I always thought magic would feel like tingling or glowing or maybe being electrocuted in a fun way.
Turns out, it feels like motion sickness.
The Ember Carriage zoomed through something—not air, not space, more like a really angry cloud. The windows glowed with swirling runes, and the inside smelled like cinnamon and ozone.
I tried not to throw up on the velvet seat.
Across from me sat the hooded carriage driver, completely silent, like a statue made of secrets. I tried asking questions. Twice.
No response.
I gave up and pressed my forehead to the window.
Then, just as my stomach was officially ready to quit on me, the world outside blinked—and everything changed.
We were suddenly gliding above a black ocean of clouds, stars glittering underneath us instead of above. Floating islands drifted in the sky like lazy moons, each one dotted with towers, glowing orbs, or trees that shimmered like silver fire.
And in the distance…
There it was.
Emberthorn Academy.
A fortress made of flame-colored stone, perched atop a massive floating mountain. Its towers twisted like spires of molten glass, and fiery lights danced behind its arched windows. A ring of crystal rings orbited the school, humming softly like chimes in a storm.
I pressed my face to the glass, wide-eyed.
"Okay," I whispered. "Maybe this was worth nearly barfing for."
✦ ✦ ✦
We landed in a grand courtyard of obsidian tiles that shimmered faintly with magic. Stone gargoyles lined the walls, and the sky above was lit by flickering lanterns that floated on their own.
I stepped out of the carriage.
The hooded driver didn't speak, just bowed slightly, then vanished into smoke.
That was… probably normal?
Before I could even take a proper look around, a small explosion echoed from behind one of the nearby towers.
BOOM.
A second later, a girl with feathers in her hair and soot on her sleeves sprinted around the corner, laughing.
"Not it!" she shouted over her shoulder.
A few moments later, two other students dashed past me in pursuit—one of them floating slightly off the ground, the other firing harmless sparks from their fingers like a toddler wizard having a tantrum.
I blinked.
"Okay," I said. "So… we've got flying kids, spell duels, and accidental arson. Good to know."
Before I could process anything else, someone cleared their throat behind me.
I turned.
She was tall. Graceful. White hair tied into a loose braid. Eyes like sunlit glass. She wore robes that shimmered like fire and snow—and every step she took made the air shimmer faintly, like the world was making space for her.
"Miss Wren," she said, "Welcome to Emberthorn."
I swallowed. "Uh. Hi. Thanks. I didn't throw up."
She raised one elegant eyebrow.
"A commendable first achievement."
I wanted to crawl into a bush.
"I am Headmistress Caelara Virel," she said. "I trust the Ember Carriage delivered you safely."
"Well, it delivered me," I muttered.
She smiled faintly. "Good enough."
She handed me a rolled scroll. "Your student orientation. Class placement will be determined after initial evaluations. Please read the handbook. Particularly the flammability protocol."
I froze.
"Wait. What flammability protocol?"
✦ ✦ ✦
After a quick tour that included words like "Cursed Corridor," "Potion Containment Ward," and "Please don't tap the soul mirror," I was led to my dormitory.
Ashthorn Hall.The first-year wing.
It wasn't bad. A little dusty, maybe. The hallway torches had a habit of flickering to the beat of my heartbeat, which was only slightly alarming.
My room was small but cozy, with a round window, a desk, a wardrobe, and a bed with dark green sheets and a pillow that puffed itself when I sat down.
A trunk sat at the foot of the bed.
My name was already carved on it.
Elira Wren — Emberthorn Academy
"I guess this is real," I whispered.
Magic school. Secret flames. A letter that may or may not have chosen me.
My stomach fluttered.
And then someone knocked—once, twice, then kicked the door open.
"Hey! You the new girl with the firebird invite?"
A girl burst into the room, her hair a wild mess of silver-blue braids, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a small storm of magic fizzing behind her like impatient lightning.
"Name's Riven Solis. Half-sylph. Mostly chaos. Welcome to the weirdest school on the planet."
She grinned, stuck out a hand, and winked.
"Hope you don't explode during orientation."
I took her hand.
And just like that, I met my first friend at Emberthorn.