Two weeks.
That was all it took for Ymir to feel like a different person.
Darian had trained her relentlessly, from dawn until deep into the cold mountain nights. Spellcasting drills. Magical theory. Elemental resistance. Mana control. Battle simulation. She bruised, faltered, failed — and then rose again, fiercer each time. Her uncle was a hard mentor, but a patient one, always pushing her limits while believing in her strength.
Now, with the mountains stretching high into the morning sky, she rode beside him toward the famed Velandria Arcanum, one of the oldest and most prestigious witchcraft institutions in the kingdom. Hidden beyond a pass in the Emberpine Mountains, it was carved into the side of a great crag — a sprawling fortress of obsidian stone and gleaming towers, its banners snapping in the wind, its walls laced with runes older than memory.
As they approached, Ymir's jaw slackened in awe.
The narrow mountain road was crowded with people. Not just aspiring students, but entire families, merchants, peddlers, townsfolk from nearby settlements — all coming to witness the entrance trials. Some cheered, others set up stalls selling charms, hot drinks, glowing sweets, or enchanted trinkets. The air buzzed with excitement, laughter, and the occasional stray spell misfiring in the hands of overeager participants.
Ymir shifted uncomfortably. "Why… are there so many people here?" she asked, looking up at Darian.
He glanced sideways, amused by her confusion. "The entrance exam is… well, a spectacle. Around these parts, it's practically a festival. People come from all over the region to watch."
"To watch?" she echoed, raising a brow. "It's an exam, not a circus."
"Yes, but anything can happen in these trials," he replied. "And I mean anything. Magic gone wrong. Bursting spells. Raw, untested talent colliding. That kind of chaos makes for quite the show."
"Thrill, huh?" she muttered, more to herself than him.
Her hands tightened on the reins. She could feel the pressure in the air — excitement and fear mingled together. But her focus remained unshaken.
"Well, I'm here for one thing only," she said, her voice steady and burning with resolve. "To pass this exam… get into the academy… and then find a way to rescue Mom."
Darian looked at her — really looked at her — and smiled faintly. "I'm glad you're so determined."
They reached the main gate. Twin towers loomed above, and between them, a wide stone arch led into a courtyard of immense scale. Guard-mages stood at either side of the entrance, robes marked with the school's sigil — a phoenix soaring through rings of flame. Beyond, the outer walls revealed the true scale of Velandria: a castle so vast it felt like a city unto itself.
Hovering above the courtyard was a floating projection — a luminous blue arrow with golden lettering that read:
"EXAM PARTICIPANTS: FOLLOW THE ARROW"
"SPECTATORS: CONTINUE TO THE GRAND ATRIUM"
A booming voice echoed overhead, belonging to a robed announcer at the balcony above the entrance:
"WELCOME TO THE TRIALS OF ADMISSION! EXAM PARTICIPANTS TO THE LEFT! SPECTATORS TO THE RIGHT — PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE GRAND ATRIUM!"
The Grand Atrium — a wide marble coliseum with tiered stands and magical projection crystals — was packed with eager onlookers. Cheers and magical flares filled the air.
Ymir and Darian turned left, following the glowing arrow through a high-arched hallway. They entered a long corridor that led to the registration hall, where glowing glyphs floated midair and crystal spheres recorded each applicant's identity.
A clerk at a floating desk took Ymir's name, age, and magical field. She passed her hand over a sensing orb that briefly shone silver.
"Registered," the clerk announced. "Please wait in the preparation chamber."
Darian turned to her as they entered the waiting room. It was a large domed hall with glass windows overlooking the snowy peaks.
"This is it," he said, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "I'll be in the atrium, cheering you on. Since our training started, I've seen you grow stronger and faster than most apprentices do in a year. You're gifted, Ymir. You've got this."
Ymir felt a lump rise in her throat. "Thanks, Uncle."
They hugged — brief but fierce — and he turned and walked away.
She stood there, alone again. But not the same kind of alone as before.
Inside the waiting room, dozens of other participants gathered. Some stood in silence, others paced nervously. The diversity was striking. A boy in royal blue robes leaned arrogantly against a column, clearly of noble blood. A girl with stormy eyes whispered to a humming raven perched on her shoulder. A stocky youth was chanting a heat spell under his breath, steam rising from his palms. Some laughed loudly. Others stared at the ground in quiet dread.
Ymir took a deep breath. Her eyes scanned the room.
These are my competitors, she thought. But also… maybe my future classmates.
She didn't know who would become her allies, who would challenge her, or who might try to break her. But she didn't flinch.
She'd trained for this.
A low rumble filled the room. The crystal panels above shimmered, then lit up.
An elderly man in violet and gold robes appeared midair in a grand illusion, his beard cascading down his chest, his voice resonating with power.
"I am Archmagister Calwen," he said, eyes gleaming beneath his hood. "Welcome, aspirants, to the Trials of Velandria."
The entire room fell silent.
"You have come here seeking knowledge, power, purpose. But this institution does not hand out wisdom lightly. The path ahead is dangerous. The trials you will face are real. No illusions, no safeguards. We test not only your magic — but your courage, your heart, and your will."
A flash of energy rippled across the room.
"The trials… begin now."
The walls shimmered, transforming — doors sliding open behind the archmage's image, revealing paths leading into darkness, into snow-covered forests, into mirrors, into flame.
Ymir stood tall as the magic in the air pulsed against her skin.
This is it.
She stepped forward.