Thirteenth Prince's Odyssey-Chapter 31: The Northern Princess - I

In the Combat and Physical Training Hall Associate Professor Delphine Raye entered, without preamble, she launched into Lecture 33: Poisoned Arcanite.

Despite its name, neither poison nor true Arcanite played any part in the curse. Instead, it relied on the fact that when a victim of the curse uses an artifact imbued with Arcanite, the drawing of mana occurs directly from the victim's mana heart instead of using Arcanite as its core.

Professor Raye handled the technical breakdown.

Etiology. The origins of the curse, its historical use in sabotage and assassination.

Common Targets. Those with large mana reserves — mages, healers, and occasionally nobles who had Arcanite-lined accessories.

Mechanism. The slow, insidious drain on the victim's life force, leaving behind symptoms akin to mana depletion.

Signs and Symptoms. Fatigue, dizziness, inability to regulate mana, and eventual collapse.

Hexbreaking. The heart of the subject — the means to counteract the curse and neutralize its effects permanently. A counter curse which constrict the dialated mana veins of the surface in contact with the artifact, mostly palms.

Liam understood it well. The logic of it was clear. Yet, as the lesson progressed, he couldn't ignore the nagging thought at the back of his mind —

Carter's lectures were on a different level.

The realization annoyed him more than he cared to admit.

Maybe, he reasoned, it was because he had already read Stormcaller's Guide. Maybe Carter's words simply aligned with knowledge he was already familiar with.

Or maybe... he was just better at teaching.

The lecture concluded with Professor Raye's closing instructions:

"Connect this lecture with your studies in Healing and Restoration, as well as Barrier and Warding Magic. A healer might suppress a curse's effects temporarily, but without proper hexbreaking, the symptoms will return — sometimes stronger than before."

Ethereal Music was unlike anything Liam had ever encountered.

The classroom was wide and circular, its high ceiling carved into elegant spirals that naturally carried sound. Arcanite embedded along the walls pulsed gently, humming with ambient frequency. It was a space meant for harmony, both literal and magical.

Associate Professor Juniper entered like a gust of wind — light on his feet, eyes bright with energy, and hair tied back with a ribbon that shimmered faintly. He wore no robes, no enchanted staves or tomes — just simple woven sleeves that left his hands bare.

"Today," he said, "we don't cast mana. We sing it."

Liam blinked.

Juniper grinned, stepping into the center of the room. "Mana isn't only a force of power— it's an echo of the soul. And through music, that echo becomes voice."

The lesson was on Rāga of Galina, a mana-infused sound to influence the emotional and mental states of others.

"It is an art of resonance," Juniper said, "not manipulation. And resonance must be earned."

He raised his hands, and in a graceful, deliberate motion, began to weave them through the air.

There was no instrument.

No wand.

No visible focus.

Yet from nothing, a sound began to form — warm and clear, like the gentle strings of a harp played in sunlight. It swirled in the room like mist, curling in the air and washing softly over the students.

It struck Liam in the chest—not as a sound, but a feeling.

A quiet uplift.

A settling of tension he hadn't even known he carried.

"This," Juniper said, his voice woven into the music, "is the first state. Mood Elevation."

He let it fade, like breath dispersing into the wind.

Then he explained the full scale:

Mood Elevation – lightening of spirit and clarity of thought.

Euphoria – joy that radiates through the senses.

Sleep – peaceful trance, bordering unconsciousness.

Hypnotic – full mental vulnerability. Surrender.

He made it clear only the first state would be practiced today.

"We're not trying to awaken security alerts," he chuckled, but with a seriousness in his eyes. "The deeper stages are not for casual use. Or worse... for control."

Each student was then asked to channel their mana into an instrument of their choosing — flutes, string instruments, even small mana-tuned chimes. A few used traditional focuses shaped like music wands.

Liam, however, had no instrument. He watched quietly, absorbing everything. Juniper didn't scold or pressure him. Instead, the professor glanced Liam's way and simply said:

"Some of us will sing later than others. But when you do, the room will listen."

The lecture ended with calm, contented smiles across most faces. Even students who had been panicking earlier in the day now sat a little straighter.

But Liam —

He sat still.

Not smiling.

Not relaxed.

In recess, Liam met his sisters in the Institute cantina — a vaulted stone hall lined with floating lanterns that gave off the scent of baked bread and citrus-sweet tea. The long tables buzzed with noise, students sharing meals, gossip, and notes. Liam had hoped for a moment of peace.

He should've known better.

The moment he sat down, the whispers followed. Eyes glanced sideways. Some students nudged their friends, and others pretended not to stare. And worst of all, his sisters were already halfway through a very animated discussion.

"He shouldn't have said that publicly," Cassandra was saying, her silverware tapping the side of her cup. "Professor or not, Carter had no right announcing your elemental status to the entire class."

"Agreed," Evaline chimed in. "What kind of teacher humiliates a student like that? And you're royalty, too."

Liam kept quiet.

Because in truth, he was... grateful.

Carter hadn't mentioned his realm. Hadn't called him a Ninth Blaze Initiate in front of the others.

That mercy, at least, Liam would not forget.

Elaine stuffed a bite of honey-glazed bread into her mouth and mumbled, "So? What was it like?"

"What was what like?" Liam asked.

"All of it! Carter's class, conjuration, the lightning bit, the... pressure."

"He didn't do well," Evaline teased, nudging Cassandra.

"Don't worry," Cassandra replied calmly. "You can't pass all twenty two subjects?"

Liam raised an eyebrow. "You can't pass all twenty-two subjects?"

The sisters laughed.

"Oh no," Evaline said, waving her hand. "You can. Technically. But no one does."

"Not even the best?"

"Nineteen subjects is the record," Cassandra said, sipping from her rose-scented tea. "Set a hundred years ago. First-years only need to pass in half the subjects within each section to qualify for progression."

"So that's..." Liam began, mentally counting.

"Core Magic Studies? Five out of ten. Combat and Physical? Three out of six. Academic and History? Two out of three. Practical Studies? One out of three." Evaline rattled them off like it was common sense.

"Right," Liam said, though he wasn't sure how he felt. Somehow, passing half felt like a cop-out. Then again... for a student eight months behind, maybe it was a small grace.

"Honestly," Evaline said, stirring her tea. "The only person I could ever imagine passing all twenty-two subjects would be Father."

"But he never attended the Institute," Cassandra reminded her.

"Still!" Evaline argued. "It's Father."

Liam smiled faintly at that, then looked away as a group of students passed, whispering behind their hands.

Evaline noticed and leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "Ignore them. Most of them struggle with two subjects and pretend they're better than they are."

Then, as if remembering something far more exciting, she leaned back and asked, "So... what about Serena?"

Liam blinked. "Her?"

"Yes," Cassandra clarified, a knowing smirk on her lips. "From the first year."

"The quadra elementalist?" Liam asked.

Evaline pointed at him triumphantly. "See?! You were paying attention!"

Liam blinked again, confused. "She just stood out. That's all."

Elaine grinned wickedly. "Sure, sure. Just her magic stood out, right?"

"I didn't even talk to her," Liam said, honestly.

"That's not the point," Evaline said. "She's got a reputation, you know?You should watch out."

"Or maybe make a move," Cassandra teased.

Liam stared at his tea, unsure how he had lost control of the conversation so thoroughly.

"I don't understand," he muttered.

"Oh, Liam," Cassandra said, patting his hand with mock sympathy. "You're ten steps behind in the curriculum and in life."

The sisters giggled.

Liam wondered if elemental conjuration was less dangerous than talking to his sisters.

They were all too serious about the idea of him pursuing a girl at the Institute, especially Serena. The teasing, the knowing glances — it was relentless.

So, naturally, Liam tried to deflect.

"Oh yeah? What about you?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Why don't you try talking to one of the boys?"

Elaine choked on her tea. Evaline coughed mid-sip. Cassandra blinked, a little color rising to her cheeks.

"What are you even saying, Liam?" she snapped, but her voice was just slightly higher than usual.

"Is recess over yet?" Elaine muttered.

"I'll just go get some dessert," Evaline said quickly, standing up.

"I'll get it for you, sister," Elaine hurried.

"Sure, Liam would like one or two himself," Evaline added dryly, rising with a slow shake of her head. "You'll need a pair of hands, sister."

As the two of them left, Liam turned back to Cassandra. "Okay, that was awkward," he said. "What's going on?"

Cassandra didn't hesitate. She folded her hands on the table and looked at him evenly.

"Actually... we have suitors."

Liam stared. "You what?"

"We're of age, Liam," she said gently but firmly. "Don't act like that."

"Does mother or father know?"

"No," she said, lowering her voice. "We're on our own here. You know that."

He didn't respond immediately. He hadn't thought of it like that.

"We can't challenge the throne," Cassandra went on. "We won't inherit wealth, or command titles. So we deserve a little freedom. A little choice."

"I didn't mean it like that," Liam said, lowering his head a little. "Sorry."

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"It's alright," she said after a pause. "But keep this to yourself, okay?"

"I will."

There was a quiet moment between them.

Then Liam glanced up and said, "Sister, can I ask you something?"

Cassandra looked at him expectantly. "He's in my class," she continued. "In final year." A tiny smile playing at the corner of her lips. "He's the heir to the Grand Duchy of Sevrien. Ranked Specialist Warder. And... he's looking this way."

Liam instinctively straightened his back and looked around, though he had no idea where the boy might be watching from.

"Don't worry," Cassandra said, amused. "He's nice. Polite. He wants to meet you."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say," Liam admitted.

Cassandra actually laughed at that, and just then Elaine and Evaline returned with dessert.

Elaine dropped a small plate in front of Liam. "They were out of anything decent."

"Don't be dramatic," Evaline said. "It's pudding."

They sat down, but before the conversation could drift to something else, Liam leaned in slightly and asked, "So... when do I get to talk to your... um..."

"Your what, Liam?" Evaline asked, eyebrows raised.

"Sis, you told him?" Elaine said, staring at Cassandra in disbelief.

Cassandra took a slow, delicate bite of pudding, eyes sparkling. "I might've mentioned a few things."

"You actually told him," Evaline whispered in disbelief, then narrowed her gaze at Liam. "Alright then, little brother. You get one meeting. But no interrogation and dont tell mother."

"Understood."

Liam was tired. His body ached faintly from the weight of the day, and his mind buzzed from everything he had tried to absorb — but he still walked back into the Core Magical Study Hall without dragging his feet.

Healing and Restoration.

His final class of the day.

Unlike the others, this subject had a quiet reverence to it. There was no show of force, no clash of mana or explosive demonstrations. Just quiet understanding. Precision. Patience.

From what his sisters told him, second-year students and beyond had dedicated lecture halls — fixed locations where the instructors would come to them. First-years, however, were still expected to chase their schedule across the institute. Liam silently envied the future.

A hush fell as the doors opened.

Professor Isolde Vernier entered, gliding in with the grace of a seasoned healer. Her robes were light silver, trimmed in pale blue.

"Good evening, first-years," she said, her voice smooth and sure. "I hope your first lecture today has been... enlightening."

A few chuckles and groans fluttered through the room.

"Well today's lecture," she continued, "is the thirty-third of the year. We will be discussing a common, but often misunderstood ailment — Gildbane."

With a flick of her hand, a floating projection of a human body rotated in the screen above the platform. Slowly, the skin tone deepened to a faint golden hue, starting at the eyes, fingertips, and under the tongue.

"Gildbane," she said, "is a condition named for the golden tint it brings to the skin and eyes. In mortals, it is also caused by parasitic organisms — creatures so small they evade natural senses, yet powerful enough to disrupt the body's natural filtration system."

She let that sink in.

"However," she added, turning toward the class, "you are all Ascendants. And as you have learned, your mana hearts offer protection — a filtration and resistance system so complete, no known parasite can pass through it once awakened."

A murmur of pride ran through some students.

"So why, then," she said, gesturing to the floating body, "do Ascendants still suffer from Gildbane?"

She didn't wait for an answer.

"The truth is — they don't catch it. They earn it."

That silenced the room.

"In an Ascendant, Gildbane is not caused by parasitic infiltration. It is the result of internal failure. Specifically, the breakdown or overuse of the liver — one of the few organs that works in tandem with the mana heart to filter toxins, refine elixirs, and process enchanted ingredients."

She conjured a second image: a liver glowing faintly, veins of golden mana weaving through it like vines.

"There can be very specefic scenarios but mostly in Ascendants, when the organ is overloaded — by excessive potion use, corrupted mana, or even prolonged exposure to cursed environments — the liver begins to leak traces of golden bile into the bloodstream. The skin stains. The eyes yellow. Fatigue and nausea follow. And if left unchecked, the organ may scar beyond recovery."

Several students leaned forward, intrigued.

"This is why all healing is not simply about casting Restorare over and over," Isolde said. "True restoration means diagnosis. Understanding. Prevention. Healing the liver of an Ascendant requires mana compression, internal guidance, and above all — respect for the body's limits."

Liam took notes, more diligently than he had all day.

"And remember," the professor said, looking around the class, "some afflictions do not arrive from outside. Some are born from arrogance. Know the difference."

The lecture continued with anatomical diagrams, restoration techniques, and specific symptoms to watch for in early-stage Gildbane. She ended with a caution:

"Do not rely too heavily on your mana hearts. Even they have their breaking point."

In the final hour of the class, the air changed.

Professor Isolde's tone shifted — less lecture, more challenge.

She began posing clinical scenarios, each one drawn from real cases she had either personally encountered or collected from across the kingdom: a soldier poisoned by blood rot on the battlefield, a noble child with cursed marrow from an enchanted artifact, a miner suffering from lung decay after years of mana dust exposure.

"For each case," she said, "I want three things: the most efficient potion, the spell to stabilize, and— most importantly — your reason for choosing them."

Hands shot up, hesitation warred with eagerness. The students responded quickly, some confidently, some stumbling. Most were clearly just guessing.

Liam participated, cautiously. He had to flip through his notes a few times to recall the base structure of Clariblood Tincture or the spell structure for Vita Mendare. He wasn't the worst in the room, but he wasn't the best.

That title belonged to someone else entirely.

Serena Beckett.

She didn't rush. She didn't wave her hand. She simply spoke when the professor paused, her voice composed, measured, her logic sound. Every scenario she answered cut through the fog like a warm blade of sunlight.

"Alcohol in this case would create internal toxicity — I'd administer a diluted vial of Healer's Vine solution for the liver, then cast Lume Pulse to force the toxins toward the bladder. A more potent Healer's Vine if the patient shows seizures."

Her answers were precise. Surgical. Even Isolde allowed a small nod of approval after Serena handled a particularly difficult case involving dual afflictions and unstable vitals.

Liam, meanwhile, mostly listened. Watched. Learned.

The classroom buzzed with final murmurs as the bell gently rang, signaling the end of the session. Students gathered their things quickly, eager to retreat and unwind.

But Professor Isolde wasn't finished.

She raised her voice above the chatter — calm but firm, arresting enough to freeze many steps mid-exit.

"Students," she said. "Before you go — listen well."

They turned.

"I know many of you will fail," she said bluntly. "Not for lack of trying, but because healing requires more than effort. It demands intuition. Precision. Restraint."

She let the silence settle.

"But remember the basics. Always. Even if you never touch a restoration ward again in your lives—what you've learned may one day save someone."

Her gaze swept across the room like a tide.

"Or save you."

With that, she turned and vanished through the back door of the hall, robes flowing behind her.