The first rays of dawn crept through the narrow window of Kael Veyrin's dormitory, casting jagged shadows across the cracked stone floor. The air was damp and heavy with the scent of mold and the faint tang of magic that lingered in every corner of Eldoria Academy. Kael sat on the edge of his cot, the leather-bound journal open on his lap, its pages illuminated by the flickering light of a stolen candle. The flame danced as he traced his mother's handwriting, her elegant script a lifeline to a past he barely remembered. *"Severance is a gift from the old gods, a power to break the chains of tyranny. But it comes at a cost. Use it wisely, my son."* The words had haunted him since he'd found the journal in the ashes of his family's burned-out home, a relic of the night the royal guard had come for them.
He flipped to the next page, where a ritual was outlined in cryptic detail. It described a way to stabilize Severance, to channel its chaotic energy through a catalyst—something tied to a bloodline's core. The note ended with a warning: *"The royals will sense its use. Hide, or they will hunt you."* Kael's fingers tightened on the page. The royal family, House Vaelthar, had erased his lineage for a reason, and he suspected it was tied to this forbidden magic. But without the catalyst, his power remained unstable, a double-edged sword that could turn on him as easily as his enemies.
A groan from the other side of the room broke his concentration. Thane, his mousy-haired roommate, stirred on his cot, his spellbook slipping from his grasp to thud against the floor. The boy blinked sleepily, his brown eyes widening as he noticed Kael. "You're up early," he mumbled, rubbing his face. "Nervous about the first class?"
Kael closed the journal, tucking it back into his cloak. "Something like that," he said, forcing a half-smile. Thane was a nervous wreck, but his academy knowledge might prove useful. The boy had spent the previous night rambling about the Culling Trials—monthly challenges where students fought to climb the ranks. The top ten earned invitations to the royal court, a stepping stone to power, while the bottom ten faced expulsion—or worse. Thane's tale of a disappeared student lingered in Kael's mind, a grim reminder of the stakes.
The dormitory bell tolled a deep clang that reverberated through the tower. Kael rose, slinging his cloak over his shoulders and pinning the forged Merivale crest to his chest. The bronze disc felt heavier today, a constant reminder of the lie he lived. Thane scrambled to follow, clutching his spellbook like a shield. "Advanced Spellweaving's in the Grand Hall," he said, his voice trembling. "Lord Varn's brutal. He failed half the class last year."
Kael nodded, his mind already shifting to strategy. He couldn't afford to fail—not with Prince Aric and the royal family watching. The walk to the Grand Hall was a gauntlet of stares and whispers. Noble students parted around him like water around a stone, their silks and enchanted jewelry a stark contrast to his patched attire. Seris of House Lirien passed by, her ice-blue eyes narrowing as she adjusted her braid of enchanted shards. She hadn't spoken since their duel, but her silence was a threat in itself.
The Grand Hall was a cavernous space, its vaulted ceilings lost in shadow, its walls lined with tapestries depicting Eldoria's history—mages clashing in epic battles, royal coronations, and the founding of the academy by the first Vaelthar king. The air hummed with latent magic, the tapestries glowing faintly as they responded to the students' presence. Lord Varn stood at the front, his gaunt frame draped in a robe bearing the royal crest. His gray hair was thinning, his lips curled in a perpetual sneer as he surveyed the class.
"Magic is the domain of the worthy," he began, his voice echoing off the stone. "Those without it are but shadows, fit only to serve." His gaze landed on Kael, who sat at the back, his hood pulled low. "Let us see if our newest… addition… can keep up."
The lesson was a practical exercise: weaving a basic light spell. Noble students rose one by one, summoning glowing orbs with ease. Seris conjured a sphere of icy blue, its light casting delicate patterns on the floor. Prince Aric followed, his golden orb outshining them all, earning murmurs of admiration. Kael's turn came last. Varn tossed him a broken staff, its wood splintered and unenchanted. "Prove yourself, Merivale," the professor mocked, his laughter joined by the class.
Kael gripped the staff, his mind racing. He couldn't use Severance—not here, not yet. Without a visible spell, he was defenseless. He muttered a nonsense incantation, waving the staff awkwardly. The result was a faint flicker, barely visible, that died out in seconds. The class erupted in laughter, Varn's sneer widening. "Perhaps you'd be better suited to scrubbing floors, boy," he said, turning away.
Kael's cheeks burned, but he kept his head down, his hands clenching the staff until the wood creaked. He needed a plan—something to elevate his rank, to buy time until he could master his power discreetly. The class ended with assignments: a written thesis on spell weaving theory, due in a week. Kael accepted the scroll with a nod, already plotting how to use the library's restricted section to his advantage.
After class, he slipped away, using the stolen key to enter the library's forbidden depths. The air was thick with dust and the scent of old parchment, the shelves lined with tomes bound in leather and iron. He found a book on forbidden magics, its pages brittle and yellowed. It confirmed his fears: Severance could break spells and bloodlines, but its use was punishable by death under royal decree. A footnote mentioned a ritual to stabilize the magic, requiring a catalyst—possibly a relic tied to a noble bloodline. Kael's pulse quickened. His mother's notes had hinted at a family heirloom, lost the night of the raid. If he could find it…
A shadow fell over him. "You're not supposed to be here," said a voice. Kael turned to see Elara of House Draven, her crimson robe glowing faintly with the heat of her fire magic. Her dark hair was tied back, her sharp eyes assessing him. "I could turn you in," she said, "or we could help each other. I know what it's like to be underestimated."
Kael's heart skipped. She'd seen his duel with Seris, suspected his power. "Why should I trust you?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
"Because I hate Prince Aric as much as you will," she replied, her voice hardening. "He framed my brother and got him expelled last year. I want revenge, and you might be the key. So, what's your secret?"
Kael weighed her offer. Trust was a luxury, but allies were scarce. "Fine," he said at last. "But not here. Meet me tomorrow, after the first Culling Trial. We'll talk."
Elara nodded, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Deal. Don't disappoint me, Veyrin."
She left, and Kael returned to the dormitory, the journal's secrets burning in his mind. The Culling Trial loomed the next day, a labyrinth beneath the academy filled with enchanted beasts and traps. Students were ranked by the magical cores they collected, a brutal test of survival. Thane had warned him: the top ten would rise, the bottom ten would fall. Kael needed to rank high, to prove his worth without exposing Severance.
The trial began at noon, the academy's bells tolling as students gathered at the labyrinth's entrance—a gaping maw of stone flanked by glowing runes. Proctor Lysara oversaw the event, her silver hair glinting in the sunlight. "The rules are simple," she said, her voice cold. "Collect as many cores as you can. The trail ends at dusk. Begin."
Kael entered with Thane, the boy clinging to his spellbook like a lifeline. The labyrinth was a maze of twisting corridors, its walls alive with shifting shadows. Enchanted beasts—wolves with crystalline fur, serpents with scales that shimmered like oil—lurked around every corner. Kael relied on his dagger and quick reflexes, while Thane cast weak illumination spells to guide them. They collected two cores before an ambush struck.
Prince Aric emerged from the shadows, his golden magic summoning a storm of blades. "You're an anomaly, Veyrin," he said, his voice calm but deadly. "I don't like anomalies." His blades arced toward Kael, who barely blocked one with his dagger. Severance unraveled the spell, but the effort drained him. Thane yelped, casting a shield that shattered under Aric's next attack.
Elara appeared, her fire magic clashing with Aric's storm. "Back off, royal," she snarled, her flames licking the air. But they were outmatched. Kael made a desperate move, severing the labyrinth's magical core. The maze collapsed, forcing Aric to retreat. Kael and Elara emerged with five cores, ranking them in the top fifty, but the cost was high. Elara's arm was burned, and Kael's secret was closer to exposure.
As they limped back, Kael glanced at the royal banner. He'd survived, but the real battle was just beginning.