Teleporting sucks.
Movies always make it look cool all sparkle and poof.
In reality? It's like being flushed through a blender made of static electricity.
When the world finally stops spinning, I collapse onto something soft.
A carpet. A very expensive carpet. I can tell because the moment I step on it, it probably triples in value.
The room around me looks like an ancient cathedral had a baby with a high-tech lab. Floating orbs of light illuminate shelves filled with books that hum quietly to themselves. A massive window overlooks the floating academy towers suspended by runes, staircases that shift on their own, students practicing spells that make the air ripple.
I try to take it all in, but my brain keeps going:
"Nope. Too weird. Try rebooting later."
Then I see him.
An old man stands near the window, back turned. Long coat, gold trim, and hair like starlight gone grey. His presence fills the room calm, heavy, like gravity has opinions.
"You broke the Veil," he says without turning around.
"Technically," I say, "I just touched it. The Veil broke itself. Maybe it was already having a bad day."
He turns, and those eyes deep silver, like cracked mirrors cut straight through me.
"What is your name, boy?"
"Lenny." I pause. "Uh, Leonard, technically. But I only hear that when I'm in trouble, so let's not."
He doesn't smile. Of course he doesn't smile.
"Leonard… You shouldn't have been able to see the Veil, let alone pierce it. That barrier separates our world from the mundane one. Only trained Arcanists can perceive it."
"Yeah, see, about that I've kinda been seeing cracks for, like, years? I thought it was a vision thing. Maybe a vitamin deficiency."
That finally gets a reaction. His eyes narrow.
"Cracks?"
"Yeah. Little glowing ones. They show up on walls, people, spells — even you've got a few, no offense."
The air grows cold. The orbs of light dim.
> "You see flaws in power."
"Uh, I guess?"
He studies me for what feels like forever. Then, to my surprise, he laughs. Not a happy laugh more like someone just found the last puzzle piece to a terrifying prophecy.
"It seems the world's balance shifts again."
He raises a hand, and a golden seal forms in the air. Words shimmer across it in ancient runes, then reshape into English.
"Admission: Approved."
I blink. "Wait—what?"
"Welcome to the Arcanum Institute," the Headmaster says. "You are now a student."
"I-what-hold on! I didn't even apply!"
He smiles faintly.
"You didn't need to. The Veil chose you."
Before I can argue, the door bursts open. The silver-haired professor from before storms in, robes fluttering.
"Headmaster, with all due respect, we cannot let an untrained outsider roam the grounds!"
The Headmaster waves her off.
"He is no outsider. He is the first Crackseer in over a century."
"Crackseer?" I mutter. "That sounds… rude."
The professor glares at me like she's already planning my funeral.
The Headmaster just chuckles softly.
"Get some rest, Leonard. Tomorrow, your training begins. The world you've stepped into is fragile and those cracks you see may soon swallow us all."
And just like that, I'm dismissed.
Me.
Sixteen. Homeless. Accidentally broke a magical barrier and got enrolled in a flying school by a guy who might be a wizard, prophet, or both.
Honestly?
Could be worse.
At least the carpet's nice.