Everything. Everything could go wrong.
The first week at the Academy of Arcanis should have been magical, literally and figuratively. Instead, I experienced it as the only student forbidden from participating in practical exercises, relegated to theory and observation while my classmates began manipulating the fundamental forces of reality.
The Academy itself seemed determined to remind me of what I was missing. Every morning, I woke to find the dormitory architecture had rearranged itself overnight.
My first Monday, the bathroom appeared to be situated in what had previously been a closet. I discovered this after sleepily opening what I thought was the door to the hallway, only to stumble into a steaming shower occupied by a very startled Finn.
"ARDENT!" he'd yelped, scrambling for a towel. "Knock much?"
"Sorry! The room changed again!" I'd slammed the door, only to find it opening into a linen closet on my second attempt.
Tuesday, my bed had migrated to the ceiling (thankfully with gravity locally reversed). I woke to Gavril barely holding his laughs as I floated five feet above the floor, blankets drifting around me like lazy clouds.
By Wednesday, I'd learned to simply accept whatever spatial reconfiguration greeted me upon waking. When my desk transformed into a small fountain, I merely sighed and rescued my textbooks before they became waterlogged. When I found my wardrobe had somehow merged with the adjacent room's collection of exotic plants, creating a bizarre ecosystem where my uniforms now sported living flower buttons, I simply plucked the least ostentatious blooms and headed to class.
The classes themselves were a parade of wonders I could only passively experience. Professor Gravitas continued our education on force manipulation in his spherical classroom where gravity shifted direction based on his lecture points. Students practiced hovering small objects, except me, who took exceedingly detailed notes while my quill occasionally floated away of its own accord.
"The relationship between intent and manifestation," Professor Gravitas intoned while doing his favorite hobby of standing on should-be-walls, "exists in a constant state of negotiation with reality's frameworks."
As if to illustrate his point, my notebook chose that moment to flip through its pages rapidly before settling on a blank sheet, despite my frantic attempts to return to my notes.
"Mr. Ardent," Professor Gravitas called out, his stern voice cutting through the classroom's ambient hum of magic, "I trust you're finding your observational role... illuminating?"
The question hung in the air like one of the floating chalk pieces he used to diagram magical theorems.
"Absolutely fascinating, Professor," I replied, managing to keep my voice level. "Though I'm beginning to think my notebook has its own ideas about what's important to record."
A ripple of laughter broke the tension, and even Professor Gravitas's mouth twitched slightly before he resumed his lecture, now walking seamlessly from wall to ceiling as the room's orientation shifted around him.
Between classes, the corridors became rivers of students navigating the Academy's ever-changing geography. I found myself swept along with Finn and Gavril, occasionally spotting Elias and Soren moving with the confident stride of those who somehow intuited the building's shifting pathways.
"The architecture responds to magical resonance," Gavril explained during one particularly confusing transition where a staircase had split into three parallel flights leading to different floors simultaneously. "I've been tracking your movements, Asher. The building actually shifts toward you rather than away. It's as if it's... curious about your probability field."
"Great," I'd muttered. "Even the building finds me fascinating."
"Could be worse," Finn had quipped, choosing the middle staircase. "It could be trying to eat you."
Professor Zephyr's "Principles of Elemental Transmutation" was equally frustrating. While other students transformed water into brief flashes of lightning, I watched from a specially shielded desk (Lady Althea's orders) that prevented any stray magic from affecting me, or more accurately, prevented my chaotic influence from affecting others' work. Of course, this didn't stop my ink from spontaneously changing colors mid-sentence or my chair occasionally turning into gelatin for split seconds.
"Magic," Professor Zephyr, the one person who made a 180 degree change from the admission exams, proclaimed while balanced precariously on one foot atop his desk, "is less about control and more about convincing reality to take a vacation from its usual habits!" He punctuated this by transforming his desk into a flock of origami birds that flew around the room before reassembling.
Valentina executed the same transformation with pristine precision and not a hint of showmanship, while Next to me, Finn struggled to keep his water droplet from expanding into a small thundercloud.
"Restraint," Valentina commented loudly enough for the front row to hear, "is as important as ability."
Professor Zephyr, landing lightly back on his now-reformed desk, merely winked at her. "And spontaneity, Miss Morgenstern, is the soul of discovery!"
His gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on my shielded desk. "Mr. Ardent, while your... unique condition prevents direct participation, I'd value your observations on the theoretical principles behind today's transmutation exercises."
Put on the spot, I scrambled for something intelligent to say. "Well, Professor, it seems like successful transmutation requires not just understanding what something is, but what it could be."
A smile spread across Zephyr's face. "Precisely! Five points to…" He paused, then burst out laughing. "Sorry, wrong magic school. However, consider yourself metaphorically rewarded, Mr. Ardent."
The Academy's architecture continued to astonish me daily. Corridors that stretched endlessly one moment would contract to mere steps the next. The Nexus Spire contained rooms that seemed to exist in multiple places simultaneously, enter one door in the east wing, and you might exit in the west, having traversed no apparent distance.
The Infinite Library was perhaps the most maddening example of Arcanis' impossible geometry. Bookshelves stretched into infinity above, below, and to all sides. Some students claimed to have found sections where gravity operated sideways or even reversed, allowing browsing in three dimensions. I couldn't confirm this personally, as my one attempt to enter resulted in every book within a ten-foot radius rearranging itself alphabetically by the third word on page forty-two.
The elderly librarian, a man whose name badge identified him as "Curator Alexandros", simply sighed and politely suggested I return after my "probability quarantine" concluded.
****
"You're taking this remarkably well," Gavril commented over dinner on Thursday. The Great Hall's ceiling displayed a meteor shower that evening, the celestial objects harmlessly dissolving into sparks of light before reaching the tables below. Well, most of them, a small one did manage to land in my soup, though it merely fizzled out with a sound suspiciously like a sigh, as if it was depressed it couldn't cause a miniature disaster like the one at the feast.
"What choice do I have?" I replied, fishing out the meteorite remnants with my spoon. "Besides, I've had seventeen years of practice dealing with this curse."
"Not a curse," Finn corrected around a mouthful of floating pudding that hovered slightly above his plate. "A 'probabilistic anomaly with personalized targeting parameters.'"
"It's still ruining my academic career before it even starts," I grumbled. "Everyone else is learning to manipulate elements, and I'm learning how to dodge falling objects and explain to professors why my homework spontaneously translated itself into an extinct language."
"Speaking of which," Gavril lowered his voice, "have you noticed we haven't had a single class with Professor Nihil yet? The course schedule lists 'Deterministic Applications,' but the sessions keep getting canceled or reassigned."
I frowned. "Maybe he's on sabbatical?"
"Or avoiding someone," Finn suggested, eyeing me meaningfully.
Before I could respond, a commotion near our table drew my attention. A tall, imposing student with the aristocratic bearing that seemed standard issue for the nobility was glaring down at me. His uniform bore insignias I didn't recognize, but the way other students deferred to him spoke volumes about his status.
"So this is the chaos-bringer," he said, his voice carrying that particular tone of disdain that seemed to be taught alongside table manners in noble households.
"Augustin Valorian," Gavril whispered urgently. "Grandson of the Grand Magister himself."
Wonderful. Another noble to antagonize. My collection was growing nicely.
"I don't believe we've been introduced," I said carefully, conscious of Lady Althea's warnings about avoiding stress.
"No introduction necessary," Augustin replied. "Your reputation precedes you, Ardent. One might think you're collecting enemies deliberately."
I took a deep breath. "Look, I'm just trying to survive my first week without accidentally turning myself inside out. I'm not looking for trouble."
"Trouble seems to find you regardless," Augustin observed, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward. Several objects near his fingertips began to vibrate subtly, a display of power without actually casting a spell. "Perhaps a demonstration of proper magical control would be educational for you."
Before I could respond, Vael Moridian appeared at Augustin's side, her ocean-blue eyes cool and assessing. "Valorian, I believe challenging a student who is under medical restriction would violate at least seven Academy protocols."
"Not to mention basic decency," Finn added, standing up beside me.
"And strategic thinking," came Elias's voice as he approached our table with Soren trailing behind. "Ardent here managed a draw against Valentina Morgenstern while operating at a disadvantage. Would you care to test your own skills against such unpredictability?"
Augustin straightened, clearly reassessing the situation as he found himself suddenly outnumbered by representatives from multiple influential houses (the most influential being Finn's from chapter 17). "Another time, perhaps, when our newest celebrity is... operational." With a final contemptuous glance, he strode away.
"Thanks for the intervention," I said to the unexpected alliance that had formed around me.
Vael inclined her head slightly. "Don't misunderstand. I simply prefer that conflicts follow proper protocols."
"And I find you far too interesting to lose to such a pedestrian confrontation," Elias added with his enigmatic half-smile.
"You're collecting quite the entourage, huh," Gavril observed after they departed.
"Please stop reminding me," I muttered while heading with Gavril and Finn towards our next lecture.
****
By the time the second week began, I was practically vibrating with anticipation for my magical restrictions to be lifted. Lady Althea had examined me the previous evening and declared my "probability matrix" to be "almost within acceptable parameters of destabilization," whatever that meant.
"One more day," she had warned. "Just to be certain."
Monday morning of the second week found me, Finn, and Gavril lounging on one of the floating gardens between classes. These botanical marvels drifted slowly around the Academy spires, offering students places to relax amid impossibly vibrant flora. Today, our garden platform hovered near the Divination Observatory, offering spectacular views of its star-chart dome.
"So," Finn was saying as he lounged against a tree that changed its leaf colors based on the conversations around it, "theoretical question: if your luck causes problems without you casting spells, does that mean your luck itself is a separate entity?"
"Don't even joke about that," I groaned. "The last thing I need is to discover my misfortune is actually sentient."
"It would explain its seemingly intelligent targeting," Gavril mused, watching as a flower near my hand closed its petals defensively. "Almost as if it's..."
"...Playing with you?" Finn suggested.
"I was going to say 'responding to stimuli,' but your phrasing has disturbing implications," Gavril replied.
I was about to protest when the atmosphere around us suddenly... shifted. The floating garden grew unnaturally quiet. The ambient sounds of student conversation ceased. Even the colors seemed to intensify, as if reality itself was holding its breath.
Down the garden path, a figure appeared, walking with such deliberate grace that she seemed to glide above the ground rather than touch it. Long, light green hair flowed around her like living silk, catching the light in ways that defied normal physics. Her uniform, while the same design as other students', somehow appeared both more vibrant and more elegant on her slender frame.
But it was her eyes that captured me completely, the same light green as her hair, yet somehow containing depths that suggested ancient knowledge and limitless possibility. They shifted like pools of liquid fortune, captivating everyone in her path.
Students froze mid-conversation, professors halted mid-stride, even the garden itself seemed to bend slightly toward her, as if gravity recognized her importance.
"She's finally here." Gavril whispered reverently. "Liora, The Personification of Fortune and Probability."
My heart hammered against my ribs as something within me, perhaps my very own cursed luck, responded to her presence like a compass needle finding true north. A resonance, deep and primal, vibrated through my being.
As if sensing this connection, her steps faltered slightly. Those mesmerizing eyes swept across the garden until they locked with mine.
Time stopped.
The world around us blurred into insignificance as our gazes held. Recognition flashed across her perfect features, followed quickly by something else, surprise? Annoyance? Curiosity? I couldn't tell, but the intensity of her regard pinned me in place more effectively than any spell.
For an endless moment, Luck herself stared into the eyes of her most unfortunate victim, and I stared back, suddenly certain that nothing in my life would ever be the same again.