Liam entered the classroom for his first class at Aethermoor—Abjuration. The room was simple compared to the ornate halls and grand staircases he’d passed earlier. Here, the focus was on function—no gleaming tapestries or floating chandeliers, just rows of desks and glowing runes, their faint hum filling the room with a sense of calm. Students sat in neat rows, each one with a magical orb floating in front of them, awaiting instruction. Liam’s stomach churned as he looked around at the unfamiliar faces, their eyes focused on the orbs as if it were second nature.

Master Murrow stood at the front, his presence commanding yet calm. His silver hair shimmered faintly under the magical lights, his deep blue robes reflecting the authority he carried as the Master of Abjuration.

“Abjuration,” Master Murrow began, his voice steady and measured, “is the art of protection. It is not as flashy as Evocation nor as subtle as Illusion, but it is the magic that keeps you alive when the world seeks to destroy you.”

With a flick of his hand, a shimmering blue shield materialized in front of him, swirling with energy. “Your first task is to conjure a simple shield. A barrier that can withstand minor impacts.”

Liam stared at the orb in front of him. His heart raced. A shield, he thought. I can do that, I’ve done it before.

He placed his hands out in front of the orb, mimicking Master Murrow’s movements, trying to feel the magic beneath his skin. For a brief moment, the orb flickered with light, and Liam felt a surge of energy building up inside him. But just as quickly as it had appeared, the energy fizzled out. The orb in front of Liam pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat, its rhythm speeding up as he focused on it. When he tried to force the magic, it flared brightly for a moment before dulling to a faint glow again.

Around him, students were already creating shimmering shields, their barriers glowing with a steady light. To his left, a girl with sharp features conjured a near-perfect shield on her first try. Her shield hummed with energy, sparkling like sunlight on water. A boy behind Liam, however, struggled like him, his orb flickering weakly, just like Liam’s own. Liam gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling inside him.

Master Murrow walked slowly through the rows of students, observing their work. As he passed through the rows, students sat up straighter, their focus sharpening under his watchful gaze. It was as if the very air around him buzzed with expectation. When he reached Liam, he paused, his eyes soft but unreadable.

“Focus not on the power, but on the control,” Murrow said quietly, his voice low enough for only Liam to hear. “Abjuration is not about force. It is about discipline. Let the magic flow, don’t force it.”

Liam nodded, his pulse still racing. Liam’s palms grew damp as his heart thudded in his chest. What if he couldn’t summon the shield? What if everyone else had it figured out and he was the one left struggling? He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the tension in his chest. He could feel the magic again, faint and elusive, but there. Slowly, he let it come forward, not pushing it, but guiding it. This time, a faint barrier shimmered into existence—fragile and barely there, but real.

“Good,” Master Murrow said softly. “It will strengthen in time.” Liam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It wasn’t much, but the shield had held—fragile as it was. Maybe he wasn’t as out of place here as he thought. Liam’s shield flickered for a few moments longer before fading away completely. Around him, students began murmuring quietly, some clearly pleased with their progress, others frustrated by their struggles.

Murrow walked back to the front of the classroom to address the class.

“Very good for a first attempt,” Master Murrow said, his voice calm as always. “Remember, Abjuration is not about strength, but endurance. You’ll need time to grow into your magic.”

As the class came to a close, Master Murrow flicked his wrist, and the glowing runes along the walls dimmed slightly. “That will be all for today. Dismissed.”

Liam packed his things slowly, glancing around the room. He couldn’t help but feel a small surge of pride—he’d done it, however small the shield had been. But there was also a lingering sense of unease. He still didn’t feel like he belonged here.

A soft chime echoed through the air—magic, no doubt. It signaled the end of the class period and the start of the next. Liam noticed the other students already filing out of the room, their bags slung over their shoulders as they chatted about their upcoming classes.

He hesitated for a moment, then followed the crowd. His next class was Transmutation, a subject he had no idea how to approach. He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea of shields and barriers, and now he was expected to change things—transform them into something else entirely.

The hallway buzzed with activity as students rushed to their next classes. Liam’s mind wandered, still replaying the flicker of his shield when he heard someone call his name.

“Liam!” Ethan’s voice echoed down the corridor. Liam turned to see his new friend weaving through the crowd with Marcus in tow.

“What do you have next?” Ethan asked, bouncing slightly on his heels.

“Transmutation,” Liam replied. “You?”

“Same! Let’s go together. This one’s supposed to be wild.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Just try not to blow anything up, Ethan.”

With that, the three of them made their way toward the Transmutation classroom, Liam’s nervous excitement growing with every step.

Liam, Ethan, and Marcus arrived at the Transmutation classroom, which was vastly different from the Abjuration class they had just left. The room was larger, with an open floor plan and high ceilings, giving it an airy, almost whimsical feel. Along the walls, shelves were stacked with strange objects—blocks of wood, glass vials, and bits of metal, all humming faintly with latent magic. Large windows let in beams of sunlight that danced across the polished stone floor, reflecting off the various objects that filled the room.

At the center of the room stood a tall woman with sharp, angular features. She wore deep green robes that shimmered as she moved, the fabric shifting in a way that almost made it seem alive. Her hair was a striking silver, braided tightly behind her, and her eyes—sharp and calculating—seemed to assess each student the moment they entered.

“That’s Master Aldridge,” Marcus whispered, nodding toward the woman. “She’s one of the best Transmuters here—some say she can change lead into gold with just a flick of her wrist.”

Master Aldridge’s presence was commanding, her gaze sweeping across the students as they entered. Despite her strict appearance, there was something graceful about her movements, as if the magic around her responded to her every step.

“Welcome to Transmutation,” she said, her voice crisp and authoritative, but not unkind. “Here, you will learn the art of change. Transmutation is not simply about altering the physical form of an object. It is about understanding its essence—its core—and bending it to your will. Change is the very nature of magic, and it is your task to master that change.”

She moved to the center of the room, where a simple wooden block rested on a pedestal. With a wave of her hand, the block shimmered and then began to shift, its surface warping and twisting. Within seconds, the block of wood had transformed into a beautifully carved stone statue of a bird, perched delicately on the pedestal.

“Transmutation,” she continued, “requires precision, control, and most of all—patience. You must see the potential in everything, even in the most mundane objects.”

Liam’s eyes widened as he watched the transformation. The block had changed so seamlessly, so effortlessly, that it seemed almost impossible. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. How could he possibly hope to learn something like that?

“Now,” Master Aldridge said, her eyes sweeping the room again, “each of you will begin with something simple. In front of you is a block of wood. Your task is to change its form—nothing too ambitious. Focus on altering the shape. A sphere, a cube, anything. The goal is to control.”

Liam glanced down at the wooden block that had appeared on the desk in front of him. He reached out, touching the smooth surface of the wood, and tried to imagine it becoming something else. His mind raced. A sphere? A cube? He wasn’t even sure where to start.

Ethan leaned over from the next desk, grinning. “Bet I can turn mine into something cool before you even make a dent,” he whispered, already focusing on his block.

Liam tried to ignore Ethan’s bravado and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the wood beneath his fingers. He could feel the magic there, faint but pulsing, waiting for him to guide it. He focused on the idea of a simple sphere, imagining the wood reshaping itself in his hands. But when he opened his eyes, the block remained unchanged.

As Liam concentrated on the wood in front of him, he felt the weight of the room’s energy pressing down on him. He glanced up and noticed a girl a few seats away, working with quiet focus. Her robes were immaculate, the same dark shade as Liam’s, and her fingers moved delicately over the object in front of her.

Liam’s gaze lingered for a moment longer as the block in front of her began to twist and reshape itself with ease, morphing into a small, intricately carved wooden figurine. There was no hesitation in her movements, no flicker of uncertainty. She worked with precision, each gesture a command the magic followed effortlessly.

“That’s Sarah Aldridge,” Ethan whispered, leaning toward Liam without taking his eyes off the girl. “She’s practically a prodigy in Transmutation. Apparently, she just sits outside by herself and practices all day. Everyone’s saying she’ll probably get an offer from the Master by the end of the year. Maybe even sooner.”

Liam’s eyes widened. She was younger than he’d expected for someone who carried so much quiet authority in her work. He felt a mix of awe and envy as he watched her smoothly shift the shape of the object in front of her again, this time turning it into a small crystal, gleaming under the classroom’s magical lights. Sarah didn’t seem to notice the attention, her focus entirely on her work.

Master Aldridge moved through the rows, stopping by Sarah for a brief moment. “Excellent control,” she said softly, giving Sarah a rare nod of approval. Then, with a fluid motion, the Master continued down the aisle toward Liam and the other students.

Liam shifted in his seat, feeling the weight of expectation grow heavier as Master Aldridge neared him. He glanced at the block in front of him again, nerves prickling at his skin.

Frustration bubbled up inside him. Around him, students were already making progress—Ethan’s block was wobbling into a strange, lopsided shape, but Marcus didn’t seem to care much about the task at hand. His wooden block shifted into a flat square, but his attention wasn’t focused. He glanced up as Master Aldridge passed by, his eyes flicking briefly to Liam’s struggle before he gave a small, unimpressed shrug. “You might want to hurry up,” he muttered. “It’s just wood, after all.”

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Master Aldridge moved through the rows of students, her eyes flicking over their progress—or lack thereof—with a critical eye. When she reached Liam, she paused. For a moment, her sharp gaze softened just a fraction.

“Remember,” she said, her voice quiet but firm, “Transmutation is about understanding, not force. You must first see the potential in the object before you can change it. Don’t try to impose your will on the magic. Let it guide you.”

Liam swallowed, nodding. He closed his eyes again, this time letting his mind quiet. He focused not on what he wanted the wood to become, but on what it was—the smooth grain beneath his fingers, the faint scent of pine lingering in the air. Slowly, he began to feel it—the shift, the subtle change in the magic. When he opened his eyes, the block of wood was still there, but now it had softened at the edges, beginning to curve inward.

“Better,” Master Aldridge said, a small hint of approval in her voice. “In time, you’ll be able to do more. For now, focus on control.”

As Liam packed up his things after Transmutation, his mind buzzed with everything that had just happened. He couldn’t shake the sense of inadequacy gnawing at him, especially after seeing how effortlessly Sarah handled her magic. But there was no time to dwell on it—his next class was Evocation.

The group made their way through the halls toward the Evocation classroom, a large room located near the outer edges of the Academy. Unlike the other areas Liam had seen, this part of the school seemed more rugged, the walls made of darker stone and the air thick with energy. Even the air felt charged, as though it hummed with raw power, setting Liam’s nerves on edge.

“I’ve been looking forward to this one,” Ethan said, practically bouncing on his feet. “Evocation’s all about control of the elements. Fire, lightning, all the cool stuff. This is gonna be awesome.”

Marcus remained silent, his usual smirk absent as they approached the classroom door. Liam could sense the shift in Marcus’ mood, though he didn’t comment on it.

When they entered the classroom, it was clear that Evocation had a different kind of energy. The room was wide and open, with charred stone floors that told stories of countless spells unleashed in practice. Several large runic circles were etched into the ground, crackling with faint traces of leftover magic.

At the front of the room stood the Evocation Master, a tall, muscular man with fire-red robes trimmed in gold. His dark hair was cropped short, and his eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that made it hard to look directly at him. Master Elric, Liam thought, recalling the name he had heard during orientation. He had the presence of someone who commanded storms, and his gaze swept over the students like a hawk sizing up prey.

“Welcome to Evocation,” Master Elric said, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through the room. “This is the school of elemental power—raw, untamed magic that can shape or destroy. Here, you will learn to control the forces of nature. Fire, ice, lightning—these are not toys, and if you treat them as such, they will burn you alive.”

He snapped his fingers, and a small flame appeared in his palm, flickering wildly. “Your task today is simple—summon a flame, hold it steady, and don’t let it consume you.” He closed his hand, snuffing out the flame instantly. “But make no mistake—this is not easy. The elements are wild, and they resist control.”

Liam’s heart raced as he watched the demonstration. He could already feel the tension in the room rising as students focused on their tasks. Around him, a few murmurs of excitement buzzed through the air, but most of the students seemed just as nervous as Liam felt.

“Finally!” Ethan whispered excitedly, already rubbing his hands together in preparation. “This is what I’ve been waiting for!”

Liam wasn’t sure if his excitement matched Ethan’s. Evocation felt dangerous, even more so than Transmutation or Abjuration. The idea of summoning fire—something that could hurt him, or worse—seemed overwhelming. He looked down at his hands, unsure if he was ready for this.

Master Elric’s eyes swept the room, landing briefly on each student before he barked, “Begin.”

Liam stared at his hands, feeling the same anxiety rise in him that he’d experienced in the earlier classes. He tried to picture the flame, focusing on the heat, the flicker of light. Slowly, he felt the air around him change—warmer, sharper, like a spark just waiting to catch.

He glanced over at Ethan, who had already conjured a small flame, his face glowing with excitement as he tried to control its size. Marcus, too, was focused, his eyes narrowed in concentration as sparks began to crackle around his fingers. But Liam’s hands remained empty, the magic just out of reach, as though something in him was holding back.

“Don’t force it,” Master Elric’s voice suddenly cut through Liam’s thoughts, startling him. He hadn’t even noticed the Evocation Master approach. “Feel the power. Let it come naturally.”

Liam nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying again. This time, he felt a warmth start to build in his palms, a flicker of energy. Slowly, a small flame sputtered to life between his hands—faint, but there.

A surge of relief washed over him. He did it.

“Good,” Master Elric said, his intense gaze softening just slightly. “Now hold it.”

But even as he spoke, the flame began to waver, flickering wildly before suddenly flaring too high. Panic seized Liam as the flame started to grow beyond his control, the heat searing his skin. He tried to pull the magic back, but it was too late—the fire surged upward, forcing him to snuff it out with a panicked swipe of his hand.

Master Elric raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved on to the next student, leaving Liam to catch his breath.

“That was close,” Ethan said, his own flame still dancing steadily in his hand. “But hey, you did it. Not bad for your first try.”

Liam nodded, still shaken. He’d managed to summon the flame, but controlling it? That was going to be harder than he thought. As he watched the other students continue to practice, the doubt he had felt before began to creep back in. Could he really do this? Could he keep up with the rest of them?

Master Elric clapped his hands sharply, signaling the end of the lesson. “That’s enough for today. We’ll continue refining your control next class. Remember—Evocation is not about destruction. It’s about balance. Fire can burn, but it can also warm. Ice can freeze, but it can also preserve. Control the elements, and you control your fate.”

As the students packed up to leave, Liam’s hands still tingled with the residual warmth of the flame. He had succeeded, but barely. And in a place like Aethermoor, barely wasn’t going to be enough.

As the day wound down, the boys found themselves sitting outside in a courtyard by their dormitory, the warm glow of magical lamps casting long shadows across the stone tables. Dinner had been served—a variety of dishes that floated to each student’s room on shimmering trays, settling in front of them with practiced ease. Liam poked at his food, his mind still buzzing from the intense Evocation class. Around them, students laughed and chatted, discussing their day and their respective classes.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied. “Man, I could get used to this. Food just shows up like magic. No cafeteria lines, no waiting. It’s perfect.”

Liam nodded absentmindedly, his thoughts wandering as he glanced around the courtyard. Despite the comforting atmosphere, the unease from earlier still clung to him, growing stronger every time his eyes drifted toward the West Tower, barely visible beyond the trees.

Marcus noticed the direction of Liam’s gaze and set his fork down with a quiet clink. “You’re still staring at the West Tower,” he said flatly, breaking the casual mood.

Ethan groaned. “Seriously, ‘Regular Boy’? You’re not still obsessed with that creepy tower, are you?”

Liam hesitated, pushing his food around his plate. “There’s just something… off about it. I can’t explain it.”

Marcus leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowing. “Of course, there’s something off about it. It’s where the necromancers train. They don’t just let anyone near that place. And for good reason.”

Ethan snorted. “Necromancers, huh? Creepy magic if you ask me. All that stuff with death and bones… not my thing.”

Liam looked at Marcus, curious. “What’s so different about necromancers?”

Marcus’s expression darkened, but there was a hint of respect in his voice as he spoke. “Necromancers understand things the rest of you can’t begin to grasp. They work with forces that go beyond life, beyond the limits of magic as you know it. Death is just another part of the cycle, and they learn to control it.”

Ethan shot him a skeptical look. “Control death? Sounds like playing with fire to me. Dangerous stuff.”

Marcus didn’t seem fazed. “Everything about magic is dangerous if you don’t understand it. But necromancers… they see the world differently. They can reach into the places others are too scared to go. They have knowledge that even the other schools fear.”

Liam raised an eyebrow, his unease growing. “Why do they keep it off-limits, though? If it’s just another kind of magic?”

“Because not everyone’s worthy of it,” Marcus replied coolly. “Necromancy isn’t for those who can’t handle the responsibility. It’s not flashy like Evocation, or playful like Illusion. It’s serious, powerful magic. And if you don’t respect it, it’ll tear you apart.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Sounds like someone’s auditioning for necromancy.”

Marcus didn’t smile. “Maybe I am. They know how to handle real power. And unlike some of the other schools, they don’t care about reputation or showmanship. They care about results.”

Liam felt a chill run down his spine. Something was unnerving about the way Marcus spoke of necromancy as if he had already made up his mind. The respect in his voice was real, but it was laced with something darker—an ambition Liam wasn’t sure he understood.

As they continued eating, the West Tower seemed to loom larger in Liam’s mind, the unease growing stronger with each passing minute. The hum in the air that had been nagging him earlier returned, more intense now, like a distant pulse.

“I still think something’s off,” Liam said, more to himself than the others. “Like we’re being watched.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Ethan just laughed, his usual carefree grin spreading across his face. “Watched? By what, the ghost of some long-dead necromancer?”

Liam shook his head, frowning. “No, it’s more than that. It feels like… like the magic’s different around the tower. I can’t explain it.”

Marcus set his fork down again, this time more deliberately. “Then stop staring at it and leave it alone. You’re in over your head, Liam. Necromancers don’t take kindly to people poking around their domain.”

Liam glanced at the tower once more, its dark silhouette barely visible against the fading light of the sky. He knew Marcus was right—the tower wasn’t a place to mess with. But something inside him couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. Something hidden.

As the conversation lulled, the shadows of the West Tower seemed to stretch farther, creeping along the ground like tendrils. And that strange hum in the air—it was growing louder. Liam could almost feel it vibrating in his chest now.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Liam saw movement near the tower. A figure—just a blur, barely visible—slipped around the far side of the building.

His heart skipped a beat.

“I saw something,” he said suddenly, pushing his plate aside and standing up.

Marcus frowned. “Liam, don’t—”

“I’m serious,” Liam interrupted, his voice urgent. “Someone was just over by the tower.”

Ethan’s usual grin faltered as he watched Liam get up. “Liam, don’t. Seriously, man, something feels off about this.” He glanced at Marcus, who didn’t seem concerned, and then back at the tower. “Look, I’m all for adventure, but this… this doesn’t feel right.”

But Liam wasn’t listening. His feet were already carrying him toward the shadowy side of the courtyard, toward the tower that loomed like a dark, silent sentinel. But something inside Liam warred against the pull of the tower. His feet moved forward, but his mind screamed at him to stop, to turn back. Every instinct told him this was dangerous, that he was walking into something far beyond his control. Yet, there was another part of him—darker, curious—that needed to know. Needed to see what waited inside the shadows.

Liam’s pulse quickened, each step drawing him closer to the shadow of the tower. The hum that had been lurking in his chest all day now thrummed in his ears, louder and more insistent, as if the very walls of the tower were alive, calling him closer. Something was waiting for him inside the shadows, just beyond his reach. What was it about this place that drew him in? And why did it feel like it was watching him, waiting for him to get closer?

He didn’t notice the worried glances from his friends, or the way the courtyard seemed to quiet around him as he approached the tower’s edge.

As Liam reached the shadow of the tower, the air felt different—heavier, colder. The hum in his chest grew even stronger, almost like a warning. His breath caught in his throat. Something shifted in the darkness near the base of the tower—just a flicker of movement, but enough to send a chill down his spine. Before he could react, a voice rang out—sharp and commanding… “Liam! Step away from there!”

Liam spun around to see Master Murrow striding across the courtyard, his expression stern, his silver hair catching the faint glow of the magical lights. The weight of his presence seemed to snap the tension in the air.

“Get away from the West Tower,” Murrow ordered, his voice brooking no argument.

Liam swallowed hard, nodding as he quickly backed away. But as he turned to leave, his eyes caught the faintest flicker of movement from the corner of the tower again.

And just like that, whatever—or whoever—he had seen was gone.

“What in the world were you thinking, boy?!” Murrow’s voice thundered across the courtyard. “You have no idea what you almost got yourself into! The West Tower isn’t some playground—one misstep, and you’d have been lost to forces far beyond your control. Now, get to my office. Immediately!”

Marcus’s expression darkened, his usual smirk replaced with a glare. “Necromancers don’t need to be coddled,” Marcus muttered under his breath, loud enough for Liam to hear. He gave Murrow a sideways glance, barely concealing his frustration. “If Liam can’t handle it, maybe he doesn’t belong here.”

As Liam began to march his way back to the main campus Murrow then turned to all the other students who were sitting on the lawn, enraptured by what was happening, “I think we have your food delivered to your rooms, why don’t you return to them at once?!” Murrow demanded.