A knife sliced toward Edge's throat. He jerked sideways, the blade missing by a hair's breadth. His attacker pressed forward, a blur of motion in the confined space of the carriage.
Edge's combat instincts took over. He caught the assailant's wrist, twisted sharply, and used the momentum to throw them off balance. A grunt of surprise, then Edge had his opponent pinned against the carriage wall, his forearm pressed against their throat.
"Excellent reflexes," Magister Veren said calmly, seemingly unconcerned about the arm at her throat. The knife in her hand disappeared with a flick of her wrist. "You can release me now."
Edge jumped back as if burned, horrified at having manhandled an Academy magister. "I apologize, Magister. I didn't—"
She straightened her robes with precise movements. "Never apologize for defending yourself effectively. House Drakescale values combat readiness above etiquette." Her eyes assessed him with new interest. "Your father taught you well."
Edge's heart still pounded from the unexpected attack. Outside, morning light filtered through the carriage windows, illuminating unfamiliar mountains. He'd slept through the night.
"Is attacking sleeping students a common Academy practice?" he asked, unable to keep a note of irritation from his voice.
The corner of Veren's mouth quirked upward. "Only for those in House Drakescale. Consider it your first lesson: Never lower your guard completely, even in seemingly safe environments."
A knock sounded on the carriage door before it opened to reveal an attendant with a tray of food. Edge's stomach growled at the sight of fresh bread, cheese, and fruit.
"Eat," Veren instructed. "We'll reach the Middlepass by midday. It's the last significant waypoint before the Academy."
As Edge ate, the landscape outside transformed dramatically. The carriage now traveled a road carved into the mountainside, with sheer drops to one side and towering stone walls to the other. Occasionally, they passed through short tunnels where magical lights embedded in the stone ceiling activated as they approached and dimmed after they passed.
"The Imperial Highway," Veren explained, following his gaze. "Constructed three centuries ago during the Unification. Before magic was regulated by the Academy, powerful mages served individual warlords. The Emperor of that time—Davius the Fourth—gathered the strongest to his banner and promised them a system that would preserve magical knowledge for generations."
"The Academy," Edge guessed.
"Precisely. The construction of the Highway was their first great work—binding the Empire together through enchanted roads that drastically reduced travel time between provinces."
Edge absorbed this information as they continued their journey. The red leather book lay beside him, half-finished after his late-night reading. He returned to it now, forcing his mind to grapple with the complex theories of mana manipulation and elemental affinities.
By midday, as promised, they reached the Middlepass—a fortress town built where the Imperial Highway crossed through a natural gap in the mountains. The caravan passed beneath a massive stone archway engraved with runes that glowed faintly blue as they approached.
"Defensive enchantments," Veren noted. "They scan for hostile intent and unauthorized magic use."
Inside the fortress town, their carriage proceeded directly to what appeared to be a small palace in the town center. Unlike the utilitarian waystation of yesterday, this building featured soaring spires and delicately carved facades.
"The Governor's Residence," Veren said. "We'll take lunch here. The governor is a former Academy graduate and maintains this space for traveling Academy members."
The carriage door opened, and Edge followed Veren into the building. Inside, they were led through marble corridors to a grand dining hall where several tables had been arranged. Edge immediately noticed that other Academy carriages had arrived before them—at least a dozen young people his age sat at various tables, accompanied by magisters in differently colored robes.
"The other Houses," Veren murmured as she guided him to an empty table. "This is an opportunity for you to observe your future classmates. The Academy has seven Houses, each specializing in different aspects of magical theory and application."
Edge glanced around the room, trying not to stare too obviously. The students were easily distinguishable by the colored piping on their otherwise black travel clothes—crimson for Drakescale like his own, blue for Tidecaller, yellow for Lightkeeper, green for Thornwalker, purple for Shadowveil, white for Frostpeak, and silver for Stormcaller.
"The Houses compete fiercely for prestige and resources," Veren continued as servants brought their meal. "While you'll have classes with students from all Houses, your primary loyalty is expected to be to Drakescale."
Edge nodded, his attention caught by a commotion at one of the tables. A boy with Drakescale crimson on his immaculate clothes was standing, his face flushed with anger as he addressed a smaller student wearing Thornwalker green.
"—dare suggest that plant manipulation has combat applications superior to direct elemental control?" the Drakescale boy was saying, his voice carrying across the hall.
"Caius Vellaren," Veren identified without looking up from her plate. "Heir to the Vellaren Duchy. Arrogant, talented, and unfortunately well aware of both facts. He'll be one of your housemates."
The Thornwalker student said something too quiet for Edge to hear, but whatever it was made several nearby students laugh. Caius's face darkened further.
"Perhaps a demonstration, then?" he challenged, raising his hand. A small flame appeared above his palm—a perfect sphere of orange-red fire that he casually tossed from hand to hand like a ball.
Several magisters tensed, but before any could intervene, the Thornwalker student smiled and made a subtle gesture. Instantly, tiny green shoots erupted from the table's wooden surface, growing with unnatural speed to wrap around Caius's wrist. The fireball extinguished as his concentration broke.
"Enough!" A magister in purple-trimmed robes stood. "Unauthorized magic use is prohibited outside Academy grounds. You both know this."
The vines retreated, and Caius sat down, shooting a venomous look at the Thornwalker student.
"Your first glimpse of House rivalry," Veren commented dryly. "It can be productive when properly channeled, destructive when not."
Edge studied Caius more carefully. The boy carried himself with the unconscious privilege of someone who had never questioned his place in the world. His features were aristocratic. High cheekbones, perfectly styled dark hair, and intense blue eyes currently narrowed in lingering anger.
"You said he'll be my housemate?" Edge asked.
"Yes. One of five other new Drakescale inductees." Veren took a sip from her goblet. "I suggest you finish eating. We depart again shortly."
Edge complied but continued observing the room as he ate. He spotted Sera Vandrian at the Stormcaller table, deep in conversation with an older student. Darius Keen sat with the Lightkeepers, looking slightly uncomfortable as two magisters questioned him about something.
As lunch concluded, Edge rose to follow Veren back to their carriage. As they crossed the hall, he found himself directly in Caius Vellaren's path. The noble boy paused, his gaze sweeping over Edge with unconcealed assessment.
"New blood for Drakescale?" he asked, addressing Veren rather than Edge.
"Caius," Veren acknowledged with a nod. "Yes, this is Edge Regius, newly admitted to our House."
Caius's attention shifted to Edge. "Regius? I don't recognize the family name."
"It's not one you would know," Edge replied evenly, meeting the taller boy's gaze.
Understanding dawned in Caius's eyes. "Ah. A commoner admit." He smiled, the expression not reaching his eyes. "How... quaint. The Academy does enjoy its charity cases."
Edge felt heat rise in his chest, but Veren's warning about House politics kept him from responding rashly.
"I look forward to proving my worth through ability rather than birthright," he said instead, keeping his tone neutral.
Caius's smile tightened fractionally. "Indeed. Ability is everything at the Academy." He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Edge could hear. "Just remember your place, farmboy. Drakescale has standards to maintain."
Before Edge could respond, Veren cleared her throat. "We're departing, Mr. Regius."
With a final measured look at Caius, Edge followed her from the hall.
"That could have gone worse," Veren remarked as they walked toward the carriages.
"He didn't bother to hide his contempt," Edge said.
"No. Caius Vellaren is many things, but subtle isn't one of them." She glanced at Edge. "You controlled your temper well. That will serve you at the Academy."
As they resumed their journey, the mountain landscape grew even more dramatic. The carriage now traveled a road that seemed to cling impossibly to sheer cliff faces. Far below, a river wound like a silver thread through the valley.
"We're entering the Academy's outer territories," Veren explained. "The ambient mana concentration increases significantly as we approach."
Edge nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure what "ambient mana" should feel like. He returned to his book, determined to absorb as much as possible before arrival.
As afternoon faded toward evening, Edge felt something change. At first, he couldn't identify the sensation: a subtle pressure behind his eyes, a tingling along his skin. The air itself seemed to thicken, becoming almost syrupy in his lungs.
"You feel it," Veren observed. It wasn't a question.
"What is it?" Edge asked, rubbing his sternum where an unfamiliar warmth had begun to build.
"Mana saturation. The Academy was built at the convergence of seven ley lines—natural channels of magical energy that cross the continent. Most people feel nothing when passing through such areas. That you do..." She left the implication hanging.
The sensation intensified as they continued. Edge's fingertips began to itch, and the shimmer he'd noticed around his hands in previous nights became visible even in daylight, a faint distortion like heat waves above summer stones.
Veren leaned forward, her eyes sharp with interest. "Your mana is responding to the environmental saturation. Fascinating. Most untrained mages require specific triggers or exercises to manifest visible effects."
Edge stared at his hands, simultaneously fascinated and unnerved by the visible evidence of something magical within him. "Is this normal?"
"For you, perhaps. Normal is relative when it comes to magical aptitude." She reached into her robes and produced a small crystal pendant on a leather cord. "Put this on. It will help stabilize your mana until you learn proper control."
Edge slipped the cord over his head. Immediately, the shimmering subsided, and the pressure behind his eyes eased. The crystal felt cool against his skin despite having been within Veren's robes.
"Thank you," he said, genuinely relieved.
"Consider it your first piece of Academy equipment." Her expression grew serious. "We're nearly there. One final piece of advice, Edge Regius: The Academy will test you in ways you cannot anticipate. Not just your magical ability, but your character, your resolve, your very identity. Many students discover they are not who they thought they were."
Before Edge could ask what she meant, the carriage rounded a final bend in the road, and he forgot to breathe.
Spanning the entire width of a mountain valley stood the Arcanum Academy. A sprawling complex of towers, domes, and spires that seemed to defy conventional architecture. Some structures appeared to float without visible support. Others twisted at impossible angles or changed subtly as he watched. The entire complex shimmered with an opalescent barrier that distorted the view slightly, like looking through flowing water.
Seven great towers dominated the landscape, each a different color corresponding to the Academy Houses. The crimson tower of Drakescale stood tallest at the center, its peak disappearing into clouds that swirled unnaturally around its upper reaches.
"The Grand Arcanum," Veren said softly, a note of pride in her voice. "Your home for the next four years. If you survive the first."