Liam ran his fingers over the spines of his fantasy novels, their covers worn from countless re-reads. They used to be an escape—his safe haven. But now? Now they seemed small. Unreal. He tossed his favorite book into the suitcase with a sigh, his hand lingering over the hoodie he wore every fall. What did it matter? None of this would matter where he was going. He stared at the half-packed suitcase and felt the weight of the moment settle over him. He was leaving. Really leaving.

His mom knocked softly on the door, poking her head in. “You’ve packed?” she asked, her voice warm but a little uncertain. Liam nodded, forcing a smile he didn’t feel. “I’ll miss you,” she said, crossing the room to hug him tightly. Liam stood there, stiff, the familiar warmth of her embrace should have been comforting, but it only deepened the guilt clawing at his chest. He wanted to tell her everything—about the magic, the danger, the impossible world he was now part of—but the oath weighed on him, sealing his lips in silence. All he could do was hug her back and whisper, “I’ll miss you too,” even though what he really meant was, “I’m scared.”

“It’s just a school,” she whispered. “You’ll be back before you know it.” The lump in his throat almost choked him. If only she knew. As she exited his room he thought of Oliver, he debated going downstairs and saying goodbye to him again, but he did it once already and didn’t think he could bear to do it again.

As that thought left his head there was a shimmer of light in the corner of his room, out of which stepped Master Murrow, “Are you ready, Liam?”

Liam took another look around his childhood bedroom, the math homework that will forever sit untouched still lay on his desk and he steeled his resolve and nodded, “Yes, I’m ready. Where do we have to go from here? How far away is the school?”

Murrow glanced around the room, his fingers flicking through the air as though tracing invisible lines. “We won’t need to go anywhere special to leave,” he said with a small smile. “The magic travels with us.” The air rippled as if reality itself was bending to his will. Without a sound, a portal swirled into existence between them, shimmering like liquid silver. It felt alive, crackling with an energy that pulled at Liam, as though it could sense his magic, waiting for him to step through. “Shall we?”

Liam hesitantly stepped forward and the moment Liam stepped through the portal, the world twisted. His vision blurred as colors swirled together, streaks of blue, gold, and violet filling his senses. His stomach flipped, and for a moment, he felt weightless, like he was floating through a dream. His ears popped, and a high-pitched hum filled the air, then everything snapped back into focus. He blinked, his breath catching in his throat as Aethermoor Academy came into view.

As Master Murrow stepped through the portal it faded behind them, and the first thing Liam noticed was the air—crisp, cool, and somehow thicker, like it was charged with magic. He stood on a wide stone path, lined with ancient, towering trees whose leaves shimmered faintly with their own inner light. Ahead, the spires of Aethermoor Academy rose like sentinels, their stone walls covered in intricate, glowing runes. Students walked across the vast courtyard, some floating books beside them with a flick of their hands, others laughing as they conjured small magical sparks in the air. It was everything Liam had ever dreamed of—and nothing like he had expected.

“Follow quickly, Liam, we must first meet with the Archmaster, but try to take it all in, this your life now,” said Murrow as he set off deeper into the school at a brisk pace. As Liam followed Master Murrow through the courtyard, he couldn’t help but notice the older students walking by. They moved with confidence, their robes flowing around them in vibrant colors that caught his eye—some in fiery reds, others in deep blues, and a few in purples that seemed to shimmer with every step. Liam glanced down at his own plain, dark robe that Murrow had given him in preparation for departing for the school and felt a pang of self-consciousness.

“Why do their robes look different?” Liam asked, trying to sound casual, though the question had been burning in his mind since they arrived.

Master Murrow smiled, his eyes glinting with a mixture of pride and amusement. “Ah, you’ve noticed the robes. That’s how we distinguish the schools of magic here at Aethermoor. Each color represents a specific discipline—an area of magic that those students have committed to mastering.”

Liam’s curiosity was piqued as Murrow gestured toward a group of students passing by in deep blue robes with silver embroidery. They carried themselves with calm, deliberate movements, their expressions focused.

“Those are students of Abjuration,” Murrow explained. “My school. We specialize in protective magic—shields, wards, barriers. It’s a quiet strength, but essential in a world where danger often lurks unseen. Our colors, blue and silver, represent stability and vigilance.”

Liam nodded, watching as the students in blue robes disappeared into one of Aethermoor’s towers. Murrow’s voice continued, soft but authoritative.

“Then there’s Evocation,” Murrow said, pointing to another group. Their robes were red and gold, the colors seeming to flicker like flames as they walked. One of the students casually tossed a small fireball between her hands, as if it were second nature. “They deal with raw elemental power—fire, lightning, ice. It’s the magic of destruction, of force. Those who walk the path of Evocation often find themselves on the front battle lines. Their robes reflect the fire within them.”

Liam’s eyes widened as he watched the fire-wielder laugh with her friends, the ball of flame disappearing with a flick of her wrist. The sight sent a chill down his spine, though he couldn’t deny how impressive it looked.

Murrow led him past a small group of students sitting by a fountain, their robes deep green with earthy brown accents. They seemed absorbed in conversation, one of them holding a small plant that grew larger in his hands with each passing second.

“Transmutation,” Murrow said. “Their magic is about change—transforming one thing into another, manipulating nature itself. They deal with the essence of the material world, reshaping it at will.”

A few steps away, Liam spotted a group of students wearing dark purple and gold robes. Their conversation was quiet, their eyes darting around as if they were seeing something others couldn’t. The fabric of their robes shimmered in the light, almost as though it wasn’t entirely solid.

“And those,” Murrow added, his voice dropping slightly, “are students of Illusion. Masters of deception and trickery. Their magic is about bending reality, making you see what isn’t there—or hiding what is.”

Liam stared at the Illusionists, their presence making him feel uneasy as if they could vanish at any moment and leave only shadows behind.

“Each school represents a different aspect of magic, a different path,” Murrow continued, his voice steady. “And each of the older students has been chosen by a Master who saw potential in them—who believed they were ready to delve deeper into their chosen discipline. By the end of your first year, if you prove yourself, one of the Masters may approach you with an offer. But that choice isn’t guaranteed.”

Liam swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the weight of the future pressing down on him. He glanced again at the other students, their robes marking them as part of something larger than themselves, while he still stood on the outside, unsure where he would fit.

“What about the others?” Liam asked, gesturing toward a group of students wearing black and silver robes. Their presence seemed to cast a shadow over the courtyard, and Liam noticed how other students gave them a wide berth.

Murrow’s expression grew more serious. “Necromancy,” he said quietly. “A misunderstood discipline. They deal with death and the forces that lie beyond. Their magic is… powerful, but not always trusted. It’s a path that requires discipline, or it can easily consume the one who wields it.”

Liam’s gaze lingered on the Necromancers, his stomach knotting at the thought of the dark magic they must control.

“There are other schools, of course,” Murrow added, his tone lightening as he gestured toward a few more groups. “Conjuration—the magic of summoning, bringing creatures and objects from other realms. Divination—the magic of foresight and seeing what others cannot. Enchantment, where students master the art of influencing others, and Herbalism, for those who work with the magic of plants and healing.”

Murrow’s voice softened as he finished. “And then there’s Magical Zoology—those who dedicate their lives to understanding and protecting magical creatures. You’ll find the students of that school in green robes, often with symbols of animals woven into the fabric.”

Liam absorbed the information, his head spinning with the sheer variety of magic and the paths that lay ahead. The colors, the schools, the Masters—all of it felt overwhelming, and yet, there was a flicker of excitement growing inside him

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“I don’t know where I’ll fit,” Liam admitted quietly.

Murrow gave him a small, reassuring smile. “You’re not supposed to know yet. That’s why you’re here. In time, the magic will reveal where you belong.”

Murrow stopped outside a set of large dark wooden double doors and turned to Liam, “This is the Archmaster’s office, he would like to speak to you privately, don’t worry, I’ll be waiting out here for you upon your return.”

As Liam stepped forward the doors opened seemingly of their own volition and Liam stepped inside. The Archmaster’s office was unlike anything Liam had ever seen. The walls were lined with shelves of books, each one glowing faintly as though infused with magic. Artifacts rested on pedestals—ancient relics that hummed with a power Liam couldn’t begin to understand. Behind an enormous desk sat the Archmaster, his robes flowing like liquid shadow, his piercing eyes assessing Liam with quiet intensity. “Welcome to Aethermoor,” he said, his voice low and commanding, “please have a seat.”

Liam stepped around a large ornate carved chair and sat down, slightly below the raised platform that the Archmaster’s desk sat upon. “I am Archmaster Caelus Eryndor, the Archmaster of Aethermoor Academy. I am very happy to have the opportunity to welcome you to our esteemed place of learning.”

“Thank you, sir,” Liam said meekly, “this is all so new to me and I’m still just trying to get my bearings.”

The Archmaster seemed to ponder in thought for a moment, “Yes, yes, I was made aware of the strange circumstances surrounding the awakening of your powers. I will not coddle you, Liam, many will look at you distrustfully due to the circumstances of your birth, having come from non-magical parents, it is so rare, that many, myself included have never even heard of it, if it has ever happened at all. I’m sure you are quite excited about receiving all of this news and you think magic is a gift. In time, you’ll learn that it’s a burden—and one you must carry with great care. I hope you enjoy your time here and I will be watching your journey closely.” Eryndor leaned back down and paid great attention to some paperwork he had on his desk and Liam recognized the dismissal, slipped out of his chair, and exited the office where he was greeted by a waiting Murrow.

“I hope all went well,” said Murrow.

“The Archmaster seems very…intense.”

“That he is, Liam, but that often comes to those who are as learned as he is. While each of us Masters are considered experts in our respective fields the Archmaster has studied and perfected them all, a feat not even dreamed of accomplishing by most.”

“How long does that take,” asked Liam

“Centuries, I would imagine, the Archmaster held that title when I was a boy here at school, but you will only be here for four years, the standard length of study for students at Aethermoor. In your first year,” Murrow explained, his voice steady, “you’ll learn a bit of everything. Abjuration, conjuration, transmutation, evocation… by the end of the year, one of the Masters will approach you with an offer—if they think you’re a good fit for their school.” He paused, his eyes flicking to the distant tower that glowed faintly in the twilight. “But that’s for later. For now, you’ll learn the basics of control. Without it, power means nothing. Come, let me show you to your dormitory.” The speed at which he carried himself back outdoors left Liam having to jog in his wake. As they passed what Murrow explained was the dueling arena, Liam saw two students locked in a magical contest. The air buzzed with energy, and for a moment, Liam felt the pull of magic deep inside him, waiting to be unlocked. As Liam watched the two students dueling their robes gave them away instantly. The one on the left wore red and gold, a student of Evocation, who threw bolts of lightning across the courtyard with a flick of her wrist. Her opponent, dressed in the cool blue and silver of Abjuration, conjured a shimmering shield just in time, deflecting the lightning with ease. It was a dance of power and defense, each school’s magic was clearly reflected in the way they fought—and in the colors they wore.

As Liam and Murrow made their way through the courtyard, the vastness of Aethermoor became clear. To his left, a grand library stood with towers of stained glass that glowed even in the daylight. To his right, students sat on floating benches beneath trees whose leaves shimmered with magic, chatting casually as if nothing was out of the ordinary. The air hummed with an invisible energy, the weight of centuries of magic woven into every stone and brick. Above, the spires of the Aethermoor twisted into the sky, each one adorned with ancient runes that seemed to shift and flicker when you looked at them too long.

Murrow led him to a large stone building that as they entered he could see consisted of many floors of long hallways filled with identical rows of doors. “This is the first year dormitory, once you have joined a specific school, your dormitory will be more…specialized,” Murrow explained as he walked them deeper into the building, passing several younger students, like Liam wearing the same dark robes, some socializing and having fun, some staring haughtily down upon other students, and other, much to Liam’s comfort, seemed to be just as anxious and worried as him.

Master Murrow led Liam down a winding corridor, the stone walls illuminated by softly glowing orbs floating just below the ceiling. The quiet hum of magic buzzed through the air, setting Liam’s nerves on edge. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his new reality pressing down on him.

Finally, they reached a large wooden door, its surface engraved with runes that shimmered faintly as Murrow approached. With a wave of his hand, the runes glowed brighter, and the door swung open silently, revealing the room beyond.

Liam stepped inside, and the first thing that struck him was the sheer atmosphere of the place. The room was far larger than he had expected, with high arched ceilings that seemed to stretch up forever. The walls were made of smooth stone, but intricate patterns—etched in silver—glowed faintly in the dim light, tracing elegant, shifting shapes that almost looked alive. It was as if the magic of Aethermoor itself had seeped into every corner of the room.

A large bed sat against the far wall, the blankets neatly folded. As soon as Liam touched the bed, the blankets unfurled and arranged themselves to his liking. The mattress seemed to adjust beneath his fingers, growing softer until it was perfectly comfortable. It was a small thing, but it sent a shiver through him. Everything here responded to magic—everything was alive in a way his old world never had been.

Opposite the bed was a window that stretched nearly from floor to ceiling, its glass showing the vast expanse of the Academy grounds. From here, Liam could see the glowing towers and the faint flicker of magic in the air, as students moved through the courtyard below. But beyond the impressive view, something in the room pulled his attention.

To his left, a large wardrobe stood against the wall, its surface dark and polished, with golden vines wrapping around the handles. As Liam approached, the doors slid open on their own, revealing neatly folded robes—his robes, although he hadn’t packed any. The plain dark fabric waited for him, but as he looked closer, he noticed a small shimmer of light run along the seam, as if the robe were infused with magic. The wardrobe held more than just clothes; inside, he saw a few small, strange objects—trinkets that glowed faintly or seemed to pulse with their own quiet energy.

He reached for one—a small orb with shifting colors inside—but before his fingers could touch it, the wardrobe gently closed, the locks clicking softly into place.

Liam turned back toward the center of the room, and his eyes landed on the desk tucked into the far corner. It was cluttered with parchment, quills that hovered slightly above the surface, and a single book that looked far older than anything Liam had ever seen. He hesitated for a moment before opening the book. The pages were blank. A flicker of disappointment ran through him—until words slowly began to write themselves across the page. They weren’t in a language he recognized, but the elegant script seemed alive, twisting and reshaping itself with every glance. He snapped the book shut, his heart racing.

Murrow’s voice cut through his thoughts. “The rooms at Aethermoor adjust to the needs of their occupants,” he said with a faint smile. “You’ll find that nothing here is static. Magic is woven into the very fabric of this place. Even the smallest objects can surprise you.”

Liam looked around again, feeling both awe and a strange discomfort. His room back home had always been a sanctuary, filled with familiar things, and yet it had never felt as alive as this place did. Here, it was like the walls themselves were watching, waiting for him to tap into the magic that lay beneath the surface.

“This will be your space for the entirety of your first year,” Murrow added, his tone shifting to something more formal. “Everything you need will be provided, but the path ahead is not easy. You’ll be tested, in ways you can’t yet imagine.”

Liam didn’t respond. He was too busy taking in the details—the tapestries hanging on the walls, woven with magical threads that shimmered when he moved; the small candles scattered around the room, their flames flickering softly though no one had lit them. There was a hum in the air, a constant reminder that this was no ordinary room in no ordinary place.

His gaze landed on a large mirror near the bed. For a moment, it reflected only his tired face, the dark circles under his eyes making him look even more exhausted than he felt. But then, something changed. The mirror’s surface rippled, and his reflection twisted into something else—another version of him, wearing robes of deep blue and silver, with power crackling at his fingertips.

Liam stumbled back, his breath catching in his throat.

“Don’t worry,” Murrow said with a hint of amusement. “The mirror likes to show possibilities. Sometimes it reflects what you are, other times… what you could be.”

“What I could be,” Liam repeated under his breath, staring at the mirror. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever become the version of himself he’d just seen—or if he’d always feel like the outsider he did now.

Murrow watched him carefully before slowly stepping out and shutting the door. “Rest, Liam. Your real journey begins tomorrow. I will see you at orientation.”

The exhaustion of everything that happened today seemed to hit him at once as he sunk back into what felt like the most comfortable bed he had ever laid on. It was so surreal to think that he woke up in his old bed this morning worried about his “normal” day at school. As Liam lay on his bed, staring at the glowing runes on the ceiling, his mind drifted back to the students he’d seen. Their robes had been like badges of honor—each one marked by a different color, a different school of magic. Evocation, Abjuration, Transmutation… He wondered where he would fit in, and what colors he’d wear. The thought made his chest tighten. What if no Master saw potential in him? What if he wasn’t good enough for any of them?

As his eyes fluttered closed, his mind drifted back to his childhood bedroom—the crumpled homework still sitting untouched, the posters of fantasy heroes who once seemed so much larger than life. Now, he was the one on the verge of something extraordinary, but instead of feeling ready, he only felt small.