Dawn's first light filtered through stained-glass windows, painting the auditorium's vaulted stone walls with amber and ash. The dais before them gleamed, its rune-etched eye pulsing faintly—just when the exam day's fog still lay heavy in her lungs.
"Today we turn our gaze to royalty," began Professor Raelin, voice soft yet firm. "The story of Prince Daeris—the heir who rebuilt a kingdom, yet forgot the one he loved."
A collective murmur rippled. She met Alin's eye, their shared glance a tide of expectation.
Professor Raelin continued: "Daeris and his lady pledged their hearts beneath moonlit archways. But when he ascended, his memories fled—whether through grief… or design, no one can say."
On the dais, the rune flickered—breathing life into the legend. A stray silver petal drifted down—caught in a sunbeam, it glimmered beside her foot.
Beside her, Alin bent low, whispers gentle: "It's the crest—our fox." His voice was cautious, but his eyes held conviction.
She wrapped a finger around her brooch. This was no accident.
"Debate: What stronger binds a ruler—legacy… or the love he leaves behind?" The professor posed the question to the students.
Hands rose. Among them, a confident rival—Morven—smirked as he answered: "A ruler void of memory is a danger. He must be guided—by advisers, or by force."
The auditorium shifted. She cleared her throat, Raven's voice calm but firm: "Or… the people."
A hush. "Public will can strengthen a crown as much as lineage," she continued. "Daeris found that out—his forgotten love became the heart of his reforms."
Morven's sneer flickered. He's not wrong… but he's not right, either.
As lecture ended, Iris slipped beside her, parchment in hand. "Did you catch that petal?" She whispered, voice low. "There's more to Daeris than history."
Alin's gaze followed the dais' rune. He offered her a wry grin: "Ready for the gala tonight?"
She inhaled, heart pounding—anticipation and dread intertwined like braided cords. What will we uncover under moonlight… and what shadows lie in wait?