The gates of Arcanis Academy loomed before her, foreboding and cold, hewn from obsidian stone set with runes that glowed softly by daylight. Magic pulsed in the air, alive, vigilant, patient. The spires of the central castle reached toward heaven, and pennants streamed in the breeze, one for each of the Five Kingdoms of magic. And at the edge of the throngs of carriages, at the edge of the velvet-robed students, one girl walked alone.
Elira Thorne stood before the gates clutching a satchel and a creased acceptance letter. No crest across her chest. No magical glow about her like the rest of them. Just her and her shadow and the bitter fact that she didn't belong.
Students passed by, barely giving her a second glance. Two patrician boys snickered and passed by her, their crests glinting gold and purple on their cloaks.
"Is that the new maid?"
"No, she's wearing the Academy seal. Gods, there must be a misprint."
Elira squared her shoulders and walked on. All her screamed to go back, to flee to the quiet woods of Verden Hollow, where she would never be asked to do the impossible. But her legs carried her onward.
For somewhere, deep inside, she had felt it. A tug. A voice in the dark.
She was supposed to be there.
The entrance hall swallowed her whole as she walked through the gates. Marble floors glimmered beneath her battered boots, and hanging crystal chandeliers poured an unearthly light over the space. Students stood in little clusters, laughing and chatting, magical familiars perched on shoulders or lazily floating beside them.
Elira was faceless among them.
A statuesque woman in a slate-grey gown stood at the front of the hall beside a huge pedestal draped in ancient runes. Her silver hair was crowned in braids, and her eyes were sharper than steel.
"First-years," announced the woman, her voice magically amplified. "I am Headmistress Virell. Today you will undergo your Crest Awakening and be sorted into your role within the Academy."
Whispers and gasps circled like fire. The Awakening.
Elira's gut curled itself into a hard, tight ball. She had no idea what to expect. The letter of acceptance that had brought her here had only said she was in, despite her… condition.
No crest. No spark. No magic.
The Awakening pedestal glowed as students were called forward one by one. They placed their hand on the glyphs, and the pedestal illuminated with their magical signature—a chest glow, their magical affinity, and potential of their bloodline.
"Darian Vex."
A boy stepped forward, grinning. He placed his hand on the stone. A searing red sigil flared up—fire magic. Nobles clapped. A red crest was displayed on his chest.
"Yra Serenth."
A girl stepped forward. Her crest shimmered with ocean-blue light. Water magic.
They came, one by one, each bearing a glow.
Then—
"Elira Thorne."
Silence. Heads turned.
Elira approached the pedestal, each step echoing out across the hall, which had fallen newly silent. Whispers followed her like thorns.
"No glow… no magic?"
"Why is she even here?"
She stood before the pedestal and stopped. Her hand shook ever so slightly as she raised it.
And placed her hand upon the stone.
Nothing happened.
The glyphs were cold. The pedestal did not glow.
There were some uncomfortable coughs. Someone snorted.
Elira swallowed the lump in her throat. Her hand remained there, beseeching. Please…
But there was nothing.
The Headmistress's expression did not shift, but her fingers tapped nervously against her side.
Suddenly—
The pedestal flashed white. A blinding burst of light. Elira screamed and jerked back as the glyphs flared under her palm.
And then—
A symbol unlike any other seared onto her chest, burned into her flesh beneath her blouse. No shape of any crest. It was frayed, round, pulsing like a living creature.
The air hummed.
Students screamed and backed away. One girl fainted.
Then the voice.
It was not that of anyone in the corridor. It seemed to come from above, below, inside.
"The Soul-Bond has awakened."
A burst of emptiness energy exploded from the pedestal. Shadow writhed upwards like a dark serpent. Elira knelt, her hand covering her chest where the mark seared with pain.
And from the back of the room, a boy stepped out.
Tall, clad in black and silver, his hair like darkness and his eyes like dying stars.
Kael Valen.
The room breathed.
He walked straight to her as if on an unseen leash.
"Elira Thorne," he stated, his voice cold and silky. "I invoke the Rite of Binding."
The Headmistress stepped forward. "Kael—no. You understand what that means."
"I do," Kael said, never taking his eyes off Elira.
He dropped to his knees before her. "I will bind her soul to mine."
Elira winced through the pain. "W-What?"
He stepped towards her. "It's the only way to stop the backlash. Your magic is untamed. Wild. If we don't seal it, you'll die."
"Wait—what do you mean bind our souls?"
"It's already occurred," he breathed. "The bond chose you."
Kael placed his hand over the symbol on her chest. Void power coursed between them. A second symbol blazed to life on his collarbone—the mirror to hers. Their bodies convulsed together.
Magic lashed the air into a whirlpool.
The Headmistress's shield spell burst, containing the surge.
Students stood, frozen. Appalled.
And then—
The energy snapped inward like air being drawn in. A final burst of light.
When it faded, the pedestal was broken. The hall was blackened. And Elira and Kael knelt facing one another, glowing runes on their bodies.
Bound.
The silence was crushing.
Kael rose, his words thick with determination. "From this day on, our destinies are entwined. She is under my care."
Elira looked up at him, her heart racing, the mark on her chest still burning.
She'd come to Arcanis with nothing.
Now she was bound to the most feared student in the Five Kingdoms.
And magic—awful, ancient magic—had claimed her.
The End of Chapter One.