The next day, the air inside the demonstration hall was thick with expectation. Ellie stood in the center of the circular chamber, surrounded by rows of stone benches where students and faculty watched her with eyes that gleamed like distant stars.

It was a space designed to amplify sound and spectacle, its high ceilings echoing even the softest whisper, its walls adorned with symbols and runes that pulsed faintly with ancient power. The audience’s murmurs fluttered around her like the rustling of unseen wings.

Ellie’s pulse raced. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying to calm the anxious energy that had settled into her bones. It was supposed to be a simple demonstration—a brief showcase of her so-called 'techniques.'

They had been vague, almost too vague, about what they wanted her to do, and that unsettled her more than anything. They were expecting something grand, something remarkable, but all Ellie had was instinct and a few tricks she barely understood herself.

Archmage Achron stood at the far end of the hall, arms crossed, his silver hair catching the light. His expression was unreadable, but Ellie could feel his eyes on her like a weight. He had been the one to insist on this, of course. There had been no way out of it.

A deep breath. She let her fingers brush against the dagger at her side, its familiar weight a small comfort. She looked up at the crowd—rows of eager faces, waiting for her to do something, anything, to prove that she belonged here. Even the walls seemed to watch her, their ancient stones whispering secrets she couldn't hope to understand.

“I, uh…” Ellie started, her voice echoing awkwardly in the large space. She coughed to clear her throat. “I don’t really use spells the way your mages do.” There was a ripple of murmurs from the crowd. “But I’ve learned how to work with... energy. Instinct, mostly.”

A few skeptical glances passed between the students, and Ellie bit her lip, already regretting the words. Instinct? That would sound childish to them—these scholars who had spent their lives mastering intricate spells, weaving magic as naturally as breathing. She could almost feel their disappointment.

Ellie glanced around, her eyes darting to the relics that lined the chamber. On pedestals around the hall stood artifacts of the Academy’s long history—ancient tomes, shimmering crystals, and small, peculiar objects whose purpose she could only guess at.

One particular relic caught her eye: a stone orb, no larger than her fist, suspended midair in a faint, magical glow. Its surface was covered in faded runes, worn by time but still humming faintly with dormant power. There was something familiar about the orb, something that tugged at the edges of her memory.

A sudden flash—Ellie remembered seeing something like it in the vaults of the Valquinn household. She had never understood its purpose, but she had felt the same hum, that same quiet presence.

Before she could think better of it, her hand reached out toward the orb.

"Careful!" someone shouted from the benches, but it was too late. Her fingers brushed the cool stone, and a jolt shot through her arm, like lightning contained within a thread of silk. The orb trembled beneath her touch, and for a heartbeat, all was still.

Then, the chamber exploded into motion.

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A low rumble reverberated through the floor, growing louder, deeper, until the very air quivered. The runes carved into the walls flared to life, glowing brighter than they had in centuries. Ellie stumbled back, her heart pounding, as streams of blue and silver light shot up from the stone beneath her feet, twisting and coiling like serpents around the chamber.

Then the air crackled with energy, the temperature dropping sharply. She could see her breath now, clouds of it hanging in the air as the light continued to surge and swirl.

The students gasped, some scrambling to their feet, while the professors exchanged sharp glances. But no one made a move to stop what was happening.

Ellie backed away, her hand still tingling from the contact with the orb. The floor beneath her thrummed with power, pulsing in rhythm with her own racing heart. She didn’t understand what she had done, but something had been awakened—something old and far beyond her understanding.

A voice cut through the chaos. “The wards!” someone shouted. “The wards are reactivating!”

Ellie blinked, her breath catching in her throat. The wards? She had heard the term before, though it had never meant much to her—ancient enchantments that protected the Academy from outside forces, invisible barriers woven into the very fabric of the institution.

They had been faltering for years, ever since the disappearance of the previous Archmage, their power slowly waning.

But now... now they were reawakening, surging back to life.

Ellie’s eyes darted to Achron, who stood motionless, his gaze fixed on her. His expression was sharp, calculating, but there was something else there too—something she hadn’t seen before. Awe? No, not quite. Recognition, maybe, as though he had expected this all along.

“What’s happening?” Ellie’s voice was tight with panic, though she tried to keep it under control. “I didn’t—”

Achron held up a hand, silencing her with a look. “The wards have been dormant for nearly a decade,” he said, his voice low, but commanding enough to still the murmurs around them. “No one has been able to restore them. Not even our most skilled mages.”

Ellie opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She glanced around the chamber, watching as the streams of light twisted and curled through the air, settling into the walls, the floor, the very bones of the building. The energy was stabilizing now, no longer wild, but controlled, contained. It pulsed with a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat returning to normal after a sudden shock.

“And now, you’ve done it,” Achron continued, his eyes narrowing. “With a single touch.”

Ellie shook her head, trying to form the words that would explain, that would unravel the confusion twisting inside her. “I didn’t do anything,” she managed. “I just— I touched the orb, but—”

“Exactly.” Achron stepped forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “The wards recognized you. Your power. This was no accident, Ellie.”

The weight of his words pressed down on her, heavy as stone. She could feel the eyes of the students, the faculty, all locked on her, their gazes no longer skeptical but filled with something far more unsettling: reverence.

“I—” Ellie’s voice faltered. She wanted to argue, to tell them they were wrong, but the words wouldn’t come. How could she explain something she didn’t understand herself? How could she convince them that she was just a girl who had stumbled her way into the legends they believed?

A low murmur rose from the students, spreading through the chamber like a wave. Some were nodding, whispering to one another, their voices thick with awe. “She restored the wards, they were saying. She must be powerful.”

Ellie wanted to scream at them, to make them understand that this was all a mistake. But her throat was tight, her chest heavy. She looked back at Achron, who was watching her with that same unsettling intensity, his smile thin and knowing.

“Well done,” he said softly, so only she could hear. “You’ve done what no one else could.”

Ellie swallowed hard, the weight of the moment settling over her like a cold shadow. She had come to the Academy as an outsider, an impostor, but now... now they believed in her more than ever.

And that, more than anything, terrified her.