The cart rattled over uneven stone roads faster than any sane vehicle should. Caelen clutched the wooden railing trying not to think about how quickly death by tumble looked preferable to death by embarrassment.
Ellin had waved him off with a grin and no advice. Sarn had scowled like Caelen was marching to his own funeral. Both probably weren't wrong.
Beside him the man from Aetheron Academy — who had finally introduced himself as Master Velric — sat reading a scroll as if bumping along at lethal speeds was a relaxing hobby. The golems pulling the cart hissed and clicked like they were arguing about which cliff to drive off first.
"So," Caelen ventured after the fifth near-death jolt, "what exactly happens when we get to the Academy?"
Velric didn't look up. "You're tested. If you fail you go home."
"And if I pass?"
Velric smiled thinly. "You wish you had failed."
Not ominous at all.
The landscape changed from dry hills to jagged cliffs. In the distance mountains clawed at the sky their tips shrouded in mist. Somewhere beyond them stood the Academy — the fortress of elements the graveyard of ambition.
"You're not the only new recruit," Velric said lazily. "Each year the nations send their brightest. Or their most dangerous."
"Which one am I?"
Velric finally looked up. His eyes gleamed. "That's what we aim to find out."
They stopped near a bridge suspended over an endless chasm. Caelen peered over the edge and saw nothing but mist and regret.
Velric dismounted with the ease of someone who wasn't constantly thinking about falling to a horrible death. He beckoned Caelen to follow.
Caelen hopped down almost twisting his ankle. Golems hissed behind him staying with the cart. Velric walked to the center of the bridge and stopped.
"This is your first test," he said.
Caelen blinked. "Crossing a bridge?"
Velric pointed to a small glowing sigil carved into the center stone. "Stand there."
Caelen did. Nothing happened.
Then Velric gave him a little shove.
The world dropped out from under him.
Caelen plummeted.
The chasm swallowed him whole. Wind screamed past his ears and his stomach tried to punch its way out. He flailed. He cursed. He wondered briefly if he could haunt Velric purely out of spite.
Then something inside him clicked.
The ember in his satchel pulsed. A ripple of warmth spread through his veins. His vision sharpened. Time slowed. And he saw.
Tiny currents of energy swirled in the mist. Threads of magic invisible to normal eyes. Caelen didn't know how he knew but he did. Instinct took over. He reached out with his mind snagged a thread and yanked.
The mist twisted around him thickening hardening forming a cushion. He hit it with a wet slap instead of a splat.
It wasn't comfortable. It wasn't elegant. But he was alive.
Above him Velric peered over the edge grinning.
"Well done," he called. "Most students take two or three falls before they figure it out."
"You insane birdbrain!" Caelen shouted back. "You almost killed me!"
Velric shrugged. "Better you find out now whether you have instinct. Academy life's harder than falling off a bridge."
With a gesture he summoned the golems who deployed a rope ladder. Grumbling with every step Caelen climbed up feeling like a wet cat.
When he reached the top Velric clapped him on the back hard enough to almost send him flying again. "You're going to fit right in."
Caelen didn't feel reassured.
The Academy loomed ahead just as the sun dipped behind the mountains.
It was massive carved into the cliffs themselves. Spires twisted into the sky like fingers reaching for power. Bridges crisscrossed between towers. Waterfalls of liquid magic poured down from floating orbs. Elemental wards shimmered along the outer walls forming shields of air stone lightning and water.
It looked like it had been built by someone with too much power not enough sanity and absolutely no budget constraints.
Caelen swallowed hard.
Welcome home said the ember in his mind.
He ignored it.
As they approached giant doors carved with the four elemental symbols swung open. A rush of scents hit Caelen — old books wet stone burnt ozone and something metallic like blood or ambition.
Velric led him through grand halls where other students — all wearing color-coded robes — stopped to stare. Some looked curious. Others looked annoyed. A few looked like they were already planning how to shove him off another bridge.
Perfect.
Velric deposited him in a circular chamber where a bored woman in silver robes sat behind a desk stacked with parchments.
"Name?" she asked without looking up.
"Caelen Dusk."
She scribbled something then tossed him a brass medallion. It had no symbol no color no identifier.
"Affinity Unknown," she said yawning. "Room seven. North Wing."
"Is that bad?"
"No," she said. "It's worse."
Room seven was barely bigger than a broom closet.
A narrow bed a cracked mirror a battered desk and a window overlooking the sheer drop into the canyon below.
Home sweet home.
Caelen dropped his satchel and sat on the bed. The ember pulsed weakly.
He pulled it out stared at it and sighed.
"What am I supposed to do with you?"
No answer.
Not that he expected one.
He was about to collapse face-first into the pillow when the door slammed open hard enough to rattle the hinges.
A boy strode in wearing deep blue robes embroidered with silver lightning bolts. His blond hair was perfectly disheveled. His boots cost more than Caelen's entire wardrobe. His sneer was polished to a shine.
"You're in my hall," he said.
Caelen blinked. "Room seven."
The boy pointed to the medallion around Caelen's neck. "Affinity Unknown. That means you're a mistake."
"Nice to meet you too," Caelen said cheerfully.
The boy's sneer deepened. "I'm Prince Valen of Stormspire. Remember it when you crawl."
"Crawling's more your vibe," Caelen replied. "You've already got the attitude of a slug."
Gasps echoed from the corridor behind Prince Valen where a small crowd of students had gathered to watch.
Prince Valen's eyes flashed literally — a spark of static jumping between his fingers.
"Careful, gutter rat," he said. "Accidents happen."
Caelen stood slowly.
The ember hummed against his chest like a silent drum.
"If an accident happens make sure you're not the one who slips," Caelen said softly.
For a moment the air between them crackled.
Then Valen laughed harshly. "You'll be fun to break."
He spun on his heel and stormed off students parting like the sea before him.
Caelen sat back down grinning to himself.
First day and already public enemy number one.
Typical.
Night fell.
Caelen stared at the ceiling listening to the wind howl through the cracks in the tower walls. He should have been terrified. He should have been wondering why the ember had chosen him why the Academy had summoned him why destiny had such a horrible sense of humor.
Instead he thought about how fun it would be to wipe that smug look off Prince Valen's face.
The ember pulsed once brighter than before.
Sleep claimed him in fits and starts — dreams of flame empires shattered by betrayal voices chanting in languages too old for memory blood and ashes falling like rain.
And always at the center of the dream a shadowy figure watching him with burning eyes.
When he woke sweat-drenched and gasping the ember was floating an inch above his chest glowing steadily.
Something was coming.
Something old and furious and very very interested in Caelen Dusk.
And he was no longer sure if he was ready to meet it.