I woke to the soft flicker of candlelight on the stone walls. My body felt stiff from the cold. I rubbed my hands together, half-wishing I could summon the spark of magic that Paraius Sectus had forced me to harness. But the spark stayed dormant. The memory of that ache still lingered in my bones.

Sitting up, I blinked at the narrow window on the far side of my cramped room. Grey light seeped through the glass, tinted by a swirling sky. A faint rumble, like distant thunder, reverberated from the mountaintops. This was my second morning at the Arcus Aracnum Academy, though the first day of official instruction.

I paused. There was something odd beneath me. The bed felt slightly tilted. The night before, I’d collapsed onto the mattress without a second thought. But now, I realized the bed was raised at one corner. I frowned, leaning forward to peer under the frame.

A dark wooden chest crouched beneath the bed, half-concealed by shadow. I squinted. That definitely hadn’t been there last night when I arrived, or at least I hadn’t noticed it. The only trunk I recalled was my own, still sitting by the wardrobe. Had the Academy placed something in my room after orientation?

I slid off the bed, kneeling on the icy floor. My breath emerged in faint wisps. Goosebumps prickled my arms. The chest had no lock or visible latch. It bore the Academy’s symbol—a stylized spire beneath a circle of runes, etched into the lid. I set a hand on it. The wood felt cool and surprisingly smooth.

With a soft grunt, I lifted the lid. Hinges groaned. Inside, neatly folded, lay a small array of items. The first thing to catch my eye was a dagger. Its hilt was dark steel, the crossguard shaped like twisting vines. The blade glinted even in the dim candlelight. I swallowed. The dagger looked ceremonial, but the edge appeared sharp. Next to the dagger sat a quill and a bottle of ink, secured in little niches. Beneath those, an empty grimoire bound in plain leather. The cover was blank, with no crest or design. There was a faint magical aura about it, but I had no idea what for.

I ran my fingertips over it, feeling the faint ridges of the stitching.

At the bottom, I discovered a map, neatly folded. Laying it on the floor, I recognized the Academy’s sprawl: the Great Auditorium, the Emerald Garden, the Plague Cauldron, the Medical Wing, the Bone Arena, the Hall of Mysteries, and more. Paths and corridors formed a tangled labyrinth.

My brows knitted.

This place looked complicated.

Finally, I lifted a piece of black fabric from the chest. It unfolded into a robe. I shook it out. The cloth felt coarse but sturdy. The length and width seemed tailored to my size. No crest, no special markings. Just a plain black robe. Likely standard attire for new Initiates.

I set everything aside, exhaling a quiet breath. So this was our “Initiate’s kit.” Paraius Sectus had mentioned that novices typically arrived with no prior knowledge or gear. The Academy provided the basics. The Academy wanted a clean slate.

I stood and slipped on the robe. It fit snug at my shoulders but hung loose around my hips. The hem pooled just above my ankles. The air felt cold against my calves, but the robe itself carried a faint warmth, maybe lightly enchanted.

My reflection in the small mirror above the desk looked… different. I recognized the Dorwyne face, but everything else felt foreign—disheveled hair, dark circles under my eyes, a slight slump to my posture. The black robe accentuated my paleness.

I tested the dagger, sliding it into a small sheath that had been tucked beneath the robe. It clung to a hidden belt loop. The weight felt odd at my hip. I was used to carrying a wooden practice sword, not a genuine blade. My father had always insisted I learn some swordsmanship, but never with something this lethal. A chill crawled up my arms.

Then I picked up the quill, ink, and the empty grimoire. The quill’s feather was a dull gray, the nib faintly metallic. The ink bottle had a wax seal. The grimoire’s pages were blank, waiting for me to fill them. My chest fluttered with an anxious mix of excitement and uncertainty. Did they expect me to record spells or theories? I had never kept such a journal, or any journal for that matter. But the Academy thrived on tradition. Perhaps every mage in training needed a personal tome of knowledge.

I gathered it all, setting the items carefully on the desk. The map I tucked inside the grimoire’s cover. My next step, I supposed, was to find the Great Auditorium for the official orientation.

With one last glance at the mirror, I donned my boots, threw on a heavier cloak over the robe, and stepped into the hallway. The chill assaulted me immediately. The corridor’s high windows let in the early morning gloom. I rubbed my hands together, glancing at the map. The path from East Wing to the Great Auditorium seemed straightforward on paper: left at the main corridor, down a flight of stairs, right through an archway, then proceed to a large double door.

I tried to memorize it. Then I set off, the echo of my footfalls oddly lonely in the cavernous halls. Stone arches soared overhead, etched with runes I couldn’t decipher. Tapestries hung in clusters, each depicting stylized battles, arcane circles, or heroic mages brandishing staffs. A faint drip of water echoed from somewhere, suggesting a leak or perhaps a decorative fountain nearby.

I followed the corridor, turned left. Then a flight of stairs. Next, I was supposed to go right. But the passage I encountered forked unexpectedly. The map’s lines were less than precise, or maybe I was misreading them. I tried one corridor, then doubled back. My pulse quickened. Dawn was probably almost here, and I didn’t want to be late on my first day.

Eventually, I saw a sign carved into the wall: Hall of the Honored Dead.

My skin prickled.

I frowned at the map. There was no mention of that name near the route I intended. Did I take a wrong turn? Confusion tugged at me. Still, maybe I could find a signpost or a passing student who’d direct me.

I continued forward.

A grand arch led into a dimly lit hall. Torches mounted high cast flickering shadows on tall alcoves. Each alcove contained a pedestal. My breath caught. Bones—clean, white, arranged with almost reverent care—rested in glass cases or were set upon marble stands. Some were single skulls, others entire skeletons posed in silent vigil. Plaques etched in runic script identified each occupant.

I stepped gingerly, the hush thick around me. No other footsteps or voices. A faint incense scent lingered, reminiscent of my family’s tomb chapel but far more ancient. I ran my gaze over the nearest plaque. It named a mage from centuries ago. The text boasted about his mastery of illusions and how he died valiantly in some grand battle.

My heart fluttered with curiosity.

The Hall of the Honored Dead.

So these were alumni, presumably. The Academy must keep their remains as a sign of respect or tradition. Or maybe it was a twisted form of pride, parading the bones of legendary mages for new initiates to admire.

I moved on, scanning more plaques. One name rung a bell—Loria the Swift, rumored to have invented a technique for speed-based illusions. Another, Imra Lagent, famed for conjuring ephemeral beasts that devoured entire armies. My father had mentioned her in passing once, describing her as “the war-sorceress who took an entire star system in a single week.”

A shudder slid down my spine. These were not simple footnotes of history. They were the bones of people who’d shaped entire wars, galaxies even. My eyes caught on a larger plaque near the center, framed in dark iron. The name, carved in bold runes, read: Joseph the Red. My limbs tensed. I recalled the mention of that name from some half-forgotten rumor, or perhaps from an old tome Father had let me skim.

I inched closer. Behind the plaque lay a glass case containing a jumbled mass of bones. They were tinted in a faint reddish hue, as though stained by centuries of congealed blood. A single skull perched at the top, jaw slightly ajar, empty eye sockets staring. I felt an odd pull in my chest, as though my own heartbeat whispered in sync with those hollow sockets.

Carved lines below the name read: He drowned a hundred worlds in rivers of blood. He molded flesh into titans of bone and sinew, unleashing abominations that shattered armies. The Triune Emperors and their Archmages joined forces to end his reign.

My lips parted, breath escaping in a tremor. A single man had done all that? He must have been unstoppable, until he wasn’t.

An uneasy wave quivered through me. My fingertips tingled. I gripped the edge of the glass case. In the dim torchlight, I thought I saw the red-tinged bones twitch, a subtle shift as though responding to my presence.

My heart hammered.

That must’ve been an illusion of the dancing shadows, right?

I leaned in closer. My reflection in the glass superimposed over the bones. My face looked wan, my eyes wide. Then, faintly, I heard something. A soft voice, or perhaps many voices, hissing at the edge of hearing. My skin chilled. I strained to listen. The words blurred into a swirl of breathy sound, meaningless yet somehow insistent.

A sudden cough behind me jolted me free. I spun. My robe swished around my ankles. A woman stood there, posture upright, arms folded under a thick cloak of deep crimson. Her hair, black as ink, was pinned in a tight twist. She wore no obvious rank insignia, but my instincts whispered that this was someone of immense standing.

She narrowed her eyes.

“Wandering already, are you?” Her voice carried a slight rasp, like sharpened steel. “Initiates usually gather in the Great Auditorium by now.”

I felt a jolt in my gut. My stomach turned.

“I— I got lost,” I admitted, voice hoarse. “The corridors… I took a wrong turn. My map—”

She raised a hand. Instantly, I shut my mouth. A hum of power radiated from her. My knees softened. I forced them stiff, resisting the urge to kneel. The air around her shimmered, a heavy aura pressing in from all sides. Sweat beaded on my forehead. My chest constricted as though invisible hands clutched at my lungs. I realized immediately that this was the pure pressure of her magic - so much of it that it seemed to almost drown me. Compared to her, Sectus was like a candle before a blazing star.

She observed me quietly, eyes dark and unreadable. Then her lips curved into a cool smile. The crushing pressure vanished. My breath whooshed out in a gasp. I nearly stumbled, catching myself on the nearest pedestal. My heart thumped in triple time.

She offered no apology. “My name is Lady Victoria Hamata. I teach at this Academy. You’ll learn your place soon enough.”

I swallowed, my throat dry. “Yes, Lady Victoria. I— My name is Draven Dorwyne.”

She dipped her chin. “Yes, I remember your name from the roster. Newly awakened Controller. From Tarianis, correct?”

I managed a nod. My mind still reeled from her sheer power.

Her gaze flicked to the bones behind me, to the plaque labeling Joseph the Red. Her brow arched.

“Ah. Our infamous madman. Countless atrocities. Countless lives ruined.” She exhaled a slow breath. “Yet, you must acknowledge the raw power he commanded. Even the Emperors had to unite to stop him. His abominations threatened the galaxy’s very balance.”

I felt a faint tremor in my hands. The memory of those whispered voices clung to my thoughts.

“Yes,” I managed. “He… drowned a hundred worlds in blood. That’s what it says.”

She gave a curt nod and her eyes seemed almost… sad.

“A legend and a cautionary tale. He had no moral compass, only ambition. He broke every code of the Empire, twisted living flesh into monstrous armies. What the stories don’t tell you is that the Terran Technocracy gave their aid in the fight against Joseph. In the end, he died.” She turned to me, eyes gleaming. “Power alone is never enough, Draven. Without discipline and purpose, you risk becoming like him. Is that clear?”

My stomach clenched. I forced a nod. “Yes. Clear.”

A small, cold smile tugged at her lips.

“Good. Now, you’re already late for orientation. Follow me.” Without waiting for my response, she pivoted on her heel, heading back toward the corridor. I stumbled after, cheeks burning.

As we left the Hall of the Honored Dead, I cast one last glance at Joseph the Red’s remains. A faint shiver crawled up my spine. The swirling hush no longer held me, but an uneasy sensation lingered, like a faint echo of those whispers. Then we crossed the threshold, and the Hall’s shadows fell away behind us.

Lady Victoria’s stride was swift. I had to jog every few steps to keep up. She navigated the corridors without hesitation, passing arches and staircases. Occasionally, we crossed paths with other robed figures. They stepped aside quickly, some bowing, others offering respectful nods. Lady Victoria ignored them, her focus on leading me.

When we reached a towering set of double doors embossed with the Academy’s crest, Lady Victoria paused. The heavy wood exuded an air of grandeur. She motioned for me to stand at her side. My chest tightened with nerves. Muffled voices seeped through the thick wood, indicating a crowd beyond.

“Here we are,” she said, voice clipped.

“The Great Auditorium. Next time, use your map properly.” She cast me a sharp glance, though there was a faint glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

My cheeks felt hot. I bowed. “Thank you, Lady Victoria. I’ll be more careful.”

She rested a hand on the door handle.

“Remember, Initiate: your journey begins now. Mind your studies, your physical training, and your alliances. This place can chew you up if you’re careless.” She let out a low hum. “But if you prove yourself worthy, the Academy will elevate you to heights you’ve never imagined.”

With that, she pushed the door open. A burst of voices washed over me, along with the sight of a massive hall filled with rows of seats. Dozens—maybe hundreds—of robed figures filled the space, some standing, some huddled in conversation. A raised stage occupied the far end, lit by glowing orbs suspended overhead.

Heads turned as Lady Victoria led me in. My pulse jumped. I spied a cluster of older students near the front, wearing more elaborate robes, possibly advanced classes. Toward the back, younger ones—like me, I guessed—fidgeted in seats, scanning the crowd. I spotted Fenn perched to one side, arms folded, looking uncertain. Relief sparked in my chest. At least I recognized one face.

Lady Victoria tapped my shoulder, then pointed me to a seat in the second or third row from the stage. “Sit. Lord Lukaris will address you soon. After this, you’ll eat. Then Triad formation. Understood?”

I nodded. She turned, striding away, probably to join the other instructors. I made my way through the seats. A few novices glanced my way with curiosity, but most were preoccupied. I slipped into an empty seat, letting out a shaky exhale. The seat was a simple wooden bench, but my legs felt grateful for the support.

An older student in a slightly more refined robe stood on the stage, adjusting the floating orbs of light. He cleared his throat and, in a resonant voice, asked for silence. The chatter subsided. My heart thumped faster. A hush settled, thick with anticipation.

Then, from the shadows to the right of the stage, a tall figure emerged. He wore a sweeping robe of deep purple trimmed with gold filigree. His hair, silver and well-groomed, framed a sharp face. His expression carried a poised confidence. The hush intensified.

This must be Lord Lukaris, the Headmaster.

He stopped at the center of the stage, gloved hands clasped behind his back. His eyes swept over us, bright with an almost electric presence. When he spoke, his voice echoed with commanding clarity.

“Initiates, returning students, faculty,” he began, inclining his head. “I am Lord Lucan Lukaris. For those who do not know me, I serve as Headmaster of the Arcus Aracnum Academy. I welcome you to a new cycle of study, competition, and mastery.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. He lifted a hand, and silence fell again. I leaned forward, my robe sleeves brushing against my lap. My pulse fluttered.

“You have traveled from many worlds,” he continued.

“Some from Protectorates, others from distant star systems beyond the Empire’s core. Here, your backgrounds matter less than your potential. We—” He gestured to the faculty seated off to one side, Lady Victoria among them. “—shall mold you. But remember: you hold the key to your own ascension. We cannot force growth upon those who shrink from challenge.”

A wave of quiet intensity coursed through the audience. Some novices exchanged glances. A few upperclassmen wore faint smirks, perhaps recalling their own first day.

Lord Lukaris paced slowly, each measured step echoing on the wooden stage. “In the Triune Empire, we revere the synergy of three mage categories: Controller, Transmitter, Enchanter. Each of you will form or join a Triad, a Trinity Team. You will learn to fight and flourish together. You will push each other’s limits. Failure of one can be failure of all. Triumph for one is triumph for all.”

He paused, letting the words hang. My throat felt tight. My mind drifted to Lady Victoria’s warning about alliances. If a Triad is fundamental, then forging bonds here might shape my entire path.

Lord Lukaris continued. “We hold many facilities to nurture your talents. You will know them soon: the Arcanum Librarium, holding centuries of knowledge; the Hall of the Honored Dead, where the bones of legends rest; the Emerald Garden, a sanctuary of living or crafted alchemical reagents; the Plague Cauldron, overseen by Lady Victoria; the Medical Wing, for your healing and anatomical studies; the Bone Arena, where you will test your mettle in duels; and the Hall of Mysteries, a vault of arcane experimentation.”

My gaze flicked around the hall, noticing novices scribbling notes, others nodding in recognition. The mention of the Plague Cauldron made me swallow. Lady Victoria’s domain. That alone conjured images of monstrous experiments or potions. Another hush settled as Lord Lukaris’s eyes scanned the crowd once more.

“You will be expected to obey the rules of the Academy at all times; failure to abide by these rules shall result in your expulsion. But, worry not, student manuals will be distributed on the morrow. Competition is encouraged, but we are not barbarians or savages.” he said, voice calm yet firm. “Initiates shall not be included in the politics of the advanced students; this immunity shall last for the entirety of your first year. You are free to wander the wilds beyond the Academy, but do so at your own peril; Karam Sil is a primal world and the frozen wastes are home to nightmarish beasts that even seasoned Mages cannot easily defeat.”

“Many of you, I assume, are here by the mandate of the Triune Empire and not because they wish to be here.” The Headmaster continued. “I understand. However, there shall be no leniency; if you truly wish to return to mundane lives, then make sure you live long enough to do so. However, should you dream of escape, then you are free to leave. There is a ship on the other side of the planet. Good luck.”

A few students, I noted, stirred at that. I had to wonder how many of them would take that chance.

“From here, you will be led to the Dining Hall for a morning meal. Then, we shall conduct the forming of Triads for the newest Initiates. From that moment forward, your journey truly begins. I expect discipline, ambition, and respect for our code.”

He paused, glancing to the side. A tall, gaunt figure in dark robes—another instructor, presumably—rose and approached him. They exchanged a few whispered words, then the Headmaster faced us again.

“That concludes the introduction,” Lukaris said. “Now, Initiates, follow the Senior Aides to the Dining Hall. There, you may eat and gather your strength. Triad formation will occur shortly thereafter. Remember: your fate is your own to shape.”

With a final nod, he stepped away. A wave of relieved chatter and rustling garments spread through the crowd. The older student who had readied the orbs hopped off the stage and beckoned us with broad gestures toward a corridor to the left. Eager or anxious novices began funneling out of their rows. I stood, my heart beating faster.

I glimpsed Fenn near the back, trying to peer over the throng. I waved, then motioned for him to meet me at the side. We reconvened near a tall pillar carved with swirling runes. Fenn’s eyes flitted with excitement.

“So that’s Lord Lukaris,” he breathed, lips parted. “Impressive presence.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I nodded, lips pursed. “Yes. He seems… commanding.”

Fenn glanced around. “We should follow the others.”

He shifted the pack on his shoulder. “I’m hoping the Dining Hall is more straightforward to find than the Auditorium.”

I forced a small laugh, though my mind still buzzed with Lady Victoria’s words.

“Let’s hope,” I said. “I’d rather not run into bones again.”

Fenn smirked, brow wrinkling in mild confusion, but I offered no explanation. We joined the flow of Initiates exiting the Great Auditorium, trailing behind a group of five or six. They chattered among themselves, some speaking of the “Hall of Mysteries,” others fretting over Triad assignments.

The corridor led us to a wide set of stairs going downward. Lamps hung from metal brackets, illuminating tapestries that depicted swirling magical duels. I picked up bits of conversation from those around us: two girls discussing the merits of elemental spells, a boy bragging about his father’s rank in the Imperial Army, a boy and a girl arguing about the merits of reigniting the war against the Terran Technocracy.

Fenn and I remained quiet until we reached a set of tall double doors. A hush of warm air drifted out, tinged with the aroma of fresh bread and roasted meats. My stomach fluttered. After days of stale ship rations, real food sounded heavenly.

The Dining Hall spread out in a wide rectangular space. Long tables stretched from one end to the other, flanked by benches. A handful of older students were already seated, though the majority seemed new, like us. Briefly, I wondered what they were doing here, before acknowledging the fact that I’d probably find out soon or not at all.

A line of servers in plain robes stood behind a long counter laden with trays of steaming dishes—porridge, eggs, cured meats, rolls, fruit, and other dishes that I could not recognize at a glance. My mouth watered instantly.

We joined the queue, each grabbing a wooden tray. My gaze flicked across the hall. Instructors sat at a raised table near the far side, engaged in low conversation. I didn’t see Lady Victoria or Lord Lukaris immediately. Possibly they had a separate arrangement. Or they might appear later.

Fenn loaded his tray with an alarming amount of bread and some kind of sausage. I snatched a couple of rolls, an apple, a ton of scrambled eggs, and a mug of hot tea. The warmth seeped into my palms. We found seats at a table in the corner, trying to avoid the rush.

I exhaled as I sank onto the bench, letting the wave of voices around me fade to a soft murmur. Fenn tore into his food eagerly. I poked at my apple, still feeling the swirl of tension about Triads. My eyes drifted over the crowd. So many new faces, each probably bristling with power or ambition.

Fenn paused mid-bite, glancing at me. “You all right?”

I managed a half-smile. “Just thinking. The Headmaster’s speech, the Triad stuff… everything.”

He nodded, mouth full. After swallowing, he said, “I overheard some older students mention that Triad formation can be complicated. The Academy usually pairs you with random folks, but not entirely random. They do some kind of test to see your aptitudes.”

I rubbed my neck.

“I guess I’ll see soon enough. Sectus did mention the Academy would keep me on my toes.” My mind flickered back to Lady Victoria. I suppressed a shiver. When did she arrive? And how was she keeping her presence so… subdued?

Fenn gave me a curious look. “Your face went pale. Something happen?”

I forced a small shrug. “Lots of things happened. Wandered into a place called the Hall of the Honored Dead. Saw Joseph the Red’s bones. Then a teacher found me. Lady Victoria. She’s… intense.”

I recalled the crushing pressure of her aura. I was reasonably certain that she could’ve chosen to kill me just by flaring her magical presence.

He raised his eyebrows, chewing slowly. “Sounds rough. Good thing she didn’t beat the crap out of you or whatever.”

I let out a quiet laugh, though it came out shaky. “She practically pinned me to the floor with her presence. But I’m still here, so I guess she took pity.”

My fingers tightened around my mug.

Before Fenn could respond, a ripple of commotion at the front of the hall drew our attention. An older stepped onto a small platform by the raised instructors’ table. He cleared his throat.

“Initiates,” he called, voice carrying across the hall. Conversations died down. I turned, noticing heads swivel in his direction.

“The Headmaster will address you again shortly about Triad formation. Please finish your meals, then remain here. If you have questions, direct them to me or any Senior Aide.” He gave a slight bow, then hopped off the platform.

At the mention of Triad formation, a buzz of excited chatter spread. Some novices exchanged nervous glances. A few grinned, no doubt eager to prove themselves or align with strong potential allies. My pulse sped up. My thoughts whirled with speculation. Would the Academy measure my budding powers somehow? Did they already have data from Paraius Sectus?

I sipped my tea, forcing myself to eat. The bread tasted fresh, with a hint of herbs baked in. The apple’s crisp sweetness offered a welcome respite from the tension. Fenn, finishing his sausage, patted his stomach, eyes bright with curiosity.

After we ate, servers cleared empty trays. We lingered, uncertain. Some novices moved to stand in small clusters, introducing themselves, forging immediate connections. Others, like me, sat quietly, waiting. I fiddled with the dagger hidden beneath my robe, fingering the hilt. The newness of the blade reminded me how little I knew about combat. Real combat, not wooden practice swords in the orchard. At least a knife did not require intricate skills; if I had to use it, then I’d just run up to my enemy and shank them until they stopped moving.

Time seemed to stretch. The hall filled with a hum of voices. Then, finally, a hush rippled through the crowd as Lord Lukaris entered through a side door, flanked by two instructors. The Headmaster strode to the small platform. His presence radiated authority.

He lifted a hand. Silence fell.

“Initiates,” he said, voice calm. “You have eaten. Now, let us proceed to the Triad formation. Each of you shall step forward as I call your name. You will be assigned to a Trinity Team: one Controller, one Transmitter, one Enchanter. Some of you may already suspect your roles. Others might be uncertain. Fear not. Our records, along with your prior testing—yes, the tests you underwent at your homeworld or in transit—guide us.”

A murmur spread. I recalled the small exercises Paraius Sectus had me do. Perhaps that data had been relayed. I bit my lip. Fenn nudged me with his elbow, whispering, “They already have a plan, huh?”

I nodded, anxiety pulsing. Lukaris unrolled a parchment, scanning it. “We shall proceed swiftly. When you hear your name, come forward, stand on the indicated spot. Await your triad partners.”

He read off the first name: “Cassia Greywood, Enchanter.”

A tall, slender girl with curly brown hair jerked in surprise. She stepped forward, hugging her arms. She stood near the platform, face pale. Lukaris called two more names. A stocky boy, labeled a Transmitter, joined her, and another, a Controller, completed their triad. Lukaris gave a short nod, then moved on to the next set. The triad members stood together, glancing around, likely measuring each other.

I swallowed. He read off more triads. The hall’s tension thickened. Finally, after what felt like hours, he called: “Draven Dorwyne, from Tarianis, Controller.”

My stomach lurched. I glanced at Fenn. He shot me a quick encouraging nod. I rose, stepping forward through the parted crowd. My palms felt clammy. Up close to the platform, I caught the faint hint of sandalwood emanating from Lukaris’s robes. He offered me a mild smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He lowered his gaze to the parchment. “You are to be paired with Arwen Harper, Transmitter, and Milena Crestwell, Enchanter. Step here, Draven, if you please.”

I did as told, heart hammering. Lukaris beckoned two more novices. A girl with short red hair moved through the throng, eyes scanning the floor. She looked about my age, her stance wide and sure. When she reached me, she halted, raising her gaze to meet mine. I saw a faint spark of intensity behind her green eyes. Could that be the Transmitter?

A moment later, a small figure emerged. Her hair was pulled back in a neat braid, and she clutched a worn satchel at her side. She looked uncertain, mouth parted as though short on breath. She wore the same plain black robe as the rest of us, though hers was a bit too long, trailing on the floor. She cast a quick glance my way, then lowered her head. Possibly the Enchanter, Milena Crestwell.

Lord Lukaris motioned for them to stand at my sides. “Arwen Harper, Transmitter. Milena Crestwell, Enchanter. Meet your new partner, Draven Dorwyne, Controller.”

He paused, scanning our faces. “You three shall form a Triad. In the days to come, you will attend group lessons, partake in quests, and support each other’s growth. Strive to unite your strengths and to lessen your weaknesses.”

I swallowed, stealing a glance at Arwen. She wore a thoughtful expression, eyes flicking from me to Milena. Then she stuck out her hand to greet me. A confident move. I clasped it. Her grip felt firm, calloused as if from weapon practice or physical training; it sort of reminded me of Mallos’ hand.

“A pleasure.” She nodded curtly. I felt my lips twitch in a semblance of a smile.

She turned to Milena. The Enchanter hesitated, then took Arwen’s hand. Her grip was gentler, hands slender. I noticed faint ink stains on her fingertips. Possibly she studied runes or notes more thoroughly than the rest of us.

Lukaris said, “You may stand aside. The next Triad formation continues.”

He nodded, dismissing us.

The three of us moved off to the side, letting other novices pass and be assigned. My pulse still pounded, but a strange relief warmed my chest. I had a Triad. Now I wasn’t alone. But who were they, really?

I guess I had the rest of the year to figure that out.

Arwen cleared her throat. “Guess we’re stuck together, yeah? I’m Arwen. My father’s a soldier for the Empire, a Mage Knight. I grew up in a fortress world. I trained with weapons and a few ranged spells since I awakened pretty early and it took a bit of time before I was discovered; so… guess that’s me, Transmitter.”

Her directness startled me, but I nodded. “Draven. From Tarianis. I— well, discovered I was a Controller only days ago. Still new to it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Days? That’s short. Surprised you aren’t still in shock.”

I gave a faint shrug, shoulders stiff.

“It’s been… a lot.” My words felt inadequate. My mind flickered with the memory of catching Mother mid-fall. “But I’ll adapt.”

She gave a small, approving grunt. Then we both glanced at Milena, who hovered by my elbow. She fiddled with the strap of her satchel, lips parted. After a moment, she spoke with a soft voice. “I’m Milena. My parents are alchemists. From a small, backwater planet… I’ve studied some healing enchantments, but not enough to be useful yet. Sorry if I’m not… you know, strong, like you guys.”

She lowered her gaze, as if awaiting judgment. Arwen sniffed. Huh. This girl definitely has been through things.

“We’ll see how you do. We’re all novices. I guess we’ll learn as we go.” She gave a half-smile, which seemed more of a smirk. She was becoming something of a natural leader and, based on the book Paraius very briefly showed me, Transmitters generally became leaders. “At least you have some enchantment knowledge. That’s more than nothing.”

Milena’s cheeks flushed. She nodded quickly, avoiding eye contact.

I coughed softly, wanting to cut the tension.

“Anyway, good to meet both of you. I guess we’ll rely on each other.” I felt a swirl of relief that they didn’t seem overtly hostile. If anything, Arwen seemed bold, while Milena was timid. We might balance each other, or so I hoped. Transmitters were often the bold dreamers, while Controllers were the realistic planners, and the Enchanters kept everyone’s head in the game.

We turned back to watch the rest of the Triads form. Over a hundred more novices were called, stepping forward with shaky confidence. Some triads seemed mismatched at first glance—towering Transmitters paired with petite Enchanters, or uncertain Controllers alongside brash noble heirs. The murmurs in the hall rose and fell.

Finally, the Headmaster concluded. He gave a short speech reminding us of the Academy’s schedule. We would start formal classes the next morning. Then, after a brief word from an instructor about dorm assignments, the official ceremony ended. Lukaris swept from the stage, accompanied by the other instructors. The hall erupted in conversation, chairs scraping on the stone floor as novices mingled.

Arwen turned to me and Milena, arms crossed. “So, do we have a group name or something? I heard some older students naming their Triads after mythical beasts or flashy spells.”

Milena’s eyes widened a fraction. She fiddled with her satchel strap again. “I… I’m not sure. The orientation said we’d just be known as a Triad by our surnames or something. We can pick a name if we want, I guess?”

I scratched the back of my neck, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Maybe we can figure that out once we get to know each other better. Right now, I barely know how to use my powers, let alone pick a fancy name.”

Arwen chuckled, a quick grin crossing her face.

“Fair. Then let’s just call ourselves Triad Dorwyne-Harper-Crestwell for now.” She gave a small shrug. “We can always change it if we think of something cooler.”

I let a faint laugh escape my lips. “Agreed. Triad Dorwyne-Harper-Crestwell it is, for now.”

I glanced at Milena. She managed a tiny smile of agreement.

In the swirl of novices, we were soon approached by a Senior Aide. He introduced himself as Orvel. Tall, with a stony face, he wore a second-year student’s robe. He guided the new Triads to an adjoining corridor, explaining that each Triad would share a cluster of rooms. My heart skipped a beat. I’d assumed I’d keep my old East Wing chamber. But apparently, they grouped Triads together for synergy. Or maybe it was to ensure we couldn’t avoid each other’s presence. Then again, we weren’t told that we couldn’t keep our old rooms, either… so… I honestly wasn’t sure. But, on a personal level, both of my Triad Members were girls and I would prefer not to accidentally intrude upon their privacy and get my teeth kicked in.

We navigated through yet another labyrinth of halls, descending two floors. The cold stone walls bore occasional banners. Lamps flickered overhead, casting dancing shadows. My legs ached from all the walking, and my mind felt equally fatigued. Finally, we reached a row of heavy doors, each with a plaque.

Orvel found one that read: “Dorwyne-Harper-Crestwell.” He nodded to us.

“Your living quarters,” he said, voice curt. “Each of you has a small sleeping cell within. You share a common room. The Academy encourages Triads to bond, whether you like it or not. Your initial lodgings shall be yours for the rest of the month. After that, no longer.”

He gave a wry grin, as if recalling his own experiences. “You’ll find minimal furnishings inside. You can personalize them if you have the funds or skill. Meals are still in the Dining Hall, but late-night snacks can be arranged if you have the tokens.”

Arwen raised her eyebrows. “Tokens?”

He shrugged. “Oh, you’ll learn. The Academy uses a token system for certain privileges. Win duels, complete tasks, impress instructors, and you might earn them. It fosters… competition. Don’t fret too much about that yet.”

He stepped back, gesturing at the door. “Welcome to your new home. The rest is up to you.”

I inhaled, stepping forward. The door swung open with a slight creak. Beyond lay a modest common area: a round table, a few chairs, a half-empty shelf, and a single small fireplace. Two corridors branched off to the side, presumably leading to the sleeping cells. The air smelled faintly of dust and old parchment, as if no one had used this space in ages; fortunately, there appeared to be enough space for combat practice and exercise.

Arwen brushed past me, boots thudding on the stone. She set her hands on her hips, scanning the space.

“Cozy,” she muttered with mild sarcasm.

Milena hovered by the door, uncertain. She gave the walls a quick look, then approached the table and placed her satchel there. I followed, letting the door close behind me. The room was chilly, but at least not as cold as the courtyard.

Arwen tested a chair, wiggling it to ensure it didn’t collapse. Satisfied, she flopped down, arms crossed over her chest. “Well, at least we’re not in the dungeons.”

Milena’s lips curved into a small smile, though she kept her gaze lowered. “I guess this is where we’ll spend a lot of time… studying or strategizing. Or maybe just sleeping.”

I nodded. My mind drifted to the next steps: The Academy’s schedule, classes, duels, alliances. The swirl of everything weighed heavily. My limbs felt tired.

“We should probably rest or settle in,” I suggested softly. “Classes start tomorrow, but we might get tasks this afternoon. You guys know how to channel your magic, right?”

Arwen scratched her chin. “I’m used to physical routines. Maybe I’ll do a circuit of push-ups. Need to keep my body in shape. The Academy expects it. And, yes, I can channel my magic quite well. One of the first things I learned to do, actually.”

She eyed me. “What about you? You look like you can swing a sword, but you’re no soldier, right?”

A faint flush warmed my cheeks. “I had some practice with my brother, but not enough. My father insisted, but it was never a true focus. I guess I’ll have to catch up.”

She nodded, a hint of approval in her eyes. “Good. No shame in starting late.”

“However, I think I’ll focus on magical basics for now.” I said. “Unlike the two of you, I need more training in this area.”

Arwen nodded. Milena cleared her throat softly.

“I’m… not physically adept,” she admitted, voice quiet. “But I’m good at small enchantments. My parents taught me to infuse simple objects with healing or protective wards. Maybe that’ll help us?”

I offered her a kind smile. “Definitely. This Triad will need more than raw power if we’re to handle all the politics and challenges. Maybe, you can practice with how fast you can enchant things?”

Milena nodded. “Yeah, I… I can do that.”

Arwen tapped a boot against the floor.

“We’ll figure out our roles. And we’ll fight better than the rest, if we coordinate.” She paused, giving us a quick once-over. “You guys up for a short exploration of the Academy? Maybe see if we can find the arena or the library? I don’t like sitting around.”

I considered it. Part of me wanted to rest, but curiosity tugged harder. Also, I dreaded more confusion if I roamed alone. With a Triad, I might not get so lost. Milena’s hesitant glance suggested she was uncertain, but also not opposed.

“Sure,” I said, mustering a smile. “Better to learn the layout. I’ve only seen the Great Auditorium, the Dining Hall, and a few corridors. And… well, the Hall of the Honored Dead by accident.”

Arwen tilted her head, a flicker of intrigue in her eyes. “Hall of the Honored Dead, huh? That’s the crypt place, right?”

I nodded, shivering at the memory of Joseph the Red’s bones. “Yes. I ended up there by mistake. Creepy. But it’s steeped in history.”

She huffed a short laugh. “Let’s not go there right now. I’d rather see the library or that arena they mentioned. The ‘Bone Arena’? That name’s bizarre enough.”

Milena stepped back from the table, clasping her hands nervously. “Let’s just be sure we don’t run into any locked doors. Or any teachers with intense auras. I can’t handle that again so soon.”

Arwen smirked. “Agreed. Lady Victoria is the only teacher I’ve met with that level of presence, but who knows how many more are out there. Draven, you lead the way. Try not to get us lost.”

I let out a soft snort. “If you want that, I’ll try not to. Fenn teased me enough about my poor navigation skills. Let me check the map.”

I fished out the folded Academy map from my robe pocket. We crowded around a small patch of lamplight near the fireplace. The lines and symbols looked just as confusing as before, but I found the labels for the Arcanum Librarium and the Bone Arena. Both seemed on separate wings. The Librarium was up two floors, while the Arena was deeper underground.

I tapped the paper. “The Librarium is probably safer, being above ground. The Arena might be a labyrinth. Let’s aim for the library first, since it’s probably open to Initiates.”

Arwen nodded. “Books first, then maybe we’ll brave the underground. Let’s go.”

We left our new quarters, stepping into the corridor. We ascended the same stairs we’d come down, took a left at a wide hallway with tall windows, then another left. My eyes flicked from the map to the runic markers on the walls. Students passed us in small groups, chattering or studying. Some wore the standard black robes, while others boasted embroidered patterns—likely upperclassmen or specialized tracks.

As we neared a T-intersection, a tall boy in a black robe nearly barreled into us. He had a shock of blond hair and a thick staff strapped to his back. Arwen sidestepped gracefully, but Milena yelped and stumbled. He offered a quick apology, voice breathless. “Sorry, in a rush. Second-year Transmitter. Need to get to the infirmary. My buddy messed up a spell. Gotta fetch the nurse— Sorry!”

He sped away before we could respond. Arwen raised her eyebrows at me. I shrugged. This place was more chaotic than I imagined.

We pressed on. Finally, an arch labeled “Arcanum Librarium” loomed ahead. I let out a soft breath of relief. We entered. The corridor opened into a vast chamber lined with towering shelves crammed with tomes, scrolls, and arcane trinkets behind glass. A hush enveloped the space. Muffled footsteps tapped on polished floors. Lamps and floating orbs cast a warm glow. The air smelled of parchment and old leather.

A handful of students and staff roamed the aisles, some perched at reading tables, others browsing shelves. A central desk was manned by an older man with half-moon spectacles. He typed notes onto a glowing tablet, occasionally glancing up at passersby.

Arwen let out a low whistle.

“Wow. Didn’t expect it to be this big.” Her voice was hushed, as if the atmosphere demanded quiet.

Milena’s eyes sparkled, her earlier nervousness replaced by fascination.

“It’s enormous,” she whispered. “This must be the largest collection of magical knowledge I’ve ever seen. My parents’ workshop only had a tiny shelf of books.”

I nodded, feeling a similar sense of awe. My father had owned some texts on planetary governance and minor magical lore, but nothing on this scale. My gaze roamed the shelves, noticing categories labeled “Elemental Spellcraft,” “Necromantic Studies,” “Portal Theory,” and countless more. I felt a swirl of excitement. Perhaps here, I could glean insight into controlling my fledgling powers. Or at least not suffer so much pain.

We wandered deeper, passing rows of dusty volumes. Milena paused frequently, eyes scanning spines, occasionally mouthing titles. Arwen kept a steady pace, looking bored by the silent environment but respectful enough not to disturb it.

I trailed behind, letting my fingertips brush the edges of a shelf. A faint hum of magical residue tingled at the back of my hand.

After a short circuit of the main floor, we retreated to a reading table near a large stained-glass window depicting ancient mages conjuring cosmic storms. Arwen yawned, leaning her staff (she must have retrieved it from somewhere) against the edge of the table. Milena set her satchel down, rummaging for a small notebook.

Arwen turned to me. “All right, library looks great. But we should probably see the arena too. Might as well get the lay of the land. Right?”

Milena clutched her notebook. “But we just got here… and there’s so much to read.”

Arwen rolled her eyes. “We have all year for that. You can come back after classes or tomorrow morning. We might not get another chance to scope out the arena before we’re busy with tasks.”

I chuckled at Milena’s crestfallen expression.

“We’ll come back soon,” I assured her. Then I looked at Arwen. “Sure, let’s check the Bone Arena. But no fighting. I’m not in shape for that yet.”

She smirked, standing from the table. “Deal. I won’t start anything. Unless someone picks a fight first.”

We left the library. The older man at the central desk gave us a polite nod, and we nodded back. The corridor outside felt colder after the library’s cozy glow. I consulted the map again. The Bone Arena was located underground, down a separate set of stairs from the main hall. My stomach flipped at the name. “Bone Arena” conjured images of bleached skeletons littering a battlefield. Maybe it was named for the Hall of the Honored Dead, or for some archaic tradition of necromantic sparring. I tried to suppress any dark fantasies.

Following a winding route, we descended a wide spiral staircase. Torches illuminated each landing, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The smell of damp stone intensified, a hint of subterranean air. My feet felt heavier with each step. Arwen and Milena fell quiet, tension coiling.

At last, we reached a broad hallway. A sign overhead read: Bone Arena—Initiate Access Restricted Without Supervision.

Arwen huffed. “Figures. We can’t just stroll in?”

I shrugged, stepping forward. “Let’s see if it’s locked.”

We approached the heavy wooden doors banded with iron. A small plaque read, in engraved letters: Entry permitted only under authorized staff or Senior Aide presence. Next to it, an inscription in smaller text: Respect the bones. Respect the rules. Remember your mortality.

Arwen tried the handle. It didn’t budge. She gave a disgruntled click of her tongue. “So much for that. They locked it up.”

Milena peered at the plaque. “Respect the bones? Strange motto.”

I let out a quiet laugh, more uneasy than amused. “This place must host duels. Maybe the name references how often novices break bones here.”

Arwen tapped the door with her knuckles.

“Bummer. I wanted to see the layout. Guess we’ll wait for an official demonstration.” She turned away. “Come on, let’s not linger. If we get caught snooping, the staff might think we’re up to no good.”

I nodded, relieved in a way. The Bone Arena’s forbidding entrance and ominous sign didn’t exactly fill me with excitement. My nerves were already on edge.

We retraced our steps up the spiral staircase. Conversation among us was subdued. We returned to the main corridor, noticing a handful of novices passing with books in their arms, possibly from the library. Others wore more advanced robes, ignoring us as they chatted about summoning or upcoming tournaments.

Finally, we found ourselves back at the corridor leading to our Triad quarters. The entire campus felt labyrinthine, but at least I recognized a few markers. My feet ached, and the day was only half done. I rubbed my eyes, stifling a yawn.

Arwen paused at a cross-corridor, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “I’m heading outside for some fresh air. Supposedly there’s a courtyard behind the west wing. Anyone want to join?”

Milena looked uncertain, tugging her braid. “I might… rest or read. We have the free afternoon, but orientation resumes in the evening for some overview of advanced duels, right? I’d rather not get lost again. The library is safer. Plus, I need to learn how to Enchant faster, like Draven said.”

Arwen shrugged. “Suit yourselves.”

She nodded at me. “Draven?”

I weighed my options. “I think I’ll head back. Maybe organize my room or check on Fenn. He’s probably exploring the staff wing. After that, I’ll work on my magical channeling a bit more. We can meet later for dinner, or if we get summoned for any official briefing.”

She clapped my shoulder, forceful enough to make me step forward.

“All right. Catch you two later.” She strode off, boots echoing with confidence.

Milena and I exchanged a quick nod, then parted ways.