We were there, then gone from anywhere, before being somewhere again. I felt a vague sense of uneasy familiarity at the sensation, and my mind was drawn back to my experience of being pulled into an ancient god's realm.

I blinked the unsettling memory away as new sights and sounds entered my vision.

A huge tower loomed above us. The tower was shockingly plain in many ways. It was octagonal, with sharp gray-white edges.

In other ways, the pillar of a building remained as magical as it had appeared when I gazed up at it from the city far below myself and my companion. A vibrantly mauve shard of a mineral, half-crystal and half-sediment in its makeup, floated in place of more white stone at the apex of the hugely wide structure. A column of likewise pure purple mana emerged from the tower itself, intersected the odd, mystical rock, and continued seemingly forever into the sky.

It took me more than a few moments to draw my eyes away from the display of arcane beauty, but I eventually minded my need to actually figure out what I was supposed to do.

The courtyard that surrounded the tower was no less ordered and only slightly less awe-inspiring than the structure it encircled. Where polished white tiles were absent, lush outcroppings of both exotic and domestic flora flourished. Among the lush greenery, there were fountains with water that appeared excessively clean and blue, crowned by dramatic statues.

And, of course, there were the people. Most of them looked at least three years my senior. I scanned the large crowd that had gathered around the massive base of the central tower's steps. There were at least a couple hundred people. More like double that, probably. Four hundred, just like the masters had said.

A flash of light caught my attention from across the courtyard. Another student materialized. I momentarily glanced down to the enchanted array beneath me. I stepped off the platform and approached the crowd of fellow aspirants.

My eyes darted between the faces, searching for a friendly one. Most of them were older than me, just as I'd known they would be.

After pushing through the gathering for a few minutes, I was surprised to see someone who was only slightly taller than me. I stepped forward. Another new student cut me off.

"Excuse me," I said and pressed past them.

"Hello? Excuse me," I called out to the only other person who appeared to be near my age.

I repeated my greeting.

The figure turned his vibrant blue eyes toward me, his noble-cut blonde hair ruffling near the edges of his gaze.

"You're young," he said.

Something about his tone conveyed a semi-disguised displeasure.

"Well, we both are," I said.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Twelve," I said. "You?"

His lip twitched almost obviously.

"Thirteen," he replied. "What's your name?"

Why did he seem unhappy with my age?

"Peregrine," I told him.

"No family name?" he asked.

"Borncrest," I replied, and I felt a slight irritation grow in my chest. "And yours?"

"I don't know the name," the blonde boy replied. "Is it an assumed name or granted?"

"Granted," I replied.

"From where, exactly?" the boy asked.

I replied, "From Caladorn, a long time ago." "You haven't given me your name yet."

"Are you a peer?" the boy asked.

"In actual peerage or status?" I asked.

"Either. I know of no great houses from Caladorn with the name you gave. Are your family disenfranchised?" he continued.

"Does that even matter here?" I asked him. "This is a place that's about learning and study; unless I'm wrong, we're both peers here."

The boy frowned. "That reply gives me my answer."

"We're not disenfranchised. My father was," I caught my words, "a magister. A peer. My mother is knighted."

"A magister is a low, but respectable rank at least. Their names?" Cedric asked.

"Alexander and Celis," I said, growing more annoyed that he had seemingly ignored my mother's status altogether.

An older teen, who had been standing calmly and trying to appear only slightly interested beside the blonde boy, tilted his head towards me. "Are you the son of the dragon slayers?"

I had been hoping to not live in my parents' shadow at the Towers, but the weighty feeling of invoking their name so early was drowned out by me almost feeling insulted on their behalf. The rude, blonde boy in front of me was disregarding the name my parents had given me.

"What are you talking about, Rylan?" the blonde asked his apparent companion.

"Well, Cedric," Rylan replied, giving me a mischievous look as he revealed the blonde's name to me: "the great and mighty red dragon Angoralix was slain a decade or two ago by a part led by a Celis and an Alexander."

"That was your parents?" Cedric asked in a rising tone.

I frowned. "Yes, it was, before I was born."

"We are still not peers in status," Cedric said after appearing to mull over my parents' accomplishments.

"Well," Rylan drawled his voice. "You're an heir, Cedric, but no one has assumed his father's title. So technically and by the law—"

"Any judge would favor me, in any dispute, by virtue of future burdens alone," Cedric said. "A magistracy isn't even inheritable; even if his father had lands, this Peregrine would simply be a commoner waiting to become a simple landholder."

"My mother is a baronetess," I replied. "And we do have lands."

"And are you the eldest child?" Cedric asked, his voice growing more annoyed.

"No," I answered curtly.

"Then you likely won't even gain a title or land," Cedric said simply.

"And that matters?" I asked. "Who said I want my parents' land?"

Cedric balked visibly now. "Then I'd ask what your ambition is, but I don't find myself wanting to know."

"Are you rude just for the sake of it?" I asked; I wouldn't have been so bold only a few months ago, but I'd spent the last few hunting and killing monsters. I was honestly a little surprised at my own bluntness.

Cedric scowled. "What did you say?"

"I said, are you rude just for the sake of it?" I repeated. "I didn't do anything to you."

"You're a child to think that simply," Cedric replied and seemed to regather his haughty bearing.

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"You're barely older than me," I replied.

"Do we have a problem?" Cedric asked me and then glanced to the sword and now postering puppy at my side.

"Cedric--" Rylan put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"What, Rylan?" the blond asked the taller, older petitioner.

"It's probably best to drop it," Rylan said, gesturing with his head towards the central tower. "I imagine this is all going to start soon."

"And why do you give such wise counsel?" Cedric inquired of Rylan.

"Because you really did start it," Rylan said calmly.

Cedric scowled and looked over to me. "Stay to yourself and don't make waves, child."

Mile growled from beside me.

Goblin, he said of Cedric across our mental bond.

Noble features and carefully cut hair aside, I could see how Mile got that vibe from the blonde.

"I don't have much of a reason to have a problem with you," I told Cedric.

Cedric turned away from me. "You wouldn't want one."

I sighed as he walked further into the crowd with Rylan who shrugged at me as he left.

"Goblin," I whispered under my breath.

Mile barked in further agreement.

"Don't bother over people like him," a strong voice said from beside me.

I looked to my left to see a strong-faced, red-skinned person. His chestnut-hued hair was tightly cropped, and his shoulders were menacing due to his height. I'd have thought him a man if I didn't catch the smallest signs of youth in his cheeks and lightly wrinkled skin.

"I guess I shouldn't," I said.

"Some nobles are brash; they're burdened by a predetermined responsibility. It ages them without giving them the wisdom of age," the large boy said.

"You're a Yordian, right?" I asked.

"My name is Garron," he replied. "I am Yordian, yes."

"Your people also had nobles, didn't they?" I asked. "Or am I remembering wrong?"

I didn't ever remember wrong, but I could be remembering wrong information.

"Once. Very few Yordian nobles nowadays. When there were, the titles passed through bloodlines and not direct succession," Garron replied. "I heard your name was Peregrine."

"Peregrine Borncrest," I said.

Garron extended his arm, and I tentatively grasped his forearm. His grip was unyielding but gentle.

"Garron Ironbark, the surname is imperial and assumed," he said.

So he wasn't a noble at all. A commoner, then.

We let go of our grips; I allowed him to initiate it.

"Nobility doesn't really matter to me," I said.

"A bold thing to say in some places," he said, and his eyes tracked where Cedric and Rylan had departed. "Those two you were talking to are nobles of some note in Tryvelle. Heirs the both of them, but the younger one has a chip on his shoulder."

"I don't know why he seemed to hate me right away," I said.

"The elite circles say he's a genius," Garron revealed. "It was thought he was the youngest to make it into this year's petitioner class."

"Until me," I replied, and things started to make more sense. "An arrogant genius?"

"It's said to be the truth," Garron affirmed.

"So he hates me because I'm younger than him?" I posed. I asked.

"Maybe," Garron said non-committedly. "The nobles of Tryvelle value feats and reputation. Being among the youngest to ever graduate the Towers would be a good start to his."

"So I ruined it for him," I said. "Just by existing. That's great."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't try to upstage you. It'd recoup some of the accomplishment, even if you did make it through the next four years," Garron said.

"If he made my passing look like a fluke in comparison to his?"

"I wouldn't expect much less from that one," Garron replied.

"You know a lot about him?" I asked.

"My family are merchants," Garron replied. "Knowledge is power when dealing with the peerage; knowing who is likely to be hard to work with and who to just avoid is important."

"But you're a mage?" I asked. "Not a merchant?"

"I could be both," Garron said. "Perhaps."

"Do you think one would help you be the other?" I asked.

"Power helps everything," Garron said. "Have enough of it, and you can save on guards and gain respect. Would you cross a powerful magus in commerce?"

"I don't think I would anyway, but I see your point," I replied. "If I'm likely to be incinerated if I did... I'd probably not need morals not to cheat someone."

Garron laughed. "So you see my point?"

I smiled. "I do."

Our attention was drawn away from our conversation by a loud, swinging noise.

"The doors are opening now," Garron pointed out, helpfully so, because I couldn't begin to see over the crowd to the entrance to the central tower.

"Do we?" I started.

"All along now," a studious, feminine voice spoke as if it were lecturing in front of a class.

I didn't see the source of the voice, but with the way everyone was looking around, I assume it wasn't just because of my height.

The crowd of petitioners slowly began to lurch forward.

"We should go, my new friend" Garron said.

Friend. That was nice to hear.

"Sure," I said. "Let's see what we have to do today."

Anticipation built in my stomach, with not just a little bit of nervousness. The feeling was akin to when I knew I was about to have a hard sword spar with my mother. I was excited, but also felt like I was definitely going to be in over my head.

I took a deep breath as we shifted up the large, stone steps with the rest of the hundreds of new students.

It was hard to get a good grip of it from among the many taller petitioners, but the crowd was certainly expanding and thinning out as we entered the tower proper. I blinked and looked behind myself to the doors we'd passed through to ensure I could still see outside.

Endless, gothic, and pristinely archaic-looking staircases began and swirled upwards into seeming infinity above us.

"It's bigger on the inside," I said to Garron.

"Very much so," the strong-jawed teen said.

"You all go the stairwell to the right, please," the guiding voice from before said.

The crowd of initiates broke off, and many of them began to turn away from where me and Garron were turning.

"No, pay no attention to the others. They're going where they're told. You go right just as I said," the voice said. "There's only so much room on each stairwell, you know."

"Coming?" Garron asked me.

"Yeah," I said and tore my head away from the other side of the diverging crowd.

Garron and I were among the middle group that entered the stairwell. Many others, those among the last to adhere to the voice's directions, paused and then seemed perturbed as they eventually followed us.

Was the voice saying different things to each group or even person?

"Garron," I said as we stepped on the stairwell, "what did the voice say to you?"

"To go to the right stairwell," Garron answered me simply.

"Did it tell you to ignore where the other groups were going?" I asked.

Garron looked at me thoughtfully, in his straightforward way. "No."

"Oh," I said.

"Did it say something else to you?" Garron said.

"No, not at first," I said, "but it told me to do as I was told after it gave the directions."

"Telepathy then," Garron said.

"Talking in our minds?" I asked. "Different directions to get everyone to the right place?"

"We haven't seen the speaker," Garron observed.

"Telepathy," I repeated, but my mind was drawn to a slight tingling under my feet as we ascended the stairs.

I glanced around and was surprised to see that we were now multiple stories higher than we should've been. A slight wave of vertigo hit me as I realized that if I now fell over the stair's railing, I wouldn't survive.

"The stairs are helping us climb them," Garron said.

"My dad could do something like this," I said.

"Spatial mages are rare?" Garron inquired. "This is your bloodline?"

"No, he was a druid," I replied.

"Rarer," he affirmed. "I did not know they could control space."

"Only in the wilderness," I said.

"Isn't everything the wilderness?" he asked.

"I--" I paused. "Yes and no. Civilization dulls something about my magic."

"Hmm," Garron mouthed. "So you are also a druid?"

I had revealed that, hadn't I?

"My father was teaching me to be one," I replied, my tone dropping.

"I'm sorry," Garron said in a voice of condolence.

My voice must have implied

"No, he's not passed," I said.

"It is your business," Garron replied with a stoic tenderness.

"We're not estranged either," I said. "He's just. He's just gone for a while."

Mile rubbed against my leg with a spirit of comradery.

I took a step and realized that the stairwell was now taking us to its summit. We were ushered onto a circular balcony that revealed many doors along it. I couldn't even see the bottom floor anymore; there was just a vaguely sparkling haze beneath us.

Four stone crosswalks led from the circular balcony to a singular door upon a vertically oblong platform that tingled my eyes to look at. It was just a door within an arched stone frame; it was attached to no room or hallway.

"Go through the middle door to the lecture hall," the feminine voice chimed up again.

"Is this all spatial magic?" I asked.

"And a sanctum, perhaps a demesne," Garron said.

"A what?" I inquired.

"A place where a mage's magic is more freely done," Garron explained. "A dilemma takes that to a different extreme. Odd things can happen within either of them."

"All of this is one mage's doing?" I asked.

"I don't know," Garron said. "I'd guess not, but I'm likely to be wrong."

I ran my hand over the iron wrought railings as the crowd trailed across the stone crosswalks.

One of the students in the lead must've opened the central door because the crowds began to pour through it. My mind verged on brewing up a migraine as I realized that all four groups, feeding from all four crosswalks, were entering the singular arched doorway simultaneously and from each different angle.

Is this weird to you? I asked Mile.

Air sounds funny, Mile said. Smells like apples, but not apples.

I connected our senses and sought out what he was talking about. A dull ringing filtered along through his ears to mine. The scent of mana, which he likened to the slightly bewitched apples I often made for us, wasn't just in the air, but rather it seemed to be part of it.

I expanded my senses a bit. Something felt off, but it was hard to place what at first. Being at one time possessed by a greater wind spirit, combined with my inability to forget anything, including the sensations of her using her magic through me, had allowed me to forge a greatly reduced version of the same spirit's connection to the wind element. The air here felt not dead or corrupted, but almost imaginary. I wasn't a shaman; I couldn't sense lesser wind-spirits that weren't manifested in the material, but I wasn't entirely sure they'd be present in the tower even if I could.

Is that mana you're hearing? I asked him.

Don't hear it with apples, Mile said. It tickles like a belly rub.

Through our connection, I could feel what he meant. Something in the air was tickling his eardrums, not unpleasantly so, but oddly.

Stepping through the door tickled his ears even more. I felt a much dulled transitioning sensation myself, like a less intrusive version of teleportation. Once more, glancing back showed me that I could still see the other side of the doorway.