The light of dawn still lingered in Ash Vale's chest as he made his way toward the lecture hall. His veins thrummed with power, the memory of the night's trial still fresh — the Codex's whispers, the stars that had seemed to answer his call, and the moment his Second Circle had blossomed before him like a living constellation.
Yet as he stepped into the vast amphitheater where the lecture was held, he felt every eye follow him. Some with curiosity, some with envy, others with thinly veiled disdain.
"Look," a voice drawled from the far side, sharp enough to cut through the hush.It was Darius Redthorne — crimson-haired heir of the Redthorne family, their sigil a blood-red rose inlaid with thorns. His smirk carried poison."A commoner stumbling into class late again. I suppose dueling Caius Serpentis gave you delusions of grandeur?"
A few of his lackeys chuckled.
Ash paused only for a moment, then met Darius's gaze. His voice was calm, but his words precise — sharpened blades cloaked in velvet."Better late with progress," he said, "than early and stagnant."
The hall stirred. Darius's smirk faltered ever so slightly, though his eyes hardened, storing the slight like a blade yet to be drawn.
Professor Elowen entered then, silencing the murmurs with her presence. Tall and elegant, her robes shimmered faintly with embroidered sigils, her eyes glinting like polished steel. She wasted no time.
"Today," she said, "we will discuss the foundation of true magic — the Circle. A magician's strength, their comprehension, and their destiny, are all inscribed in this construct. And today, we will see yours."
She beckoned. "Caius Serpentis. Step forward."
Caius rose with the grace of a predator, his emerald eyes steady. With a fluid motion, he extended his hand. The air darkened. Shadows twisted.
His Second Circle emerged.
A deep, brooding construct of onyx and viridian lines, rigid in its geometry yet alive with menace. The design coiled like a vast serpent devouring its own tail, scales etched in every line. At its core burned a sigil — a three-eyed hydra — whose gaze seemed to pierce into the soul. The pressure thickened; students shifted uncomfortably as though venom threaded their blood.
Gasps filled the hall. Even among nobles, such clarity was rare.
Then Elowen's eyes turned to Ash. "You. Step forward."
Ash felt dozens of gazes pin him like needles. Darius leaned forward, lips curled in anticipation of failure.
Ash inhaled once, steady. Then he raised his hand.
Light bloomed.
Where Caius's circle was shadow and venom, Ash's appeared as a celestial construct of silver and pale azure threads. Spirals folding into spirals, runes glowing as though drawn by the hand of a star, each pulse alive with rhythm. At its center rotated a luminescent core-sigil — a compass rose etched in starlight, slowly spinning, radiating harmony.
The air shifted. It was no longer heavy, but sharp and clear, like standing atop a mountain peak at dawn. The hall seemed to breathe with him, a hush falling so deep that one could hear hearts racing.
Professor Elowen stepped closer without realizing it. Her voice faltered before she found words:"Such harmony… such clarity. It is as though the circle itself sings. Ash Vale… I have never seen a construct so exquisitely formed at the Second Circle. This is not something taught — this is… born."
Whispers surged across the hall. Some students leaned forward, eyes wide in awe. Others clenched fists in resentment.
Caius, still standing, studied Ash's circle with narrowed eyes. Then, to everyone's surprise, he gave a faint smile and inclined his head. "Beautifully wrought. It seems my rival does not disappoint."
The murmurs grew louder, the hall alive with disbelief. A common-born… receiving praise from Caius Serpentis himself?
Elowen raised her hand, silencing them. Her tone turned formal, her words aimed to both explain and to anchor what they had just witnessed.
"The Circle is the core of all magecraft. The First to the Third Circles form a foundation — students and apprentices. The Fourth to Sixth are the domain of true Magi — titled as High Magus once they master the Sixth. Beyond lies the Seventh and Eighth — a realm so rare that history remembers their names for centuries. And above them, the forbidden Ninth… a Circle erased by catastrophe. A power so absolute that even legends fear to whisper its truth."
The class hung on her words, breaths caught.
"Titles are not simply honorifics. They are recognition of mastery: Magus, High Magus, Archmagus, Grand Magus. Our principal, Archmage Thalos Greyveil, is such because he has attained the Seventh Circle. Few alive today have glimpsed that height. It is why his name alone carries weight across kingdoms."
A ripple of awe followed. Even the nobles shifted at the reminder of their principal's power.
Elowen's gaze lingered again on Ash's circle. She spoke quieter this time, almost to herself."And yet… to see such artistry at the Second Circle… what will you become when you reach higher?"
The question hung unspoken, echoing in every mind.
Only one figure did not share in the awe.From his seat, Darius Redthorne's crimson eyes narrowed, burning with humiliation. His hand clenched around the table until his knuckles whitened.
He thinks he can humiliate me twice? The thought seared in his mind. Then I'll return it a hundredfold. Ash Vale will learn what it means to cross a Redthorne.
The lecture continued, but Ash could feel the weight of Darius's glare like a dagger against his back.
The stage had shifted.And the next move was no longer his alone