Noir could feel the priest scrutinize her every movement. Her dark, thick lashes fluttered up and down as she took the chance to check out him properly. As expected of a story like Chaleur--even the mob characters seemed to be godly looks-wise.

“This boy is a bit...different. I am assuming he’s not native to our beloved country.” Noir silently ground her teeth. Was he so patronizing in the novel? Did she remember him being that way? Even with the Duke, who wasn’t mentioned aside from his neglectful actions and his death was stranger than fiction.

Was this really the world of ‘Chaleur’? Moreover, didn’t she basically take the spot of the Emperor’s right-hand man? Did she make Lemar cease to exist?

Did she fuck up the plot?

“That, he is not. Anyways, that’s beside the point, Henri. We are here to test His Highness’ and my son’s magical abilities.” Henri, who looks like he wants to say more but instead leads them into the grand halls of the church. Everything is white, accented in gold, priests, and priestesses were lined to greet the prince.

They were led to the large, opal orb that sat on top of the clear, crystal podium. Noir’s eyes widened in awe--reading about the scene was already interesting but to the tiny ball of magic that determined one’s destiny? The sight of it left her to shake in amazement, but also in shivering fear.

She puts down Hiliarie, who had woken up not too long. In a soft voice, she instructed, “Your Highness, this is an orb to test if you have any magical ability. It will not take long, so please, walk up and touch it.” to which the drowsy boy merely nodded and made his way to the podium--standing on the tips of his toes, the priest, the Duke, the young girl, and the bodyguard watched as the young prince sits his hand on top and the orb begins to turn black.

Everyone in the room freezes--Noir hears the priest and the girl, the to-be-heroine of the story gasp and shake.

Why wouldn’t they?

There hasn’t been a dark magic user in centuries-- The god Nuit was very selective of who he gifted due to the events of the past. And to gift his power to the son of a family that’s loyal to the Church of Light?

This wasn’t right. 

It was nothing like the plot.

The young prince, who seems to have noticed the shift in the room, begins to tear up.

Oh, man.

“Big Brother, have I done something wrong?”

Letting out an audible sigh, she welcomes the younger boy back to her arms. It was strange--she was not but a few years older than him but she was here, comforting him. Maybe her father was right, she was like a mother in some way.

“No, no Your Highness, you’re very special.” She reassures him, patting his back as if to soften his cries as she wiped away his tears.

“Special?”

“That’s right. You’re one of the few dark magic users here, in this world so take pride in that--okay?” The two children stare at each-other--one, whose blue was wide--the other’s, whose dark eyes curved along with a smile set on the older ‘boy’s’ face.

Only with her words put the young prince at ease. 

“Ok!”

Their interaction was interrupted by a still shocked Henri, coughing loudly.

“Young Lord Monet, it’s your turn.” Henri mentions, almost snidely as she strolled up--oh well, she’d just have to place her hand and tell His Highness, ‘Look, Big Brother can’t perform magic, that’s why we have to become big and strong!’ no big deal, right?” Trying to keep her stoic facade, stepping upon the platform. She sets her hand on the orb and--again, nothing.  Feeling relief just as she begins to remove her hand, she feels a tug on her hand.

Something, with a gentleness, pulls her in.

Something bright, warm, and pleasant.