The card shimmered with a pale blue light, an illusion-type. Uncommon, but refined.
Asher turned it over slowly in his fingers, letting the arcane energy hum against his skin.
Phantom Bloom (Uncommon, Illusion)
Cost: 3 AP. Summons a spectral field of flowers that disorients enemies in a 10-meter radius. Opponents suffer a 30% miss chance for two turns and lose their ability to target a specific individual during that time.
Elegant. Tactical. And not part of the academy's official distribution.
He leaned back in his study chair, the card hovering midair as he activated the scan. No sender. No registration. No traceable signature. That alone narrowed the suspects.
"How predictable," he murmured, sipping from a porcelain cup.
Ever since he'd enrolled in Vyrith's Arcane Academy, the factions had taken interest. Not just because of his test scores. Not even because of his performance against Adepts.
But because of his bloodline.
The Third Prince of the Lunar Kingdom.
They saw him not as a person, but as a future stake. A banner to place in the dirt when the next great arcane conflict came. Some just want to associate with the Lunar empire but most want to control it and what better way to do it than support a prodigy, a naive prince with no apparent support on the surface, so they can control him like a puppet and get a kingdom at the price of peanuts?
But Asher was not as kind and naive as he presented himself to be; he was also playing the game, running his own angle like others. the difference is just that others are not yet aware of his presence. While he also wants the throne, he is not foolish enough to think that a fairy will land it in his lap. He does not trust anyone; that's one of the reasons he is not completely associated with any faction.
Just this week he got three invitations from three different factions.
Pioneer Tower had courted him with honor and tempted him with the idea of being an arcane prodigy controlling a the most advanced kingdom
The Gold Fangs offered enormous riches and future kingdoms with the idea of being the sword that protects; simply, they wanted him to act as their shield and mascot, yes, just a glorified mascot
The Rose Pact? They were more subtle—talking of legacy, of healing old wounds in the royal court, and of trying to change the old traditions and establish peace, basically a promise of fairy land you give to children.
But none of them had sent this card.
That wasn't their way.
This… was someone else.
An outside faction. Or worse—an internal dissident group. Rogue Weavers, perhaps. Or Black Veil operatives acting without formal approval.
Asher twirled the card once more, his eyes narrowing. The timing. The silence. The type.
This wasn't just a gift. It was a signal. And a test.
He tapped his comm-band, activating an algorithm designed by his personal aides back in the capital. A small interface opened with the words:
"Initiate cross-reference?"
"Yes."
A lattice of data began unfolding—student movement logs, spell usage, card trades, and faction approach patterns.
Asher stood, crossing the room slowly as he thought aloud. "If they've targeted me, they've likely targeted others. Someone less obvious. Someone… moldable."
A face surfaced in his mind.
Clayton.
Ever since their private conversation in the garden, Asher had kept a distant watch on him. The boy from the Antigonus line. Low-profile. Unaligned. But dangerous. Too dangerous for a mere first-year.
He was intelligent. Careful. And recently… acting off.
Asher pulled up the most recent public surveillance logs. He scanned activity around Clayton's apartment—then smiled when he spotted a delayed arcane surge.
Mirage Cascade.
He recognized the pattern. A gold-tier uncommon. Rarely given to Novices unless as a favor or an investment.
The logs confirmed what he suspected—Clayton had also received a card. Recently. Quietly.
"So… I wasn't the only one marked."
Suddenly, his wristband buzzed. A ping.
An access request. From Clayton.
No message. Just a ping—low priority, innocuous.
Asher accepted it with a small grin.
The boy was clever.
They met on the academy's upper promenade, where the outer ring of campus hovered slightly above the lower levels—a place for quiet walks and private talks. Only the wind, softly brushing against the translucent railings, accompanied them.
"I assume this isn't a social call," Asher said first.
Clayton nodded. "You got one too, didn't you?"
Asher didn't bother pretending. "Phantom Bloom. Illusion type. Untraceable."
"Mirage Cascade," Clayton replied. "Also illusion. Also untraceable."
There was a pause.
Then Asher smirked. "They think we're pawns."
Clayton looked out toward the horizon. "Or pieces worth gambling on. Either way, they're playing a deep game."
"They?" Asher asked.
Clayton hesitated. "No confirmation. Could be Black Veil. Could be something else."
"I've been thinking the same." Asher crossed his arms. "They're testing the waters. Seeing who's receptive, who can be pushed or recruited."
Clayton's voice dropped. "And who they can control before midterms."
That made Asher turn. "You know about the postponement too?"
Clayton nodded. "It hasn't been announced, but it's coming."
"Yes," Asher cut in. "I… guessed. The signs are there. Movement patterns. Too many high-rankers showing up around campus. It smells like something larger."
They stood in silence for a moment, processing it.
"I think," Clayton began, "they're not just offering us bait. They're measuring our reactions. How we handle pressure. Whether we bite."
"Exactly," Asher said. "That's why I didn't respond. Just pocketed the card and kept quiet."
"Same."
Another pause.
Then Clayton tilted his head. "So what now?"
Asher's smile returned, but this time, it had steel underneath.
"Now? We dig. Together."
Clayton glanced at him, expression unreadable. "You trust me?"
"No," Asher replied. "But I trust that you want to survive."
Clayton chuckled. "Fair enough."
By the time they left the promenade, night had fallen over Vyrith. The academy towers glowed with arcane runes, and patrol spells crisscrossed the air like silver filaments.
But neither boy felt particularly safe.
They had both been given tools.
Now they needed to find out who was watching—and why.
Because the next move might not be a card.
It might be a dagger.