As they walked in silence behind Mr. Flamefoot, the floating training field began to descend, slowly spiraling down like a drifting island. Its mechanical roots retracted with soft, metallic hums, gears turning in reverse as it returned to its designated spot on the school grounds—an enormous open platform nestled between the Tower of Combat and the Elemental Halls.
The campus shimmered with magic.
Mr. Flamefoot led them through a hovering hallway made of glass and shimmering light. It curved over the school gardens like a bridge, giving a sweeping view of students below—some riding their familiars, others levitating books or sparring with flickers of power.
Aurelia followed him closely, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her emerald eyes were narrowed, her aura cool, distant. Even after winning, she wore the same impassive expression she always did. No gloating. No praise. Just… focus. She was always like that. Victory was expected, not celebrated.
Solara strolled behind her, holding up a floating, circular mirror that followed her at shoulder height. She fixed a few strands of her voluminous brown curls, brushing them into place. "Can't be seen walking around while looking like I just flew through a wind tunnel," she mumbled, blowing a kiss at her reflection.
Reika's eyes were fixed on her glowing, translucent phone. Her fingers moved quickly, swiping through streams of data, glyphs, energy readouts—maybe training stats, maybe readings on that green-skinned boy's arm shift. She never said what she was looking at, but it was always something strange, always precise.
Estella, still buzzing from everything that had happened, just kept quiet. Her heart still pounded from the chase, from losing the flag and from that moment of triumph. Her fingers twitched with the faint glow of light, but it faded just as quickly. She looked at them. At her team. Though labelled as the misfits, They were the best of the best.
And then at herself.
What was she doing among them?
They entered the school's central tower, an enormous spire that pierced the clouds like a needle woven with ancient runes. Inside, the light changed. It wasn't cold or sterile—it was warm, humming with gentle magic. The walls were lined with ancient banners, glowing portraits, and moving diagrams that illustrated old battles and long-lost powers.
They reached a grand door—dark mahogany, engraved with golden vines that shimmered in response to Mr. Flamefoot's presence.
He placed his palm against the center.
The door pulsed once, then opened inward.
They stepped into the Headmistress's office.
It was more of a chamber than a room. High ceilings stretched like the inside of a cathedral dome. Hundreds of glowing books floated lazily between the tall, spiraling shelves. The light came not from candles or bulbs, but from the very ceiling itself, where a magical mural of the cosmos rotated slowly above, shifting stars and glowing galaxies in perfect harmony.
At the far end of the room, the Headmistress stood with her back to them. Her posture was regal, her hands gently resting on the desk behind her, her gaze cast out through a tall arched window showing the floating islands and starlit forests in the distance.
Her hair was the color of silver moonlight, soft and cascading like a waterfall. Even from behind, her presence radiated strength. It wasn't intimidating—it was timeless. She wasn't an elf, nor a celestial. But she was something powerful. Something ageless.
"Mistress," Mr. Flamefoot said with quiet reverence, bowing. "I've brought them."
The woman turned slowly.
Her face was lined but beautiful—eyes a luminous sky-blue that glowed softly in the twilight. Her robes shimmered like stardust, woven with cosmic threads. A silver pendant shaped like an infinity spiral hung from her neck.
"Ah, Team Ten," she said with a gentle smile.
At her words, Aurelia bowed first, graceful and without hesitation. Solara lowered her mirror and followed. Reika gave a respectful nod. Estella—slightly behind—fumbled to match them and quickly dipped her head low.
"Please, girls," the Mistress said kindly. "Take a seat."
They sat on the curved crystal benches around her desk, which was filled with glowing runes and slowly turning relics.
"You must be wondering why I've called you all here," she said, hands folding as she leaned against the edge of the desk.
"Uh…" Solara spoke first, twirling a curl around her finger. "Because we won?"
The Mistress chuckled softly. "Oh no, dear. While your victory was quite impressive… that's not the reason."
She walked over to a vast bookcase near the corner of the room. With a flick of her fingers, one thick, ancient tome floated down to her, landing gently in her hands. She carried it over to the table and placed it before them, turning to a page already bookmarked by a thread of starlight.
"You girls were not chosen at random," she said, voice serene. "You were selected for a reason. Do you know of the Elemental Pearls?"
Estella caught her breath.
She had read about them. Once. In an old, dusty book in the school archives. Four pearls said to be the keys of cosmic balance. Myth and legend. Stories.
She leaned in as the Mistress continued.
"These pearls were once used to maintain the harmony of the multiverse," she said, gesturing to the illustrations. "Each one holds the raw essence of a primal element. When great trouble arose, they were the only force capable of restoring order. But as power always invites danger… they became targets."
She flipped to another page—four glowing spheres, each a different color: Azure blue for water. Golden-white for light. Molten red-orange for fire. And crackling violet for electrical energy.
"To protect them, the Elders each took one and vanished. They passed from memory. The knowledge of their locations died with them."
The Mistress sighed.
"But now, a new threat is rising. His name is Voldegro."
"Volde-wha?" Solara repeated not liking how the name sounded.
Mr. Flamefoot stepped in. He turned the page to an image of a warrior in radiant armor, his sword the size of a tree trunk.
"He was once a Celestial Guardian," Mr. Flamefoot said. "He held the Pearl of Light during the Cosmic War and led the guardians to victory. One of the finest warriors the stars ever birthed."
"Then why is he a problem now?" Reika asked, one brow raised.
"He turned," Flamefoot said simply. "Corrupted by his desire to own all the pearls. He tried to absorb their energy, to make himself a god. He was caught. Imprisoned. But… he escaped. And vanished."
"No one knows where," the Mistress added. "But recently, something changed. The Kelono Galaxy—a place of brightness and life—has gone dark. No light. No energy. Nothing."
"Voldegro was excellent at making or destroying light," Mr. Flamefoot said gravely. "Once he turned evil, he became the harbinger of void. Of silence."
Estella swallowed.
"But what do you want us to do?" Aurelia asked, her voice level. Her tone edged slightly toward Estella's direction, but she didn't fully look at her. "We can't even use our powers properly."
The Mistress nodded calmly. "That's why we will train you. The Elemental Pearls will only answer to four true carriers—those who embody Water, Fire, Electric Energy… and Light."
She looked at each of them as she named the element. Finally, her eyes landed on Estella, whose heart felt like it might burst through her ribs.
Reika frowned, skeptical. "And if they don't answer to us? What if we fail?"
The Mistress's gaze softened.
"Then," she said, "we find another way. There is always another way. But if the pearls do choose you… you may be the last hope of restoring balance."
The room fell into silence.
Above them, the painted cosmos shimmered slightly, a single constellation dimming in the upper dome.
Estella looked at her hands.
Light?
Could she really be able to hold something that once saved the universe?
Solara cracked her knuckles. "Well," she said, smirking slightly, "guess we better not fail, then."