The next morning, Aarin woke to bells ringing across the academy grounds. The sound wasn't gentle—it was loud, sharp, and very, very annoying.
He sat up quickly, hitting his head on the top bunk.
"Ugh," he muttered, rubbing his forehead.
His roommate, a skinny boy with big glasses named Finn, was already dressed and holding a glowing scroll.
"Rise and panic!" Finn said. "We're late for the rune trial!"
"Rune trial?" Aarin asked, still half asleep.
"The one that decides if we're good enough to stay here."
Aarin jumped out of bed so fast, he put his boots on the wrong feet.
They ran through the halls of Crescent Academy, dodging floating books, enchanted brooms, and at least one angry suit of armor. The school was beautiful, yes, but it was also alive—and apparently in a bad mood.
By the time they reached the Rune Arena, most of the first-years were already seated in the large, open courtyard. The sky above was enchanted to look like a stormy night, even though it was morning.
Aarin and Finn squeezed into the last row.
Standing in the center of the arena was Instructor Velmira, her robes fluttering like they were caught in an invisible wind.
"You are here," she said, "to prove that you can control the magic of your rune marks."
She raised her hand, and several glowing shapes floated into the air—circles, lines, stars, all shining with power.
"Each of you will face a magical illusion. You must use your rune to defend yourself, solve a problem, or protect someone."
"Protect someone?" Aarin whispered to Finn.
"Yeah," Finn said. "Sometimes they throw fake monsters at you. Or worse—group work."
Names were called one by one. Students stepped into the center of the arena, and illusions came to life.
A girl fought a giant fire wolf and won.
A boy used water magic to stop a falling tower.
Some students did well. Some froze. One even fainted when his own illusion took the form of his mother yelling at him.
Aarin's hands were sweating.
Then he heard it.
"Aarin Vale."
He walked slowly to the center. His heart pounded.
Instructor Velmira nodded. "You may begin."
Suddenly, the air around him shifted.
The arena vanished.
He stood in a forest, but not just any forest—this one had silver trees, black leaves, and glowing roots. Everything was silent. Too silent.
A shape appeared between the trees.
It looked like a girl.
As she stepped closer, he saw her face. It was Lyra.
"Help me," she said, her voice soft and strange. "They're coming."
Aarin blinked. "What—who's coming?"
The sky turned red. Shadows rose from the ground like smoke.
He felt his rune burn on his back.
His arms moved on their own. A swirl of glowing symbols circled his hands.
Then, without thinking, he shouted, "Protect!"
A barrier formed between him and the shadows. Light exploded across the trees.
The shadows screamed and vanished.
The illusion faded.
He was back in the arena, gasping for breath.
Velmira raised one eyebrow.
"Interesting choice of magic," she said. "Protective, instinctive... and ancient."
The crowd whispered.
Aarin returned to his seat. His legs felt like jelly.
Later that day, in the dining hall, students talked loudly over glowing trays of food that floated above their tables. Aarin sat alone at the end of the table, picking at some glowing noodles.
"You're famous now," a voice said.
He looked up. Lyra stood there, holding a bowl of what looked like floating berries.
"You were in my illusion," Aarin said, surprised.
She sat beside him. "I heard. Creepy."
"It wasn't you you," he said quickly. "Just... fake you."
She smirked. "Still creepy."
They were quiet for a moment.
"You're not like the others," Lyra said suddenly.
"How?"
"You didn't try to fight. You tried to protect."
Aarin shrugged. "Fighting isn't always the answer."
"Wise words, Cow Poet."
He smiled.
"Why do you keep calling me that?"
"Because you smell like hay and talk like you're reading a bedtime story," she said, grinning.
He laughed. "Wow. Thanks."
She poked one of the glowing noodles on his plate. "You going to eat that, or just stare at it until it runs away?"
"I was thinking about it."
She leaned in closer. "Tell me something, Aarin Vale... what are you really doing here?"
"What do you mean?"
"This school isn't just for magic. It's for power. Influence. Connections. You're not from that world."
"I know," he said. "But I want to be."
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she said softly, "Don't fall for me."
He blinked. "What?"
"You're a sweet boy from the woods," she said. "I'm a mess with too many secrets. So don't fall for me."
Aarin smiled a little. "Too late."
She stood up, clearly not expecting that.
"Well," she said, "you're dumber than you look."
"Thanks."
"Don't die, Vale."
"You either, Solenne."
That night, Aarin stood at the window of his dorm room, looking out at the stars. His rune still glowed faintly on his skin.
Something about this place felt dangerous.
And exciting.
And beautiful.
He didn't know what he had gotten himself into.
But somehow, it already felt like home.