Ellie had always imagined the Mage Academy as a solitary tower, maybe two, rising out of the mist like some dream half-forgotten. She hadn’t expected this—a sprawling city within walls, a fortress of glass and stone.
As the carriage rumbled up the cobbled road, the Academy unfolded before her, its countless towers spiraling into the sky, connected by arched bridges that shimmered with faint, elusive light. Enchanted gardens sprawled below, where strange plants hummed with soft energy and glittered like they held stars within their petals.
Students in deep blue and green robes moved in clusters, their voices a distant murmur. Ellie stared, feeling small in the face of it all. She gripped the edge of the carriage seat, wishing for the hundredth time that she’d refused the invitation, despite Mariel’s veiled threats.
The capital had been bad enough, but this... This was worse. The air itself seemed to buzz with power, and she could sense it pressing against her skin, as if the very walls of the Academy were trying to take her measure.
"Lady Ellie?" The coachman’s voice was soft, respectful, yet tinged with curiosity. His eyes lingered on her longer than they should have, waiting for some sign from her.
She cleared her throat, shaking herself from the overwhelming spectacle. “Yes. I’m ready.”
The carriage door swung open, and Ellie stepped down onto the stone path. It was a pale grey, polished so smooth that it reflected the towers above like rippling water. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she felt eyes on her. Not just the students who glanced up from their books and whispered behind their hands, but the very earth beneath her boots seemed aware of her presence. She could feel the magic here—alive, breathing, watching.
A group of mages approached, their robes rustling softly in the breeze. They were led by a tall man with silver hair that cascaded to his shoulders, his dark blue robe trimmed with the same silver thread Ellie had seen on Mariel. He moved with deliberate grace, his eyes sharp beneath his heavy brow. As he drew near, Ellie realized who he was—Archmage Achron, the Acting Head of the Academy.
"Ellie Liddell," Achron said, his voice smooth as silk, yet with an edge that cut through the murmurs around them. "Slayer of the Great Terror. Welcome to Lorthraine’s Mage Academy." He inclined his head slightly, just enough to suggest respect, though there was a gleam in his eyes that unsettled her.
Ellie nodded stiffly. “Thank you,” she said, though the words felt hollow. She could still feel the stares of the students, their eyes filled with curiosity, awe, and something else she couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t admiration—at least, not entirely.
Suspicion.
They were waiting for something. Waiting for her to prove herself—or to fail.
Achron gestured for her to follow, and they began walking down the path, past towering statues of ancient mages and archways etched with runes that pulsed faintly as they passed. The students parted like water, their whispers growing louder, more insistent. Ellie caught fragments—“Is that her?”, “The one who killed the dragon?”, “But she’s so... ordinary.”
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Her fingers tightened into fists at her sides. Ordinary. If only they knew.
"Impressive, isn’t it?" Achron said as they walked. His tone was casual, but there was something probing in it. "The Academy has stood for over five centuries. Within these walls, the greatest minds in the kingdom have honed their skills, unlocked secrets the world can scarcely imagine. And now, we are honored to have you among us."
Ellie’s jaw tightened. “I’m not sure what I can offer your scholars. I’m not... like them.”
Achron smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, you underestimate yourself, my dear. Your deeds speak louder than any academic training could.” His gaze flicked to her briefly before returning to the path ahead. “We’ve heard much about how you dealt with the Great Terror. But there is more, I suspect, than the tales that have reached our ears. We are all eager to hear the truth of your victory.”
She felt a pang of unease, her fingers brushing the hilt of the dagger at her belt. The truth of it? If they knew how she had stumbled through that fight, more by luck than any real skill, they wouldn’t be so eager to listen. She wasn’t a mage. She wasn’t a hero. She was just a girl who had been in the wrong place at the right time.
And yet, she could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on her, as if they were waiting for her to perform some great feat of magic, to prove that she belonged here. Her stomach twisted at the thought.
Achron must have sensed her hesitation because he slowed his pace, turning to face her with an appraising look. “I must say, your humility is... refreshing. Most who come here are eager to show off their talents.” His lips curved into a thin smile. “But I’m sure, in time, you will grow comfortable enough to share yours.”
Ellie bit back a retort. There was no point in arguing with him—not yet, at least. She wasn’t here to make friends or enemies. She just had to survive the next few days, do whatever they wanted, and leave. That was all.
They reached the steps of the main tower—a towering structure of black stone, its surface gleaming like obsidian in the fading light. Achron paused at the base of the steps, turning to her once more.
“I have arranged for a demonstration tomorrow,” he said, his voice casual but his eyes watching her closely. “A small audience—just the faculty and a few senior students. Nothing too... intimidating.”
Ellie’s heart sank. A demonstration? She barely knew how she’d survived the dragon fight herself, and now they wanted her to show them? She opened her mouth to protest, but Achron’s gaze held her in place.
“Of course,” he continued smoothly, “if you feel you need time to... prepare, we can arrange something less formal.” He smiled again, that same thin, unreadable smile. “But I think you’ll rise to the occasion. After all, you’ve faced greater challenges than this.”
Ellie swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the trap closing around her. She could refuse, of course—but then the rumors would start, just like Mariel had warned. They’d wonder why the great dragon slayer couldn’t demonstrate her skills. They’d start to pick apart the stories, to question her. And the last thing she needed was more doubt.
“Fine,” she said, her voice steady, though her hands trembled at her sides. “I’ll do it.”
Achron inclined his head, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “I knew you would.” He gestured toward the tower. “Your quarters are prepared. Rest well, Ellie Liddell. Tomorrow, you’ll show us all what you’re truly capable of.”
As he turned and ascended the steps, leaving her alone in the fading light, Ellie felt a cold knot of dread settle in her stomach. She looked up at the tower, its shadow looming over her, and wondered how she’d gotten herself into this.