Chapter 85: _ Claim Your Mates

Finding a vacant seat was a nightmare. Every wooden bench was crammed with chattering initiates and older scholars. We walked past five full rows before Miriel finally spotted a single open stretch of bench at a table near the back wall.

Sitting alone at the end of the table was a senior girl with striking, extraordinarily long hair.

Dragons naturally carried silver hair—some with subtle tinges, others with tinges of color, like Redmere dragons whose locks flushed red after awakening. But this senior’s long hair was a mesmerizing blend of purest silver mixed with ghostly white. She wore a tailored senior uniform trimmed, yet she sat completely isolated, hunched over a plate, picking at her food in total silence.

"Hi!" Miriel chirped, stepping up to the bench with a polite smile. "Is anyone sitting here? Do you mind if we join you?"

The silver-white-haired girl didn’t answer. She didn’t look or give any sign that she had heard Miriel’s voice, continuing to push her cooked grains around with her fork.

Miriel blinked, exchanging a confused glance with Bren before trying again. "Um... excuse me? Is it alright if we sit?"

The girl remained as still as a statue.

"Well, she’s certainly a delight. Let’s just sit down. My legs are aching from running down those spiral stairs." Bren muttered dryly, unbuckling her satchel.

We slid onto the bench. I sat directly beside the mysterious senior, while Bren and Miriel sat across from us.

"Who do you think she is?" Miriel whispered behind her palm, leaning across the stone table as she reached out to tap the glowing quartz crystal on the floating menu to order our breakfast. "A fourth-year scholar? A high-born recluse?"

"She’s clearly trying to ignore us, so let her be," Bren advised, tapping her own menu studs to order porridge and tea.

I reached out my hand toward the floating menu, intent on selecting a basic bowl of oats.

Before my fingers could touch the paper, an ice-cold grip clamped around my right wrist.

"Gasp!"

I froze as I looked down. The mysterious girl’s pale fingers were locked around my skin like iron bands.

I snapped my head toward her face—and my heart nearly leaped straight out of my chest.

The senior’s eyes had completely rolled back. Her irises were gone and in their place was an opaque milk-white film that glowed faintly with unbridled magic. She stared right through my face, and spoke with an unnatural resonance that vibrated straight through my skull:

"Your journey will either end in bleakness or bliss. You will dominate men who will help you conquer the world. You have no time to dilly-dally; claim your mates—"

"WHAT THE HELL?!" I shrieked, violently yanking my arm backward with everything I had.

I snatched my hand out of her grip, stumbling backward so fast my hips slammed hard against the wooden bench. The sudden, violent break in contact snapped the girl out of her trance.

Her milk-white eyes flashed back to their normal clear color, instantly filling with irritation. She glared at me as if I had just insulted her entire bloodline, snatching her bowl off the table so hard her silverware clattered against the stone floor.

"I told you not to sit here!" she snapped bitterly, her cheeks flushing red with anger as she stood up.

"You did not tell us anything, you complete lunatic!" Miriel yelled back, throwing her hands up in outrage as the girl stormed off into the crowded aisle. "She didn’t say a single word! You guys saw that, right?!"

"She didn’t open her mouth once," Bren confirmed, staring after the senior with her jaw slightly slack.

Miriel shook her head, adjusting her collar. "She is completely, unhingedly crazy."

I sat frozen on the stone bench with a heart that was threatening to burst. My right hand trembled as I rubbed my wrist where her freezing fingers had clamped onto my skin.

I felt that prophecy down in the very marrow of my bones. Goosebumps broke out across my arms. I didn’t fully understand what she meant, but the weight of her words scared me.

Bren leaned across the table. "Elira? Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"I... I don’t know what just happened," I stammered. "What was wrong with her eyes?"

"She’s a Seer," Bren said quietly, setting her spoon down. "A true wielder of sight magic. That wasn’t an insult or an outburst, Lira. She just had a waking vision right in front of us... and it was meant for you."

"A vision?" I repeated, letting out an incredulous laugh. "Bren, did you hear what she said?! She said I’m going to conquer the world with men who will help me! How does that make an ounce of sense?! Conquer the world in what? These frayed, patched rags from Stonewick?!"

Miriel let out a loud snort of laughter, throwing her head back before clapping a hand over her mouth. "Well, if you’re conquering the realm, can I please be your royal treasurer? Though I do agree—we really need to fix your wardrobe before you take over any kingdoms."

"Miriel, stop," Bren said, casting a stern look at her before turning back to me. "Don’t just brush the message away, Elira. Seers don’t get forced visions unless the magic is severe. Whatever she saw, it’s connected to you."

"I don’t want it to be connected to me," I muttered, pulling my knees up toward my chest on the bench. "I don’t want visions, I don’t want prophecies, and I certainly don’t want to conquer anything. I just want to eat breakfast in peace and survive this morning without Warden Silas dragging me to the dungeons."

"We’ll find out who she is later. For now, eat your food. We need to get out of this hall before Silas decides our table is violating noise regulations." Bren noted, tapping her spoon against her bowl.

I forced myself to pick up my iron spoon, shoveling oats into my mouth without tasting a single bite. The dining hall around us remained loud and chaotic, but my mind was completely elsewhere.

Claim your mates.

The words echoed in my head, over and over again, refusing to leave.

As soon as we finished our tea, the three of us cleared our stone bowls and made a beeline for the exit, ducking past Warden Silas’s imposing form without daring to make eye contact.

We stepped out into the morning air, intending to head straight down the academic corridor. But as we reached the central courtyard archway, we noticed a large group of first-year initiates sprinting past us, shouting excitedly to one another.

"Hurry up! They’re locking the terrace gates in five minutes!" a boy shouted over his head to his friends.

"Is it really the lower arena?!" a girl gasped, picking up her skirts as she ran. "I thought we had theory today!"

Bren, Miriel, and I stopped in our tracks, exchanging quick, puzzled glances.

"Where are they all going?" Miriel asked, tilting her head.

"Field training," Bren realized, her eyes lighting up with a competitive spark as she tightened the straps of her boots. "They must have moved our practical combat class to the courtyard terrace."

"Wait, today?! Without any warning?!" I asked, my stomach dropping as I looked down at my worn-out shoes and frayed tunic.

"This is Last Bastion, glitch," Bren grinned, stepping into the stream of rushing students. "They don’t give warnings. Let’s go before they lock us out!"

We turned on our heels and joined the surging wave of first-years, hurrying down the stone staircase toward the lower terrace.

The morning sun was fully up now, casting bright golden light over the sprawling cobblestones of the lower courtyard. The training grounds had been completely transformed. Giant wooden obstacles, reinforced striking posts, and iron rings lined the perimeter of the stone arena.

Dozens of first-year initiates were already assembled in neat rows near the central fountain, whispering nervously among themselves as they took in the high walls and heavy equipment.

"So what in the hell are we going to be doing here exactly?" I asked.

Bren clamped a hand on my shoulder. "This, Elira No-One, is our first experience of what Last Bastion is known for: the survival of the fittest."

Survival of the fittest?

Great. Just the perfect class for a lowborn, dragonless, powerless nobody.

Just perfect.