The golden banners were still fluttering in the wind long after the ceremony ended. The sun dipped low behind the spires of Velden Academy, its light spilling through the tall glass arches of the courtyard, painting everything in amber and crimson. Jaynor had lingered until most of the crowd had gone, watching as graduates posed for pictures, embraced, and laughed through the rush of emotion that marked the end of their years here. He hadn't cared to join them. His thoughts were already drifting far from the academy's stone walls, to the city that awaited him across the plains—the place he had called home before this life of spellcraft and study began.
Drastton. A city of glimmering towers and wide streets, cut by canals that shimmered with the reflection of enchanted lights at night. He remembered it vividly, though the memories belonged to someone else before him. The family he lived with in this life—his family now—waited there. A retired mage father with hands still strong from years spent weaving sigils; a mother who had left the battlefront decades ago to keep their house in order; a big brother who wore the silver insignia of an inspector for the Magic Ministry; and a sister whose healing spells were whispered to bring even the dying back from the brink. It was an accomplished family. Jaynor had been born into it by chance—or perhaps by design. He often wondered if fate had placed him there on purpose, in this body, this world that felt half like a dream and half like a second chance.
He stood now on the academy's landing platform, the chill wind tugging at his coat as the massive silhouette of the airship loomed before him. Its engines throbbed with low, magical resonance, glowing with faint blue runes that pulsed in rhythm with the beating heart of its core. Students and travelers bustled about, calling farewells and carrying luggage up the gangplank. Jaynor had nothing but a single enchanted satchel slung over his shoulder and the same relaxed grin that rarely left his face.
"Jaynor!"
He turned. Three figures approached from the courtyard path—his professors. Headmaster Tolvar, stern but kindly, his robes layered in gold trim that shimmered when he moved. Behind him, Professor Marra, the illusionist whose soft-spoken tone hid a wicked sense of humor, and Professor Dain, a stocky man whose magic specialization was elemental manipulation and who had once tried to knock Jaynor unconscious during a sparring exercise for 'educational purposes.'
"Leaving already?" Tolvar asked, his deep voice rolling through the courtyard.
Jaynor's smirk widened. "Can't say I'm much for long goodbyes, Headmaster. Thought I'd sneak out before someone found another assignment for me."
Professor Marra chuckled softly. "Sneak out? You do realize we can sense your mana from three buildings away, yes?"
"Details," Jaynor said with a shrug. "You all know I'll be back before the next semester starts."
Professor Dain crossed his arms, his mouth quirking in reluctant amusement. "You'd better. The advanced elemental course is finally opening, and you're the only student reckless enough to try my new trials. The others actually value their lives."
Jaynor gave a low laugh. "Can't wait to see how close you get to killing me this time, Professor."
Tolvar stepped forward, his expression softening. "You've grown much this year, Jaynor. But try not to grow too comfortable away from here. The academy has its own kind of gravity—sooner or later, it pulls back those meant to belong."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Jaynor replied, meeting the old mage's gaze. "But I'll be fine. Drastton's still home. Haven't seen my old man in a while."
Marra's smile turned knowing. "I imagine your mother will lecture you for skipping correspondence again."
"She'll forget the moment I bring her enchanted sweets from the city," Jaynor said, completely unconcerned. "Works every time."
Tolvar sighed, but the faintest smile ghosted his lips. "Ever the carefree one. Still, we'll hold you to your word. Return soon."
"I will," Jaynor promised, though his tone carried that teasing lilt that made it sound less like obedience and more like playful mischief.
They clasped his shoulder one by one—Tolvar's grip firm, Marra's warm, Dain's almost like a challenge—and then stepped back as the boarding call echoed across the platform. Jaynor took the first few steps toward the ramp, glancing back at them briefly. For all his bravado, there was something deep behind his eyes, something that came from a life no one here knew about. He had been through death once. Reborn into this world of magic, power, and strange new desires, he didn't fear much of anything anymore. The second chance at life had burned away hesitation, left him bold and shameless, as if everything in this world existed only to be tasted, tested, conquered.
As the engines roared to life and the airship lifted slowly from the platform, Jaynor leaned against the railing, the wind sweeping through his hair. Velden Academy grew smaller below, its spires catching the sunlight like daggers of gold. He could see Kate Darsen walking through the courtyard, her head held high, a faint smile still on her lips. The sight drew a low, amused hum from him.
He muttered to himself, half-grinning. "Guess she got her medal after all."
The airship turned east, toward the distant horizon where Drastton lay waiting—a city of old memories and new temptations. Jaynor folded his arms behind his head, eyes half-closed, mind already wandering between what was and what could be. The clouds rolled by in lazy waves, and his smile never faltered. Another chapter awaited him, and he intended to enjoy every moment of it.