Morgana Darkstar's POV (a few minutes before the King class beast arrived)
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The cold never really left her.
It clung to her skin like a second soul, stitched beneath her robes, tucked inside her breath. Some days, it felt like a comfort. Other times, a reminder. But today, it was armor. An armor for utter defense and destruction for these beasts.
Morgana Darkstar walked in silence through the frozen edge of the trial zone, her boots crunching softly against frost-kissed leaves. The air around her shimmered faintly with cold, forming small flecks of snow that never fully fell. A flick of her wrist and a trail of ice followed, weaving behind her like a ghost that refused to let go.
Somewhere in the distance, monsters screamed.
She didn't flinch.
Her presence went unnoticed by most. That was intentional. Despite the elegant sigil of the Celestial Sect etched into her cloak, Morgana preferred not to draw attention unless necessary. She hadn't come to the Academy to be seen.
She'd come for one person.
Andrew Lionheart. The third prince of Aurora. Extreme fire physique. Son of a king. Rumored upcoming prodigy.
Her mission wasn't to kill him. Or protect him, but instead to basically throw herself to him as a wife. It was generally known that once an Ice and fire physique are born in an era, they were destined for one another, whether they liked it or not. It was also impossible for two of the same physique to appear in an era, so her only choice was him. Just to observe—to judge whether the one who burned was worth the one who froze.
A match made in spirit, her father had called it.
"He is a flame, and you are the frost. Opposing forces that complete the cycle."
Morgana had smiled politely when he said that, as a good daughter should. But inside, she felt the old ache again. The tightness in her chest that came when he spoke about her future, her value, her duty.
Never her.
She shook the thought away and glanced up. A soft wind stirred the trees. Her breath curled into fog.
Then, a low growl.
She turned.
Three beasts stalked from the shadows—slim, feline shapes, fur bristling with shards of stone, teeth gleaming like polished knives. Rock Panthers. Fast. Territorial. Efficient killers.
Morgana exhaled once, then raised her hand.
"I don't have time for this."
Her palm pulsed with power. Ice spiraled outward in a circle, freezing the grass in seconds. The panthers charged.
Glacier Vein Art – First Flow: Stillwater Cage.
Thin vines of frost snapped upward from the ground, wrapping the beasts mid-leap. Their limbs froze instantly, the life in their eyes dimming before their bodies hit the ground.
She let her hand drop. The frost stayed behind.
This was nothing.
Ten minutes later, she found him.
Andrew Lionheart stood alone in a clearing torn by fire. The trees were blackened, the air thick with smoke. Around him lay the bodies of scorched monsters, some twitching, most still.
He wasn't even out of breath.
Flames curled lazily around his fingers as he flexed his hand. Golden hair tousled, face streaked with soot. There was a grin on his lips. The kind of grin people wore when they believed the world owed them something.
Morgana watched from behind a tree.
So that's him.
He looked less like a prince and more like a boy who'd just gotten lucky in a fight. But power wasn't the issue—she could feel it rolling off him, wild and untrained. The heat in his blood was real. The physique was no lie.
What concerned her was something else entirely.
His eyes.
He had the eyes of someone who'd never been told "no" in a way that mattered.
Before she could move, he noticed her.
His gaze locked on hers across the clearing, and for a second, something in his expression shifted. Curiosity? Amusement? Hard to say.
He approached.
"Didn't expect to run into a snow spirit out here," he said casually.
Morgana didn't answer right away. She stepped forward, allowing her presence to settle over the space. The temperature dipped several degrees. Her eyes stayed steady on his.
"I'm not a spirit."
He smiled. "Could've fooled me. You from the Celestial Sect?"
"Yes."
He gave a low whistle. "That's rare. You lot don't usually leave your mountaintop unless there's something big going on."
She tilted her head slightly. "You know a lot about us?"
"Just enough to be cautious."
He said it like a joke, but she could see the edge behind his words. He was watching her too, measuring her. Probably wondering if she was a threat or an ally. Or just someone pretty who happened to be in the same zone.
She didn't care what he assumed.
"You're Andrew Lionheart," she said.
He raised an eyebrow. "Guilty."
"I've heard things."
"Good things, I hope?"
She didn't reply, but she had to admit: He was handsome. Any girl would be fawning over him, but she wasn't any girl; she was the holy daughter of the number one sect on the planet.
Andrew laughed softly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, can't win everyone over, I guess. You've got a name?"
"Morgana."
"Cool. Like the sorceress?"
She frowned. "No."
He grinned wider. "Alright. Just Morgana, then."
There was a beat of silence. He didn't seem in a rush to leave.
She considered saying something else, but the words didn't come. What was she even hoping to find? Some flash of humility? A moment of depth beneath the smirk?
Instead, he gestured to the field of beasts behind him. "I've been clearing these things for a while now. Figured I might as well rack up points."
Morgana nodded slightly. "You're doing well."
"Thanks. You too, probably. Though I imagine your style's a little more… graceful."
She said nothing.
Andrew's grin faltered, just a little. "Alright, well. I won't keep you."
He turned, fire flaring around his feet as he walked away. No goodbye. No polite end.
Just done.
She stood there for a while after he left, listening to the crackle of dying flames.
That was him?
She'd been told to look for a possible partner. Someone whose fire could balance her ice. Whose path could mirror hers.
But all she saw was a boy playing with matches.
Powerful, yes. Talented, clearly. But arrogant. Loose. Restless. There was no discipline in him. No anchor.
And that disappointed her more than she'd expected.
She didn't show it, of course. She was the Holy Daughter of the Celestial Sect. Her emotions were things she folded into neat corners and packed away.
But deep down, she'd wanted to believe the stories. That there was someone who burned as fiercely as she froze. Someone who might understand the weight they both carried.
Instead, she'd found another prince who didn't know what to do with his crown. For now she would watch him, to see if she could share her burden with her
Later, as she moved deeper into the trial zone, the ice at her feet began to shimmer with every graceful steps she took. The world around her returned to stillness. Her expression remained unreadable.
But her thoughts drifted.
Not to Andrew.
Not to her father.
But to someone else entirely.
That moment, hours ago, when the sky itself had bent under a presence that made her knees fall to the ground. The world had gone silent. She hadn't even seen him properly, but she'd felt him.
Whoever he was, he didn't just have power. He was power. Maybe if she got him by their side, her father would eventually pay attention to her.
She saw it, that sense of inferiority they all had when he arrived. Even her so-called fated one, Andrew, had tried to laugh it off. Pretended it didn't rattle him.
Morgana hadn't laughed.
She wanted to find that person.
The one who made the trial zone hold its breath.
Because that—not some prince of fire—felt like someone who could walk beside her. Even if she couldn't escape this fate of being with Andrew, she would still try. She wanted her fate to be in her hands, not by some divine will.
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Yes guys, Morgana has daddy issues, and please do not worry. I just wanted you guys to know some of the important characters and go more in-depth into who they truly are.
Please throw Power stones guys!!!!