The human mind is a funny thing. Today was the most important day of my life, the day I became a mage, yet two things dominated my thoughts.

The first was a gnawing desire to turn around and run back to bed. Five hours was entirely too little sleep, and like a fool, I had turned down Neil's offer of coffee. Truthfully, the taste was hideous, and I preferred to skip it whenever possible, but that was clearly a mistake on my part.

The second was that whoever built this street should find a new occupation. A dozen stumbles had ruined the pristine finish on my boots that consumed three hours of my life. Appearances mattered as Girem loved to reiterate, and now I would show up at my destination with scuffed boots. They might be second-hand, but the mirror shine polish had at least disguised that fact.

All that work wasted might be comical if it was not so frustrating.

Idly, I reached up and adjusted my high collar as it practically choked me, sticking close to one side of the street. Even on the mild plains to the east, Ferren summers tended towards hot, and here in the capital, blistering was a more appropriate term. If possible, loose and light clothing was preferable but again, appearances mattered, and formal attire was required.

If nothing else, the thick blue cloth protected my skin from the harsh glare above. I knew from experience that my pale skin would turn bright pink as a newborn within minutes, and the only thing worse than being hot was being hot and itchy.

Still, a nasty burn was far from the worst thing awaiting me if I did not hurry. An image of Girem staring down his nose at me rose in my mind, and I doubled my pace. A sunburn was downright pleasant compared to his wrath.

My destination sat nearly two hours walk, though a carriage ride could turn that into a fifteen-minute trip. Of course, carriages cost far more gold than I had to my name, which was precisely nothing, but the facts remained. Waking before sunrise and rushing out the door was the only option presented to me.

Stores lining the streets passed as I walked, dedicated to everything I could imagine and some that never occurred to me. There were the familiar tailors, blacksmiths, and bookstores, true, but also alchemists and enchanters. One shop had glowing glass figurines that danced in front of the shop, and another had painted shapes that twisted and turned along its walls.

Briefly, I debated if there was enough time to slip into one and browse but pushed aside the temptation.

Stopping by a bar, I reached into my pocket, retrieving a crudely drawn map. One of the waitresses at the Bronze Barrel had agreed to write up one for me, on the condition that I introduce her to Neil, which seemed a fair trade in my eyes. The vast tangle of streets that made up the Middle District was a nightmare to navigate for the unfamiliar, and getting lost was unacceptable.

Objectively, I knew the capital was well-designed and built to allow for simple navigation, but that did not change much. I had spent most of my life on open plains, and enclosed city streets were outside my area of expertise. The largest building I had seen in my life was the main home on the Estton estate, and even that appeared modest compared to some of Volaris.

Slipping the parchment back into my pocket, I continued walking, weaving around a cart that rumbled down the street, pulled seemingly by nothing and bumping into a man's shoulder, almost falling over. It was barely past sunrise, but Volaris was never quiet, even during harsh winters. In the summers, thousands packed into the sprawl, making travel slow and painful for a large adult. I was neither an adult nor large, and pushing through crowds was an exercise in frustration.

Not for the first time, I wished the family guardsman had accompanied me on this walk through the city. He had a way of parting a crowd and knew his way around, both advantages here. However, Girem shot down the idea nearly as soon as I considered it.

"If you cannot find your way through a city, how can you survive training as a mage or persist as an advisor? The Duke demands more from you." he had said, folding his arms and giving me the same cold glare he always wore. Coddling was not his way, and though it was not an easy life, it was the one given to me.

I snapped out of my recollections, halting and looking up at the building above me. It was almost non-descript, neither particularly wide nor tall, and built from stone and wood, with a slanting roof and a few dozen windows. If anything, it looked closer to an inn than anything else, and a plain one at that. But appearances could be deceiving, and rumors said every inch of the structure was packed full of spells.

Drawing closer, I spotted tiny letters carved into the columns and along the base of the walls. They appeared stark and unworn by time, though I did not recognize what they said. The closest analog was Old Ferren, but that had fallen out of use around a millennia ago, during the kingdom's earliest days. Maybe the rumors about these buildings held some truth, but how was an archaic language linked to that?

Mentally adding it to my list of questions, I climbed the short staircase leading to heavy double doors. With only a moment of hesitation, I pushed, feeling them swing open on oiled hinges without the slightest bit of resistance.

In the main lobby were several plush chairs, with small tables beside each stacked high with books. Along the walls were paintings of various men and women I assumed were mages, and lighting the space were glass spheres that shone a pale yellow. The spell was an illumination enchantment, one that everyone from the Emerald Groves to the north down to the Frontier used. I tended to stick with candles.

Against the far wall was an L-shaped wooden desk with several books piled up and an open ledger. Behind it was a young man, probably no older than thirty, with short brown hair, a trimmed beard, and glasses. He wore robes, and I spotted a small symbol shaped like a vial worked in a red-ish metal on the left side of his chest. On the other side was a seven-headed iron dragon, with the marks for an adept right below.

Ferris' national emblem, each head represented one of the seven Founders while the body was Ferris itself. According to legends, after their deaths, the mages ascended, bonding into a single godly form. The other sigil must be a family crest, though I did not recognize this one at a glance.

The adept leaned back in his chair with a tome propped open on his lap as he twisted one hand lazily. Above his palm, an orange orb three inches across danced, following his movements and weaving between fingers. It was clear after several seconds that he was too engrossed in his reading to notice my presence.

Rather than interrupt, I stood quietly and waited for him to notice my presence. If Girem had caught me lazing around like this, I would have lost my reading privileges for a month, but it seems mages are less strict than my mentor. Granted, that was not difficult to accomplish.

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After almost five minutes of waiting, I gave a polite cough, hoping to catch his attention. The adept started, nearly falling backward out of his chair before catching himself with one hand.

"Founders above, you're a quiet one! Sorry about that. I was at a fascinating part on the use of varying alloys in enchanting and-" he paused, before shaking his head with a chuckle, likely spotting my wide-eyed expression.

"Anyways, good morning, applicant, and let me be the first to welcome you to your Awakening. While I'm sure you are eager to get started and become a mage, I do have a few questions to get out of the way. First, what is your name? Family name included, please. I need to note down every new mage for record-keeping purposes." He said, flipping open the ledger on his desk before looking up at me.

I grimaced at the question but managed to push down my initial reaction after a moment. Nobility possessed proper family names, typically granted by the crown as a reward for duties rendered. Commoners used their familial profession, such as Shepherds, Smiths, and so on. As a sponsored commoner taken from my home before learning their trade, I was given neither.

"My name is Vayne, a sponsored applicant of Duke Rufus Estton of the Eastern Plains."

His eyebrow quirked up for a moment, and he nodded before looking back down at the ledger.

"A sponsor, huh? That's a new one. We don't hear about too many of you around, though there are a few older ones. Honestly, it's a nice change of pace. Most think we should trek to their estates and do the ceremony in their damn bedrooms."

I held back my laughter, giving him a polite smile instead. He was not exactly wrong, and I knew most nobles were frankly spoiled brats, content to flex their wealth and power. In fact, Duke Estton had tried to get special accommodations for his children, but the Academy refused. I suspected it was a way to maintain power by retaining complete control over mages' creation and training.

Glancing down, he noted both my name and sponsor in the book. He was likely sure I was telling the truth, considering it was damn near suicidal to use a duke's name and undergo Awakening fraudulently. Occasionally, commoners attempted similar schemes, and it almost always failed. The few times it succeeded, the offenders lost their heads for their trouble.

Despite that, it seemed he would rather be careful than having such a mistake fall on his shoulders. He might escape execution, but it would be a stain on his reputation. Considering his youth and rank, this was an early job to prove competence and trustworthiness. However, making such a mistake would set back any ambitions for years, if not decades.

No one would ever put themselves at risk like that, and never for a stranger. Empathy sounded nice in stories, but in Ferris, it was almost always a detriment.

Without looking up, he continued, "Any valuables you want me to keep safe while you're out? Jewelry, money, anything like that? We've streamlined most of the process, but Awakenings can get a bit chaotic on occasion, so we hang onto anything fragile. Oh, and do you have any medical concerns to note? A propensity to seizures, breathing problems, anything like that?"

This time, I did laugh at his words, though he was not joking. I was as impoverished as a beggar, and the most expensive thing I had on me was my clothes. In truth, I did not have a single personal possession, and everything I "owned" was a loan from my lord. One that they fully intended to regain in exchange for a lifetime of services.

"No, sir, the only things I have on me are my clothes and a map to this building. And as far as I know, I have no serious medical problems."

Nodding several times, the adept scribbled down a few more notes as I began gnawing at the inside of my cheek impatiently. After a minute of near-silence broken only by the scratching of a pen on paper, he closed the ledger and stood up with a muffled grunt before walking around the desk to join me.

"If you'll follow me, I'll lead you to your room. I put you far out of the way. Some of the noble applicants don't take kindly to sponsored applicants, and hopefully, this will let you avoid any trouble from them."

Smiling, I fell into step beside him, and we walked in silence up to the third floor. Continuing down a long corridor lined with doors, we eventually came to a stop near the end of the hallway at a small door. The wooden surface had symbols carved into it similar to those on the outside of the building, and I noticed with interest that they too faintly resembled Old Ferren.

As he reached towards the door, the mage turned the bright golden knob before pushing it open and walking into the room. After a brief moment, I took a steadying breath and followed him inside.

The space we entered was tiny, filled only by a bed in the corner with a small table next to it. I assumed the architects designed these rooms for function and little else, a place for a candidate to undergo their visions in peace. Dust floated through the air, and I loudly sneezed, scowling at myself for the action.

Turning towards me, the adept smiled warmly. "This is where you will undergo the Awakening. I have some instructions to follow during the process, so listen carefully. After you drink the Draught, lie down on the bed and try to relax. The process can be uncomfortable, but just stay calm, take deep breaths and let the potion do its work. We don't want you hurting yourself if we can help it. Understand?"

He paused here, looking at me until I nodded in confirmation. "After you enter the Astral Plane, try to remain calm and keep your eyes open and mind clear. Frankly, I doubt you'll see much considering your bloodline, but still. Now, do you have any questions for me?"

I shook my head after thinking over his words for a few seconds. Several days before leaving for Ferris, Duke Estton had brought me into his chambers and given me a similar speech. Still, I wanted to ensure that this mage did not have anything additional to tell me. I was not fond of entering a situation blind.

"No, sir, I think I understand. Thank you."

Nodding, the adept reached into a pouch by his side and pulled out a small vial pulsing with soft blue light before carefully handing it to me. I gave the glass bottle in my hands a cursory examination as it seemed to vibrate in my hands gently.

The potion's makeup was a carefully guarded secret, kept hidden to protect our dominance. I had heard the suggestion it contained some form of mana to start the process, but there must be additional components involved. If it were as simple as pushing mana into the body, there would be more rogue mages.

A soft cough broke my concentration, and I looked over at the mage wearing an amused expression. The man mimed drinking with one hand before gesturing at the vial I held.

Taking a deep breath, I did my best to suppress my nerves and uncorked the vial. The smell was unfamiliar but reminded me of the herbal teas I was once given as a child to cure a nasty fever. With a single motion, I tilted the glass and drank the potion in one gulp before I could convince myself otherwise.

A harsh burning immediately shot down my throat before settling into my stomach. The sensation reminded me of cheap liquor the Estton family guards tended to drink, though somehow more profound. More penetrating, maybe. Ignoring the searing pain, I set replaced the cork and set the vial down onto the desk before lying down onto a stiff mattress. As soon as my eyes closed, I heard a soft click as the adept left the room.

Over the last few years, I had managed to scrape together bits and pieces of information about magic. Human mana cores sat in the center of the body, directly behind the sternum and next to the heart. Over the next few minutes, the potion would travel from my core to the rest of my body. Whatever happened after that was beyond my knowledge, unfortunately.

Minutes ticked by, and I felt heat beginning to spread from my heart, warming me despite the room's coolness. At first, it was soothing but rapidly grew uncomfortable, though not painful. It was almost like sitting just a little too close to a fire.

Suddenly, a jolt of agony ripped through me, surging down my limbs and causing them to seize. My jaw slammed shut, cutting off a scream that threatened to tear from my throat. In seconds it subsided, only for another to hit, worse than the first. The pain seemed to emanate from my core, but that was all I could sense through a haze of red. When the third wave crashed into me, I could no longer hold back my voice.

My body refused my commands, locked into place as seizures racked me. Even as surges of pain tore through my body, I felt a bizarre sensation right on the edge of my mind. It was near-impossible to describe but reminded me of falling while in a dream. There was a brief moment of vertigo, the feeling of my stomach falling out from under me, and the pain vanished in a single pop as if it was never there.

With a strangled cry, I sat straight up, my body finally yielding to my orders. Rather than wood grain floor and blank walls as I expected, what greeted me was an endless white expanse. It seems I had entered the Astral Plane.