The trials didn't end until sunset.
Aerin waited in the courtyard with the other passing students. There were fewer than he'd expected—maybe two hundred out of the thousand who'd shown up that morning. The rest had failed or been carried to the infirmary.
Nobody was standing near him.
It wasn't obvious. People just. drifted away when he got close. Like he was carrying something contagious.
Suits him fine; he was too tired to make conversation anyway.
His stomach was a hollow ache now. Two days without food, and the fight had burned through what little energy he had left. But he stayed standing, keeping his face neutral.
Never show weakness. That was the first rule of survival.
When the last trial finished, Examiner Veld returned to his platform. The crowd quieted.
"Two hundred and seventeen passed," Veld announced. "Congratulations. You are now students of Arcanis Sanctum."
A few applauded. Most just looked relieved.
"You will be assigned to divisions based on your magic type. Your division master will explain the details. When I call your name and division, step forward."
He pulled out another list and started reading.
"Henrik Valdris—Elementium Ward, A-Class."
The boy who'd fought Aerin limped forward. His left arm was bandaged. He didn't look at Aerin.
Veld kept reading. Fire mages went to Elementium Ward. Summoners went to Aetherium Conjura. Healers went to Corpus Arcanum.
The groups got smaller with each division. By the time Veld reached the end of the list, only a handful of names remained.
Including Aerin's.
"The following students will report to Umbra Occulta," Veld said. His voice got quieter. More serious. "This is the division for. specialized magic. You will understand what that means shortly."
He counted five names. The third was Aerin's.
The other four students looked just as confused as he felt. None of them knew what "specialized magic" meant either.
"Umbra Occulta students, follow me."
Veld stepped down from the platform and walked toward a different archway than the one leading to the arena. The five of them followed.
As they walked, Aerin noticed something. The other divisions were being led by friendly-looking instructors who smiled and answered questions. Veld didn't smile. Didn't answer questions. Just walked in silence.
The tunnel they entered was darker than the others. The blue crystals in the walls were dimmer here, almost grey. The air felt heavier.
"Umbra Occulta," Veld said without turning around, "is where we place students whose magic doesn't fit the other categories. Blood magic. Shadow arts. Curses. Things most people fear."
One of the students—a girl with pale skin and darker hair—spoke up. "Why do we need a special division for that?"
"Because," Veld said, "students like you need special supervision. Your magic is dangerous. Not just to others—to yourselves. One mistake and you could kill someone. Or worse."
The tunnel opened into a large chamber. Unlike the bright, open courtyards of the other divisions, this one was enclosed. Dark stone walls, high ceiling, narrow windows that let in thin streams of moonlight.
And in the middle of them stood a man who made something in Aerin's gut shriek danger.
Tall. Too thin. Long white hair pulled back in a loose tail. Eyes that were completely black—no iris, no white, just black. He wore simple grey robes, but something about the way he stood made it clear he could kill everyone in this room without effort.
"Ah," the man said. His voice was soft, almost gentle. "Fresh meat."
Veld stopped. "These are your new students, Master Thorne. All five passed combat trials."
"I can see that." Thorne's black eyes moved across them slowly. "You. Girl with the shadow affinity. You held back during your trial. Why?"
The pale girl flinched. "I. I didn't want to hurt—"
"Wrong answer." Thorne's voice stayed gentle, but his eyes got colder. "Your opponent was trying to kill you. You held back and barely won. Next time, you'll die. Umbra Occulta students don't get the luxury of mercy."
He moved to the next student. A boy with burn scars on his hands. "Blood mage. Self-taught, judging by the amateur scarring. You'll need to relearn everything. Your technique is sloppy."
The boy opened his mouth to argue, then closed it.
Thorne kept moving until he reached Aerin.
Those black eyes studied him for a long moment. Too long. Aerin forced himself to hold the gaze.
"Aerin Arclight," Thorne said quietly. "The last one. I was wondering when you'd show up."
"You know me?"
"I know your family. Your grandmother studied under me, years ago." Thorne tilted his head. "Tell me, boy. What are you hiding under that cloak?"
Aerin instinctively leaned toward Sangreal. "Nothing."
"Liar." Thorne smiled, but it wasn't friendly. "But that's fine. Everyone here is hiding something. That's why you're in my division."
He turned to address all five of them. "Welcome to Umbra Occulta. You'll find your rooms in the Crown Dorms—yes, all of you are S-Class, whether you deserve it or not. Classes start tomorrow at dawn. Don't be late. Dismissed."
That was it. No speeches about potential or excellence. No welcome ceremony.
Just sacked.
-
The Crown Dorms were on the north side of the academy, separated from the other dorms by a wide courtyard. The building was smaller but fancier—white stone, tall windows, actual carved decorations.
A woman in dark blue robes met them at the entrance. "I'm Warden Meris. I manage the Crown Dorms. You'll each have a private room with a study desk and private bath. Meals are served in the common hall three times daily. Curfew is midnight. Break curfew three times and you're moved to the lower dorms."
She handed each of them a key. "Your room number is engraved on it. Your belongings will be delivered by tomorrow. Any questions?"
One of the boys raised his hand. "What about—"
"No questions. You figure it out yourselves."
She walked away.
Aerin looked down at his key. Room 507. Fifth floor.
He slowly climbed the stairs. His legs felt heavy as lead. Every step was a chore.
The fifth floor hallway was quiet. Thick carpet muffled his footsteps. Oil paintings hung on the walls—portraits of stern-looking mages from centuries past.
Room 507 was located at the far end of the hall.
Aerin unlocked it and stepped inside.
The room was bigger than his entire living space in the slums. A real bed with clean sheets. A desk with a chair that wasn't broken. A window that actually opened. A door leading to a private bathroom with running water.
He stood and just looked a moment.
Then his legs gave out.
Aerin sat down hard on the floor, back against the wall. The exhaustion hit him all at once. Two days of no food, a fight in the arena, walking for hours, climbing five floors of stairs.
His hands were trembling again.
I did it, he thought, I am really here.
But the weight of Sangreal under his cloak reminded him this wasn't over. It was just beginning.
Somebody knocked on his door.
Aerin forced himself to his feet. His legs protested. He opened the door.
A boy stood in the hallway. About his age, maybe a year older. Messy red hair, bright green eyes, a grin that looked like trouble. He wore the same dark uniform all students got, but his was already rumpled like he'd been rolling around in it.
"Hey!" The boy stuck out his hand. "I'm Kael. Kael Verin. Fire mage, Elementium Ward, apparently also S-Class even though I barely passed. You're the guy who beat Henrik, right?"
Aerin blinked. ".Yeah."
"Awesome! That guy's a complete ass. Been picking fights with everyone all day. Seeing someone shut him up was the highlight of my week. Can I come in?"
Before Aerin could answer, Kael pushed past him into the room.
"Nice place. Way better than mine—oh wait, this is the exact same layout. Nevermind." Kael flopped onto Aerin's bed like he owned it. "So what's your deal? You're the mysterious Arclight everyone's whispering about. Got a creepy sword that has a heartbeat. Sounds cool."
Aerin shut the door behind her. "Why are you here?"
"Because you looked like you needed a friend. Also because I'm bored and everyone else is either crying about how hard the trials were or bragging about how easy they were, and both groups are annoying."
Kael sat up and looked at him seriously. "Look, I know you probably want to be left alone or whatever. Mysterious loner thing, I get it. But here's the deal—this academy eats loners alive. You need allies. And I need someone who won't bore me to death with noble politics. So let's be friends. What do you say?"
Aerin stared at him. This was possibly the strangest conversation he'd had since waking up in this world.
"I don't need—
"Everyone needs friends," Kael interrupted. "Especially people who are hiding stuff. And you're definitely hiding stuff. That's fine. I won't ask. But when you inevitably get into trouble, having a fire mage who can cover your back seems like a good idea, right?"
He had a point.
"Fine," Aerin said. "But I'm not any good at the whole. friend thing.
"That's okay. I'm good enough at it for both of us." Kael grinned and held out his hand again. "Deal?"
After a moment, Aerin shook it.
"Excellent!" Kael jumped up. "Now let's go get food. I'm starving and I bet you haven't eaten in like three days, judging by how pale you are. Come on!"
Before he could say anything, Aerin was dragged out the door.
---
The dining hall had been chaos.
Hundreds of students crowded around long tables, all talking at once. The smell of food made Aerin's empty stomach clench painfully.
Kael led him to a less crowded table near the back and dumped two plates of food in front of him. Bread, meat, vegetables, some kind of soup.
"Eat," Kael ordered. "You look like you're about to pass out."
Aerin didn't argue. He ate slowly at first, then faster. The food tasted better than anything he remembered. Real bread. Actual meat.
He finished the first plate in just minutes.
"Thought so," Kael said, pushing the second plate toward him. "Don't worry, I grabbed extra. Eat up."
As Aerin worked through the second plate, Kael kept talking. About the trials. About the other students. About how the Elementium Ward dormitory was full of stuck-up nobles who thought they were better than everyone.
"—and then this girl made a flower out of ice, and everyone acted like she'd discovered a new element. It was just ice! My little sister can make ice! I was like—"
Kael trailed off.
His eyes were fixed on something across the hall.
Aerin followed his gaze.
A girl had just come into the dining hall.
She was. striking. Not beautiful in the obvious way, but the kind of person who made you look twice. Silver-white hair that fell past her shoulders. Pale skin. She wore the standard uniform, but somehow it looked elegant on her.
But what caught Aerin's attention were her eyes.
Sapphire blue. Cold. Calculating. They swept across the room like she was cataloging every person, every threat, every detail.
And for but a moment, those eyes locked onto him.
Time seemed to stand still.
Aerin felt something in his chest twist. Not painful. Just. there. Like recognition. Like seeing something familiar you couldn't quite place.
The girl's expression didn't change, but her eyes lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Then she averted her eyes and went towards a table at the other end of the hall.
"Who is that?" he asked softly.
Kael had already recovered from his staring. "Seren Moonveil. Heir to the Moonveil family. Apparently she's some kind of prodigy—passed her trial without taking a single hit. Everyone's saying she'll end up ranked first in our year."
"Moonveil," Aerin repeated. The name meant nothing to him, but the original Aerin's memories stirred uneasily.
"Yeah. Old noble family. Really old. Like, their bloodline goes back centuries." Kael leaned in conspiratorially. "Rumor is she's here looking for someone. Some kind of mission from her family. No idea who though."
Aerin watched her sit down alone at her table. She didn't talk to anyone. Just ate her food in silence, those blue eyes occasionally scanning the room.
Once, they again fell on him.
This time, it was Aerin who looked away.
"Come on," Kael said, standing up. "Let's get out of here before the crown prince shows up. He's been making rounds all day introducing himself to everyone, and I really don't want to deal with royal politics right now."
"Crown prince?"
"Prince Theron. Third in line for the throne, but acts like he's already king. He's in our year, S-Class Elementium Ward. Total pain in the ass."
They left the dining hall and headed back toward the dorms. The sun had fully set now. Moonlight illuminated the courtyards, turning everything silver.
As they walked, Aerin felt it again. That sense of being watched.
He glanced over his shoulder.
A figure stood on one of the upper balconies. Silver-white hair catching the moonlight.
Seren was watching him.
Their eyes had met a third time that night.
This time neither looked away immediately.
Aerin couldn't read her expression from this distance. But something in her posture, in the way she stood perfectly still, reminded him of a predator watching prey.
Then she went and vanished into the dark.
"You okay?" Kael asked. "You got really quiet."
"I'm fine," Aerin said. But under his cloak, Sangreal's heartbeat quickened.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
That girl did something to make the sword react.
And Aerin had a feeling he was going to find out why.
---
Later that night, in a room on the opposite side of the Crown Dorms, Seren sat by her window and stared at the moon.
Her roommate—a healer named Lyssa with kind eyes and a gentle smile—was already asleep. But Seren couldn't rest.
That boy, the one in the tattered cloak and the sword that had a heartbeat.
Something about him felt wrong.
No—not wrong. Familiar.
Her hand moved to the moon-shaped earrings her mother had given her. They were warm against her skin. They only did that when danger was near.
"Who are you, Aerin Arclight?" she whispered to the moon.
Something, wrapped in cloth and hidden from view, pulsed with faint light from under the bed.
A spear of silver metal inscribed with symbols that glowed softly in the dark.
Eclipsa.
The weapon that had once stood against the Crimson Emperor himself.
And tonight, for the first time in seventy years, it had stirred. Seren closed her eyes and tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach. Please don't let it be him. Anyone but him. But deep inside her, she already knew the truth. Her search was over. She'd found the one she was supposed to kill. ---