The Green Eyed Immortal.

Valen stood before the class, his gaze sweeping over the eager students as the wind rustled through the training grounds. The tension in the air was thick with anticipation.

"Before we begin," he started, his voice smooth yet firm, "it is important to understand that every living being possesses a natural affinity for one element. This is not something you choose, it is something that exists within you, waiting to be awakened."

The students listened attentively, some already shifting excitedly, hoping to uncover their elemental alignment.

"Some of you may already suspect which element resonates with you," Valen continued. "For most, this will be an intuitive process. However, there are trends, patterns, that have existed for centuries."

He took a step forward.

"Elves," he said, looking pointedly at the pointed-eared students, "are naturally inclined toward earth. The essence of nature flows through your veins, granting you an innate connection to the land."

A few elves nodded in agreement.

"Merfolk," he continued, glancing toward those among them with oceanic features, "are naturally attuned to water. It is in your nature to bend to the tides, to feel the pulse of the sea in your soul."

The merfolk among them exchanged knowing glances.

"As for humans, if any of you are here," Valen said, his tone neutral, "your affinity is unpredictable. Some find themselves drawn to the wind, others to the ground beneath them. Your elemental affinity is as varied as your kind itself."

He let the weight of his words settle before adding, "But among all elements, one stands out as the rarest."

A hush fell over the students.

"Fire."

The word lingered in the air.

"Fire is the most difficult to wield by nature. It is volatile, consuming, and requires absolute control. Very few individuals are naturally attuned to it."

He turned slightly, his gaze sharpening.

"Especially elves and merfolk."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd at this revelation. It wasn't common knowledge, but it made sense, fire was the opposite of their natural inclinations.

Mirielle, standing still and silent, absorbed his words.

Valen gestured to the open space before him. "Today, you will discover which element you align with. This is the foundation of your training. Without this knowledge, you cannot hope to control any element."

With a flick of his wrist, he divided the students into four groups. "Move into formation, those who feel drawn to water, stand to my left. Earth, to my right. Air, behind me. Fire, in front."

The students shuffled into their respective groups, some moving with confidence, others with hesitation.

Mirielle stood still for a long moment before moving to stand among the undecided.

Valen didn't comment, but she felt his sharp gaze linger on her.

"Close your eyes," he instructed, his voice measured. "Forget everything around you. Breathe. Feel."

A gentle wind stirred, carrying with it the distant scent of earth, the whisper of unseen waves, the flicker of unseen flames.

"Your element is a part of you," Valen continued. "It is not something you create. It is something you recognize. Allow it to surface."

Silence fell over the training grounds, broken only by the occasional murmur of wind or the shifting of feet.

One by one, the students began to tap into their affinity.

Water swirled in the air as Merfolk called to it. Earth trembled beneath the feet of elves who found their connection. A gust of wind stirred where Arian stood, his eyes widening slightly as he realized—

Air.

Arian had an affinity for air.

Mirielle remained still.

Her brow furrowed as she focused, as she listened, as she reached.

Nothing.

A flicker of frustration stirred in her chest, but she pushed it aside, inhaling deeply.

She tried again.

And again.

Still—nothing.

She felt empty.

Minutes passed, then an hour. Most students had already grasped their elemental affinity, excitement and pride evident in their expressions. Some stood practising, experimenting with their newfound abilities.

But Mirielle stood frozen, her fingers curling slightly.

She had never been one to dwell on failures. She accepted things as they were.

But this..this felt different.

To not even have an element? What did that mean?

She bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to let the creeping discomfort take over her thoughts.

Then—

"Are you even trying?"

The words cut through the air like a blade.

Mirielle stiffened.

Valen's sharp green eyes were fixed on her, his expression unreadable but his voice edged with disapproval.

Mirielle didn't move, her face was unreadable as she absorbed the weight of his words.

He stepped forward inching closer to her, "Concentration is one thing," he continued, "but magic is not something that comes from mere effort. You are either connected to it, or you are not."

The unspoken implication hung in the air.

Mirielle's heart pricked.

It was rare for her to be affected by words, she had spent her whole life ignoring what people thought, what they said.

But something about this, about Valen's cold, assessing gaze felt different.

She lowered her gaze, unable to meet his eyes.

A sharp exhale came from the other side.

Arian.

She saw his stance shifting as his eyes darkened.

He glared at Valen, his usual easy-going nature nowhere to be found.

Arian was many things, playful, laid-back and often unbothered.

But if there was one thing he could never tolerate, it was someone making Mirielle feel small.

Mirielle exhaled slowly, trying to ground herself.

She didn't look at Arian, nor did she look at Valen.

Instead, she merely lowered her hands to her sides and nodded her head.

A slight inclination of her head, her hands limp at her sides, her face unreadable.

Something about that gesture irked him.

His jaw tightened, irritation sparking in his emerald eyes.

'Was she mocking him?'

Just a silent nod.

Cold. Detached.

Like his words meant nothing.

His voice dropped, sharp as a blade. "Are you mute?"

A few students inhaled sharply. Arian's jaw clenched.

Mirielle's breath hitched.

Valen took another step forward, his imposing height casting a shadow over her. He was tall, towering but Mirielle was no delicate thing herself. She stood at a height where she rarely had to tilt her head to meet someone's gaze.

Yet now, with him standing so close, the space between them evaporating, she felt small.

Her lips parted, but no words came.

Why couldn't she speak?

A creeping heat rose up her neck, burning her ears.

She could feel the eyes on her. Watching. Waiting.

She had always been indifferent to how others perceived her. She had spent years perfecting the art of detachment—of being unaffected, of existing in her own space, unbothered by expectations.

But right now, standing before him, stripped of words, of control—she felt humiliated.

Valen's eyes flickered with something unreadable. His voice, though steady, carried a sharper edge. "Or do you simply not understand what I am saying?"

The murmurs around them grew.

Mirielle dug her nails into her palms, her throat constricting.

She wanted to say something—anything.

But the words refused to come.