The second day at the academy began in their homeroom as usual, though this time, students shuffled into their seats with a buzz of curiosity and excitement. Artemis slid into her usual spot beside Lydia and Kayla, adjusting the strap of her bag as she scanned the room. Cyrus, Sorrel, and Eric sat nearby, each glancing at their newly printed schedules with varying expressions of interest and mild confusion. Ren, as in all his other classes, remained by the window, staring out at the distant peaks with a blank expression.
Mr. Sage stood at the front, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping over the room with a quiet authority. “Good morning, students.” His deep voice carried easily over the murmurs, silencing them. “I’m sure you’ve all noticed that your schedules have changed slightly from yesterday.”
A few students nodded, while others whispered among themselves, their curiosity piqued.
“This is because your training will alternate on different days. Some lessons are meant to build gradually, while others are more intensive and require rest periods in between. Your curriculum is designed to ensure you grow at a steady yet effective pace.”
He gestured toward the stack of papers on his desk. “Today’s schedule is different from yesterday’s, but pay attention—this structure will remain consistent moving forward.”
Artemis glanced down at her schedule, tracing her finger along the first listed class: Divine Awakening with Mrs. Elderose. Unlike the previous day’s lesson in a traditional classroom, this session would take place outside.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The morning sun cast golden hues across the training field, an expansive clearing bordered by towering oaks and elms that whispered with the wind. The air held a tangible hum, as if the land itself was aware that something important was about to unfold.
Mrs. Elderose stood at the center of the field, her dark purple cape flowing slightly in the breeze. Her sharp eyes swept over the gathered students before she began speaking, her voice smooth yet commanding. “Before you can hope to wield the power of the divine, you must first understand its foundation.”
The students fell silent, their attention locked on their instructor.
She raised a hand, gesturing toward them. “Each of you was born with a mark—a sacred emblem of your divinity.”
A ripple of curiosity spread through the group. Some students unconsciously placed a hand on their arms, necks, or legs, instinctively knowing where their own marks lay.
Mrs. Elderose continued. “These are your God Marks, the symbols of your true nature. They represent the divine power within you. But heed this warning.” She let the words settle before her voice deepened with gravity. “These marks are both your strength and your greatest vulnerability. If they are struck in battle, it will be fatal.”
A murmur of unease spread through the students. Some shifted uncomfortably, while others glanced at each other in concern.
Artemis swallowed hard, fingers brushing against her mark. She had never thought of it as a weakness—only as something that set her apart. Now, she rubbed at it absently, feeling a knot of anxiety form in her stomach.
Mrs. Elderose observed them keenly, then nodded. “Now, we begin. Spread out and find your own space.”
The students obeyed, each stepping into their own section of the clearing.
“Close your eyes,” Mrs. Elderose instructed. “Focus inward. Seek the power buried deep within your soul. Will it to the surface.”
Artemis inhaled slowly and closed her eyes, reaching for something—anything—within her being. The memory of her encounter with Lamia at her old school flashed through her mind. That night, she had called upon her power instinctively. It had been effortless. So why wasn’t it coming now?
Minutes passed. Frustration gnawed at her.
Then—a sharp gasp broke the silence.
Artemis’s eyes snapped open. All heads turned toward Lydia.
A luminous green glow radiated from Lydia’s irises, and the earth trembled beneath her feet. Tiny cracks split through the dirt as vines erupted from the ground, coiling around her protectively. The energy rippled outward, triggering a chain reaction.
Cyrus inhaled sharply as golden light coiled around his fingertips, swirling like liquid fire.
Sorrel’s seafoam-blue gaze shimmered as droplets of water lifted from the ground, forming a twisting current in midair.
A deep rumble echoed through the clearing as Eric grinned. Electricity crackled in his palm, and dark clouds began to gather above them. “Not bad, huh?” he mused, smirking.
Kayla barely glanced at him. “Try not to electrocute yourself.”
Eric’s smirk faltered, and with a flick of his wrist, the clouds dispersed.
One by one, more awakenings followed. Sakura’s eyes gleamed like rose quartz, delicate flowers blooming at her feet. Ren, standing apart from the others, radiated a darker energy. His deep violet gaze burned as shifting shadows coiled around him, alive and pulsing with power.
Magic pulsed through the field, thick and electric.
And yet—Artemis remained still.
Her heart pounded. Why wasn’t it working? She clenched her fists, willing something—anything—to happen. Finally, a faint glow flickered around her, wisps of silver light weaving hesitantly through the air. Nowhere near as commanding as the others.
Disappointment twisted in her chest.
Mrs. Elderose stepped toward her. “Do not be discouraged, Artemis.”
Artemis bit her lip. “It’s weak.”
Mrs. Elderose shook her head. “Your power is strongest beneath the moon’s watchful eye. Strength is not only measured in brilliance—it is measured in mastery. You must learn to wield your light at all hours, for the enemy will not wait for nightfall.”
Artemis exhaled, nodding, but the frustration remained—a gnawing doubt that clung to the edges of her mind.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
At lunch, Artemis sat with Lydia, Kayla, Sorrel, and Cyrus, picking at her food as the lively chatter of the dining hall buzzed around her. Her thoughts drifted back to her fight with Lamia at her old school. Then, in the heat of battle, she had called her power effortlessly. So why couldn’t she now?
“Hey,” Lydia nudged her. “Stop looking so glum. You’ll get it.”
Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!
Kayla nodded. “Yeah, everyone has their own pace.”
Sorrel smiled. “You’re Artemis. The Artemis. You just need time.”
Before she could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air. “Some Headmaster’s daughter you are.”
Artemis stiffened as Amore sauntered past, smirking. “If you’re supposed to live up to his name, you’re doing a pathetic job.”
Cyrus shot to his feet. “Back off, Amore.”
Lydia crossed her arms. “She’s still a lot stronger than you.”
Amore’s gaze flicked between them before scoffing, her face turning red with annoyance. “Whatever. Enjoy your pity party.” She stalked off, irritation flashing in her gaze at their interference.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
During archery training, students struggled to find their footing, arrows flying wildly off-course. Some barely managed to nock their arrows properly, while others released their shots too quickly, sending them skittering across the ground. Laughter and groans echoed across the range as a few lucky shots found their mark, but most did not.
Then Artemis stepped up. She felt comfortable, a flicker of relief washing over her as this was something she enjoyed and was already quite versed in.
The moment she took position, a hush fell over the group. She adjusted her stance with effortless precision, her fingers wrapping around the bowstring with familiarity. Drawing it back, she let her breath steady her, tuning out the noise around her. With a smooth release, the arrow sliced through the air, striking dead center.
Bullseye.
Murmurs of amazement rippled through the students. Kayla whistled lowly. Lydia nudged Sorrel, grinning. “Did you see that?”
Cyrus, a few targets down, furrowed his brows before taking his own shot. His arrow landed just shy of the center, impressive in its own right, but not quite Artemis’s level. He exhaled sharply and refocused. A competitive spark lit his golden eyes as he glanced at her.
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” he muttered with a playful smirk before taking another shot. This time, the arrow landed even closer to the center. “Let’s see who gets the next perfect shot.”
Artemis, undeterred, fired again. Another bullseye. Then another. The third landed so precisely in the center that it split the first arrow clean in half. A collective gasp spread through the students.
Chiron, who had been silently observing from the side, let out an approving rumble. His equine half shifted slightly as he stroked his thick beard. “Flawless technique,” he mused. “The spirit of the hunt is strong in you.”
Yue Lao, their instructor, strode forward, his outfit a striking blend of modern flamboyance and effortless style. He wore a sleek, tailored jacket in deep red with intricate gold embroidery tracing the lapels, paired with fitted black trousers and a crisp, high-collared shirt. A golden chain hung loosely around his neck, glinting under the sunlight. His carmine-pink hair was pinned back on one side, sharp foxlike features giving him an air of mischief and wisdom combined. His red eyes gleamed with intrigue as he studied Artemis. “Interesting,” he mused, his voice smooth as honey. “Perhaps I’ll have real competition after all.”
From a distance, Ren stood apart from the others, arms crossed. His gaze lingered on Artemis, his expression neutral. If he was impressed, he gave no indication, but he didn’t look away either.
“Alright,” Yue Lao clapped his hands together. “Let’s see if the rest of you can learn something from her.”
Cyrus shot Artemis a challenging grin. “Race you to five bullseyes?”
Artemis smirked. “You’re on.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sleep eluded Artemis that night.
She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, but her mind was restless, tangled in thoughts of Magic Class. The failure still weighed on her—how she had struggled to summon even a flicker of power while her classmates had flourished. Yet, she knew it wasn’t impossible. She had called upon her powers before—back at her old school, when she had been attacked by Lamia. The memory burned in her mind.
She had been cornered, outmatched. Fear had gripped her, her heart pounding as she faced the monstrous figure. And in that split second, her power had ignited—a brilliant silver light surging from within, guiding her. It had been instinct, raw and unrestrained.
But now, when she wanted it to come, it wouldn’t.
With a frustrated sigh, Artemis slid out of bed and moved to the bay window in her room. She curled up on the cushioned seat, pressing her forehead against the cool glass as she gazed up at the moon. It hung high and full, its silver glow illuminating the academy grounds below. If she was meant to wield its power, then why did it feel so unreachable?
She stayed there for what felt like hours, lost in thought, until a movement in the courtyard caught her eye.
Ms. Lucine.
The moonlight cast a soft glow around the teacher’s flowing silver hair as she walked with measured steps, her gaze sweeping over the academy grounds in silent vigilance. Artemis hesitated, gripping the windowsill. Something about the way Lucine carried herself—the way the night seemed to bend around her presence—confirmed what Artemis had suspected from the start.
Lucine was Selene, Goddess of the Moon.
A flicker of resolve sparked in Artemis’s chest. If anyone could help her, it was Lucine.
She hesitated for only a moment before pushing herself off the window seat and slipping into her shoes. Moving quietly, she crept through the hallways, her breath steadying as she made her way outside.
The air was crisp against her skin as she stepped onto the dewy grass. She found Lucine near the edge of the courtyard, where the shadows stretched long beneath the moon’s glow.
Lucine turned before Artemis even spoke, her piercing eyes meeting Artemis’s. “You should be asleep,” she said smoothly, though her tone held no real reprimand.
Artemis swallowed, steeling herself. “I can’t sleep.”
Lucine arched a delicate brow. “And why is that?”
Artemis clenched her fists. “I need to learn how to use the moon’s power.” She lifted her chin. “Even during the day.”
Lucine studied her in silence for a long moment. Artemis held her gaze, determination burning in her chest. She needed this.
Finally, Lucine sighed, though there was something almost approving in her expression. “Follow me.”
She led Artemis to a secluded clearing bathed in silver moonlight, the sky above a vast stretch of endless stars. “Here, the moon’s essence is strongest. Now, call upon it.”
Under Lucine’s rigorous training, Artemis found herself battling exhaustion like never before. The night was eerily quiet, save for Lucine’s measured voice guiding her.
“Again.”
Artemis barely caught her breath before Lucine sent another wave of force her way. Moonlight, concentrated and sharp, hurtled toward her. Artemis raised her hands instinctively, trying to summon her own power to counter it—but nothing came. The blast knocked her off her feet, sending her skidding across the dewy grass.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up. Her muscles ached. Her hands trembled. But she refused to stop.
Lucine watched her with an enigmatic expression, arms folded over her flowing silver blouse. Her long, silvery-white hair shimmered under the moonlight, her luminous eyes piercing in their intensity. “You’re fighting yourself, not the energy,” she remarked. “You are a child of the moon, yet you resist its call.”
Artemis clenched her fists. “I’m not resisting. It just—”
“Then stop thinking,” Lucine interrupted. “Feel.”
Artemis exhaled shakily and closed her eyes. She tried to let go, to reach for the energy instead of forcing it. The wind shifted, cool against her skin, and then—
A flicker. A pulse deep within her, like the rhythm of the tide. Slowly, strands of silver light curled around her fingertips, soft at first, then stronger.
Lucine’s eyes glowed approvingly. “Better. But not enough.”
She lifted her hand, and this time, the force she sent was overwhelming. A tidal wave of moonlight surged forward. Artemis had mere seconds to react, but instead of fear, instinct took hold. She reached within, grasping for the power she knew was there.
The silver glow erupted around her.
She lifted her arms, and the light bent to her will, forming a shimmering barrier. The wave collided—but instead of knocking her down, it shattered upon impact, dissolving into a cascade of stardust-like embers.
Lucine did not let up. “Again.”
Hours passed, and each time Artemis wavered, Lucine pushed her harder. Sweat dripped from her brow, her limbs ached, but with every attempt, the silver light grew stronger, more refined. By the time the moon reached its highest peak, Artemis stood tall, her celestial glow no longer flickering—it radiated.
When Artemis opened her eyes, she was bathed in pure silver light, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
Lucine gave a slight approving smirk. “Now, we begin.”
Drained but victorious, Artemis knew one thing: she would master this—no matter what it took.