine and a small watery heroic figure manifested on the end of his finger, striking a heroic pose to accentuate his point.

  “Let’s be real. It’s not your father little kids pretend to be. No one’s buying General Dominique action figures. No comic books about him saving the day. You want to be a top Ace—like the Silver Fox.” He closed in and continued in a hushed tone, “Besides, your reputation around here could use some work.”

  Vera’s patience snapped. “What I need, Leon, is for you to shut up and get lost so I don’t have to hear your wannabe snake oil salesman pitch.”

  Leon, unfazed, grinned and waved a dismissive hand. “I get it, I get it. You need time to think it over.” He brushed off the rejection like it meant nothing, despite Vera and Jade picking up the pace to leave him behind.

  Still, he called after them, “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me! And put in a good word for me with your brother!”

  Damian had to give credit where it was due—Leon was nothing if not persistent. And, as always, reliably annoying. But at least his little stunt provided the perfect distraction, giving Damian the chance to slip away toward the dorms unnoticed by Vera.

  Without hesitation, he weaved his way through the large, multi-floored brick building. The common area was bustling with students, but he barely registered the chatter as he hurried past the tables and seating. He dodged his way up the crowded staircase to the second floor, squeezing past cadets lingering in the halls, until he reached his door—Room 207.

  The moment he stepped inside, a wave of relief washed over him—the kind that only came from shutting out the world and retreating into the quiet solitude of one’s own space.

  The room itself wasn’t anything special though. It was rather spartan all things considered—especially for a teenage boy—though this was mostly because of the constant room inspections that were forced on them. His room back home certainly was not as organized.

  This one was just a small tan room with a simple twin bed, a wooden desk, and one small window facing the rear of the building. The only things of note here were the many stacks of Ace comics littered around and a plethora of books jammed into the bookshelf and overflowing onto his desk. The books were mostly fiction—entertainment so Damian didn’t have to leave his room too often. Though there were also old textbooks and a few magic manuals Damian had picked up to help him with his magic, not that any of them worked.

  Now that Damian had made it to his room, all he had to do was change and head home—without issue, hopefully. Maybe, by the time they returned next week, everyone would have forgotten about today.

  He entered through the door, and started to step inside, but a sudden, creeping dread seized him. His skin prickled with goosebumps, and an icy shiver ran down his spine, as the inescapable feeling of a looming presence standing behind him made him freeze up.

  "Hello, Damian."

  The words slithered into his ear in a whisper, slow and sadistic, like a cat toying with a trapped mouse.

  Before he could even turn, a pushing kick sent him stumbling forward. He barely managed to catch himself as he landed awkwardly on his bed. The door slammed shut behind him, sealing him in.

  Standing in front of it, arms crossed and with a predatory glare, was none other than Vera.

  “How did you—Vera, you know girls aren’t allowed in the boys’ rooms, you aren’t supposed to be in here?”

  “Oh, please. What are they gonna do? Call my dad?" Vera scoffed, stepping further inside without a care. "I’m sure he’d be absolutely devastated to hear that I, of all people, was in your room—right between leading an entire war and managing millions of soldiers."

  She strolled past him like she owned the place, idly rummaging through his things with no regard for privacy. “Besides, you should be grateful. Me getting caught in your room might actually improve that crummy reputation of yours.”

  Damian barely had time to process the comment before Vera plucked a comic book from one of the many haphazard stacks. She flipped through it, unimpressed, lips curling into a sneer.

  “You still read these? Seriously? When are you gonna grow up?”

  “Since when don’t you? We used to read them together all the time.”

  “Yeah. Used to.” Vera snapped the book shut and tossed it back without a second glance. “Then I grew up and stopped living in fantasies.”

  Damian barely caught it, scowling. “You only say that because you actually get to live your fantasy.”

  Vera scoffed, “Yes, because that’s my reality. Yours is that you need to stop making a fool of yourself.”

  “Is this because I outmaneuvered you in the mock battle?”

  That struck a nerve. Vera’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, her crystal pulsed as a flicker of embers curled from her clenched fist. But instead of snapping, she rolled her shoulders and scoffed, shaking it off like it was beneath her.

  “As if! I only let you past me because I knew you’d screw up anyway.” She waved him off like it wasn’t even worth discussing. “Besides, I don’t care what the Drill Sergeant says. If my strategy worked, that’s her problem, not mine. Maybe she should make the test harder if she actually wants me to try.”

  "Anyway, this isn’t about me—it’s about you!" Vera jabbed a finger at Damian. "You always do this. You beg the teachers to let you into some stupid course, get all fired up, pull some reckless stunt that blows up in your face—then you mope in your room until you convince yourself you’ve made some 'breakthrough' and start the cycle all over again. You’re just torturing yourself!"

  She huffed, arms crossed. “You think I would care if I wasn’t your friend.”

  "Oh, is that what you are? My friend?" Damian grumbled.

  Vera’s expression faltered for just a second before her brows furrowed. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

  "You haven’t exactly been all that friendly lately, have you?" Damian shot back. "I don’t even remember the last time you talked to me in public. Half the class probably doesn’t even know we know each other."

  "Don’t try to turn this around. We used to do everything together when we first started at the academy."

  Damian let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah, you mean you ordered me to do everything with you."

  “But then you—!” Vera cut in sharply, ignoring his retort. “—started acting all weird once your magic problems began. What was I supposed to do? Let you drag both our family names through the mud?”

  She sneered, arms crossed tight. “Let’s be honest—you wouldn’t even still be here if it weren’t for who your dad is. But at the rate you’re going, that won’t last much longer. How many more times can you mess up before they decide you’re too much of an embarrassment and cut you loose? It doesn’t exactly look good for the academy if they can’t even teach magic to the son of the greatest Mage Soldier in the Dominion.”

  After that final emotional jab, whatever fight Damian had left drained from him. His shoulders slumped, and he hung his head in quiet defeat.

  Even Vera seemed to notice his shift in demeanor. In a rare moment of self-reflection, she realized she might have pushed too far. With a sigh, she plopped down beside him on the bed, her voice softening into something almost… nurturing.That unsettled Damian more than her anger.

  “Look, all I’m saying is stop worrying,” She leaned back. “So you can’t do magic, so what? Just focus on the academic stuff and forget about all this Ace nonsense. You’re still the Silver Fox’s son. Once you graduate, you could land any position you want."

  She nudged his arm. “And if you really want to be near the action, I can always take you with me. Once I’m an Ace, you can be my number two—stay safe back at command, never have to worry about hurting those pretty green eyes of yours.”

  "I don’t want to be your manservant for the rest of my life."

  Vera smirked. “Would that be so bad?” She leaned back on her elbows, clearly amused by the thought.

  “I want to be where the action is! I want to make a difference. I want to protect people and… and…” Damian trailed off, jaw tightening. He exhaled sharply and shook his head. “Just forget it. You don’t understand. Just leave me alone.”

  Without missing a beat, she shot up with an irritated snort, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Fine! I tried. But if you’re so determined to wallow in pity, then I give up.”

  "Why did you even come here? Just to make me feel worse?" Damian muttered.

  "No, actually…" Vera smirked. "Believe it or not, I came to invite you to a party."

  Damian blinked. "A… party?" His skepticism was written all over his face.

  Vera rolled her eyes, arms crossing. "Yes, a party. My parents are going to be out the day after the rally, which means I’ll have the whole estate to myself. So I’m throwing a party. And of course, I’m inviting you."

  Damian narrowed his eyes. "What’s the catch?"

  "Why does there have to be a catch?" Vera shot back, feigning innocence.

  "Because there’s always a catch. And you're being way too nice."

  She locked eyes with Damian, staring daggers in a last-ditch effort to scare him into silence. But Damian had known her too long and been burned too many times to fall for it.

  "Fine!" Vera huffed, throwing up her hands. "I kiiind of told everyone I was going to show off some of the cool stuff from my dad’s trophy room. But I didn’t realize he locked all the good stuff in the vault after… well…"

  "The incident?"

  “Yeah, well, no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get in. Then I remembered your dad’s study has all those war trophies and experimental gadgets, right?”

  Damian’s expression darkened. “Wait… You want me to break into my dad’s study? No! Absolutely not!”

  Vera groaned, rolling her eyes. “Oh, come on, Damian. Your dad leaves all that stuff sitting right there. A couple of inches of wood is a lot easier to get through than five inches of steel.”

  “That’s not the point!” Damian shot back. “My dad trusts me. This is exactly why your dad locked all that stuff away in the first place.”

  “C’mon, Damian, I’m going to look like some desperate liar. I need this—it might be my only chance to get people to think I’m cool instead of, y’know… just being scared of me all the time.”

  “Or—and hear me out—you could just try being a little nicer. Maybe stop steamrolling people during practice.”

  Vera scoffed. “Are you kidding? How am I supposed to be the best if I hold back all the time? Maybe they should stop being a bunch of wusses and actually give me a challenge for once.”

  Damian sighed. “You know, you need people to actually like you for this to work.”

  Vera waved him off. “Whatever. You need this as much as I do. You can’t keep hiding in here forever.”

  “Not forever,” Damian muttered. “Just… until I figure out whatever I need to do to get my magic working. I know I’ll get it eventually.”

  A slow, wicked smile spread across her face—as if he had just walked into her trap. "You know… your dad probably has all kinds of stuff in there. Gadgets that amplify magic, crystals that change magic affinities… Who knows? Maybe something in there could help with your little problem.”

  That was a point that immediately stuck with Damian.

  It had been years since they last got into General Dominique’s collection, but he still remembered the strange gadgets and relics they’d messed with. Even back then, when they barely knew what they were doing, those things let them perform magic they didn’t even understand. And now, with everything he’d learned so far, maybe… just maybe, there was something in there that could help him.

  He had already tried everything else—training, books, practice drills—and nothing worked. If there was anything that could give him a chance of breaking past his limit, it would be among his father’s collection.

  Damian’s train of thought derailed as Vera leaned into his personal space, her smug smile practically glowing with self-satisfaction. “Ah-ha, there it is. I knew that would get your attention.”

  Before he could even form a defense, she was already on her feet, barking orders like a general. “Now, all you have to do is grab everything that looks cool and bring it to my place for the party.”

  “Wait… I didn’t sa—”

  “And if you don’t,” she cut in smoothly, her smirk turning downright wicked, “I’ll tell everyone you used to wet the bed until you were twelve.”

  Damian stiffened. “Hey, come on! That’s not fair! It’s not my fault I kept having those weird nightmares, and it was only a couple of times.”

  “Then make sure you show up, and you won’t have anything to worry about,” Vera sang, already heading for the door like the matter was settled.

  “Bu—” He made a half-hearted attempt to stop her, but she was already halfway out.

  “So, see you at the party. "She sang, before threatening “Or else I'll make sure you hexing regret it!” before slamming the door shut in his face.

  Damian stood there, stunned, trying to process how he’d just been roped into another one of Vera’s schemes. Again.

  With a long, exasperated sigh, he gave in to defeat, flopping onto his bed with a groan. So much for a quiet, stress-free weekend.

  Any hope of laying low and getting a break from his problems and worries had just gone up in smoke.