The Academy's First Impressions
The ivory towers of the Eldros Royal Academy stood like ancient sentinels over the sprawling campus, casting long shadows across the assembly of hopeful students. Kael Arvandor stood among them, feeling every bit the outcast. His boots, worn and weathered, dug into the dirt beneath him as nobles and rich merchants' children glided past, their fine clothes shimmering in the sunlight.
Not here to make friends, Kael reminded himself. Just here to survive.
He adjusted his threadbare tunic, looking up at the towering spires with a mixture of awe and dread. The academy was everything he'd imagined—and nothing like he expected. Despite the grandeur of the place, there was no magic to be found in the halls, only ambition and whispered promises.
"Get moving, boy!" Old Man Heron's voice echoed in Kael's mind, his adoptive father's sharp tone pushing him forward. "The recruiters leave at noon!"
Kael exhaled slowly. Right. The trials.
A gentle wave of nerves washed over him as he made his way to the entrance trials, the first step toward securing a place at the academy. Students were gathered, huddling in groups, talking with others in their same social class, casting judgment on those who dared to enter the academy without the luxury of noble blood. Kael ignored them. He'd dealt with worse.
As he approached the front, he was handed a crystal orb by the proctor, a stern man with sharp, inquisitive eyes.
"Channel your mana into the orb. Let's see what you can do."
Kael nodded and stepped forward. His hand hovered over the crystal. It hummed with energy, but not the low, mundane hum he'd expected. The moment his fingers brushed its surface, a surge of power rushed through him.
His veins burned with energy, untamed, a wild storm swirling inside him. He instinctively clamped down on it, forcing the power back into a trickle.
The orb flickered.
The proctor's eyes narrowed, but he didn't comment. "Next." The word was sharp, cutting the air between them.
Kael stepped aside, his heart pounding in his chest. What was that?
He'd barely contained the power within him—barely kept it from surging out. It was as though something was pushing at the edges of his control, urging him to unleash it fully.
"You're not the only one with that kind of talent, boy." The voice of a noble student behind him sneered.
Kael didn't turn to respond. His eyes were on the next trial—the tactical warfare exam—where students would face a strategic challenge. It was a simple scenario on paper: Defend a mountain pass with 100 soldiers against 300.
But as Kael read the scenario, his mind went somewhere else.
The world seemed to blur around him as he was overtaken by memories—no, fragments of memories.
Snow crunched under boots. The cold air stung his lungs. The scent of pine and blood… and a voice giving orders—his voice.
A sense of urgency gripped him, as though time itself was collapsing in on him. He grabbed the quill and began scribbling formations on the parchment, a looping script that he shouldn't know.
"The Vaelith Gambit…" The proctor muttered to himself as he took Kael's paper, his voice tinged with disbelief. "This notation hasn't been seen in centuries. It's—"
Kael felt a cold shiver down his spine. His hand trembled, though he couldn't understand why.
"Next!" The proctor snapped, not sparing another glance at Kael. The weight of the moment hung in the air, but Kael couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that lingered in his chest.
The Headmaster's Gaze
That evening, as Kael sat alone in his room, the strange sensation from earlier gnawed at him. Something wasn't right. The fragments of memory—the Vaelith Gambit, the battle tactics—none of it made sense.
Was this a dream? A vision?
He couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something important, something that had slipped through his fingers.
Meanwhile, in a grand office lit by the flickering flames of torches, Headmaster Aldric sat behind his desk, studying Kael's test paper. His piercing gaze flicked to the strange military notation written on the page. His hands, aged but steady, traced the symbols.
"The 'Vaelith Gambit,'" he murmured, the words heavy with the weight of history. "It's been lost for generations… But if he knows this… then there's more to this boy than meets the eye."
Aldric leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. His mind raced. What did this mean?
Across from him, a woman stood silent, watching him. Her eyes were sharp, the corners of her lips tugging into a faint, knowing smile. She had been a silent observer for much of the trial—an enigma in her own right.
The Headmaster's assistant, with her fiery red hair and tempered gaze, couldn't help but wonder about this boy—Kael Arvandor. He wasn't just a commoner, not anymore.
A Dangerous Interest
As Kael navigated the corridors of the academy the following day, something inside him shifted. The same unease, the same nagging feeling that something was wrong—it wouldn't go away.
He passed by Lady Sylas, her gaze following him from across the hall. She was an aristocrat, a noble by birth and a dangerous woman by reputation. There was no mistaking the sharp look in her eyes as she watched him, a calculating glint beneath her calm exterior.
"Find his weaknesses, before he finds his strength."
Her whisper lingered in the air, but Kael didn't notice. He was too focused on his own struggle, on the growing awareness that his past was beginning to resurface in ways he didn't understand.
End of Chapter 2