Colors swirled and mixed in a dizzying array, and for a moment, I lost all sense of direction. My foot found ground, my body lurched forward, and I stumbled out the other side, blinking against the sudden change in light.
Oh. My. God.
Stepping through was like walking into a dream I didn't know I had.
I stumbled out the other side, half expecting to be singed, and blinked like a mole thrown into sunlight. Gone was the dingy path in the woods; I now stood in a lush, mist-filled valley that looked like it had been plucked straight from a Tolkien wet dream. It was dusk now. The air hummed with something that made the hairs on my arms stand up—ambient magic, maybe? I had no frame of reference, but it sure as hell wasn't static electricity.
In the distance, the towering spires of a castle punched through the fog like a granite forest. Ivy-clad and ancient, the castle radiated the kind of gravitas you only got from centuries of being around. I half-expected a dragon to swoop in and make a nest on one of the parapets.
I let out a breath. This place was ridiculous. Beautiful, but ridiculous. Like someone had cranked the fantasy novel dial up to eleven and smashed off the knob. Part of me wanted to laugh; the other part wanted to sit down and have a good, overwhelmed cry.
A winding cobblestone path unrolled from my feet toward the castle grounds. I followed it slowly, taking in the sights like a tourist with a limited amount of film. On my left, an orchard of trees bore fruit that sparkled in the early morning light. On my right, a series of terraces dripped with plants that looked suspiciously sentient. The whole scene had a saturated, technicolor quality, as if reality had been doped up on enchantments.
A rustling in the bushes caught my attention, and I braced for something monstrous. Instead, a pair of bright eyes peeked out, followed by the fluffy white head of a creature that could only be described as a baby dragon. It let out a chirp and stretched its wings, then took a wobbly flight path straight up, making lazy circles in the sky.
I stopped in my tracks and just watched. The little guy—or gal—drew an expanding figure eight, like a sparkler in the hands of a kid on the Fourth of July. My chest tightened with something I couldn’t quite place. Awe? Joy? Maybe a mix of both, with a pinch of “holy crap, this is real” thrown in.
For a guy who wasn’t sure he believed in magic, I was starting to believe.
The path sloped downward, and I walked slowly, half hoping to stretch this moment out forever. Above me, more Wyrmlings joined the first, forming a playful, fluttering swarm. They chased each other in loops and dives, their scales catching the light like shards of a flying kaleidoscope. One of them let out a tiny puff of smoke, and I could almost hear it giggle.
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I tried to imagine what it would be like to grow up in a place like this. A magical valley, a castle filled with secrets, and dragons as common as pigeons. It was so far removed from my world of greasy garages and faux-rustic dining rooms that I felt like an alien taking notes on an unfamiliar civilization. Yet there was a tug in my gut, a strange and unexpected sense of belonging. Like this wasn’t just some crazy detour in my life, but a destination I’d been heading toward all along without knowing it.
A tall stone archway came into view, its surface etched with runes that glowed faintly blue. I guessed it marked the entrance to the main campus. A figure stood beneath it, and my heart did a stupid little hop-skip when I recognized her face: the witch who’d given me the acceptance letter.
"Tyler," she called out, her Scottish burr as thick as a haggis. "It's good to see you. again. Sorry, I was so enigmatic at your place of employment. I'm Fiona Wildwood. Welcome to Bothwell."
I jogged the last few yards to meet her. Fiona was the kind of woman you couldn’t forget after meeting once: tall, fiery-haired, with the sort of presence that commanded rooms and small countries. She wore a flowing green robe that billowed around her like a tamed wind. With each breath, her chest squeezed against the tight fabric. She was dazzling.
“This place is...wow,” I said, waving a hand in a useless attempt to capture the whole valley in a single gesture. “Just, wow.”
She gave a knowing smile. “A bit different from your mundane life, I imagine. How was the Shimmer?”
Shimmer? Oh, she probably meant the portal. I flexed and winced for effect. “Recovering. That was some serious zap.”
“It was a test,” she said, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Only those with true intent can pass through unscathed.”
“So if I’d been half-assing it, I’d be a crispy critter right now?”
“Something like that.” Her smile widened. “I’m glad you made it. We don’t often extend such offers to non-magicals who don’t seek it out first.”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I’m still trying to figure out why you picked me. I mean, I’m flattered and all, but—”
“You showed exceptional courage and quick thinking when you saved that child from the statue. You know Atlas bears the weight of the world on his shoulders? Those are qualities we value highly here, Tyler. Remember, this is an invitation from the House of Wisenforth. Whether you accept it is entirely up to you.”
She made it sound so simple, but I knew it was anything but. Could I really commit to this? To leave my old life behind and dive headfirst into a world I didn’t understand?
“We start the induction tonight,” Fiona continued. “It’ll be a full moon, so the rites will be particularly potent. Until then, get settled and have a look around. The castle can be...overwhelming for newcomers.”
I glanced at the towering structure. Overwhelming was one word for it. Terrifying might be more accurate.
“Thanks, Fiona,” I said.
She touched my arm, just a brief, warm contact. “Wisenforth believes in you, Tyler. Believe in yourself.”
With that, she turned and walked toward the castle, leaving me standing under the archway. I looked up and watched the Wyrmlings a while longer, letting their carefree antics sink into me.
It was time to face the castle—and whatever waited for me inside.