The Prime.
The greatest genius across the entire South for a generation. The one determined to possess potential greater than all others, whose growth was expected to dwarf everyone else in their generation.
Such a title, across the South, was worshipped. The person automatically became a celebrity. Someone of importance, politically, socially, or otherwise.
Which was why, once the winner was announced, the South erupted into defeaning cheers.
On her throne, Ingrid scoffed.
'Of course.'
There had been no doubt in her mind that Zephyrion would carry the title, but the sheer excitement roaring from the crowds was unlike anything she had witnessed in a long time, even during her own Proving.
Ingrid sighed.
Now that the South knew of Zephyrion's talent, a lot of things were about to change. Her race for the throne was about to become ten times harder.
