The courts of Elundur were quiet and waiting. The silver spires stood patient and still. And in the great labyrinth of libraries, the books lay peaceful and unread. All except one. In the deepest and dankest corner, where the air was heavy and thick, and where no daylight could ever reach. There was a lone student. Reading a book on the dynamic requilibriums of spirit density and their implications on crop rotation. And most surprisingly, the student was enjoying it. Which was surprising since, in the four thousand years since it had been written, not one person had read the book in its entirety without openly weeping. Even the book must have been surprised, for it was utterly speechless. What the book didn't know was that the student had just been staring at the pages for hours, trying to convince herself to actually read it.

She had no objections to studying in theory of course, but in practice she would just end up doing absolutely nothing. But still she continued the pantomime of being a responsible student. "Better than nothing" she thought, but she was wrong. thought the book marvellous and read it happily. The book must have been flattered by her reading, as it was too shy to speak. If the student was actually paying attention, she might have noticed the smudged ink and dark stains dotting the paper. Probably from a past student studying ferociously for a test the next day, having no time to wipe the tears from their face.

She was a student of Elundur University. A prestigious school of wizardry; a school that takes in prodigies, geniuses and heroes and turns out well-respected court wizards, Archmages and master sorcerers of world renown. Legends, with songs of their great deeds sung across land and sea. This girl was not one of these. She was a student of Elundur University only in the way that a bed bug is house guest. In that she was there, and they hadn't gotten rid of her.

The reason she was sat, pretend studying, in the darkest depths of the labyrinth library was because she was alone. There was no one else at the university. In fact, it had been many weeks since she'd seen anyone (if you don't count the hallucinations caused by her prolonged solitude and subsequent spiral into insanity). Though this downward spiral in mental health didn't worry her, because it happened every year. Every year everyone else had gone home for the winter festivities. To celebrate before a warm hearth, hidden from the cold. The girl hadn't (as you've probably noticed) left with them. For her home was here, with the dry dusty books and cold carved stone of the university. And she sat in her home, utterly alone. Celia had noticed that winter had begun to wain and that the frost was beginning to thaw. She no longer had to bundle herself up with all her blankets while she read, at winter's peak she used all six but now she had weaned off to only one. So, she knew, 'They'll be back tomorrow', she thought to herself, taking her 'focus' from the book. This must have upset the book, which was now giving her the silent treatment. 'I really need to start studying harder, testing will start soon after they're back, and I'm still such a terrible wizard, like really bad,' the girl was often quite self-deprecating, but in this instance she was correct. She was a terrible wizard.

It was early the next day. Sunlight glistened off the sculpted silver spires. The sun barely visible over the horizon, but still scattering specks of light down onto the dark stone and wild flowerbeds of the dim sleepy courtyard, just now stirring, and yawning, to life. The majesty of such a scene was somewhat lost on the girl, who had been rudely awoken by the beautiful 'scattering specks of light' shining right into her eyes. Reluctantly, Celia crawled out from under her covers, placing her feet on the cold hard stone, that still held that night's frost. The cold stung her feet as she walked across the room, opening a draw and pulling out bandages. She wrapped her feet in this cloth, as everyone knows wizards are not allowed to wear shoes, and threw on her baggy robe (which she was supposed to have grown into) and grabbed her black cloak and wizard's hood. She was ready in under a minute, as you could probably tell by looking at her. None of these clothes had been washed and frankly neither had she, leading to the rather bold and avant-garde look of being dragged through several swamps. And the smell wasn't far off either. This had not escaped the girl's notice as she reached for a dark wooden staff propped up against the wall. The staff was really just a particularly straight branch. As she gripped the staff, it hummed, ever so faintly. glowing with a dark blue light. With the staff held tightly in her hand she muttered a few words under her breath and a swirl of smoke and wind engulfed her briefly. She vanished in a moment and left behind a partially less dishevelled girl.

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She stumbled from her room looking passably human. Then she started literally stumbling through the courtyard, the roots and brambles grasping at her robe. The shrubs grew thick here, and ivy crawled tirelessly up the stonework; someday hoping to engulf the courtyard. But these were just the wild dreams of a young naïve ivy, surely to fade into the bitter lost dreams of ivy adulthood. The flowerbeds had burst their boundaries years ago and were now just tangles of nettles and thorns; somehow still placed regularly in the wild stonework grove. Most the plants here had forgotten that they were in a garden, as no gardeners had come by to remind them, so they continued their growth wild and free.

Today was the first day of the new term. And the old students shuffled unhurriedly into the university. Bringing with them a wave of glum sighs and groans. Lessons wouldn't start for a few hours, but they came early to unpack their luggage and setup their rooms. The tidal wave of dread crashed toward Celia, expecting to drown her in its despair, and add her to the vast hoard of gloomy listless students lumbering into the university. She, however, quite rudely didn't notice the wave, as she was always unhappy. the wave pretended not to care but was really quite upset, as it rolled through the rest of the school.

She was heading for her first lesson of the semester, it was in the silver tower of Valindor, and was very high up, it would take a few hours to walk there. For most students this wouldn't be a problem, as any self-respecting wizard could cast an easy teleportation spell in just a few minutes. Unfortunately, she was not a self-respecting wizard, and was more importantly a very bad one. So, she consigned herself to walk the whole way, with only a hint of irritation. She had decided not to let anything darken her spirits today (as they were already pitch black) and because this year she was sure to pass, she thought to herself, with only a hint of doubt. The young 'wizard' had tried, and spectacularly failed, to become a wizard no less than five times before, each time hopelessly failing. but each time failing ever so slightly less. This gave her hope that she would someday become a wizard. And be able to proudly walk through the halls of Elundur, as one of its scholars. I want to make it clear that this was entirely delusional. As at the rate she was improving she would become a wizard at the young age of 163,243,520. But despite her insanity, she continued her trek up the tower, now only a few spirals of staircase away, and arrived with only a few gallons of sweat soaked into her robes. Nothing a simple cleaning spell couldn't fix. But as you probably know by now, she was a terrible wizard. So, she cast her clumsy cleaning spell and walked into the class only half covered in sweat. Which was better than she expected. She walked into class.

"A wizard should never be late, nor early. They should arrive precisely when they're supposed to." High-Mage Toldryn said with a lordly tone. His bushy ashen beard swaying slightly as he turned to face the tardy student, with his well-practiced glare.