I sat cross-legged, surrounded by steep darkness that threatened to devour my essence. Floating in front of me was a document brimming with an ethereal white light, the only saving grace in this overwhelming gloom. Its edges were adorned with golden embroidery, and at the top sat a residual symbol divided into four sections, each with a unique pattern. Above the residual, bold lettering read: Aurora Spire.
Beneath it, the document's contents were stamped in bold ink.
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Aurora Spire Academy of Runecasting & Spirit Divination
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Aurora Spire Academy of Runecasting & Spirit Divination as a fifth-year student.
Term begins on 1 September.
Preliminary supplies have been collected for you and will accompany you on your journey to the Spire.
As you may be aware, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery prohibits the use of magic by those under the age of seventeen outside school. However, due to your unique circumstances, the Ministry has graciously agreed to allow Professor Luis Dawkins to help you hone your spell-casting before escorting you from Luren to the Spire for the start-of-term feast and the Sorting Ceremony.
Yours sincerely,
M. Beasley
Professor Beasley
Deputy Headmistress
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I read through it, my eyes darting back and forth over the text before stopping at the calligraphic signature at the bottom. After a final glance, I rolled up the document, and the world around me faded back into the suffocating darkness.
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Standing outside as the first light of day broke, the September winds cut through the air, sharp and restless, slipping past the layers of my clothing. I adjusted the brim of my hat, feeling the weight of the familiar fabric between my gloved fingers. The wide brim offered little protection against the chill, but I wore it all the same—an old habit of mine. The metallic emblem caught the dim glow of the street lanterns.
My cloak shifted with the wind, silver clasps holding firm as the heavy fabric billowed behind me. Beneath it, my tunic remained fitted and neat, the leather belt at my waist keeping everything in place. Practical, efficient—just like everything I chose to wear. My gloves flexed as I adjusted my stance, the smooth material stretching over my fingers with practiced ease.
I glanced up, catching my reflection in a nearby window. Pale skin, dark eyes barely visible behind thin, round glasses. A faint smile tugged at my lips—not quite amusement, not quite indifference. Just recognition.
I turned toward the carriage in front of me, where Professor Dawkins was inspecting its sides. An elderly man with a dignified presence, his silver-gray hair was neatly combed back, revealing sharp, well-defined features marked by deep wrinkles. His well-groomed beard and mustache added to his scholarly air, while his furrowed brow and slightly open mouth suggested deep thought, as if he were about to speak at any moment. He wore a long, dark green coat with golden trim, layered over a quilted vest, exuding prestige and wisdom. A shimmering shawl draped over his shoulders, adding both warmth and authority.
"That should be better," he said, patting the carriage. "With a few magic bindings here and there, your luggage should be mostly secured." He turned to face me.
I nodded. "Thank you. Thank you so much, sir," I said politely, meaning every word.
The old man's lips curled into a faint smile. "It's a shame we didn't get to practice the other spells."
I hesitated before replying. "We still will."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Perhaps. But considering the limited time we had, you've grasped what you can." His gaze lowered to the wand in my hand. "It's incredible, the things you can already do with a secondhand wand. I have no doubt you'll be a force to reckon with once you get your own at the Spire."
I nodded again, my eyes drifting to the crooked wand in my grip. If not for the few engravings and binding designs at the base, it would have been no different from a bent twig.
"Now, we just need to wait for Gusto to arrive."
As he spoke, I felt the air ripple. Just a few meters away, a man materialized, his presence sudden yet refined. He wore a classic gentleman's attire, his entrance marked by an air of practiced precision.