Not even giving you a second to breathe the minute the ship is docked. She hurries you along, stopping for nothing, going straight for the University. Soon you find yourself staring up at a towering stone wall with an imposing gate.
Nothing like the quaint little campus you had imagined.
“This is the school? It looks more like a fortress.” stretching your head upward, trying to take in just how massive the structure really is. “It’s both. We are the heart of the wildlands after all.” Headmistress Windworn responds without slowing her pace. A shiver of dread runs through you. Growing up along the border, the Wildlands had always loomed like a gathering storm on the horizon. 250,000 miles of cursed land warped by raw magic and crawling with Shades. “Why in the six hells would you build a university here?” being unable to hide the disbelief in your voice. “After the Wildlands were formed, these grounds were the very first to be restored. Elderwood is not some dusty library but a crucible of fire and steel. We’ll train you to fight and deploy you to retake these lands one inch at a time.” Headmistress Windworn’s voice remains calm, but there is something beneath it. Pride. “I’m going to be fighting Shades??” You pause only for a second before determination replaces hesitation. “Bring it on. A Shade nearly killed my best friend. I’m ready for some payback.” clenching your fists slightly.
“The line between stupidity and bravery is as thin as the point of a dagger. I suppose this will be our chance to see which side you land on.” Windworn says, giving only the faintest glance in your direction.
“So will you be leading us into the Wildlands?” curiosity replacing some of the fear in you. “The raw magic of the Wildlands is too toxic for an Arcane over thirty years old. It drives us mad. But young Arcane can survive it for weeks at a time.” Windworn slows slightly, eyes shifting toward the gate ahead. “Do you see the writing on the gate?” You squint, focusing harder. Now you can make it out. Hundreds of names. No…Thousands. Carved deep into the cold stone itself. “Three hundred Arcanes enroll every year. About two hundred will graduate. Those who don’t make it will be honored here. A reminder of their loss… and failure.” The Headmistress says, staring at the names. “A third of each class dies and you’re fine with that??” Moss blurts out, disbelief written all over your face. “I encourage it.” Windworn says so pridefully it almost feels worse. “We’ve been given a great gift, but it comes with responsibility. This institution will teach you control, discipline and purpose. Every graduate is a tested soldier ready to serve the Republic of Austerea. Those who can’t rise to the challenge… who can’t contain their emotions…” Her eyes shift toward you now. “Better they end up a name on the gate than a threat to us all.” The words sit with you heavily.
Images of everything you had just learned begin piecing together in your mind. Your father. His rebellion. All the innocent people who died chasing his ideals. “So you just let students die?” The words leave harsher than intended. You pause, forcing yourself to think beyond your own discomfort. “That… makes sense… seeing how so many innocent people died in the name of my father’s goal.” Your expression softens slightly. “I just wish it wasn’t this way.” Moss says quietly. It was only only a quick second but You swore you saw approval before going back to that unreadable expression. She turns towards the gate muttering under her breath“…Perhaps there is more of your mother in you than I thought.” then in her normal voice “Now if you’ll follow me.”
As you step through the entrance, you could swear the name's pulse ever so slightly. Thousands of carved names beating softly beneath the stone like thousands of quiet hearts. And then the world opens. Your eyes immediately struggle to take everything in at once. A giant castle-like structure dominates the grounds ahead, ancient white stone stretching impossibly high. Towers branch outward in every direction, one spiraling upward with an enormous winding staircase wrapping around its exterior. Beside it stands another massive tower. Only this one has something even stranger. A colossal tree wraps entirely around the structure, its trunk impossibly wide, roots and branches intertwining with the stone itself like nature and magic had fused together. Everywhere around you, students move through the courtyard. One student casually slows time around a falling book, letting it hover effortlessly before plucking it from the air. Nearby, another practices firing small concentrated fireballs from her fists while her sparring partner blocks each one behind a glowing shield.
Your eyes move everywhere at once. You had never imagined a place like this could exist. And yet…
Something inside you feels strangely calm. Like somehow…
This is where you were always meant to end up.
“Sharp’s breath…” You stare around in complete awe, unable to stop yourself. “It’s extraordinary. I’ve never seen so much magic in one place. It’s incredible!” practically forgetting where you are for a moment. “I suppose it is.” Windworn glances at you briefly. “But I’d drop the doe-eyed look if I were you. The last thing you want is to appear as an easy target.”
“What do you mean?” immediately pulling your attention away from the surroundings. “No one cares how impressive you find their magic when you’re standing in their way.” Windworn folds her arms behind her back. “Elderwood is a ruthlessly competitive institution. All students are placed into one of nine houses which are ranked based on their performance throughout the year in trials and missions.”
You instinctively glance around again. She continues.
“Graduates from top houses go on to positions of great wealth and power. Graduates from lower houses…” She pauses slightly. “Well… Arcane are needed out in the swamp lands too.”
“What house am I in?” feeling a little nervous now. “Onyx House.” Windworn says immediately. “Ranked ninth last year due to… well. It doesn’t matter now.” A faint smirk crosses her face. “I wouldn’t expect it to stay there given who your new head of house is.”
“Why? What makes them so special?” curiosity returning immediately. “You’ll see.” as she looks ahead. “Right now, in fact.” Your eyes follow her gaze. Standing a short distance away is a lithe young woman, She stands unnaturally straight, posture so rigid it almost feels intentional down to the inch. Hands folded neatly behind her back, shoulders squared in the kind of practiced discipline that comes from someone who demands control over everything around them. Long chestnut brown hair pulled into a tight fishtail braid falling neatly over her back, though several loose strands frame the sharp angles of her face, Small golden accents are threaded carefully throughout the braid itself, catching the sunlight whenever she shifts. Near the base, a deep crimson ribbon ties everything neatly together, Thin oval-shaped glasses with delicate gold wire frames rest against the bridge of her nose, matching small gold earrings that catch faint light whenever she moves. A flowing red dress stretches all the way to her ankles in layered folds of expensive fabric, each movement causing the material to shift almost like liquid. Over it rests a brighter crimson outer coat that remains open down the front, fastening only at the neck where gold clasps hold it perfectly in place. Intricate golden embroidery traces along the edges of the coat and the lower hem of the dress beneath it, each design so detailed it almost looks hand-painted rather than stitched. The kind of person who somehow makes standing still feel intimidating.
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