Kyle didn't sleep.
He tried. The motel room he'd been assigned was clean, modest, and surprisingly quiet for a building full of teenagers—more of a hostel than anything. But as he lay in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the carved ceiling above him, his thoughts spun like a wind spell gone rogue.
The city. The academy. The Sorting.
Too much, too fast.
He knew the letter had said he'd be exempt from the Aptitude—essentially a preliminary entrance exam—but the rest? What even was a mind and soul assessment?
Morning arrived with soft light spilling through enchanted glass that muted the harshness of sunrise. Kyle dressed quickly, pulling on the grey-accented student tunic they'd provided—marked only with a small crest on the sleeve. Unsorted. Not yet a full initiate.
Orin was waiting just outside his room, munching on a glowing fruit and offering one to Kyle with a grin.
"Want to explore the city before the Sorting? They gave us a free day, remember?"
Kyle hesitated, then took the fruit. "Shouldn't we be preparing?"
"This is preparation. The city's half the academy experience," Orin said. "And between you and me? You can learn more watching people than reading dusty tomes."
Not that I have any, Kyle thought to himself.
The outer campus bled naturally into the city itself—no towering walls or hard borders, just a gentle transition from manicured stone paths to cobbled streets alive with scent, noise, and colour.
Kyle kept pace beside Orin as they wound through the Silver Veins District, a part of the city built around ancient mana ley lines. The streets shimmered faintly, and magic seemed to leak into everything. Banners hung above narrow alleys; steam-powered carts rumbled past rune-lit storefronts; children floated in little bubbles of air as part of a school game.
Kyle couldn't help but stare.
"Don't gawk too hard," Orin teased. "Locals love it when you look impressed. They'll try to sell you a flying broom that only hovers six inches off the ground."
"I may be new, but I'm no idiot," Kyle chuckled.
He was genuinely enjoying Orin's presence despite the impromptu friendship.
They passed a stall selling mana-etched trinkets. Another offered "pure elemental candy" that sizzled or glowed. Kyle paused at one that displayed a strange box with spinning needles and a low humming sound.
"What's this?" he asked the vendor.
"Resonance meter," the man replied without looking up. "Picks up lingering magical presence. Yours is twitching funny, though."
Kyle stepped back quickly. Orin laughed and pulled him away.
"Don't worry," he said. "Half of them just say weird things to freak out first-years."
Still, Kyle couldn't shake the odd look the vendor gave him as they left.
Eventually, they reached the Glasswalk, a raised bridge of crystal that arced across a deep ravine and offered a stunning view of Ardenhall's central district.
The sight stopped Kyle cold.
At the heart of the city stood the Spire Arcanum—a massive tower wrapped in rotating magical rings. It pulsed with mana like a beating heart, drawing lines of light from the ground, sky, and even the air itself. Around it, other towers clustered like lesser stars around a sun.
"That's the nexus," Orin said softly. "The Academy's true centre. Where they keep the deeper vaults. Some say it was built atop a god's grave."
Kyle didn't reply. His eyes locked on the pulsing rings. They weren't just decorative. He could feel them. Like distant thunder rolling through his bones.
"You okay?"
"…Yeah."
Orin studied him a moment, then clapped him on the shoulder.
"C'mon. Let's check out the Runemark Archives before we head back. Maybe they'll let us peek at a few beginner spells."
The archives were less library and more museum.
They entered through an arched gate guarded by stone lions that shimmered when people passed. Inside, columns held shelves of glowing scrolls and tomes sealed behind transparent wards. A few sections were open to the public—mostly historical entries and beginner theory.
Kyle wandered past titles like Principles of Ley Conduction and Foundations of Elemental Harmony, until he stopped at a display titled:
The Fourfold Descent: Collapse of the Old Archons
The plaque beneath detailed a rebellion centuries ago.The Archons—mages once considered near-gods—had turned on the world in a magical civil war that tore through kingdoms and nations.The result was the foundation of the modern global political system and the academy as it exists today: to never be weak, each side invests in promising talents, raising them to maybe one day fight for them.
"They always paint it like some Armageddon," said a voice behind him.
Kyle turned.
A tall woman in a dark academy robe stood there, arms crossed. Her eyes were sharp, mesmerizingly blue, and vaguely amused.
"History isn't so clean," she added.
"…You study here?" Kyle asked.
She tilted her head."We all do. But some of us actually read."
She turned and walked off before he could think of a reply.
Orin reappeared moments later, oblivious.
"You meet anyone interesting?"
"I think I met a troublesome woman," Kyle sighed and allowed himself to be dragged along.
They returned to the dorms by dusk.
Kyle stood in front of the mirror for a long time that night, staring at his own reflection.He didn't look any different.But he felt like he was changing already—like every word, every glance, every shimmer of mana was pressing against the core of him, reshaping it.
Tomorrow: The Exams.
He wasn't sure what to expect.
But for the first time since leaving the village, Kyle found himself looking forward to what was coming.