When I woke, pale morning light streamed through the unfamiliar window of my dormitory. For a moment, I lay disoriented, the events of yesterday feeling like a distant dream—the testing, the golden necklace from my parents, the teleportation. Then reality crashed back. Today was the first day at Aurelius Academy.
I changed quickly into my new uniform, the fabric still stiff and unfamiliar, and bolted out the door. The empty corridors echoed with my hurried footsteps as I navigated toward the main hall. Distant voices grew louder with each turn until I finally pushed through the heavy oak doors.
The hall was already packed with students, a sea of identical uniforms buzzing with nervous energy. To my relief, the ceremony hadn't begun yet. I slipped into an empty seat near the back, my heart still racing from the rush.
Just as I caught my breath, a calm yet commanding voice filled the vast space, instantly pulling every gaze forward.
"Good morning, students."
A tall man in deep blue robes stood at the podium, his silver hair catching the morning light. Though he spoke softly, his voice carried to every corner of the hall, and his presence alone was enough to silence the last whispers.
"I am Headmaster Corvin Aurelius." His eyes swept across the room, seeming to note each student. "You will meet the rest of the faculty in due time, but today, as part of your entrance ceremony, I thought we might begin with something more engaging than speeches." A faint smile touched his lips. "We shall begin with a game."
An excited murmur rippled through the crowd. This was unexpected.
"The rules are simple," he continued, raising a hand to quiet the room. "You will each extend the reach of your etherion as far as you can. We will measure the area covered and rank the results. Consider this your first opportunity to understand where you stand among your peers." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "But before we begin, we have a special address from one of your peers—someone who needs no introduction to those familiar with the great magical families."
The grand doors at the front opened once more, and a girl stepped through. She moved with an effortless grace that seemed to command the very air around her. Her crimson hair flowed like a waterfall of fire down her back, and her eyes held a confidence that bordered on regal. Every eye in the hall followed her as she glided toward the podium.
But my breath caught in my chest. I knew her.
The memory surfaced unbidden—the bridge, the sneering noble children, the feeling of helplessness as her spell sent me flying into the cold river below.
"My name is Elara Luminara," she said, her voice clear and melodic, yet carrying an undeniable authority.
It was her—the girl from the bridge. The one who'd looked at me with such disdain, like I was nothing more than dirt beneath her feet. The memory replayed in my mind, sharp and vivid, drowning out her words. I didn't hear a single sentence of her speech about honor, tradition, or excellence—only her command for those bad guys, the humiliation burning in my chest.
It wasn't until thunderous applause broke out that I returned to the present. Elara smiled gracefully—a practiced, perfect expression—and took a seat at the front, immediately surrounded by admiring students. And I sat in silence, my chest tight, the golden necklace from my parents feeling suddenly heavy against my skin. Nothing would be the same from here on.
Then, the headmaster stepped forward again. "Now, let the demonstration begin," he announced.
The teachers moved through the aisles, handing out small papers with numbers. I received mine—28. It's a decent position, not too early, and not too late. After everyone had their numbers, the headmaster gestured toward the center of the stage where a massive, crystalline sphere shimmered into existence.
"The first student, number one," called a professor.
A boy with nervous eyes stepped onto the stage and into the sphere. As he closed his eyes and concentrated, numbers began flashing above the crystal—starting at one, then climbing rapidly. The air around the sphere shimmered with his effort. When the numbers finally stabilized at 431, he stumbled out, drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted.
The demonstrations continued. Number two reached 551, drawing impressed murmurs. Number three managed only 347. The results varied wildly, painting a clear picture of the different talent levels among the students.
Then came number 17.
I watched as Elara rose gracefully from her seat and approached the sphere. She didn't look nervous—she moved with the certainty of someone who knew exactly what she was capable of. As she stepped inside the crystal, a hush fell over the hall.
The numbers began climbing immediately, faster than anyone else's had. 100, 300, 500—it showed no signs of slowing. The air crackled with her power, and even from my seat, I could feel the intensity of her etherion. When the numbers finally settled at 829, a wave of awe swept through the hall.
She stepped out calmly, not a hair out of place, as if she'd done nothing more strenuous than take a morning stroll. Her eyes met mine for the briefest moment across the crowded hall, and in that instant, I saw the same cold recognition I felt. She remembered me too.
Then she sat down, and the game continued. After eleven more students, my number was finally called. A wave of cold dread washed over me. With each step toward the stage, my stomach dropped further. I could feel the weight of hundreds of students' eyes staring at me, their gazes like pins against my skin.
I approached the shimmering sphere, my heart hammering. Stepping inside the crystal was like entering a world of perfect, peach-colored darkness—silent, heavy, and utterly isolating. Then a calm, disembodied voice echoed around me, "You may begin now."
Remembering Mirayane's grueling training within her Etherion—the endless hours of expanding, holding, pushing—I drew a deep breath and unleashed my power. My etherion surged outward at a blistering speed, fueled by weeks of condensed discipline. I felt it spread, further and further, until I hit a wall. Gritting my teeth, I pushed once more, a final, hard shove against the limits of my reach.
Then, it was over.
I stepped out, my body trembling slightly from the effort, and looked up at the number glowing in the air.
762.
A rush of relief and quiet pride washed through me. It was a good result—a really good one. I managed a small smile as I walked back to my seat, the murmurs of the other students now sounding more impressed than skeptical.
The game continued until the last student had their turn. As everyone began to disperse, a kid with striking gray hair and about my height tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to face him.
"You're in room A9, right?" he asked. I nodded. "Me too. We're roommates." He gave a friendly shrug. "You performed well out there."
"Thanks," I replied, feeling a bit more at ease.
On our way out, I glanced at a posted paper listing the rankings. I found my name in fifth place. Elara Luminara held the second. The sight of her name so close to mine sent a strange mix of rivalry and unease through me.
We found our room in the A-wing, and the second the door closed behind us, we both sighed in unison, the day's tension finally releasing. I collapsed onto my bed, utterly exhausted.
"So," he began, breaking the comfortable silence. "What's your name?"
I hesitated for a second, remembering the Duke's warning. "Kairu Edryas," I said, the name still feeling a bit foreign on my tongue.
He nodded. "I'm Jasper. Jasper Alistair." He stretched and stood up. "We should probably head to the cafeteria. Get some food before we pass out."
We went, ate a quick meal surrounded by the buzz of new students, and returned to our room. Without another word, we both fell into our beds and slept—deeply, and without dreams.