The first day of classes began with the toll of the Runestone Bell, its deep chime resonating through every corner of the academy. The sky above Dorothrel shimmered slightly — a soft ripple in the air as enchantments shifted to full daytime mode.
Arin stood in front of Lecture Hall 3, wearing the official student robe — deep blue with silver trim, slightly oversized on his lean frame. Around him were murmurs, curious glances, and the ever-present hum of mana in the air.
Inside, the room was a wide amphitheater with floating chalkboards, glowing quills, and rotating elemental diagrams. Instructors stood at the center, each one clad in differently enchanted attire depending on their subject: fire-mages in heat-resistant cloaks, wind-mages in flowing robes that almost shimmered with speed, earth-mages with runes etched into their skin.
Arin took a seat near the middle. Not too front, not too hidden.
He listened closely as the fire instructor explained mana control:
"Magic is not about brute strength — it is about intention, connection, and clarity. Each element responds to a part of the self. You must feel before you command."
The wind instructor followed, giving a vivid demonstration of redirecting air currents with minimal effort. Arin narrowed his eyes. He could do that... but he wouldn't show it.
Not yet.
The next was the theory of elemental harmony. A glowing sphere on the stage split into color-coded halves: red for fire, green for wind, brown for earth, blue for water, and more obscure tones — silver, gold, violet — representing rarer affinities.
"Most of you will show signs of a single dominant element," said the instructor. "Few will have two. Very few. Those with three or four are either destined for greatness… or cursed."
Arin's fingers tapped lightly on his desk. The memory of the black and white dual cores pulsed in his mind. He still hadn't told anyone. Not even his parents. Even when he looked at himself in the mirror, he refused to acknowledge that second core.
It didn't feel real.
"Your element chooses you," the teacher continued. "But your core defines your path."
Suddenly, Arin's ID tag vibrated.
He blinked.
The tag flashed a soft purple — a high-level summons.
Whispers erupted in the hall.
"That's… the principal's frequency," someone said. "He's being summoned?"
"Already?"
"Is he in trouble?"
The instructors paused and turned to Arin, eyebrows slightly raised.
"Student Arin, you are to report to the Principal's Tower," the earth instructor announced. "Immediately."
Arin stood, keeping his face neutral. He gathered his notebook and bowed slightly.
"Understood."
As he left the lecture hall, the stares followed him like shadows.
The Principal's Tower stood at the highest point in Dorothrel. It looked old — older than the rest of the academy — with vines growing around rune-inscribed stones and windows that reflected not light, but time.
Arin's footsteps echoed as he ascended the spiral staircase.
He didn't know why he was being summoned.
But something inside him whispered that this was no ordinary meeting.
The same way it whispered on the night he saw the black core.
As he reached the top, the grand oak door opened with a quiet creak — without him touching it.
The principal's office was vast — lined with tomes, relics, and an enormous window that showed the world beyond the academy walls.
And at the center stood Headmaster Elior Drayven — the founder. The same old man who once gave Arin the book World of Body and Mind and a pouch of coins in the forest.
He turned slowly, his eyes glimmering with familiarity and something more.
"Ah… Arin," he said with a smile. "We meet again."