Chapter 2

Alina walked down the long, carpeted corridor.

The walls were lined with massive oil paintings of Padilla ancestors. Their painted eyes seemed to follow her, heavy with the same disdain her father carried.

Two maids carrying fresh linens stopped at the intersection. They saw Alina's canvas bag and plain clothes. They didn't bow. They didn't lower their eyes. One of them smirked, whispering something to the other.

Alina kept walking. Her boots made no sound on the carpet. Her mind flashed to the countless nights in her past life, burning her hands on alchemy cauldrons to brew potions that would keep those same ancestors' legacies alive.

She pushed open the heavy double doors leading to the central courtyard.

The morning air was crisp. In the center of the manicured lawn stood the Silvercrest Academy monument-a towering crystal array she had designed in her past life, completely uncredited.

Joesph Cannon stood at the base of the monument.

He wore his pristine white Silvercrest uniform. His blonde hair was perfectly styled. When he saw Alina in her black clothes, his brow furrowed in deep annoyance. He marched toward her.

"You shouldn't have upset Karina," Joesph said. His tone was dripping with condescension. "If you just go back inside and apologize to her and your father, I can talk them into letting you stay."

Alina stopped. She looked at the man who had driven a blade through her chest in her previous life.

Her stomach didn't drop. Her heart didn't race. She just felt a profound, exhausting disgust.

"Move," Alina said.

Joesph blinked. He was used to her stuttering, to her looking at the ground when he spoke.

His face hardened. "Excuse me?" He reached out, aiming to grab her shoulder.

Alina didn't step back. She shifted her weight slightly to the left, dropping her shoulder a fraction of an inch.

Joesph's hand swiped through empty air. His momentum carried him forward, making his heavy boots stumble over the cobblestones. He caught himself, his face flushing dark red.

"You are going to regret this!" Joesph yelled, spinning around. "You won't last a month in a savage place like Aethelgard! You're nothing without us!"

Alina didn't look back. She kept walking straight toward the massive iron gates of the estate.

The guard stationed at the gatehouse saw her coming. He leaned against the stone wall, crossing his arms, making no move to pull the heavy lever that operated the gate.

Alina didn't slow down.

She walked up to the gate, seemingly casual, and tapped a specific node on the lock's casing three times with her index finger. With each tap, she injected a microscopic, chaotic sliver of her unrefined mana. It was the exact resonance frequency she had discovered while studying ancient mechanics in her past life. A few seconds later, the internal gears let out a sharp crack, the precision mechanisms violently shifting and breaking under the magical resonance.

With a loud, screeching groan, the massive iron gates swung open on their own.

The guard dropped his arms, his jaw going slack. He stared at the open gate, then back at Alina. A cold sweat broke out on his neck. He pressed his back against the wall, terrified to make a sound.

Alina stepped past the property line. The cold wind hit her face. Her lungs expanded, taking in air that finally didn't smell like expensive perfume and lies.

She bypassed the family carriage house entirely. She walked two miles down the dirt road to the public transit station.

She dug into her pocket, pulling out three silver coins. She slid them across the scratched wooden counter.

"One ticket to the Northern Border. Cheapest airship," she told the clerk.

Ten minutes later, she stepped onto the deck of a rusted, sputtering airship. The cabin smelled strongly of unwashed bodies, cheap ale, and engine grease.

She found a seat near a scratched porthole.

A massive mercenary, covered in scars and reeking of stale beer, lumbered over. He slammed his heavy hand on the back of her seat.

"Move, little girl. I like the window."

Alina slowly lifted her head. She locked eyes with him.

She didn't say a word. She just let the killing intent from a decade of frontline warfare bleed into her gaze. Her pupils dilated, turning her eyes into black, bottomless pits.

The mercenary's breath hitched. The color drained from his face. His hand violently jerked away from her seat as if the leather had burned him. He stumbled backward, tripping over his own boots, and practically ran to the other end of the cabin.

A few passengers laughed, but they all gave her a wide berth.

Alina pulled a worn magic theory book from her bag and opened it, resting it over her face.

The airship engines roared to life, vibrating through the metal floor.

Beneath the cover of the book, Alina closed her eyes and looked inward.

Her Prismatic Core was a mess. Five different elemental energies clashed violently against each other, tearing at her mana veins. It was agonizing.

She began to breathe in a specific, rhythmic pattern. The Primordial Conduit technique.

Slowly, the violent clashing stopped. The red fire, blue water, green earth, yellow light, and purple dark began to swirl together. They merged, dissolving into a pure, colorless stream of raw power.

The energy flowed through her damaged veins, knitting the torn tissue back together. The pain faded, replaced by a deep, thrumming heat.

Three days later, the airship violently shook as it broke through a thick layer of storm clouds.

"Northern Border!" the conductor shouted over the engine noise. "End of the line!"

Alina pulled the book off her face. She looked out the porthole.

Perched on the edge of a jagged, snow-covered cliff was a massive fortress built of black stone. It looked like a sleeping beast.

Aethelgard Order.

Alina grabbed her bag and stood up.