The Mage Academy buzzed with frenetic energy as the day of the Mid-Year Ball dawned. Normally a place of structured routines and intense study, today it was an entirely different atmosphere. Everywhere, students and staff rushed about in a barely contained whirlwind of activity, preparing for the grand event that would soon transform the campus into a glittering stage for the kingdom’s elite.

The Proving Grounds—typically reserved for official duels and practical examinations—was unrecognizable. What had once been a vast expanse of dirt, stone, and grass now shimmered beneath layers of polished marble, glittering gems, and glowing crystals. Teams of mages worked tirelessly, their hands weaving through the air as they transformed the space into a high-tier ballroom. Massive canopies of translucent fabric hung above, shifting in the light as though made of mist and moonlight, shielding the grounds from the elements. Chandeliers, each crafted from enchanted crystal, floated high above, their soft glow growing brighter as the sun lowered in the sky.

As the grounds were prepared, servants from noble houses arrived in carriages, bearing crates of supplies: fine foods, wines, and decorations. The kitchen staff, typically responsible for feeding hungry students, were now under immense pressure to create extravagant dishes for the guests. The scent of roasting meats and fresh pastries wafted through the open courtyards, carrying on the breeze along with the sound of clinking dishes and hurried footsteps.

Across the Academy’s campus, students scrambled. Some gathered in dormitories, nervously practicing their etiquette or going over last-minute details of their attire. Others whispered excitedly about the guests soon to arrive. The royal family, Duke Wyndham, Duchess Sutherland, Duke Hastings, and other powerful figures would all be present—an opportunity for the students to make connections that could shape their futures.

Standing near the entrance, Quinten, Cedric, and Ronan watched the chaos unfold.

“Never thought the Proving Grounds would look like this,” Quinten muttered, his eyes fixed on the enchanted chandeliers as they floated gracefully overhead.

Cedric smirked. “Let’s hope they didn’t use the same spell they use for testing. I’d hate to fight a marble golem.”

“They’ve gone all out for this year’s event. The ball from last year wasn’t nearly this extravagant. I bet it has something to do with the fact so many children of the upper ranked nobility are currently enrolled.” Ronan commented. His eyes riveted on a servant, a little older than them, bent over adjusting a table cloth.

“Down boy, there is plenty of time to find him during the ball.” Remarked Cedric with a grin. Earning a blush from his friend as he hurriedly looked away.

Quinten let out a quiet chuckle, but his mind was elsewhere. Around him, the academy staff continued their preparations—magically dusting every surface, polishing the stone walkways, and ensuring every flower in the enchanted garden bloomed perfectly on cue.

As the sun continued to set, casting a golden hue to the night’s background, Quinten could feel it. The very air crackling with anticipation. The guests would arrive, and the Mid-Year Ball would commence. His gut telling him that tonight had a potential for spectacle unlike any other.

*****

His attire for the evening flowing with every step, the golden glint of his over-robe catching the light and casting a warm, radiant glow around him. The black under-robes, accented in gold that shimmered like the stars above, gave him an air of quiet elegance. Cedric and Ronan, equally well-equipped in their custom-made dress, looked every bit the young mages, fit to make an impression on the kingdom’s most powerful.

As they neared the dormitory where Izzy and Helena were preparing, Cedric turned to Quinten with a sly grin. “Try not to drool when you see the ladies in their best. It’s unbecoming.”

Quinten smirked but said nothing, recognizing Cedric’s attempt to keep things light. Still, the weight of the evening pressed on him as well. The ball felt much the same as his first taste of battle on the western plains, except now, instead of fighting from horseback, he would be navigating a theater of masks.

The sight of Izzy and Helena exiting the crystal embedded entrance of their dormitory, purposely lit for the night, momentarily silenced the boys, giving real weight to Cedric’s earlier joke. With even Ronan, quietly appreciating the effort the two had put into preparing for the evening.

Quinten froze, watching Izzy, vibrant in deep green with gold embroidery and studded gems, gracefully descend the stairs. Meeting Quinten's gaze with a playful grin and a knowing look. The blood pounded in his ears as he felt them grow warm, unable to keep a lopsided smile from twisting his lips.

Helena, in a soft lavender gown with silver accents. Wore a dazzling smile highlighted by her lip stain, basked in the attention she received from Cedric. While their gowns and accessories were beautiful, it was the care they put into the smallest of details that brought their outfits to perfection.

“Well done, boys,” Izzy teased. “You have all managed to clean up rather nicely.”

Cedric offered a mock bow, flashing a grin. “Only the best for such a grand occasion.”

“Shall we?” Asked Quinten with a half-bow of his own. Holding his arm out, Izzy sidled up beside him. She reached out a hand and Quinten felt her delicately gloved fingers trace along his forearm as they entwined. Allowing him to escort her away from the dorms and toward one of the kingdom's most prestigious events of the year.

The sun was just beginning to make way for the moon and stars as their group entered what had become a grand ballroom. The distant hum of conversation and music drifting through the air, growing louder with each step they took. As they reached the entrance, two guards in ceremonial armor bowed slightly and pulled open the massive, gilded doors, revealing the ballroom in all its splendor.

The transformation was breathtaking.

The Proving Grounds had been fully converted into a masterpiece of elegance. Gleaming marble floors reflected the floating crystal chandeliers above. Their soft light cascading in intricate patterns over the ballroom. Ornate tapestries lined the walls. And the scent of blooming flowers and fresh linens filled the air. Noblemen and women, dressed in their finest, moved gracefully around the room, their laughter mingled with the soft strings of the orchestra playing in the corner.

Ronan let out a low whistle. “They really pulled out all the stops this time.”

As they stepped further into the ballroom, Cedric suddenly stopped. His attention caught by something, or rather someone, across the room. His eyes widened, and he stood frozen in place, completely captivated.

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Quinten followed his gaze, seeing Celeste. The sky-blue gown she wore, adorned with delicate silver embroidery, shimmered in the candlelight. Her golden curls framed her face in soft waves before twisting in an intricate braid upwards.

Even he had to admit that she looked ethereal, the very image of grace and beauty. Her gown complementing her pale complexion and moonlit locks as if the stars themselves had chosen the design.

Cedric’s breath hitched. His usual quick wit apparently abandoning him.

Izzy, noticing his reaction, nudged Quinten with a pained expression, eying Helena from the side. “Surely those two aren’t…?”

Quinten's mouth formed into a small line, giving her the barest of nods.

Unaware of their byplay, Ronan reached Cedric’s side, giving him a teasing nudge. “Down boy, you’ll get to see her later.” Happy with an opportunity to return his friend’s words from earlier.

Trumpet fanfares filled the grand space, silencing the chatter. Three loud thuds echoing as the doors at the far end of the room swung open.

The herald stepped through first, his voice carrying over the crowd as he announced the arrival of the guests of honor. All eyes turned toward the grand entrance as the Royal Family made their arrival.

King Frederick Kingston, tall and imposing in his ceremonial robes, accompanied by Queen Clarissa, embodying grace and elegance in her gown of deep royal purple, adorned with delicate silver embroidery that shimmered with magic in the candle light. At their side, the crown prince and their daughters, Princess Roslyn and Princess Gwendolyn, both a statement of fashion in their contrasting silver and gold gowns.

Quinten was fighting the urge to peer over the heads of those in front of him when Cedric elbowed him, whispering, “When you asked to dress in gold, I didn’t think it was to match a princess.”

“Shut up.” Hissed Quinten as several nearby eyes turned in their direction. None of them wearing an emerald dress to his great relief.

The crowd dipped into respectful bows and curtsies as the Royals took their places at the head of the ballroom. The king raised his hand for silence, and a hush fell over the room as he stepped forward to address the gathering.

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed nobles, students of the Academy,” King Frederick began, his voice reverberating throughout the room. “It is with great honor that we join you tonight for the Mid-Year Ball, an event that celebrates not only the education of our kingdom’s greatest assets, but fosters the bonds that allow the magic of Rivenna to continue flowing into the next generation.” He paused, scanning the room. “You, young men and women who stand tall before us, represent the next leaders, scholars, and great mages that will guide our kingdom into a prosperous future.”

Smiling warmly, the king continued, “Tonight, let us celebrate not just the grand traditions of the past, but the promise of tomorrow. May this evening be a time for celebrating your hard work and recognizing the strength and potential that lies within each of you.”

Applause filled the room as the king nodded, stepping back to join his family. The crowd remained attentive as Headmistress Moonscar, moved into the vacated space.

Her silver hair, swept back elegantly, set off her dark red robes, embroidered with intricate symbols that glowed a faint white. When she spoke, her voice quieted even the whispers at the back of the room.

“Your Majesties, honored guests, and students of the Academy,” she began, her tone formal. “It is my privilege to stand before you this evening and share my pride in the exceptional group of students we have with us this year. The strength of their magic and the depth of their learning have been remarkable. This year’s classes, both first and second-years, have shown a mastery of their Gifts that surpasses the highest of expectations we set for our graduates.”

The Headmistress’s gaze swept across the room before she continued. “As we move forward tonight, let this be a reminder that while tonight is a celebration, it is also an opportunity to reflect on your responsibilities. The Gifts you wield are powerful, and with that power comes the duty to serve your realm to the best of your abilities.”

She stepped back, offering a slight bow to the Royals. “May this evening be one of joy, and may the future shine brightly upon all who stand here tonight.”

The crowd erupted into applause once more, the air crackling with anticipation as the speeches came to a close.

The Mid-Year Ball was officially underway.

*****

“Do you think it’s possible for them to give a speech that doesn’t try to subtly remind us of our obligations to have mage babies?” Cedric asked, partially serious.

Helena turned a truly impressive shade of red, and even Izzy’s coloring darkened along her cheeks at the joke.

Shaking his head, Quinten saw Ronan’s smile falter as he peered around them. Following his friend's gaze, he saw Taylor Hastings standing beside an older couple that Quinten could tell on sight were their parents, the Duke and Duchess.

Reaching over, Quinten placed a hand on Ronan’s shoulder for support. Being caught off guard when the older boy shook it off violently before stepping away. He returned Quinten's puzzled gaze with an apologetic one of his own. Their interaction seeming to go unnoticed by the rest of the group.

With his eyes still on his friend in concern, Quinten watched Ronan’s body stiffen. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and saw the reason for it. The trio headed in their direction with Taylor in the lead, a smile with too many teeth spread across his face.

“Ronan.” The Duchess said with warmth, taking his hand for a brief moment until the Duke cleared his throat, making her release her grasp. Pain flashing through her expression for only a moment, being hidden behind the mask of a Duchess.

“Son.”

“Father”

The Duke surveyed the five of them, his eyes lingering on the ladies until they returned to Ronan.

“I hope you’ve filled your dance card with more than just these two young ladies.” The man said, skipping introductions.

Ronan grit his teeth, the back of his neck turning red in either anger or embarrassment, Quinten wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry, Father. I seem to have lost it. I doubt you will see me dancing with anyone tonight.”

Quinten noticed the glee lighting up Taylor’s expression from where he stood behind his parents and couldn’t resist. “Mage Hastings, I’m surprised to see you aren’t wearing brown tonight. After using it so effectively to decorate your room, I thought you’d found your color.”

Ronan’s brother lost the smirk, his face turning mottled with his glare. But Quinten saw the corner of the Duke’s mouth twitch minutely, giving Quinten a once over.

So, he has a sense of humor, Quinten thought. He just can’t get over the fact that his son prefers men.

“Brown is no one’s color, dear.” The Duchess interjected, giving their group an inspection of her own. “You must be Quinten, making you—Cedric. I met your mother only a few weeks ago. Please tell her hello from me the next time you write.”

Bowing, Cedric winced slightly at the reminder. “Yes, my Lady. It would be my pleasure. She mentioned meeting you as well.”

While that conversation was taking place, the Duke leaned toward Ronan and began to speak quietly. Quinten, not wanting to alert the man to his eavesdropping, was forced to rely on just his augmented hearing.

“We’ve discussed this, Ronan—my heir, but—need to—or that will change.”

Even with the boost, he was unable to hear the whole conversation. What words he could piece together were filled with frustration.

Seeing his friend’s shoulders slump, Quinten made a mental note to ask about it later.

*****

“Which one do you think he is?” Whispered Princess Gwendolyn, standing on the tips of her toes, hoping to see more of the ballroom.

Flicking open her tortoiseshell and lace fan, she covered her mouth as she spoke. “I’m not sure,” Princess Roslyn admitted, fanning herself. “There are a few young men that I don’t recognize and I must say, this year’s stock is much better than last year.” A vulpine grin tugging at her lips as a complimentary flush filled her sister’s cheeks.

“I don’t know, Rose. Owen was in that year.” She protested.

Sighing, Roslyn fought to not roll her eyes, having been reminded on more than one occasion that it was unseemly for a Princess. Instead, she said, “Yes, you only mentioned your crush a hundred times since then.”

The blush that’d begun to fade came back with a vengeance. It paired well with the gold of her gown and the ribbons in her hair like that of a setting sun.

“I overheard Duchess Hastings mention he was friends with her son.” Gwen said, not commenting on her sister’s mention of a crush.

Rose’s nose scrunched at that bit of information. “The heir or the younger one?”

“The heir, I believe.”

Nodding, Rose let her eyes scan those around them. “At least we know where to start. Let’s just hope he’s not as large a push-over as the skinny healer.”