The great hall's warmth wrapped around me like a familiar blanket, yet my stomach remained oddly hollow despite the abundance before me. Platters of roasted meats, their edges crisp with herbs and honey, steamed alongside crusty bread and wheels of sharp cheese. The iron chandeliers above cast dancing shadows across the Drakenhall table, their flames reflecting off the polished wooden surface where scattered breadcrumbs caught the light like fallen stars.A group of third-years passed behind me, their conversation drifting past like autumn leaves:

  "Did you hear about Professor Eris?"

  "I’ve heard she’s wounded."

  Their words faded into the general murmur as more students filtered in through the big doors, their boots echoing against the stone floor.

  Through the grand entrance, familiar faces emerged—Rowan's easy smile noticeable. The others followed, their animated chatter carrying across the hall. They all wore their new uniforms, still crisp from the wand ceremony, house colors bold against the black fabric.

  "Save us something to eat!" Rowan called out, his voice carrying over the din. I raised my hand to wave, and then—

  The world .

  A chill raced down my spine like winter's first frost, and something deep within my chest moved—an ancient gear clicking into place. The breath caught in my throat, each heartbeat thundering in my ears as my eyes were drawn, inexorably, to the high table. The honey bread in my hand fell forgotten to my plate.

  There she sat, beside the headmaster’s ornate chair. She was too young to be among the aged professors, yet her presence commanded the space around her. Those eyes... Crystal blue pools that had watched over me yesterday. The world seemed to be still, the sound fading to a distant whisper as our gazes locked.

  Her silver hair, touched with threads of gold, fell across her face like starlight. When she tucked it back with a gentle smile, her bracelet caught the light, the gems etched upon it seeming to dance. The silver ring on her finger glinted, its golden carving pulsing like a captured sunrise. Something about that ring tugged at my memory, like a word forgotten on the tip of my tongue.

  She reached for something within her robes, her lips moving in what seemed a whisper of ancient promise. Then she rose, her movement graceful as water, and departed through a side door, her hair flowing behind her like a silver banner in twilight.

  My heart beat like there was no tomorrow, following her shadow like long lost love. My very being was screaming at me to follow her, to find her, to look for her… but she had vanished… vanished right before my eyes, leaving nothing but uncertainty and desire.

  "Still here? Einar!" Alina's voice cut through my reverie, her hand waving before my eyes. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

  I blinked, suddenly aware of my surroundings. Rowan stood beside her, his smile knowing and awkward, while the others had settled around the table. The forgotten honey bread lay crumbled between my fingers.

  "Maybe he has," Valen mused, his voice unusually thoughtful. "They say some sorcerers are older than they appear."

  Lucas's laugh cut through the moment like a knife. "Maybe our peasant ‘friend’ is simply overwhelmed by real beauty for once." His words dripped with familiar condescension.

  I cleared my throat. “Who is she? She can’t be a professor with that appearance.”

  "Eris Vermillion," Alina interjected softly. "I heard the older students talking about her. They say she graduated from this school three years ago, and within a few months, the Council of Magic had given her Broach of Learning, mostly on the headmaster's recommendation, as they say he favoured her."

  Lucas nodded, his eyes narrowing. "No known family, no history. Even head—" he paused, glancing around, then lowered his voice, "Even the Headmaster seems... to hide something about her."

  "You can't seriously be interested in her," Rowan said, reaching for a bread roll. "She's a goddamn professor, Einar. And after yesterday—"

  "It's not like that," I cut him off, my voice rougher than intended. "She just seems... familiar."

  "Familiar?" Alina leaned forward, her scholarly interest piqued. "From where? You have not seen her before…"

  I shook my head, unable to put the feeling into words. How could I explain my memories? The fragments of dreams that felt more real than reality itself? The way my very essence seemed to reach for her, like a compass finding true north?

  "Just... familiar," I repeated lamely.

  Later, we made our way to the east wing classroom, our footsteps echoing off ancient stone floors. The air was cool, faintly perfumed with jasmine, mingling with the metallic scent of magic lingering in the hallways. Portraits of ancient sorcerers lined the walls, their eyes following us with eerie realism. I could have sworn one of them blinked.

  “Did you notice?” Rowan whispered, his voice low, his brown eyes wide. “That lady in the portrait just gave me a wink.”

  I chuckled, “You should thank her for that. There is actually someone who would do something like that to you.”

  “Ha. Ha. Really funny.”

  I'd noticed more than those portraits, the way the very stones seemed to fickle with each of our steps, leading us somewhere by themselves. Is it just me feeling like the castle itself is alive?

  The classroom door stood open, allowing dim sunlight to filter in through thick clouds. The windows on the left side of the room were stained with drops of rain, yet there was no sound of raindrops hitting the glass. Inside, the room breathed history—polished stone floors gleamed beneath our feet, worn smooth by centuries of eager students. The air held an intoxicating blend of jasmine and fish oil from the wall-mounted lamps, their flames dancing in brass holders.

  Rowan moved first with excitement, leaving behind even Alina, who was most excited for the first class. He maneuvered through the desks and benches from back to front.

  "Front row?" Rowan asked, grinning.

  "You just want a better view," I teased, trying to lighten my own mood.

  "Of the educational process, of course," he replied with exaggerated dignity, then lowered his voice. "But seriously, Einar... I have been meaning to ask, what happened yesterday? I've never seen magic like that…"

  Before I could answer, movement at the door drew every eye. Professor entered like winter's first snowfall—silent, graceful, commanding attention without demanding it. Her midnight blue robes whispered against the stone floor, silver embroidery catching the light like starlight on still water. The bracelet gleamed at her wrist, and those mysterious rings…

  “Is she married?” I leaned closer to Rowan, glancing at the silver ring on her left hand.

  Rowan followed my gaze. “Not that we know of. You know how Lucas is. If she were married, he would have spilled that…”

  “Some jewellery, I guess. But… familiar…” I muttered.

  "I believe everyone is here," she began, her voice clear as mountain streams. She moved to the front of the room, each step measured and precise. "Don't want anyone to miss their first day of the class."

  A smile graced her lips, and the temperature in the room seemed to rise slightly. Several students shifted in their seats, as if suddenly more aware of their posture.

  "First of all," she continued, drawing a wand of white-silver wood from her robes, "I would like to congratulate everyone for getting into this school." With a casual flick, she conjured a shimmering map of the school grounds in the air before us, each building outlined in threads of silver light. Everything was labeled on the map, from the outer grounds to each classroom in the main building. "This school has stood for centuries, teaching those with the gift to shape their essence into magic. But power—" her eyes swept the room, landing on each student in turn, "—is nothing without real understanding."

  The map dissolved into flames that rained down harmlessly around us. A few students gasped in appreciation, but I was focused on her hand, the way it trembled slightly as she lowered her wand, the barely perceptible catch in her breath when her gaze passed over me.

  "My name is Eris Vermillion, your professor for ‘magical theory and fundamentals’ class," she said, turning to write it in elegant script on the blackboard. The chalk moved with unusual grace, leaving silvery traces that seemed to shimmer. "No magical background. Pretty strange for a sorceress like me, I guess. But that isn't a problem when you have the strength to back it."

  "Is it true you are the youngest professor in this school?" a bold voice called from the back, it was a Nightingale student. The room went deadly quiet waiting for her answer.

  Professor’s expression remained neutral, but her eyes hardened, a chill washing over the room. “Curiosity is admirable, Mr. Mccray,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. “But be careful. Sometimes, it leads to answers you’re not prepared to understand.”

  Terry’s smirk faltered, his cheeks flushing. He looked away, his hands tightened around the edge of the desk.

  Professor turned to her desk where a stack of leather-bound books waited, their spines creaking with age. With another graceful motion of her wand, the books rose into the air like leaves caught in an autumn breeze. They spread out in a perfect arc, their covers gleaming in the dim light—each one bound in deep burgundy leather with gold lettering that seemed to shimmer of its own accord.

  "," she announced as the books floated toward their designated recipients, "by Rainer Wright, who spent fifty years of his life exploring the fundamental nature of magic." The books settled onto our desks with gentle thuds, the leather cool beneath my fingers.

  I traced the intricate pattern carved deep on the leather cover. Next to me, Rowan was already thumbing through the pages, his eyes wide with wonder. Behind us, I heard Valen muttering something to Lucas with excitement, along with the turning of pages.

  "This course is not only about memorizing spells or perfecting wand movements." She began to pace, her footsteps silent against the stone floor. "It's about understanding the very essence of what makes magic possible. Why does a wand channel power better than any other tool? Why do some spells require precise words while others respond to mere intent?"

  The silver embroidery on her robes caught the light as she moved, creating patterns that seemed to dance across the walls. From my position in the front row, I noticed how her eyes lingered on each student's face, as if gauging their potential.

  "By the end of this year, you will understand not just how to perform magic, but why it works. This knowledge is the foundation upon which all other magical disciplines are built." She paused, a slight smile playing at her lips. "And I promise you, it will be far more fascinating than you imagine."

  A faint smile played on Professor’s lips. “Now, who can tell me… what is ?”

  Several hands shot up. Lucas's went highest, his emerald eyes gleaming with characteristic confidence. Without waiting to be called upon, he spoke, "Magic flows through bloodlines, passed down through generations of noble houses. It's why certain families—" he cast a sideways glance at Rowan and me, "—have always been more gifted newer generation than others."

  Marielle scoffed audibly, a deep brown-haired Calithor girl, I recalled from the ceremony. "That's convenient for noble houses to believe, isn't it? It would have been commendable if famous sorcerers like Regan Blackman, Deron Magnus, Isobel Lovelace, and many others did not come from ordinary backgrounds.”

  Lucas glared at the girl but Professor's expression remained neutral. "An interesting theory, Mr. Vincent," she said, her tone carrying a gentle rebuke, "but perhaps not the complete picture, it has many flaws like Miss Jade presented." She moved between the desks with fluid grace, her midnight blue robes whispering against the stone floor. "Anyone else?"

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  Sera raised her hand before Professor said, “Yes, Miss Evergreen.”

  "Magic exists in everything around us, Professor," she said softly but clearly. "In the air we breathe, the land beneath our feet, even in our own body. Many old books speak of it as the binding force of creation itself. Each living being had that force, many call it ‘energy’ and some scholars speak of it as the ‘essence of magic.’ But it’s nothing but a binding force."

  "Wonderful explanation, Miss Evergreen." Professor smiled, and I felt my breath catch as she passed near my desk. The scent of jasmine grew stronger, stirring something deep in my memory. "Magic is indeed woven into the very fabric of our world. But understanding it…” She paused, “truly understanding it requires more than mere talent or bloodline. It requires the will and the discipline to learn it."

  Professor drew her wand and with deliberate motions, she began tracing patterns in the air. Glowing trails followed her wand tip, forming elegant symbols that hung suspended before us.

  "The first chapter of the book ." Each symbol blazed with its own unique light as she named it. "Lux for light," a symbol like a star burning bright, "Vis for force," a rune that seemed to pulse with contained energy, "Yol for fire," flames danced within its lines, "Aer for wind," the symbol seemed to whisper as it formed, "Gol for Earth," solid and unmovable, "Tal for water," flowing and adaptable. “There are others that come in advanced classes.”

  The runes hung in the air, casting their multicolored light across fascinated faces. Even Lucas leaned forward, his usual smirk replaced by genuine interest.

  "These runes form the foundation of most spells you'll learn here," she continued. "They are the building blocks of magical theory, the letters of a language older than words themselves. Understanding them is the first step every sorcerer has to take in their journey. But," her eyes found mine again, holding my gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary, "they are not the limit of what magic can achieve. Mastery over them is the path that every sorcerer follows in the beginning."

  A small Drakenhall girl with braided hair raised her hand. "Professor, the book mentions something called 'resonance' between runes. Could you explain that?"

  "Excellent question, Miss Winters! Let me demonstrate with an example." Professor's words left her mouth as her wand’s tip glowed orange with Yol rune. "Watch what happens when we combine Yol with Aer." The spells merged, creating a spiral of flame that danced like a living thing.

  "Bloody hell, that’s the fire spell. Bit weak but yes, it’s a fire spell." Rowan smiled with excitement.

  Alina's hand shot up with excitement. "Professor, how do these runes interact with different magical essences? I've read that certain environment affects spell."

  "That’s a different case, Miss Eveline.” Professor reached into a pocket of her robes and withdrew several small crystals, each glowing with a different inner light. "These are magical stones, They carry an essence of their own, like any living being. A fire opal, for instance, can strengthen spells using the Yol rune, while aquamarine naturally resonates with Tal. But the relationship is more complex than simple amplification..."

  Her fingers twitched, and the crystals dissolved into dust, swirling around the floating runes before vanishing. “It is about harmony. Like how opal can strengthen fire spells, aquamarine will do the opposite to the same. That’s the case with the environment too, some will help the sorcerer, while others may hinder them.” She glanced around before locking her gaze on me. “Then there is a special case with the essence within you and the wand that brings out that essence doesn’t align with each other, resulting in it rejecting its master and even hurting them in the process.” She then turned to Lyssa. “Some wands, however, can empower their masters, albeit with certain restrictions. Remember, magic is not biased; it has a will of its own"

  “However,” Professor’s voice dropped to a near whisper, taking on an almost musical quality, "not all magic requires runes or focuses." Her voice dropped slightly, taking on an almost musical quality. "Watch carefully."

  She raised her wand and spoke two words. The sounds seemed to bypass my ears entirely, resonating instead within my chest, as if they were awakening something long dormant. The light in the chamber began to dim, not like shadows growing but like reality itself becoming thinner.

  Above us, the ceiling seemed to dissolve, revealing a night sky of impossible clarity. A crescent moon hung directly overhead, casting silver light that painted everything in ethereal shades. Stars burned with uncommon brightness, forming constellations I half-remembered from dreams.

  Gasps of wonder filled the room. Rowan's mouth hung open in amazement. Even Lucas looked impressed, his superiority forgotten in the face of such beauty. Alina was already scribbling notes, though what she could possibly be writing about such impossible magic, I couldn't guess.

  "This is an old spell," Professor explained, her face eerily beautiful in the moonlight. The silver in her hair seemed to dance with starlight, and those crystal blue eyes held depths I couldn't fathom. "One I created to find peace in moments of uncertainty. Such spells follow no conventional rules of runes—they come from something deeper, more personal. Each sorcerer comes at one point where their understanding of runes far exceeds, that’s when they come up with spells that favor them first before sharing it with the wizarding world."

  Our eyes met across the silvered darkness, and in that moment, something passed between us—a recognition, a memory, a truth I couldn't quite grasp. Then she blinked, breaking the connection, and with a wave of her wand, daylight flooded back into the room.

  "Now," Professor said, her voice resonating through the ancient chamber, "let us begin with something more basic." She moved to the center of the room with a fluid grace, her midnight blue robes trailing like smoke over the polished stone floor. Her crystal blue eyes gleamed with purpose, a faint smile playing on her lips as she scanned the rows of eager faces. Her gaze lingered on me, and my chest tightened with an emotion I couldn’t name.

  “The basic push spell

  combined with ‘Aer’ for a lot more exposure, a perfect balance of force and wind. It requires precision, not power.” She raised her wand. “Watch carefully.”

  Her wrist moved with practiced ease—a sharp flick followed by a gentle curve, smooth and flowing like a feather in a breeze. Her voice was clear, commanding,

  A pulse of air rippled through the room, invisible yet palpable. It rushed past me, cool and steady, rustling parchment and making the flames of wall-mounted lamps dance. At the far side of the room, a line of candles flickered—twelve in total, their golden flames bright and unwavering. In perfect succession, the flames extinguished one by one, from left to right, without disturbing the slightest wisp of smoke.

  A murmur of awe rippled through the room. Rowan’s eyes were wide with fascination, and Alina’s quill moved rapidly, her notes detailed and meticulous. Even Lucas’s cocky smirk faltered, replaced by a look of grudging respect.

  “These are no ordinary candles,” Professor continued, her voice taking on a solemn tone. “They are enchanted, resistant to anything less than precise and controlled magic. A wild spell may cause them to flicker, but only perfect will extinguish them.”

  I felt a shiver run through me. This wasn’t about power. It was about control—something I had never truly possessed.

  “Mr. Emberheart,” she called, her voice calm but firm. “Would you demonstrate for us?”

  Every eye turned to me, the room growing colder, heavier. My mouth went dry, and my hands felt like ice. Rowan shot me a worried glance, his shoulders tensing. He knew how volatile my magic could be, how it could surge beyond control.

  But wasn’t that why I was here? To learn, to master this power that felt both foreign yet familiar? I couldn’t let fear hold me back. I stood, my legs stiff, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it.

  “Isn’t he that student from the ceremony? The one with strange magic.” Whisper came from the back.

  "Did you see his eyes?" a girl murmured. "They are from old tales... the cursed one."

  "Shh," her friend hushed.

  Ignoring all these stares, I approached Professor Eris, her presence seemed to steady me around these whispers. The faint scent of jasmine enveloped me, soothing my nerves. “Are you alright?” she asked softly, her voice gentle, her eyes searching mine.

  I nodded, unable to trust my voice. Her hand brushed mine, light as a whisper, and a jolt of warmth surged through me, familiar and comforting. Her golden ring caught the light, the gemstone pulsing softly, echoing the rhythm of my heartbeat.

  “Remember. Vistus Aerellos. You have to say it very clearly,” she murmured, her lips barely moving.

  “Vistus Aerellos” I repeated after her, looking into her perfect blue eyes.

  “Good. Now. We cast the spell.” She pointed at my wand. “Just follow the pattern like I showed.”

  The words wrapped around me, calming my racing thoughts. I raised my wand, feeling its familiar weight, and took a deep breath. My fingers moved through the air, imitating her elegant pattern—a flick, then a curve. “Vis—”

  Before anything could happen, my wand emitted a violent crimson hue. And instantly, her hand reaches mine, lowering my wand. The glow died down but murmurs didn’t. Whispers that were not whispers anymore but daggers piercing my heart.

  "Are you alright?" she asked softly, her grip tightening on my hand. Her soft skin was the only warmth reaching my heart in that moment. She whispers into my ears, her warm breath sends goosebumps on my skin. “Einar. Ignore them. Just focus on what is in front. Okay?”

  I nodded, unable to find words. Raising my wand again, I focused on the spell pattern she'd shown us. A whisper seemed to brush against my ears, a voice that was as familiar to me as my own:

  "Vistus Aerellos," I spoke, moving my wand in what felt like a dance I'd known forever.

  A rush of air burst from my wand, cool and steady. It raced across the room, rustling pages and making the candle flames dance. One, two, three... four candles extinguished, their flames snuffed out cleanly, without smoke.

  The room erupted in murmurs. I heard Rowan’s sharp intake of breath, saw Alina’s eyes widen with relief. Even Lucas looked impressed, his arrogance melting into disbelief.

  But it was Professor Eris’s smile that struck me the hardest. It was warm, radiant, her crystal blue eyes shimmering with something like pride. “Well done, Mr. Emberheart,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Very well done.”

  My heart skipped a beat, a strange ache echoing through me. Her words were simple, but they felt like everything to me.

  “Now,” she continued, her voice returning to its commanding tone, “pair up and practice the spell. Your goal is to extinguish as many candles as possible. Remember to read page number ten where the spell is demonstrated for reference.”

  Students rose from their seats with book in one hand and with a flick of her wand, the desks slid to the sides, leaving the center of the room clear. The candles floated to the middle, their flames steady and bright. “You may begin.”

  The room erupted with activity and turning of pages. Rowan and I paired up, his face alight with excitement. “How did you do it?” he whispered. “Four candles! That’s insane, Einar!”

  Before I could respond, a burst of air rushed past, wild and unfocused. It hit the candles, making them flicker violently but leaving them burning. The force rebounded as it slammed into Luke, who was thrown backward, hitting the floor with a sickening thud.

  Gasps filled the room. Professor was at his side in an instant, her wand glowing with soft golden light. “Shh. It’s alright,” she murmured, her voice soothing. “You’re lucky, the backlash wasn’t severe. Most of them broke one or two bones with this… attempt. But remember reckless magic is dangerous. Focus on preciousness to cast a perfect spell, not quickness. You are learning right now; just concentrate on casting the correct spell.”

  The boy nodded, his face pale and shaken. The atmosphere grew heavier, fear creeping into the faces around me. These candles weren’t just enchanted—they were merciless, punishing any flaw in the spell.

  Lyssa was the first to succeed, her spell extinguishing four candles with graceful ease, the flames winking out without a flicker of smoke but instead left a chill over it from her magic. Sera followed with seven candles; her spell so perfectly controlled that not even the air around the candles moved.

  Lucas tried next, his spell powerful but unfocused. The flames danced wildly, two extinguishing, but the rest blazed even brighter. His jaw tightened, and he tried again, a flourish added to his movement. This time, he managed four, but his expression was one of frustration, not satisfaction.

  Valen struggled, his face growing redder with each failed attempt. His spells were weak, barely making the flames waver. I saw his shoulders slump, his jaw clenched in frustration. When the student beside him muttered something about “traitor’s blood,” Valen’s face darkened, his eyes burning with quiet anger.

  Professor appeared beside the student, her presence cold and commanding. “Magic responds to will,” she said, her voice sharp as a blade. “Not to arrogance, Mr. Grimm. Would you like to demonstrate your ‘pure-blooded’ magic?”

  The Draken boy flushed, his confidence faltering. He raised his wand, but his spell backfired, sending him sprawling. Laughter rippled through the room, silenced by Eris’s icy glare. “Humility is a virtue. Learn it. An unstable mind would never be able to cast any spell, remember that. That’s my first lesson as Draken’s Head.”

  She moved among us, correcting stances and adjusting wand grips with patient attention. When she reached Alina, who was producing consistent but weak effects, she spent several minutes demonstrating how the wrist movement affected spell strength.

  "Professor," a freckled Luminaris boy asked, "how do you maintain the balance between power and control? Every time I try to increase the force, it becomes wild."

  "An insightful question, Mr. Sullivan. Watch closely." She demonstrated a series of progressively stronger spells, each perfectly controlled. "The key isn't in how much power you use, but in how you channel it. You can check out page twenty-two, it has some excellent exercises for practicing this balance."

  As the class drew to a close, one of the twins near the back raised his hand. "Professor," she asked, "how are you able to cast spells so quickly, without incantations?"

  Professor smiled, leaning against her desk with casual grace. "That will come with time and practice," she explained. "The words we speak are like practising to ride a horse with trainer—necessary at first, but eventually limiting. True mastery means understanding the fundamentals of what you're doing so deeply that words become... optional."

  She demonstrated by sending a series of gentle breezes through the room, each carrying a different force without speaking a word or making obvious wand movements.

  "Remember, magic is not just about power or technique… It's about understanding the forces you work with and a wand is the vessel to hold your essence needed to cast spells, while runes are the language understood by that force. The greatest spells often come not from the most powerful sorcerers, but from those who best comprehend the fundamental nature of magic itself."

  As the final bell echoed through the castle halls, the professor moved to the front, her posture poised and elegant. “This concludes today’s lesson. You may have seen the timetable on your dormitory board, but I would like to remind everyone that there are a few classes that students can take for credits, such as The Art of Divination, Beasts and Creatures of Ihera, Herbology, Medical Practices, and many more. Some classes will be compulsory for your term, including this one."

  Her eyes found mine, lingering for a moment. “Class dismissed.” She continues after a few moments. "Mr. Emberheart, Mr. Thorvald, Miss Eveline—please remain behind. I have something to discuss with you three."

  As the others filed out, I heard snippets of excited conversation.

  "What does she have to do with those three?”

  "Are they in trouble?"

  "Did you see how he looked at her? He’s definitely in trouble…"

  Rowan and Alina moved closer to me, their expressions curious. My heart raced with anticipation, remembering the strange connection I'd felt throughout the lesson, especially when Professor Eris's eyes had met mine during the demonstrations.