XCER

Chapter 02: Devian

"Devian, you're home already?!" Gemma's voice echoed through the house as I stepped inside, the day's weight clinging to me like a shadow.

"Yeah, Gemma, I'm back," I responded, my voice barely above a whisper, a tired smile pulling at the corners of my lips. I kicked off my shoes, the relief momentary, as the familiar quiet of the house wrapped around me like a shroud. I climbed the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

When I entered my room, I dropped my bag with a dull thud, its contents spilling out carelessly. My eyes caught on the pencil case, slightly ajar. I reached for it, my fingers brushing against the cold surface of a black ballpoint pen. I sat down at my desk, twirling the pen between my fingers, my thoughts spiraling into a place far darker than the room I sat in.

"Devian, come down right now!" Father's voice cut through the silence like a knife, deep and sharp, commanding obedience. My pulse quickened. Father was home.

Anxiety clawed its way into my chest as I hastily shoved the pen into the pages of a nearby book, hiding it as though it carried some terrible secret. The thought of the upcoming OutSet Gala, the event where the Royal families gather to showcase their heirs at Veridian School, suddenly weighed heavily on me. I wasn't ready. I never was.

I straightened my tie in the mirror, running a hand through my hair in a feeble attempt to regain composure. The reflection staring back at me was pale, worn—an imposter wearing the face of a prince. Taking a deep breath, I descended the stairs, each step a reminder of the conversation that awaited me.

"Hello, Father," I greeted him, my voice steady despite the cold sweat forming at the base of my neck. "How was your day?"

"It was fine," he replied curtly, his gaze cold and unforgiving. "The Gala is soon. Have you prepared?"

The words hit like a blow to the chest. I stammered, my mind scrambling for a response. "I—uh, I haven't gotten around to it yet."

Father's disappointment was a tangible thing, pressing down on me like a physical weight. His eyes, always so sharp, bored into mine with an intensity that left no room for excuses. "Why haven't you? Go to your room and finish it now," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. Then, turning his gaze to Gemma, he added, "And you. You didn't get the job, did you? You both are always so unprepared."

I retreated to my room, my heart heavy with the echo of Father's words. As I plugged in my headphones, I tried to drown out the suffocating silence that followed, but the music offered little comfort. Father's disappointment was too loud, even in the quiet.

"You must master all skills here in Xcer," Mr. Aetheria's voice droned on, but my mind was elsewhere, consumed by the thoughts of the night's Gala. My eyes drifted across the classroom, searching for her. She sat near the window, bathed in sunlight, her purple hair gleaming as it spilled over her shoulders, held back by a simple red barrette. There was something haunting in her beauty—porcelain skin, delicate and pale, as if she were not of this world.

I tightened my grip on the fountain pen, the metallic coolness grounding me as I fought to keep my mind from wandering too far.

"Class dismissed," Mr. Aetheria's voice cut through my thoughts, snapping me back to reality. I hurriedly gathered my belongings, but not before sneaking one last glance at her. She lingered, still engrossed in her notes as the classroom emptied. "You guys can go ahead," I called out, my voice laced with false indifference.

"Are you sure?" Aria asked, her brow furrowed.

"Yeah," I replied, my heart pounding, though I didn't wait for a response. I kept my head down, avoiding Mr. Aetheria's gaze as I made my exit.

The garden outside was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside me. My phone buzzed, breaking the stillness.

"Devian, where are you? We need to get ready for the Gala!" Gemma's voice, urgent and sharp, echoed through the phone.

"I'm on my way," I said, my voice flat as I quickened my pace, the weight of the evening looming over me like a storm.

When I got home, chaos reigned. The staff moved like shadows, busy with preparations. I was whisked away to be dressed and styled, subjected to hands tugging at my hair and clothes until I barely recognized myself. My reflection in the mirror showed a stranger: dark blue blazer adorned with crystals, meticulously placed to shimmer like fragments of ice. I stared at the person in the mirror for a long moment, searching for something real beneath the mask.

The limo ride to the castle felt longer than it was, the silence inside punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine. The venue, Castle Vermilion, stood like a fortress against the night sky, its towering spires casting long shadows across the courtyard. Six years had passed since the war between Vermilion and Aetheria, and their absence from the Gala had been felt every year. Would they appear tonight?

"Devian, prince of Solstice," the herald's voice rang out as I made my entrance. I offered polite smiles, brief nods, but my thoughts were elsewhere. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a figure lingering in the shadows, a familiar presence that sent a chill down my spine. I didn't dare look directly. Instead, I made my way to my seat, the air thick with expectation, and waited for whatever darkness the night would bring.