The train groaned as it slowed into the station, its steel wheels screaming against the rails before settling into a steady hiss. Mira stayed seated for a moment, her hand still pressed to the cold window, watching as the towering skyline of Revel City rolled past. The buildings were so close now she could see the sunlight sparking in the glass. She stood up and prepared to depart, the weight of her satchel pulling at her shoulder, and stepped into the narrow aisle. Passengers shuffled forward in a slow, pressing line. The train's speakers crackled with an announcement she couldn't quite make out over the hum of voices.
When she reached the door, the cool, sharp air of the station rushed in, carrying the faint tang of metal, oil, and roasted coffee from somewhere nearby. She stepped down onto the platform, her boots clicking against the smooth tile. Everything was much louder here. Conversations overlapped in a dozen different tones and accents. Footsteps clattered on the stone floor. An electronic chime sounded somewhere across the platform, followed by the roar of another train's arrival. Great steel beams arched overhead, latticed with glass panels that spilled warm light across the crowd.
Mira adjusted the strap of her bag and moved with the current of people, letting it carry her toward the wide concourse. She passed a vendor stand selling glossy magazines and commuter snacks, the smell of sweet bread and strong coffee pulling her gaze for just a moment. She was not paying attention as she collided with someone's arm, hard enough to make her stumble.
"I'm so sorry!" Mira exclaimed as she spun around.
The man was crouched as he gathered the contents of his leather bag that had spilled across the polished floor—slim folders, a few scattered papers, and several small metallic devices that clinked softly as they settled. He was tall and lean, with neatly combed dark hair touched faintly by early silver at the temples. His jaw was clean-shaven, his features sharp and controlled. His pale blue eyes flicked to her only for an instant before darting back to securing his belongings.
"Don't worry about it," the man said sternly as Mira knelt down to help. He quickly gathered up the last of his items and stowed them back into his bag. He shot Mira one last inquisitive look before standing to his feet and hastily merging back into the crowd. Mira did not think much of it. She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder, but before she could continue on her own way, something caught her eye near the base of a vendor stand, half-hidden in the shadows beneath a metal bench.
Mira reached down to scoop it up. It was a small, flat object, no bigger than her thumb. Its surface was sleek black with faint silver tracings running through it. It appeared to be a computer chip of some sort, and she remembered seeing several tiny items much like it fall out of the man's bag when she bumped into him. Mira immediately turned to call out to him, but he had already disappeared into the river of commuters moving about the station. With a small shrug, she slipped the object into her jacket pocket. It was probably nothing, she told herself.
She fell back into the crowd, the hum of voices and echo of footsteps swelling around her. The further she moved from the platform, the more the station opened up. Vaulted ceilings crisscrossed with steel girders. Banners fluttered from the walls bearing the stylized crest of Revel City and the constant shimmer of sunlight shone through the glass dome high above.
A row of ticket gates marked the transition from the platforms to the main concourse. Here, the noise was a roar. Merchants were calling out their wares, street musicians strummed from the edges of the crowd, and the occasional hiss of steam could be heard from somewhere deep in the machinery of the station. She slowed for a moment at the base of a great clock tower that dominated the hall, its iron hands ticking toward the top of the hour. Beyond the concourse, the crowd began to thin as she stepped through the arched exit and into the open air. The sounds of the station faded into the wider city. A neat line of black cars stood waiting at the curb, drivers in crisp uniforms holding placards. Mira had been told that an escort would be waiting to transport her to the academy. Her eyes panned over the names on the placards until she spotted one at the end of the line written in clean, block letters: VALE, MIRA.
The chauffeur, a tall man with neatly pressed gloves and a cap pulled low over his brow, stepped forward as she approached.
"Miss Vale," he said in a smooth, practiced tone, inclining his head in greeting.
"Uh yeah, that's me," Mira replied awkwardly, shifting her satchel higher on her shoulder and moving to open the back door. Before she could, the chauffeur was already reaching for the handle.
"Allow me, miss." He swung it open with a polished motion, then reached toward her satchel. "And I'll take your baggage."
"Oh no, it's fine," Mira said quickly, tightening her grip on the strap. "I can manage it." She wasn't used to anyone else handling her things for her, and the thought of handing them over, especially with her notebook tucked safely inside, which made her somewhat uneasy. The chauffeur paused, his gloved hand hanging in the air for a beat, then offered a polite nod without so much as a shift in his expression.
"As you wish." He stepped back, allowing her to climb in on her own terms.
The city rose and fell outside her window as they pulled away from the station. Mira observed flashes of crowded streets, the blur of shop signs, and the occasional break where the skyline opened to reveal bridges of steel and glass spanning the vast avenues. This was a far cry from anything she had ever known living on her family's farm. It was a whole new world. The further they drove, the more the urban crush gave way to cleaner, broader streets lined with manicured hedges and stately buildings of pale stone.
It was when they turned beneath a wrought-iron archway, its frame draped in ivy vines, that Mira caught her breath. The gates bore an intricate crest worked in silver and gold, and as they swung open, the car rolled onto a long, tree-lined drive. Beyond, the campus unfolded in layers: sprawling lawns of perfect green, fountains sending arcs of water into the air, and stone paths that wound toward buildings of white limestone and glass that seemed to glow in the morning light. Students moved between the buildings in clusters, their blazers and tailored coats uniform in cut but varied in color, suggesting the place had its own order and hierarchy. The sight of it all made Mira adjust the collar of her jacket, suddenly aware of how out of place she must look.
As the car crested the rise toward the main courtyard, a group of older students lounging on the fountain steps turned to watch the vehicle approach. Their conversation dipped into smirks and whispered remarks, eyes following Mira even through the glass. One girl with sleek blonde hair tilted her head in a slow, appraising glance before turning away, the faintest smile playing at her lips. The car eased to a stop in front of a grand, columned building at the heart of the campus. Wide stone steps led up to tall double doors of dark wood, brass fittings gleaming in the sunlight. The chauffeur stepped out, moving to open her door again, but Mira was already gripping her satchel and sliding out on her own. Her boots met the stone with a quiet, determined sound. She stood there for a moment at the foot of the steps, the campus spreading out around her like a world she wasn't sure she belonged to, before lifting her chin and starting toward the entrance.
The doors opened into a high-ceilinged foyer lined with tall windows that let in ribbons of sunlight. A rich scent of polished wood and paper hung in the air, along with the muted echo of footsteps in the halls beyond. Mira stepped inside. She had no idea where to go. No one had given her much in the way of general instructions—just a letter telling her when to arrive. She shifted her weight and glanced around for a sign or directory, but before she could make a decision, a bright voice called out from across the foyer.
"You there! Are you lost?"
Mira turned toward a desk tucked to one side of the room. A woman in her late twenties sat behind it, her dark curls pinned back in a loose bun, a warm smile brightening her face. She wore a neat blouse under a light cardigan, a name badge pinned just above her heart.
"Yes," Mira said, approaching slowly. "I'm here for my placement interview?"
"Oh!" The woman rose from her seat in one fluid motion, her smile widening as she stood up and weaved around the desk, her eyes scanning Mira's outfit with a flicker of curiosity. "Call me Clara. You must be Miss Vale, am I right?"
"That's me."
"I thought so. You're not in uniform yet, I see." Clara's tone was light, almost teasing, but not unkind.
Mira gave a small shrug. "They didn't give me one. Honestly, they didn't give me much information at all."
"Oh, that's not unusual," Clara said with a cheerful laugh as she gestured for Mira to follow. "Sometimes they like to get all the paperwork squared away before anything else. Keeps things 'official.'"
They started down a long corridor together. Clara talked easily as they walked, her hands occasionally lifting in small, animated gestures.
"Stellan Academy's been among the most prestigious institutions for over a century and a half," she explained. "It houses students from all over the country destined for greatness—future leaders, innovators, a few major and minor celebrities you might be familiar with, and with a bit of hard work, that could mean you as well. It can be intimidating at first, I grant, but you'll find your place eventually. Everyone does."
The more Mira looked around at her surroundings and the way she already appeared, the less sure of that she became, but she nodded politely.
"Don't mind this interview. It will determine your class schedule, extracurriculars, and living arrangements," Clara continued. "The administrator you're about to meet, Mr. Halveth, has been here for thirty years. Knows every student by name. At least all the best ones. If he seems stern, don't worry. He's only that way when he wants to be."
They reached a tall, arched door at the end of the hall, its dark wood polished to a mirror sheen. Clara stopped and turned toward Mira with an encouraging smile.
"Well, this is it," she said. "Deep breaths, Miss Vale. You'll be fine."
Mira stood there for a moment. The weight of the satchel suddenly felt heavier against her hip. Her pulse quickened and she could feel her palms instantly become sweaty. She took a few deep breaths, as if instructed to do so, and then she reached for the brass handle.