The morning sun filtered through thin clouds, soft and pale, casting light across Arcane Academy's stone corridors. Something in the air felt different—quiet, heavy, as though the wind itself was holding its breath.
In Classroom 3-A, students settled into their usual seats, quills scratching on parchment, magic stones humming faintly along the walls. Hibiki was gesturing wildly while retelling a story of how he almost summoned a tornado while trying to refill a water bottle. Lyra giggled softly. Cyrus groaned. Drake sighed like his patience had been murdered years ago.
Show sat in silence, fingers lightly touching the pendant at his chest.
Raelyn watched him discreetly—not with suspicion, but with a quiet sense of knowing something was coming.
Then—
the classroom door opened.
Not with the brisk precision of Professor Eldren.
Not with the careless swing of a late student.
But with the slow, deliberate movement of someone who carried time with him.
The man who entered seemed like he belonged not in this world, but in a story written centuries ago.
Alden Enchantrion.
Headmaster of Arcane Academy.
The man rumored to have lived long enough to witness kingdoms rise and fall.
His hair, silver-white and smooth, fell to his shoulders. His robes were layered in deep blue and soft gold, embroidered with ancient runes. His eyes—gentle, bright, and impossibly old—swept across the room.
Every student straightened in their seat.
Even Hibiki fell silent.
Even Drake looked respectful.
Even Raelyn's breath paused.
Only Show continued to breathe steadily—but his heart stirred. There was something familiar in the Headmaster's aura. Something like distant firelight.
Professor Eldren bowed slightly.
"Headmaster."
Alden smiled softly. "Good morning, Professor. Class. Forgive the intrusion."
His voice was calm. Clear. Every word held weight.
"I have come with an assignment."
Several students exchanged glances. Assignments from the Headmaster were not normal. That meant this was important.
Alden continued, clasping his hands behind his back as he paced slowly:
"Beyond the Academy's outer gardens lies an old stone archway. Most do not notice it. Most cannot. The Academy grounds are vast—and some places… prefer to stay hidden."
Students leaned in, quietly drawn toward his words.
"This place is known in records as the Labyrinth of Veils. Though, in more common terms, it is simply called…"
He paused.
"The Curse Labyrinth."
A shiver ran through the room—some subtle, others sharp.
Karen's fingers froze around her quill.
Cyrus swallowed hard.
Lyra's hands tensed in her lap.
Drake's expression darkened.
Hibiki's smile faded—just a little.
Raelyn's silver eyes narrowed with attention.
Show remained still, but the pendant against his chest pulsed once. Faint.
Nobody else noticed.
Alden looked at them with gentle, serious eyes.
"Before you fear the name—understand that names hold history, not fate. The Labyrinth is not a place of punishment. It is… a test. Or perhaps… an echo of something forgotten."
His tone changed then—gentle, but firm.
"You are not being sent there. You are being invited."
Hibiki raised a hand without hesitation. "Um—sir? Are we allowed to say no?"
Alden smiled knowingly. "Of course. But I suspect none of you will."
He was right.
Curiosity, pride, and a desire to prove oneself flickered in the eyes around the room.
Alden looked to Eldren.
Eldren nodded once, stepping forward.
"Four teams of four will enter," Eldren explained. "Only to explore the first section. This is a supervised academic survey, not a battle exercise."
"Hah," Cyrus muttered. "Says that every time something tries to kill us."
Presto snorted. Hibiki elbowed Cyrus to shut him up.
Alden's eyes drifted slowly across the room—until they rested on two specific students.
Show.
Raelyn.
"You two will lead."
The room froze.
Drake's fist tightened.
Karen's breath caught.
Hibiki blinked in shock.
Even Raelyn's composure flickered.
Show met Alden's gaze—and felt something vast, ancient, and unbearably sad in the man's eyes.
It was like Alden already knew who Show was.
Not the boy now.
But the one before.
Alden spoke softly, but his voice filled the room:
"You both carry qualities this Labyrinth responds to. Light that travels beyond the present moment. Do not fear it. Trust yourselves."
Show exhaled slowly. A quiet acceptance.
Raelyn nodded once, jaw set with focus.
Alden continued:
"The Labyrinth is old. Older than Arcania. Older than recorded magic. It does not reveal itself to the unworthy, and it does not speak to those without purpose. Some say it shows illusions. Others say it shows memories. Some even believe it has a voice."
His eyes lowered.
"But I will not tell you what awaits inside."
Silence rang in the classroom like a bell.
"Not because I do not know," Alden said gently,
"but because knowledge changes fate.
And fate must reveal itself in its own time."
Eldren's eyes flickered. He did not like that answer—but he accepted it.
Alden stepped forward, closer to the students.
His tone softened.
"You will not be alone. You have your friends. You have your magic. And you have yourselves. That is enough."
He looked at Show one more time.
Too long.
Too deep.
Too knowing.
Then he turned toward the door.
"Prepare yourselves. You depart at dawn."
He left as quietly as he came.
---
After He Leaves – The Room Breathes Again
The silence broke the moment the door clicked shut.
Cyrus exhaled dramatically. "Welp. We're gonna die."
Presto slapped his back. "Then die fabulously."
Lyra's hands were trembling—Lina comforted her gently.
Karen looked at Show—not frightened, but worried.
Hibiki leaned in close, whispering:
"You okay?"
Show nodded once.
Raelyn stood and approached him, voice low:
"…The pendant. It reacted. Didn't it?"
Show looked at him, surprised—but didn't deny it.
Raelyn's eyes hardened with seriousness.
"Then the Labyrinth isn't just a place," Raelyn murmured, "It's calling you."
Show didn't know why—but he understood one thing:
He had to go.
Not because Alden asked.
Not because it was an assignment.
But because something inside him—deep, ancient, burning—was stirring.
---
That night, the Academy slept uneasily.
The moon hung above the towers, pale and distant.
And somewhere behind the gardens, hidden by vines and silence—
a stone archway shimmered faintly,
as though waiting.
And whispering.
To Be Continued
---