The carriage passed through the opalescent barrier with a sensation like plunging into cool water and emerging instantly dry. Edge's ears popped, and the crystal against his chest pulsed once before settling. Outside, the light changed. Warmer, more golden than the afternoon sun should allow.
"Weather within the Academy grounds is regulated," Veren explained, noting his puzzled expression. "Perpetual late spring in the common areas, with specialized climates in certain training grounds."
The carriage followed a wide boulevard paved with stones that glowed faintly at the edges. On either side, manicured gardens featured plants Edge had never seen—flowers that changed color as they watched, trees with crystalline fruits, hedges trimmed into shapes that seemed to move when viewed from the corner of the eye.
Students in House-colored uniforms walked the paths, some carrying books, others engaged in animated discussions. Many paused to observe the incoming carriages, no doubt assessing the new arrivals.
They passed a vast circular plaza where a massive statue dominated the center—a robed figure with arms outstretched, seven different elements swirling around its hands.
"The Founder," Veren said. "Emperor Davius IV, who established the Academy three centuries ago."
The carriage turned onto a narrower road that led directly toward the crimson tower of Drakescale. As they drew closer, Edge could make out details of the structure that weren't visible from a distance. What had appeared to be solid stone was actually interlaced with metallic scales that shifted subtly in the light, creating the impression of something massive breathing.
"The tower's exterior is plated with scales from the Imperial Drake that defended the Emperor during the Unification Wars," Veren said, following his gaze. "When it finally died of old age, the Emperor decreed its remains would become the foundation of House Drakescale."
Finally, the carriage halted before an imposing entrance. A pair of doors three times human height, made of dark wood banded with the same metallic scales as the tower.
"We've arrived," Veren announced unnecessarily. "Your belongings will be delivered to your quarters. First, you must be formally received by the House."
Edge stepped from the carriage onto Academy grounds for the first time. The air itself felt different. Heavier, charged. Despite the dampening effect of the crystal pendant, he could sense power thrumming through the stone beneath his feet, pulsing like a great heartbeat.
Veren led him toward the massive doors, which swung open silently at their approach. Inside was a circular entrance hall with a vaulted ceiling that appeared to be on fire, though Edge quickly realized it was an elaborate illusion. Flames writhed across the dome without producing heat or smoke, casting the entire space in shifting crimson light.
Standing in a semicircle at the center of the hall were five robed figures—four in the crimson and gold of Drakescale magisters, one in black robes accented with all seven House colors.
"Archmage," Veren inclined her head to the central figure in black. "House Master. Fellow Magisters. I present Edge Regius, confirmed candidate for House Drakescale."
Edge felt the weight of their collective gaze like a physical pressure. The Archmage—a tall woman with silver-streaked black hair pulled into a severe bun—stepped forward. Her eyes were unsettlingly pale, almost white, and seemed to see through rather than at him.
"I am Archmage Isolde Vex," she said, her voice carrying an odd resonance that made Edge's pendant vibrate against his chest. "Welcome to the Arcanum Academy, Edge Regius."
She extended her hand, palm up. A small flame appeared above it. Not orange-red like Caius's demonstration, but pure white, so bright it was difficult to look at directly.
"The Flame of Discernment will confirm your placement," she explained. "Place your hand above it."
Edge hesitated only briefly before extending his right hand over the white flame. He expected heat but instead felt an intense cold that sent shivers up his arm.
For several heartbeats, nothing else happened. Then the flame surged upward, engulfing his hand in white fire that didn't burn. The crystal pendant against his chest grew painfully hot, and the air around him began to shimmer with the same silver-tinged distortion he'd experienced before.
The Archmage's eyes widened fractionally, the only change in her otherwise impassive expression. The flame surrounding Edge's hand began to change color, cycling rapidly through all seven elemental hues before settling into a swirling pattern of multiple colors, dominated by crimson and silver.
"Most unusual," she murmured. With a subtle gesture, she extinguished the flame. "House Drakescale is confirmed, with noted anomalies for further investigation."
One of the crimson-robed figures stepped forward. He was a broad-shouldered man with a closely trimmed beard and eyes like polished amber. A thin scar traced from his left temple to jawline.
"I am Magister Dorn Ravencrest, House Master of Drakescale," he said, his voice a rumbling bass that matched his imposing presence. "By the authority of the Arcanum Council, I accept you into our House."
He placed a heavy hand on Edge's shoulder. "May your blade be sharp and your will sharper."
"May your blade be sharp and your will sharper," the other magisters echoed.
Archmage Vex nodded once to Ravencrest before turning to leave. "I look forward to observing your progress, Mr. Regius," she said over her shoulder. "It has been some time since a student presented such... intriguing possibilities."
After she departed, Ravencrest addressed the remaining magisters. "Veren, show our new initiate to the Gathering Hall. The others have arrived, and we can begin the Welcoming."
Veren led Edge through a side door and up a spiraling staircase that wound around the tower's interior. Unlike the grand entrance hall, these passageways were more practical. Stone walls lined with torches that ignited as they approached and extinguished after they passed.
"The Archmage seemed surprised by the flame test," Edge observed as they climbed.
"Perceptive of you to notice," Veren replied. "Yes, your reaction was exceptional. The Flame of Discernment rarely manifests in multiple colors simultaneously."
"What does it mean?"
"That remains to be determined. But it confirms the testing mages' initial assessment—you possess unusual magical potential."
They reached a landing where another set of scaled doors stood closed. From beyond came the murmur of many voices.
"The Gathering Hall," Veren said. "All Drakescale students and faculty assemble here for House matters." She paused, giving Edge a critical once-over. "Remember: first impressions matter. You'll meet your fellow initiates and the returning students. Some will be allies, others rivals, most somewhere in between. Trust must be earned here."
Edge nodded, squaring his shoulders. "I'm ready."
The doors swung open to reveal a vast circular chamber ringed with tiered seating. In the center was an open area with a pattern inlaid in the floor: a stylized dragon coiled around a sword. The seats were filled with students in Drakescale uniforms—black trousers or skirts with crimson tunics, gold trim denoting year of study.
Near the central floor, five young people stood in a loose group, the other new initiates, still in their travel clothes like Edge. He immediately recognized Caius Vellaren, who stood slightly apart from the others, his posture radiating confidence bordering on arrogance.
As Edge entered with Veren, conversations quieted, and all eyes turned to him. He felt the weight of their collective assessment. Some curious, some dismissive, some already hostile.
"Our final initiate has arrived," Veren announced, guiding Edge to join the others in the center.
Up close, Edge could better assess his fellow newcomers. Beside Caius stood a girl with copper-red hair cut short in a practical style, her freckled face set in a neutral expression that nonetheless conveyed intelligence. Next to her was a boy with skin the color of teak and intricately braided hair, his build suggesting considerable physical strength. The fourth was another girl, petite with jet-black hair and almond-shaped eyes that assessed Edge with undisguised curiosity. The fifth was a lanky boy with straw-colored hair who shifted nervously from foot to foot.
"Edge Regius," Veren introduced him to the group. "These are your fellow initiates: Caius Vellaren, whom you've met; Lyra Ironheart; Talon Zul; Min Shen; and Jace Underwood."
Edge nodded to each in turn, receiving varying degrees of acknowledgment in return. Caius merely raised an eyebrow. Lyra gave a curt nod. Talon inclined his head respectfully. Min offered a small smile. Jace managed an awkward half-wave.
Before further interaction could occur, House Master Ravencrest entered through the main doors, followed by the other Drakescale magisters. The hall fell completely silent.
Ravencrest took position at the edge of the central floor, his presence commanding attention without effort.
"Drakescale!" His voice filled the hall without apparent amplification. "We begin another year at the Arcanum Academy with six new blades added to our arsenal."
He gestured to the initiates. "Before you stand those deemed worthy of our House. In accordance with tradition, they will now introduce themselves and demonstrate the potential that earned them their place among us."
A murmur ran through the assembled students. Edge tensed, unprepared for this public demonstration.
"Caius Vellaren," Ravencrest called. "You will begin."
Caius stepped forward with practiced ease, offering a formal bow to Ravencrest before turning to address the hall.
"I am Caius Vellaren, heir to the Vellaren Duchy of the Northern Provinces. My family has produced mages for seven generations, primarily with fire affinity." His voice projected confidence without apparent effort. "I am honored to continue this tradition in House Drakescale."
Without further preamble, he extended both hands. Flames erupted from his palms. Not the simple sphere he'd demonstrated at lunch, but twin columns of fire that twisted together above his head to form the shape of a dragon in flight. The creation held for several seconds before dissolving into sparks that rained down, extinguishing before they reached the floor.
Appreciative applause filled the hall. Caius bowed again before stepping back with a satisfied smile.
One by one, the others demonstrated their abilities. Lyra manipulated metal, forming floating spheres of different alloys that orbited her body like planets around a sun. Talon displayed earth affinity, causing the stone floor to ripple like water beneath his feet. Min demonstrated remarkable control over air currents, creating a miniature whirlwind that lifted her several feet off the ground. Jace, despite his nervous demeanor, produced impressive lightning effects that danced between his fingertips.
Finally, Ravencrest called Edge's name.
Edge stepped forward, acutely aware of his common clothes and lack of formal magical training. The pendant against his chest felt suddenly heavy.
"I am Edge Regius," he began, his voice steady despite his internal uncertainty. "I come from Eastford village in the Eastern Province. My father is a farmer and former garrison soldier who taught me swordsmanship. I am the first in my family to manifest magical ability."
A ripple of whispers spread through the hall at this admission. Edge felt Caius's smirk without having to look.
"As for demonstration..." He hesitated, then decided on honesty. "I have no formal training and cannot yet consciously control whatever ability earned me a place here."
More whispers, some accompanied by derisive laughter. Edge's face burned, but he kept his gaze steady, focused on Ravencrest.
The House Master studied him for a long moment. "Remove the dampening pendant, Mr. Regius."
Edge's hand went to the crystal at his chest. "Magister Veren gave it to me because my mana was responding unpredictably to the Academy's ambient energy."
"I am aware," Ravencrest said. "Remove it."
With reluctant fingers, Edge lifted the cord over his head. Immediately, the pressure behind his eyes returned, and the air around his hands began to shimmer visibly.
Ravencrest stepped closer, examining the effect. "Interesting. Your mana is highly responsive to environmental stimuli despite your lack of training." He turned to address the hall. "Observe, students. Raw potential without refinement. The very state in which many of you arrived, though perhaps less visibly dramatic."
He faced Edge again. "The sword forms your father taught you—demonstrate them."
Edge blinked in surprise but complied. Taking a deep breath, he centered himself and began the first form: a series of flowing movements designed to warm muscles and establish balance. Without a practice sword, he used an imaginary blade, his hands moving through the familiar patterns.
As he progressed to the second form—more aggressive, with lunges and parries—something changed. The shimmering around his hands intensified, stretching to follow the path of his imaginary blade. By the third form, a visible trail of silver-white energy followed his movements, creating the distinct impression of a sword where none existed.
Gasps erupted from the watching students. Edge himself nearly faltered in surprise but forced himself to complete the form. As he finished the final stance—the blade extended forward in a killing thrust—the energy coalesced momentarily into what appeared to be an actual sword of light before dissipating like mist.
Silence reigned in the hall for several heartbeats before Ravencrest spoke.
"Manifestation magic," he said, approval evident in his tone. "Extremely rare, especially in untrained form. It seems the testing mages were correct about your unusual potential, Mr. Regius."
Edge lowered his arms, breathing harder than the physical exertion warranted. The pendant was quickly returned to his neck, dampening the wild energy that had responded to his movements.
"I didn't know I could do that," he admitted quietly.
"Few discover their abilities without guidance," Ravencrest replied. "That you manifested a coherent form at all is remarkable." He addressed the hall again. "This concludes our Introduction Ceremony. Classes begin tomorrow at dawn. Initiates will receive their schedules tonight. Dismissed."
As the assembly dispersed, Edge found himself the center of curious stares and whispered conversations. His fellow initiates regarded him with newly calculating expressions; even Caius seemed to reassess his earlier dismissal.
"Well," Lyra Ironheart said, breaking the awkward silence among them, "that was unexpected."
"Indeed," Min agreed, studying Edge with open curiosity. "Manifestation magic is theoretically one of the most versatile forms, though extremely difficult to master."
Edge wasn't sure how to respond. The demonstration had left him drained and disoriented. What he'd done felt simultaneously foreign and deeply familiar, as if he'd awakened a sleeping limb he hadn't known existed.
Veren appeared at his side. "Come. I'll show you to your quarters. You'll need rest before tomorrow."
As Edge followed her from the hall, he caught Caius watching him, the noble's expression unreadable. What had started as simple class resentment had clearly evolved into something more complex—perhaps rivalry, perhaps genuine interest.
"You've made quite an impression," Veren observed as they climbed higher into the tower. "For better or worse, you now have the attention of the entire House."
"I don't understand what happened," Edge said. "The energy… it responded to movements I've performed thousands of times before."
"Magic often manifests through pathways of deep familiarity," she explained. "Your sword forms are ingrained in muscle memory, providing a natural channel for your mana. Most initiates require months to achieve even partial manifestation."
They reached a corridor lined with doors on both sides. Veren stopped at one marked with a newly engraved nameplate: EDGE REGIUS, INITIATE.
"Your quarters," she said, opening the door. "Your trunk has been delivered. Tomorrow's schedule will arrive via messenger rune before nightfall. The bathing chambers are at the end of the hall, meals are served in the House dining hall three levels below."
Edge stepped into the room. Simple but comfortable, with a bed, desk, wardrobe, and small window overlooking the Academy grounds. His weathered trunk sat at the foot of the bed, looking incongruously common against the well-crafted furniture.
"Classes begin at dawn," Veren reminded him. "Do not be late. Drakescale does not tolerate tardiness, especially from initiates."
After she left, Edge sank onto the edge of the bed, his mind reeling from the day's events. He opened his trunk and found his possessions neatly arranged: the few clothes he'd brought, his father's dagger, his sister's wooden fox, his mother's herb pouch.
He removed the dampening pendant, curious if the strange energy would manifest again. Almost immediately, the shimmering returned around his hands. Experimentally, he moved through a simplified sword form. The energy responded, though less dramatically than in the Gathering Hall, trailing his movements like a shadow given faint luminescence.
A knock at his door startled him. He quickly replaced the pendant before opening it.
Talon Zul stood in the corridor, his imposing frame nearly filling the doorway. "Edge Regius," he said, his accent giving the words a musical quality. "I thought you might appreciate this." He held out a folded garment. The crimson and black uniform of House Drakescale.
"Thank you," Edge said, genuinely surprised by the gesture. "But I thought these would be provided tomorrow?"
Talon's lips curved in a slight smile. "They will. But I imagined you might prefer not to attend breakfast in... those." He nodded at Edge's common travel clothes. "First impressions matter twice at the Academy—once when you arrive, once when you begin."
Edge accepted the uniform. "I appreciate it. But why—"
"We are not all like Caius," Talon interrupted smoothly. "Some of us judge by ability, not birth. And your ability..." He left the statement unfinished, but his meaning was clear.
With a respectful nod, he turned to leave, then paused. "A word of advice, from one outsider to another. I come from the Southern Islands, far from Imperial politics. You come from common stock. Neither of us fits neatly into Academy society. Remember that you earned your place here, regardless of what others may say."
After Talon departed, Edge unfolded the uniform and laid it carefully across the desk chair. The fabric was finer than anything he'd ever worn, the crimson so deep it appeared almost black in shadow.
He moved to the window, gazing out at the Academy grounds now bathed in evening light. Spires and domes stretched across his field of vision, a world of knowledge and power he'd never imagined entering.
From his pocket, he withdrew his sister's wooden fox, turning it over in his fingers. The humble carving grounded him, a reminder of where he'd come from even as everything around him changed.
"Preparation meets opportunity," he murmured, echoing his father's words.
Tomorrow would begin his true education—not just in magic, but in navigating a world where power came in many forms, not all of them magical. For a farm boy from Eastford, that might prove the greater challenge.
But as he looked down at his hands, remembering the silver blade of light that had formed from nothing, Edge felt something unfamiliar and exhilarating take root within him.
Possibility.