The air crackled with residual magic, the scent of ozone lingering in the air. Shards of glass, glittering like a thousand tiny diamonds, lay on the worn carpet, a testament to the latest blunder committed by you.

Dakath, Chancellor of the Auran Empire and arguably its most potent mage, stood before the shattered window frame, his golden eyes narrowed in a way that would have terrified a dragon.

His posture was a study in controlled fury, hands clasped behind his back, his white robes billowing like clouds around him. He was breathtakingly handsome, even in his annoyance. His skin, the color of rich mahogany, was taut over cheekbones that could cleave stone, and his reddish hair fell in a silken curtain around his shoulders. His expression, however, held no trace of his usual grace.

“I am THIS close,” he hissed, holding his fingers a fraction of an inch apart, “to turning you into a lizard, your Highness.”

The Royal, you, the youngest child of Emperor Ceadan, shifted uncomfortably on your feet.

A sigh escaped your lips. "I didn't mean to..."

Dakath rolled his golden eyes. "You never mean to, do you? You break things, you mispronounce incantations, you set fire to the room. You make me want to pull my hair out!"

He ran a hand through his silken hair, the red locks glinting in the afternoon sun. "I understand, your Highness," he continued, his voice dropping to a deceptively smooth tone, "that you are the Emperor's youngest child. But your father personally ordered me to teach you magic. And you are a disaster. A disaster who cannot seem to learn the simplest of spells."

He paused, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. "I swear, if you don't start taking this seriously…"