Fabian stood behind Orion, Forleen behind Silas, and Lyra behind me. We stood in pairs, with a few feet of distance between each other.

Strangely, there were no windows or doors in the room; only bookshelves upon bookshelves that encircled us and seemed to reach the heavens themselves.

“What is this place?” Silas asked, noticing the same peculiarity.

“It is whatever you want it to be,” Lilith replied, snapping her fingers.

At the snap, the bookshelves transformed from a tower into a maze stretching as far as the eye could see, and the ceiling lowered accordingly.

“Exodus Magi, volume nine, edition one!” Lilith commanded. A thick red book flew straight into her hands from one shelf. “This volume is about the banishment and mass hunting of mages during the Dark Ages. It was a grim time for our kind when ‘wizards’ and ‘witches’ were slurs, seen as unnatural and in need of eradication. We vowed never to be subjected to such segregation again and adopted the names ‘mages’ or ‘sorcerers.’ Calling a mage in Vixengaard a wizard or witch is now punishable by death,” she explained.

“You could’ve just said it was a library,” Silas scoffed. “And why do you need nine volumes of the banishment of mages? You can sum up the entire event in a few words! Mages were exiled, they fought back, they won, the end!” He dared fate once more with his big mouth, but luckily, the mages only gave him icy stares in return.

Looking at Lyra, it’s ironic how mages vowed never to be segregated again, yet they enslaved their own, dressed them in fine clothes, and treated them like any other slaves. Well, that’s none of my business; I’ll attend this council meeting tomorrow and see what I can gain from it. The only interests I’ll be looking after will be my own and Silas’s. It only brought me doom, even death, whenever I looked after others’ interests.

Lilith chanted in an unfamiliar tongue, forming arcane circles beneath our feet, teleporting us once again. In just one day, I went through three teleportations—enough to make anyone queasy.

Lyra and I materialized in the middle of a long, wide hallway bustling with mages dressed in elegant robes, dresses, and suits. No one batted an eye at two figures emerging from an arcane circle; I suppose this was just another typical day at the academy.

“Where are the others?” I asked, looking around and noticing that both Silas and Orion were nowhere to be found.

“They’re in the other wings of the academy. We received instructions to keep you separated so you wouldn’t make contact with each other. Now shut up and follow me,” she snapped, guiding me through the hallway with quick steps.

It’s a shame to be as beautiful as she, and have such an ugly personality.

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As we walked, I noticed there were no doors or windows along the sides, just numbers etched on the walls every few steps. Occasionally, someone would stand in front of a number, mumble something, and when the number glowed, they’d pass through the wall. Intrigued, I tried passing my hand through each numbered wall, but instead of another side, I only touched cold concrete.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Lyra said, noticing I had started to trail behind.

“How does it work, then?”

She sighed in annoyance, but eventually answered my question.

“Each number is a gate that leads to bed chambers, specific rooms, or other wings of the academy. Some numbers even lead to places all around the Western Realms, making traversal much easier,” she explained.

“So, there are no doors? And what about windows?”

“There are no doors for security reasons. Each mage has access to only certain gates. And as for windows, we can create some,” she said, stopping to wave her hand gently, conjuring a mirror on the wall that displayed the outside world.

Peeking out of the window Lyra created, my eyes widened at the surreal sight before me. Instead of land, I saw an endless expanse of sky and drifting clouds. The academy floated atop colossal rocks embedded with luminous crystals. From this vantage point, I could see the entirety of Vixengaard below, the sprawling city shimmering like a mosaic of lights and colors. Beyond it stretched the vast western seas, their waters glinting under the sun’s rays.

The academy was a marvel, the pinnacle of mortal architecture; for a moment, I thought I was back in Elyria. Two long wings extended from the central structure, each separate but connected by faint magical threads of gold. The central wing, acting as the main body, was the tallest of them all, soaring towards the heavens with its peak lost among the clouds. True to the interior design, the exterior of the academy had no doors or windows. Instead, countless white squares composed its surface, constantly shifting and changing, giving the impression that the academy was alive.

“It’s beautiful,” I remarked, gazing at the wonders of the mortal architecture.

“Enough admiration. We have to go,” Lyra said, and with a swift move of her hand, she closed the mirror of the outside world.

“Don’t you ever feel trapped in here? It’s just walls,” I asked.

“You’re asking if a slave feels trapped? What do you think?” she answered solemnly.

“Oh, well, I...” I stumbled over my words, not expecting such a direct answer from her.

As I struggled with my response, she chuckled in amusement.

“I’m fucking with you!” she laughed, and for the first time since I met her, her blue eyes sparkled with joy. “I am better off than I was before. The chains that label me as a slave did not enslave me, but freed me. These walls are not a prison, but a shelter from the rain. I get to wear dresses I only read about in fairytales, and own jewelry I only saw on display through shop windows. I have the freedom to be who I am and not be judged for it. If the price for such a life is to be labeled a slave, then so be it! I am freer than most of the free folk.”

For some reason, I did not believe her words. It felt as though she was lying to herself to make herself feel better about what she truly was—a slave. All the dresses and jewelry served as an illusion to make her believe she was free. No matter how badly she was mistreated, she would twist that abuse into love, which only continued to feed her illusion of a happy life.