Sévir Is A Pariah!

A biting haze clung to the air, carrying a chill that seeped through the crowd.

A ring pierced through said air, the byproduct of four white resonant shards for an aged man, who flicked his fingers against a smaller kind.

Standing before a podium, his platinum-coloured hair gently swayed with the wind. His eyes as blue and deep as the sea narrowed in a hint of darkness. "Thank you all for gathering at a minute's notice." he held the corners of the podium. "It's cold and all of you would prefer getting your day done, but being here means you are required to stay until I, the Director, say so."

He slowly hitched his breath, a preparation for his purposeful speech. "The Stepan Final Exams, as you know, are part of our government's fight against rebel bandits. Sadly, some of our academicians have fallen, unable to bid farewell to family and friends."

Hisses and grunts silently erupted from the sea of students, reflecting their shared spite. "You all must be thinking we should just pull out of this, but it's not that easy. I do not see myself even considering the idea, but what I do consider is continuing our contribution to avenge our fallen academicians through much needed support."

The Director stretched his left arm, his eyes set on a specific person. "May you take the stage, our dear [Glacies Regina]?"

Minerva Grosvenor stood confident, yet the dilation in her eyes hinted at the opposite. A cold sweat moistened her hair as blue as a clear sky, and her heart pounded like it was going to leap out her chest.

Her hands clamped against each other from behind, at the same time, a gulp travelled down her tightened throat.

What was it that disgruntled the Water Princess in such a manner? Was it the air? The people around? Or..

"Ms. Grosvenor?" a silent girl snapped her from the trance.

She blinked a few times and looked to her left. "..Yes?"

Her head inched closer, her soft eyes reflecting concern. "Are you alright? You seem tense."

A smile instinctively pulled her mouth's corners. "I'm just thinking about our situation." A signature smile to mask the truth, she knew it was. A mask she frequents as the Second Undefeated of the academy.

Her gaze peered back to the stadium, glued to a certain figure who took the wooden stage as the Director backed out.

A woman clad in Trystan armor stood before the podium, her yellow cloth bearing the symbol of a book. Her hair tied to a ponytail was as blue as Minerva's, so were her stern and unyielding eyes.

Her left hand, hugged by gloves mostly hidden by the sheets of metal, held onto a hilt.

Murmurs seeped through the chilling air, many of surprise, confusion, disdain, and more to themselves.

She flicked her fingers against the microphone-like shard, echoing an even sharper ring than the Director's. "When I stand before you, silence your mouths!" Her intimidating voice rang loudest, silencing the disgruntled crowd in a heartbeat. "Very good."

Minerva stared at the woman who appeared like an older version of herself, an eye twitching to her opening.

"Before I start, allow me to introduce myself." She gripped the corners of the podium. "I am the Glacies Regina, the 8th year, [Anahita Ismene Grosvenor]. Remember the name."

The weight on Minerva's shoulders burdened as many heads flicked to her. There was such a stark contrast, you wouldn't think they shared the same blood if it weren't for their looks and surname.

"Eyes on me!" she exclaimed, the crowd instinctively obeying. "Moving on, I'm here to address the current problem within the city, that is, the death of academicians and civilians alike. The academy ideally would have wanted to minimise the deaths to completely zero, but I'm sure we can only see that happening in our dreams."

She slowly peered through the observable surroundings, weighing on the students she briefly locked eyes with. "I have been briefed enough of the system, and I'm more or less proud to declare its end.—We are disbanding all current bands, for every 6th year and under shall transfer to ours; the 7th and 8th years. Should any of you revolt, I will see to it that your mouths meet my blade." she slowly and purposefully drew a portion of her sword, reinforcing her bold declaration as if to show she was both bark and bite,

She glanced to the left where her "kins" stood, as silent and stern as herself, then back at the younger crowd. "Before I continue, I must differentiate who from the others."

Ismene drew her curved jet-black blade high, its intricate design glinting under the cold light. The blue gem atop its golden hilt radiated power, commanding every eye in the crowd. "Amongst all of you, who will choose my leadership!?"

Frost progressively clung onto her blade, and varying hands rose up the air;—Minerva was not one of them.

A brief smirk etched in her mouth, though not so big to say she was completely satisfied. "Fortune favours the bold, a wise choice."

Her face toughened to the likes of a stoic. "By tomorrow, every student here must choose their leader. Allow me to repeat." she pressed her balled fist against her heart. "I am the Glacies Regina, the 8th year Anahita Ismene Grosvenor. Through the challenge of the [Beast Hunt], I have proved myself to be incomparable to you puny children!"

"Beast Hunt..?" the girl beside Minerva uttered cluelessly.

Minerva turned to the brunette, feeling the obligation to reply after she kindly asked her state. "The Beast Hunt is an examination for the 7th and 8th years."

The girl combed her hair by hand. "I nearly forgot we had seniors, they're never around. Does that mean the Beast Hunt takes place all-year?"

Minerva nodded. "They hunt beasts as given by the name, and they definitely do it outside the city, though I don't know where."

Her gaze left the girl as quick as it came, returning to her older, fiercer clone who walked down the stage.

"That concludes today's announcement. Disperse and decide." echoed the Director's voice right after returning to the podium.

True to his words, everyone scattered, the cold air carrying along their doubts and confusion. Minerva was one of them, whose feet hurriedly trailed down the pathless grass that led to the pillars holding the half-exposed hallway.

The pace of her feet matched that of her heart, it was like she was done for if she didn't leave immediately.

Was it the temperature that sent shivers down her spine and chapped her lips? Was she secretly introverted and hated crowds?

"Minerva!" No, it was something else.—The mighty voice of a woman calling her from behind. She froze with her heart, and mindlessly turned back as the woman said "Turn around," a primal instinct she could not disobey.

Minerva prided her fearlessness, yet Ismene's presence degraded her to a trembling silence.

The woman, a spitting image of Minerva's potential future, crunched the snow louder than anyone else closing the distance.

"Long time no see, Minerva."

She sheepishly nodded. "Mm.. Long time no see, Sister."

Her gaze weighed down Minerva's chest, but Minerva forced herself to hold it, even as her fresher instincts screamed to turn away. It was the same gaze she offered to someone she demanded a word from.

Minerva knew it, and gulped it all down for a shot at talking. "..How was the Beast Hunt?"

"Decent. Though you're only a fifth year, so it doesn't concern you."

Her voice lacked warmth, though it didn't exactly pierce Minerva in the heart. In fact, that was the warmest she could say.

"Moreover, have you decided to side with me?" It was less of a question and more of an indirect demand if she hadn't considered it yet.

"That's so you.. I hate it." she looked at her feet and muttered, only audible enough for herself to hear.

She shook her head, facing her again. "I have not given it much thought yet."

"Minerva," she gripped her shoulders, "the rebellion has forced our hands to this conclusion. The city yearns for quelling strength," her hand rang against her metallic chestplate, "and that strength starts with me!"

Her eyes narrowed to her bold claim. Was she trying to poiny out that she was the chosen one? The hero to solve all problems? These very words rooted from her ego, boiled Minerva's blood, and it reached her shaking fists.

"I'm confident you'll choose the right decision, Minerva. The city depends on it."

She still hadn't let go of Minerva's shoulder, though her grip wasn't as tight and painful as she expected. Normally, it would've been one comparable to one living in the last day of the world.

She was hesitant, but not blind to its benefits. Yet as she considered them, all that came to her mind were glimpses of the distant past.

A past where she was always the pawn, never the queen, who was that woman in front of her.

Ismene's arm fell to her side. "We will call everyone back here tomorrow, decide with your remaining time." Her metal boots clanked as she marched past.

Minerva's huge sigh tossed over the immense weight on her chest. She had never felt such intense relief in a while, yet it wasn't as rewarding as hoped for.

She leaned against a quartz pillar that radiated its cold against her back, though the warming spell of her uniform did enough to nullify its attack.

"..But still, I have to decide."

The front ends of her shoes met each other as she looked down. "It's been two years since I saw her, and this is how she speaks to me..?"

The absurdity left her repeatedly sighing. As much as she wanted to refuse, "but there's no other choice, right? Sister's skills.."

The more she pondered, she only found herself even more confused.

The rebellion, the death of her student, and this,—Minerva Grosvenor, the girl praised for her wit and quick-thinking, could not think at all.

Consequently, she had no answers.

Consequently, the gravity of today's occurrences sank deeper like a vampire sucking blood from its food.

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At the very back of the large classroom elevated by stairs to accommodate all students, she sat alone yet again, her seatmates, Sévir van Doren and Sanguinex nowhere to be seen.

Their absence, though discourteous, had been the norm since their late enrollment, evident from the lack of reactions from her varying classmates, who bore no effort to socialize with the likes of the Pariah Prince, Sévir, who had been her friend ever since she approached him. He never confirmed it though, but she was sure that was their status.

She shut her dreadful eyes, disconnecting herself from reality. The lingering desire to run away hidden in the corners of her heart had grown exponentially that she wanted to dash out of the classroom right this instant.

Of course she couldn't do that, it would weird out her classmates and blur her image, misaligned with her actions.

Looking back at it, Sévir's group never cared about her status.. Though Zephyr could halfly be counted out since she thinks so highly of Minerva. As far as she knew, they were treating her as a human.

Since the beginning of her academy life four years ago, all kinds of gazes, amazement, admiration, envy, lust, and much more to her were all so distant. Their praise and words never crossed the bridge she wanted, thus never took them to heart.

But Sévir's group, Sévir especially, never praised her. "(It was always befitting of his persona as the Pariah Prince, much more the Little Gang Killer, yet I.. Appreciated it.)"

"(But.. Now that Zephyr is dead, what becomes of us?)" Her balled fists pressed firmly against the wooden platform leeched to the cobblestone wall. The thought of the cracks showing mortified her, for an integral link to her newfound friendship had been lost.

"Minerva.." a voice whispered.

Even so, "(I don't..)"

"Minerva..."

"(Want to be..)"

"Minerva...!"

"(Alo—)"

"Minerva Grosvenor!" a familiar voice shouted, a shake blend of natural maturity and annoyance.

She blinked rapidly as if dust entered her eyes, and realised all stares were on her, Ardell especially.

"Welcome back, engineer. Mind telling us what creations you've been planning?" Her crossed arms and tapping shoe reinforced the sarcasm from her smile and impatient voice. "Since you've been so confidently going rogue as of late, could you kindly report everything you've seen in your adventures?"

From her tone, it was clear to Minerva Ardell was not the slightest bit happy about her actions.

"Ah, of course." "(Ah, I messed up again.)" she quickly sat straight to reinforce her graceful demeanor.

She knew Ardell wouldn't take her soloing well when she had been really adamant about binding everyone to a group for their safety. Ardell was a teacher, and more than anything else, she cared for her students. At least that was Minerva's perception.

She mindlessly spewed out everything she'd observed from her own travels. "(I'm messing up. More than usual.)"

She continued to speak what needed to be said, balancing out the uneven weights pressed onto her shoulders so that her true thoughts won't spill. That way, everyone was oblivious to the sweat from the back of her head, and the pounding of her chest as pressure crept in.

"(Who do I choose?)"

"(Do I look weird?)"

"(Am I even saying the right things?)"

"(What's the right thing to do?)"

She asked herself so much, it was like barely handling juggling balls while riding a unicycle. In hindsight, it was such a simple question, she couldn't expect a pressure she hadn't felt in years would resurface right there.

At least, the slow yet powerful rings of the bell from the belltower like a church proceeding to its mass saved her from the growing density clawing her heart.

"(..Saved at last..!)" Her heart leapt in a fleeting joy, though she kept herself from jumping out of her seat and dashing out of the classroom. No, she had more class than that as Minerva Grosvenor, so she had to act accordingly. She waited until half the students left, and gracefully walked down the stairs and out of the classroom with them.

She kept the same front walking down the crowded hallway, loaded by hot air and echoes of unintelligible conversations overlapping each other. The walk to free space was gruelling, but she marched forward for a chance on reaching a less crowded hallway.

Her wish was realised a few minutes later, and so she quickly disconnected from the insufferable sea.

"(Now that's done, onto my next task..)"

The decision-making. She stopped midway, leaning against the cold hard wall that bore no specialty this time.

Reality had returned—the reality of time. Time is gold, they say, so she couldn't afford to waste more time dilly dallying than needed.

There were only two decisions, both of which lead to a branch of unique complexities.

One, join her elder sister's team, which based on her current position and ego would hint at flawless success and power. Even if she started weak, she'll refuse to accept it as is and climb to the top.

Two, take the gamble with lesser known seniors and improvise from there. Like schrödinger's cat, she didn't know whether they'll do the same unless observed.

"(Both have their risks and benefits, though as it stands, Sister's team is the go-to choice...)"

"(But.)" There was something stopping her from choosing her sister so easily. "(Choosing Sister.. Is unacceptable.)" she subtly twirled her pointed finger around her hair, tightening its wrap. "(If I blindly bow my head to her, then..)"

The thought of it was already dreadful for Minerva, who was proud of her own title and achievements. To join her sister would be like undermining all her efforts since her arrival.

Opening her eyes, she sensed warmth within. "(No, I refuse to kneel to her again.)" It was a feeling so familiar.

"(I won't accept becoming her lackey again. No, I'm not just the younger Grosvenor!)"

"I'm Minerva Grosvenor." The fire that quickly grew within only kept growing. Such a warm feeling it was, she always missed this personal conviction.

Gazing up the tall ceiling, she narrowed her eyes. "Zephyr, are you watching?" she asked, even though she knew she won't respond. "Rest easy, I won't prove you wrong—the greatness you saw in me.."

Saying those shaky words as if speaking to Zephyr, she won't cry, yet tears were deliberately escaping her sockets. Clenching her teeth and fists, a whole ocean of emotions were swirling within her at this moment. "Zephyr.. I won't make you regret believing in me the most...!" her voice restrained, yet she spoke loudest that day.

Looking down on the shiny floor tile as reflective as a coloured mirror, the image of Ismene materialised. "And you.."

A mirage of images formed in the blink of an eye, tracing the very beginning of their interactions.

Minerva, the follower. Ismene, the leader.

Minerva, the better. Ismene, the greater.

"You'll never trample me again, Sister.—"

She wiped the sorrowful tears off her face. "No, Ismene."

Minerva Grosvenor had decided.

After overhearing the chatters of the crowd she rushed to get away from, many of whom already made their own decisions.