Ad Meliora,

Towards Better Things.

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Clairrouille wasn't the golden glinting city of splendor like Valtrisse was. It was the criminal underbelly. A place spoken of in hushed whispers. And finally, Nadine was escaping it.

Escaping it all.

The violence. The filthy streets. The dank, dark days — Void of sunlight. The damned smog. She'd the fearful nights of her childhood, alone, cradled under her bed, flipping through her mother's old and worn books and immersing herself in a world of magic and brilliance.

The very same one she was still captivated by.

Now, as the carriage jolted along Clairrouille's jagged streets, Nadine let her eyes wander over the city one last time. The facades of forgotten buildings, crumbling and leaning into each other. Stricken by poverty. Shadows pooled in every corner, swallowing the light, much as the city itself had tried to devour her. But she was no longer theirs to claim.

Unravelling with each turn of the wheel, she was moving farther from the knot of her past.The stench of ash and stagnant water faded as the carriage higher, replaced by the crisp, open air that whispered of freedom. Nadine, leaning back in the carriage seat, let her pulse settle. She was not running anymore. She was leaving. Leaving behind the screams that used to claw at her ears during the night. The sting of soot that was embedded in her skin. The nights of grueling study.

Reaching the incline leading from the Undercity, the mechanical horse ticked. She felt the wheels beneath her carriage hesitate as if Clairrouille resisted letting her go. But then, with a jolt, the carriage surged forward, breaking free. The smog thinned, and sunlight poured in through the narrow windows, washing over her face.

Valtrisse's first light, golden and warm, was like a gentle hand lifting her chin and raising her up into a new way of life.

The gleaming towers of the splendid city, their peaks ablaze with the sun, appeared ahead, setting the horizon alight. Her fingers curled into her lap as a sense of anticipation swelled within her. This was it. The world she'd dreamed of was no longer confined to the pages of newspapers and spiteful whispers. It was real, and it was waiting for her.

Nadine's gut clenched as her body grew taught with anticipation, feeling the rugged, broken roads of Clairrouille fall behind her. Approaching the city, inch by inch.

At this point, it was nearly there. Her future. It almost drove her mad. Nadine was usually a patient woman. Brought up modestly, she understood that patience was rewarded with blessings. And yet, as the golden caress of sunlight flitted through the windows of the carriage, she just couldn't help but feel like an excitable child.

Valtrisse, flitting over golden spiral-capped domes and glass houses, resembled an unearthed treasure. The buttery golden sun flitting through the clearing smog, like it was parting the heavens.

Cobblestone streets wound through the bustling town, alive with its charm and industry. Towering dark stone and timber buildings jutted skyward, their steeply sloped roofs adorned with ornate spires and chimneys that belched faint wisps of steam. Each structure seemed a blend of function and artistry, with wide bay windows glowing warm and intricately carved balconies brimming with potted plants.

Shops and cafes lined along the street and adorned with colourful awnings, gleaming brass, and hand-painted signs beckoned passersby with promises of craftsmanship and innovation. A steady hum of activity filled the air as townsfolk dressed in fine, tailored attire strolled by, exchanging cheerful banter, while merchants busily arranged their wares.

Incredulously, Nadine paused for a moment, unable to believe she was there. Being drawn along in a brass horse carriage. She was really here, in the City of Splendour. Valtrisse. Her eyes rapidly flitted from one sight to another, her stomach twisting and her heart beginning to race. Her lips, threatening to twitch upward into an exuberant grin.

Here she was, at last.

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With its approach to the towering brass gates of Le Sanctuaire Ésotérique, the carriage slowed. Sunlight glinted off the intricate metalwork, casting rippling patterns across the pavement. Twisting flourishes and delicate filigree seemed to shift as the carriage drew nearer, as though alive under the sun's touch.

The sleek, mechanical horse hissed softly upon coming to a halt. Steam puffed from their joints, their brass body gleaming in the light. The artificial creature moved with an eerie grace, it's heads swinging to survey their surroundings with the uncanny patience of a real animal.

Clicking and swinging open, the carriage door moved with practiced ease. Nadine stepped out, gloved fingers brushing the polished banister as she descended. Her boots clicking against the stones, and for a moment, she stood frozen, staring.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Le Sanctuaire Ésotérique.

Like a vision carved from her dreams, the academic heart of Valtrisse stood before her. Its honey-colored stone glowed warmly under the afternoon sun, spires stretching skyward as though trying to brush the clouds. The central dome rose like a crowned jewel, its surface etched with intricate patterns that shimmered faintly, hinting at some hidden magic.

Toward the main archway stretched an emerald-green lawn, its perfection almost unnerving. Each blade of grass seemed deliberate, as though manicured by unseen hands. The arches leading into the courtyard were shadowed, their cool recesses promising wisdom and mystery.

Hardly able to swallow, Nadine stood before the building that so brazenly that dwarfed her. This was what she had fought for. What she had sacrificed for.

Unlatching her trunk from the back of the carriage, her fingers fumbled. Its weight was familiar, grounding her as she hoisted it onto the pavement. In Clairrouille's Undercity, the air had weight—a biting, acrid cocktail of soot and sulfur lingering on the tongue, branding itself into your senses. Even now, Nadine swore she could taste it, the sharp reminder of her roots clinging to the edges of her memory. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself. Her chest burning with every baited breath.

Here in Valtrisse, the world was different. It was a world she desperately wanted to join. The midday sun bathed the streets in a soft, golden glow, unchallenged by clouds or smog. Women and men strolled the avenues in fine, tailored clothing, their movements elegant and leisurely. Even the children wore garments more refined than anything Nadine had ever owned.

From every corner, laughter, invention, and ambition hummed, giving the streets a bustling energy. Life teemed here, vibrant and unapologetic, spilling out of the polished cracks of cobblestones and curling around ornate lampposts.

Opening her eyes, Nadine noticed a guard post at the entrance. It was a small but striking structure, crafted from black iron with brass inlays. The guard within stood tall and formal, his uniform a crisp blend of crimson and ebony. A polished mechanical rifle hung at his side, more ceremonial than threatening, though its brass fittings caught the sun in a way that made her uneasy.

'Surely, that rifle was just for show.' The thought looped numbly through Nadine's mind as her gaze swept discreetly over the guard stationed at the gate. His uniform was crisp, his posture formal—yet something about his presence felt almost ornamental.

Approaching, the young man straightened slightly. "Good afternoon," he said, inclining his head with a polite nod. "How can I help you?"

"Good afternoon. Sorry to bother you." Nadine's words came with a nervous smile, the subtle tension in her stomach tightening. "I'm Nadine Pleasant," she added, her voice pitching slightly. Eagerness dawned from within, followed by bursts of quick-fire anxiety and doubt.

Blinking at her, the guard's expression went blank for an uncomfortable moment. His brows twitched faintly, the slightest movement hinting at confusion—or perhaps just hesitation. Gods, this is awkward.

With a blush rising in her neck, she rapidly explained that she had arrived to start a new job, her gaze darting between the guard and the gate. Her words spilled out in a clumsy jumble, and for a moment, she thought she saw the faintest flicker of sympathy on his lips as they threatened to curve into a smile.

"May I see some identification, please?" Nadine fumbled in her bag, producing her ID. The card was well-worn, its edges frayed, the photo on it embarrassingly unflattering.

Studying the card the guards blonde brows drew together in concentration. His bright brown eyes darting between the card and her face, and though his lips twitched with amusement, he said nothing as he handed it back.

After a moment, the guard commented. "Someone will be out shortly to escort you onto the premises," Nadine noted his gaze briefly flicking over her outfit, his brow lifting subtly. As if, he was scrutinizing her.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice quieter now. A fleeting glance passed between them, yet Nadine resisted the urge to fidget with her attire.

Her outfit, chosen with care, consisted of a crisp white blouse, high-collared and puffed-sleeved, layered under a black bodice that neatly cinched her waist. A full, lace-trimmed black skirt flowed down to her ankles. Over it all, she wore her late mother's red double-breasted trench coat, the fabric worn but timeless. The coat's breast pocket bore intricate embroidery: a compass encircled by a ring of magical runes.

As if deciphering her, the young guard's gaze lingered, his head tilting slightly. Was he judging her? Did he know where she was from?

"Miss Pleasant?" The smooth, accented drawl of her name drew Nadine from her thoughts. The brass gates swung open seamlessly, and her attention shifted to the figure emerging from beyond them.

Approaching, the woman was striking; tall, with deep bronze skin that contrasted sharply against her navy turtleneck. Her cascade of black springy curls framing her face pretilly as her lips drew into an cordial smile. Warmth and confidence, alternating as one. Her eyes, dark and captivating - inviting, as Nadine was drawn into them.

Nadine's lips curving into a hesitant smile, confirming quietly, "Yes, that's me." The warmth in her cheeks hadn't quite faded, but she squared her shoulders as the woman drew closer. She deserved to be here. There was no need to be shy. She found herself repeating the same mantra over and over deep within her thoughts.

"It's a pleasure to meet you"." A handshake accompanied the woman's greeting. "I'm Gracie-Mae, the Teaching Assistant for the department of Arcane Realities" The youthful glint in her eyes was almost enthralling. An entrancing softness within. "Let's get you settled in, shall we?"

Passing through the towering gates, Nadine took a moment to throw a glance over her shoulder, the heavy clang of the gates closing reverberating through her chest like a final punctuation mark on the story of her old life.

For a brief moment, she hesitated, her breath catching as she turned back to look. Clairrouille was hidden now, swallowed by distance and shadow. It felt farther away than it had ever been—like a bad dream dissolving under the light of day.

Her grip on the suitcase tightened. Ahead, the towering spires of the Academy stood bathed in sunlight, glowing like the golden domes. This was her beginning, a life made not of soot and smog, but of ambition and expectation.

She straightened her shoulders. Let it come. Whatever it was, she would face it.

Nadine Pleasant was no longer running from a world she despised.

She was walking toward the one she deserved.