The academy transformed almost overnight for the Founding Festival, the courtyards strung with floating lanterns that drifted lazily above the paths without any visible support, each track’s banner hung from the towers in its own color, Ancient Studies’ deep bronze fluttering alongside Combat’s crimson and Divine’s pale gold.
“It happens every year, first week of autumn,” Theo explained, practically vibrating with excitement as they walked toward the main courtyard, Brynn trailing behind them with the particular unhurried patience dwarves seemed to bring to everything.
“Ten thousand years the academy’s stood, so ten thousand years of festivals. Every track puts on some kind of display. Combat does sparring exhibitions. Divine does these light shows that are honestly kind of beautiful even if I’ll never admit that to a Divine student’s face. Ancient Studies usually does something boring with old artifacts.”
“Boring is relative,” Brynn said mildly.
“Some of us find sword-waving equally boring.”
“Sword-waving is a legitimate skill.”
“So is knowing things,” Brynn said, unbothered, and Theo opened his mouth to argue further before apparently deciding it wasn’t worth the effort.
Lucifer walked between them, taking in the transformed courtyard with quiet fascination.
He’d never seen anything like this in Yeun, the closest comparison being the modest harvest festival the village held each autumn, a handful of bonfires and shared meals that felt, in retrospect, both precious and impossibly small compared to what surrounded him now.
Professor Halric’s contribution to the festival turned out to be considerably less boring than Theo had predicted: a guided walk through a temporary exhibit of artifacts recovered from three different lost civilizations, each piece accompanied by a short, carefully worded plaque explaining what little was actually known about its origin, and, more interestingly to Lucifer, extensive notes on what remained frustratingly unknown.
He lingered longest at a small, unassuming stone disc near the exhibit’s end, its surface covered in symbols that matched nothing else on display, the plaque beside it admitting plainly that scholars had never successfully translated it despite three centuries of study.
“Recovered from the ruins beneath what’s now Draconia,” the plaque read, “predating even the oldest dragon bloodline records. Origin and purpose unknown.”
Lucifer stared at the symbols for a long moment, something faint and distant stirring at the edge of his memory, though he couldn’t place why the shapes felt, however slightly, familiar.
“You feel it too.”
The voice came from beside him, quiet, unhurried, and Lucifer turned to find a girl he didn’t recognize standing a respectful distance away, older than him by a few years, dressed in plain gray robes that carried no track’s emblem at all, the same gray Yrsa had worn the day of his failed placement exam.
“Feel what?” Lucifer asked.
“Whatever it is you were just feeling, looking at that.” The girl nodded toward the disc, her expression carefully neutral.
“Most people just see old rock with scratches on it. You were looking at it like it was looking back.”
Lucifer studied her, taking in the gray robes properly this time, and something clicked into place.
“You’re Zero Class.”
“Rhea,” she said, offering nothing more than the name, no surname, no explanation.
“And yes. I saw the reports about your placement exam. Thought I’d introduce myself, since it seems like we might end up classmates eventually, whether you’re ready for that or not.”
They walked together through the rest of the exhibit, an odd, comfortable silence settling between them that reminded Lucifer faintly of his very first conversation with Sela, two people who understood each other without needing every gap filled with words.
“What’s it like?” Lucifer finally asked.
“Zero Class.”
Rhea considered the question for a long moment before answering.
“Quiet. Small. There’s only four of us right now, counting me. We don’t get festivals like this, not really, our own teachers keep things pretty separate from the rest of the academy. But it’s not bad. Just different.” She glanced at him sideways.
“You’re not what I expected, for what it’s worth.”
“What did you expect?”
“Something scarier, honestly. The placement exam freezing like that, straight to the Headmaster’s office on your first day. People talk.” She shrugged.
“But you’re just standing here looking at an old rock like every other Ancient Studies nerd in this exhibit.”
Lucifer felt something in his chest loosen slightly at that, the same easy relief he’d felt walking through the front gates weeks ago, discovering, however briefly, the simple pleasure of being unremarkable.
“I’d like to stay just an Ancient Studies nerd a little longer, if I can.”
“Fair enough,” Rhea said.
“Coren mentioned you turned down the invitation. Not many people do that.”
“I didn’t turn it down,” Lucifer clarified.
“I just asked to wait.”
Something shifted in Rhea’s expression, thoughtful, almost approving.
“That’s smarter than turning it down outright, honestly. The door doesn’t stay open for everyone forever. But it stayed open for you.” She paused near the exhibit’s exit, turning to face him properly for the first time.
“For what it’s worth, when you do come, it won’t be as bad as you’re probably imagining. We’re not that different from anyone else. Just harder to categorize.”
That evening, the courtyard filled for the festival’s main event, dozens of small performances scattered across the grounds, Combat students sparring under enchanted lights that made every strike ring out in brief flashes of color, Divine Arts students weaving slow, luminous patterns into the darkening sky that drew soft gasps from the gathered crowd.
Lucifer found himself standing beside Theo and Brynn near the edge of the crowd, watching the Divine Arts display unfold overhead, when he spotted Helena across the courtyard, standing with a small group of other Divine students, her own light contribution weaving delicately among her classmates’, a soft golden thread that moved differently from the rest, quieter somehow, more deliberate.
She caught his eye across the distance, and for a moment, something passed between them that neither Theo nor Brynn seemed to notice, a small, private acknowledgment that had nothing to do with prophecy or dreams, just two students at the same festival, recognizing each other across a crowded courtyard.
She offered a small wave.
Lucifer returned it, something warm and uncomplicated settling in his chest that he hadn’t expected to feel this easily, this simply.
“You’ve got a fan club forming,” Brynn observed dryly, following his gaze.
“First the bully thing, now Crown Princess Helena’s waving at you across a festival. You’re going to be insufferable to be friends with by next year.”
“I’m not insufferable,” Lucifer said.
“Not yet,” Theo agreed cheerfully.
“Give it time.”
Lucifer felt the almost-smile finish forming properly this time, watching the lights weave overhead, standing between two friends who knew nothing of demon kings or ancient prophecies, beside a girl across the courtyard who knew more than either of them but had chosen, for now, to simply wave, and somewhere behind him, quietly folded back into the crowd, a girl in gray robes who understood a piece of him nobody else at this academy did.
For the first time since arriving, the weight he carried, the strange, formless thing Beelzebub called a well without a bottom, felt, for just this one evening, small enough to set down entirely and simply watch the lights.
He didn’t know how long that feeling would last.
He’d learned, by now, not to expect it to last forever.
But he let himself have it anyway, for as long as the festival’s lights kept burning against the dark.