Chapter 18: Affinity

The ache from combat training still lingered in my arms by the time we reached the spellcasting hall. Whatever pride I’d earned during the duel with Anastella had long since been replaced by stiffness—and a growing hunger for a bath.

The hall was nothing like the arena.

Where the training grounds had been loud, hot, and chaotic, this room hummed with quiet magic. The air felt cooler. Sharper. Pale blue light pulsed from glyphs etched into the smooth walls. Runes—hundreds of them—some I recognized, many I didn’t.

At the front stood a woman draped in layered robes of deep violet and silver. Her black hair shimmered with streaks of indigo, as if it had been woven from moonlight itself—natural, not conjured. She turned as we entered, her face calm, her violet eyes distant but focused.

“I am Professor Calia Wynnshade,” she said softly. Yet the room hushed without her needing to raise her voice. “Welcome to Spell Theory.”

I exchanged a look with Caelan, who mouthed, She’s terrifyingly graceful.

He wasn’t wrong.

Professor Wynnshade gestured toward the glowing runes around us. “This class is designed to awaken the potential you carry. We will not be hurling fire or summoning storms today. Instead, we will discover the element that answers when you call.”

She stepped aside, revealing a floating pedestal with a smooth, orb-like crystal resting atop it. Pale light shimmered inside—shifting like fog.

“This is an affinity crystal,” she explained. “When you place your hand on it, your mana will react. The crystal will glow with the color of your elemental affinity,” she said, raising the polished orb so it caught the ambient light. “Red for Fire, green for Wind, brown for Earth, yellow for Lightning, navy for Water… and black for Null. If you have more than one, it will flicker between them. If it doesn’t glow at all… then you’ll be learning to fight like a bender.”

She paused, her eyes gliding over the room.

Toren’s expression tightened slightly.

Professor Wynnshade raised her hand. “We will proceed in seating order.”

There was a brief shuffle of movement as the class lined up. Most tried to hide their nerves. Others—like Anastella—stood tall, exuding confidence like it was perfume.

The first few names came and went—students I didn’t know well. Some lit up with fire-red flashes. One boy’s crystal stayed dim, and Professor Wynnshade only nodded, unfazed.

“Caelan Morvain.”

Caelan stepped forward, hands at his sides, face unreadable. He placed one hand on the orb.

At first, nothing happened. Then a dull black glow bloomed inside the crystal—followed by a slow flicker of brown.

“Null and Earth,” Professor Wynnshade confirmed with a small nod. “Strong combination of elements Mister Morvain.”

Caelan returned to his spot beside me, giving me a crooked smile. “Guess I’m not just a brooding gremlin after all.”

“Debatable,” I muttered.

“Marza Idrin.”

Marza sauntered up like it was a performance. She pressed her hand to the orb, and it flared a vibrant red.

Fire,” the professor said without comment.

Marza smiled to herself, her long braid swaying as she turned.

“Orrin Wells.”

Orrin stepped forward, tall and broad-shouldered, but clearly nervous. He rubbed his palms on his trousers before pressing his hand to the orb.

A deep navy glow swirled through the crystal.

“Water,” Professor Wynnshade said.

Orrin let out a quiet breath of relief, shooting me a small grin as he returned to our group. I nodded back—he’d been worried about having none.

“Toren Vale.”

Toren’s face was pale. He approached stiffly, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes. When his hand pressed to the orb, nothing happened.

Seconds passed. Still nothing.

Professor Wynnshade didn’t react. “No elemental affinity,” she said gently. “You will be placed in bender training.”

Toren returned to the group, jaw tight. Seraphine touched his arm as he passed, but he barely acknowledged it.

“Rias Fenrir.”

My sister moved forward, calm as ever. Geri stayed curled at her spot, unmoving. Rias raised her hand and pressed it lightly to the orb.

Black.

Then green.

It flickered between the two, soft and smooth.

“Wind and Null,” said Wynnshade.

I felt a strange mix of pride and surprise. She hadn’t even flinched.

“Seraphine Elandor.”

Seraphine strode forward confidently. The orb responded instantly—first with red, then flashes of yellow like lightning inside a storm.

“Fire and Lightning.”

She smiled politely and returned to her place.

“Anastella Vortigern.”

The air shifted slightly as she stepped up. Her presence pulled attention like gravity. The crystal didn’t hesitate—burning red like a forge fire.

“Fire,” Professor Wynnshade said.

Anastella didn’t look back as she walked away. I could still feel her eyes on me, like coals pressed against my skin.

Then—

“Arthur Fenrir.”

Every eye turned.

I stepped forward slowly, feeling my pulse in my throat. I knew what at least two of my affinities were—but knowing and seeing were different things. I placed my hand on the orb.

Red.

Then yellow.

Then—black.

The crystal pulsed erratically, cycling through the three colors with increasing intensity before settling into a hypnotic flicker.

Whispers spread through the class.

“Three…”

“Did it just show black too?”

“Null, Lightning, and Fire,” Professor Wynnshade said, her tone unreadable. “I had a feeling you would shock the class.”

I pulled my hand away. My palm tingled.

As I turned back to rejoin the others, my eyes flicked toward her—just for a second.

The professor wasn’t watching the orb anymore.

She was watching me.

“Last one,” she said, as if shaking off a thought. “Elaris Halia.”

Elaris stepped forward without hesitation. She didn’t walk with the confidence of Seraphine or the grace of Anastella—hers was a quiet certainty, like she’d already made peace with whatever answer the orb would give.

She pressed her hand to the crystal.

It didn’t flicker.

It didn’t flare.

It simply… turned black.

A deep, velvety darkness spread through the orb, not pulsing or flashing—just steady. Calm. Unmoving.

“Null,” Professor Wynnshade confirmed, her voice barely above a whisper.

There were a few murmurs in the back, but Elaris ignored them. She stepped away and returned to the group, pausing briefly beside me.

“Looks like we match in more ways than one,” she said softly, her eyes not quite meeting mine.

I blinked. “Yeah. Guess we do.”

She hesitated, then added, “I’m… glad I’m not the only one.”

I wanted to say something back—but the words stuck. So I just nodded, and we stood in silence for a beat longer than was comfortable.

The class dismissed not long after. No lecture. No grand send-off.

Just quiet awe as we filed out of the spellcasting hall and into the open sky.

The breeze had shifted.

And then I saw it.

Floating in the far distance—just barely visible over the school—were islands in the sky. Massive landmasses suspended above the clouds, glinting with waterfalls and distant structures. Like they’d been cut from the earth and hung in place by invisible threads.

I wasn’t sure if I stopped walking, or if Elaris did first.

But the two of us stood there, side by side, watching the floating isles draw closer.

“They’re beautiful,” she whispered.

And for once—I agreed, fully and silently.

They were.

The other students drifted away one by one, chattering excitedly about their affinities or grumbling about what they hadn’t gotten. But Elaris and I stayed behind.

The sky burned a golden hue as the sun dipped lower. The floating isles were closer now—looming like something from a forgotten dream. For a long time, we said nothing.

“I thought I’d be relieved,” Elaris murmured beside me.

I glanced at her. Her arms were crossed loosely, her hair ruffling in the wind. “Relieved?”

“That I wasn’t the only one with Null.” She hesitated. “But now that I know you have it too… I don’t know. It’s comforting—but it scares me too.”

“Because it’s rare?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Because it’s misunderstood. People fear what they don’t understand. Null magic… it doesn’t create or destroy. It changes things. Warps them. Twists rules no one realizes can be bent.”

I swallowed hard. “Do you think that’s why we were chosen for it?”

“I think,” she said slowly, “it chose us.”

A gust of wind swept by, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Arthur… I don’t know if this sounds dumb, but… ever since the first day we talked, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

I blinked. That came out of nowhere.

“I mean, I figured it would pass,” she rushed on, a soft blush rising in her cheeks. “We’re both new to this—school, nobles, everything. But then we kept running into each other. The library. Training. Meals. And it felt like… fate.”

I smiled slightly. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing.”

She finally turned to face me fully, her amber eyes serious. “So… are we going to keep pretending it’s just coincidence?”

“No,” I said, voice quiet. “I don’t want to.”

She took a small step closer. The floating isles loomed behind her like a painting come to life.

“I like you, Arthur. I don’t care that you’re the crowned prince. I don’t care about your last name. I like you because you’re… you.”

My heart thudded harder than it had during the duel.

“I like you too,” I admitted. “Honestly, I think I’ve liked you since the library. You were the first person who treated me like… me. Not a mystery. Not a headline.”

She exhaled in relief, the tension in her shoulders melting. “So what now?”

I hesitated—but only for a second.

“Now,” I said, reaching out to gently take her hand, “we stop pretending. You and me—boyfriend and girlfriend.”

A wide smile broke across her face. “That simple?”

“Simple’s good sometimes.”

She laughed—a light, genuine sound—and squeezed my hand.

Above us, the floating isles continued their slow approach, casting long shadows over the school.

In that moment, standing beside her with the wind in our hair and magic in the air, the weight of everything else—royalty, danger, politics—faded.

It was just us.

Arthur Fenrir.

Elaris Halia.

And the start of something new.