The morning sun shimmered off the soaring spires of the Nerevian Arcanum, a vast fortress of coral-white stone and crystalline glass that seemed to rise like a beacon from the floating isles of Nerevia. Mana currents wove through the air like living threads, painting the sky in iridescent hues as students gathered for the day's commencement.
Kaelen Thalor stood among them, his heart a tempest of anticipation and nerves. Today marked the beginning of a new chapter—formal training among the greatest Aqua Arcanists in the realm.
Around him, voices buzzed with excitement and speculation.
"Did you see the High Arcanist's new summoning sigil?" one student whispered.
"She's said to control the Tempest Vein itself." another replied.
Kaelen tuned out the chatter, focusing instead on the deep sigil glowing faintly on his palm—the mark of an Aqua Initiate, now burning brighter than ever.
The Registration
The grand hall was a cathedral of mana, walls etched with flowing glyphs that pulsed softly with water magic. A long row of elders and administrators sat behind an ornate desk, their robes shimmering like the surface of a calm sea.
Kaelen stepped forward.
"Name?" asked the foremost elder, an elderly woman with silver hair braided into intricate loops.
"Kaelen Thalor. Son of Tyrus the Tidecaller," he replied steadily.
She nodded, eyes scanning a crystal ledger. "Aqua Initiate. Bonded with Nairos, the Spirit of the Deep. Recognized."
Behind him, students murmured. The spirit bond was rare—a mark of great potential… or great danger.
"Your quarters are in the East Wing," the elder continued. "Classes begin at dawn. Prepare yourself. The path of an Arcanist is arduous."
Kaelen bowed and stepped away, clutching his satchel filled with essentials—a polished shell grimoire, water-infused inks, and rune-etched parchment.
First Steps into the Arcanum
The corridors of the Arcanum were alive with mana, flowing like rivers in the stone floor beneath his feet. Students of all ages moved between classes, some practicing spells in the air, others conversing in low murmurs about their families, affiliations, and Arcana specializations.
Kaelen's eyes caught a girl walking ahead—her silver-white hair cascading like a waterfall, eyes cold and calculating. It was Lyara Solenne, his rival and friend from the Initiate trials.
She glanced over her shoulder and smirked. "Made it this far, Thalor. Let's see if you can keep up."
He smiled back, heart racing. The competition was only beginning.
The Orientation
In the grand lecture chamber, Master Virell stood at the podium, his presence commanding silence.
"Welcome, new Arcanists, to the Nerevian Arcanum—the heart of Aqua mastery and the protector of our realm's mana oceans," he began.
He spoke of the academy's history, the Nine Arcane Orders, and the sacred duty each student bore.
"But be warned," he said, voice dropping low. "The path is fraught with peril. Both from within and beyond these walls."
Kaelen listened intently. His thoughts drifted briefly to the Abyssal Current whispering in his soul.
First Lesson: The Art of Flowforms
Later, Kaelen found himself in the Hall of Currents, a vast chamber filled with pools of shimmering water and floating platforms.
His instructor, Mistress Selene, approached—a slender woman whose eyes flickered like moonlight on waves.
"Today you will refine your Flowforms," she explained. "Precision, control, and harmony with the mana around you are key."
Kaelen stepped to the edge of a pool and began.
He summoned a Ripple Spear—a swirling lance of water that gleamed like polished glass. With concentration, he shaped it, feeling the current bend to his will.
Mistress Selene nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, control the velocity. Water that moves too fast or slow breaks the flow."
Kaelen adjusted, slowing the spear to a smooth, steady pulse.
"Excellent. Now, integrate frost to temper the flow."
He extended his other hand, channeling his secondary Frost affinity. Ice crystals formed along the spear's edge, sharpening it with a delicate chill.
An Unwelcome Challenge
From the shadows, a voice called out sharply.
"So, the Tidecaller shows off his tricks already."
Kaelen turned to see Darek Vorn, a tall youth with storm-gray eyes and a lightning sigil blazing on his chest. His expression was cold, disdainful.
"You don't belong here," Darek said. "Bloodlines like yours weaken the Order."
Kaelen's jaw clenched.
Lyara stepped forward beside him. "Careful, Darek. The Tidecaller's power is no joke."
A tense silence hung in the air, charged with mana and unspoken threats.
Master Virell's voice cut through the tension. "Enough. This academy is for those who can wield the Arcana, not those who judge by birth."
Darek's glare lingered but he backed down.
Kaelen exhaled slowly. The political currents in the Arcanum were as dangerous as any sea storm.
A New Beginning
As the sun set beyond the floating isles, Kaelen sat by the water gardens, reflecting on the day.
The academy was a world apart from the simple life he'd known—full of knowledge, rivalry, and secrets.
Yet beneath it all, the Abyssal Current whispered still.
He clenched his fist.
He would master both surface and abyss.
No matter the cost.