Aarav felt like the academy was alive. Not like a person—more like a storm waiting to decide where to strike. When the sigils on the bridge faded, the stone under his feet warmed, responding to him. The cracked black mark on his palm pulsed once and then disappeared under his skin, as if it had never been there. It felt like it was hiding.
"Everyone," the robed figure called. Their voice echoed strangely. "Follow the light. Do not wander. Do not touch anything that hums." Several nearby things hummed.
Golden lines lit up along the bridge, stretching toward the towering gates of Astra Noctis Academy. Up close, the walls were covered in layers of runes—some sharp and angular, others curved and ancient. Aarav felt a headache coming on from looking at them too long.
Students shuffled forward, whispering nervously.
"Is this a prank?"
"No way this is legal."
"Bro, I was literally asleep five minutes ago."
Aarav remained quiet. Each step forward tightened his chest, as if the academy was measuring him. Judging him. The gates opened by themselves.
Inside was a vast hall lit by floating orbs of pale blue light. Staircases twisted in impossible directions, some going up while others looped back into walls that shouldn't be there. Balconies floated unattached, and doors appeared and disappeared like blinking eyes. A collective gasp spread through the group.
"Welcome," said a new voice. A woman stepped out of the shadows. Her silver-white hair and calm but sharp expression suggested someone who had witnessed too many disasters to be surprised by new ones.
"I am Headmistress Seraphine Valecrest," she said. "You have been brought here because magic has marked you as… necessary." Necessary. Not special. Not chosen. Aarav didn't like that word.
"Before you ask," Valecrest continued, "no—you cannot leave. Astra Noctis exists outside your world's time. One night here equals one minute at home. Your absence will not be noticed." That caught their attention. Murmurs broke out. Aarav's heart sank. Outside time. That explained the pressure. The wrongness.
"You will be sorted into Orders," Valecrest said, raising her hand. Silence settled in. "Each Order studies a different area of magic. Control is survival here. Talent without restraint leads to erasure." She scanned the room, then her gaze stopped. At Aarav. Her eyes narrowed just slightly. The cracked black sigil flared under his skin, hot and angry. Valecrest stayed calm, but the air around her shifted.
"Sorting begins now." One by one, students stepped forward. Sigils appeared in the air above them—fire, wind, light, mind. Names were called, and Orders were assigned. Cheering and sighing followed. Aarav waited. And waited. Finally, he was the only one left. The hall felt colder. Valecrest walked toward him, slowly.
"Show me your mark," she said. Aarav hesitated. Then he opened his hand. The sigil emerged. The hall went quiet. The symbol was wrong. Cracked, darker than shadow but edged with hints of colors trying to break free. The floating orbs flickered violently. A staircase collapsed into mist.
Valecrest inhaled sharply. "So the Void remembers," she murmured. Aarav's throat dried up. "That's… bad, isn't it?" She looked him in the eyes. "Yes," she said, honestly. "Very."
She straightened and raised her voice. "There is no Order for you." Gasps erupted. "You will not train as the others do," Valecrest continued. "Your magic does not follow rules—it devours them." That word hurt Aarav. Devours.
"You will be observed," she said. "Restricted. Watched at all times." A pause. "And if your sigil awakens fully—" She didn't finish that sentence. She didn't need to. From deep beneath the academy, a low rumble responded, as if something ancient had heard its name spoken.
Aarav clenched his fist. Whatever Astra Noctis was… It already knew him. And it was not pleased.