We reached the outskirts of the Academy of Erythian at dawn, the sky painted in hues of gold and crimson, casting gentle warmth over the sprawling campus ahead. The sheer scale of the academy took my breath away. Massive ivory-colored walls stretched skyward, adorned with intricate carvings of heroes, legends, and scholars whose names were lost to history. Behind those walls, stone towers spiraled upward, each spire capped with gleaming crystal that shimmered faintly in the dawn's early light.
As we approached, a heavy wooden gate—carved with depictions of ancient heroes battling beasts and wielding magic—stood firmly shut, barring entry to outsiders.
My father halted before the gates, his expression unreadable, and raised a fist, striking the heavy iron knocker. A resounding echo reverberated beyond the gate.
We waited, silence pressing down heavily as seconds turned into minutes. The sound of footsteps finally broke the stillness, followed by a voice from above.
"State your names and your business!"
I glanced up, squinting against the light, seeing a young man in simple robes staring down at us with guarded curiosity.
My father stepped forward confidently. "My name is Edrin. This is my son, Sylas, and our companion, Elara. We come from the village of Aldermist, seeking guidance and knowledge."
The young scholar eyed us suspiciously. "And why would villagers seek the Great Academy?"
"Because your scholars are our only hope," my father replied firmly. "We've encountered things in the wilds—Aberrations. Things that shouldn't exist. Things spoken of only in myths."
The young man hesitated visibly, his eyes darting between us before finally nodding. "Wait here."
He disappeared quickly, leaving us standing awkwardly outside the towering gates.
I felt Elara's gaze on me. "Do you think they'll let us in?"
"They have to," I replied quietly, forcing a confidence I didn't fully feel. "They need to know what's happening. They must have answers."
My father remained silent, his eyes fixed firmly ahead, watching as the gates slowly began to creak open with a low groan that echoed through the stone.
A World Beyond Imagination
As we stepped into the Academy, my breath caught. Nothing I'd ever seen compared to this place.
The courtyard before us stretched wide and open, filled with dozens of students in various robes practicing spells, training with weapons, or poring over books beneath tall, leafy trees. The hum of mana filled the air, a gentle, reassuring presence that seemed woven into the very fabric of the stone beneath our feet.
At the far end of the courtyard rose an enormous marble building—grand in design, its massive columns carved in intricate patterns, each rune glowing faintly. The library, no doubt.
My father motioned ahead, keeping his voice low. "Be cautious. The Academy has its own rules."
I nodded, my eyes wandering. At every turn, there was something new—floating crystals illuminating pathways, students manipulating elements with a casual wave of their hands, scrolls floating gently behind others as they studied.
It felt as if we had stepped into a completely different world—one filled with wonder, magic, and possibility. Yet beneath the beauty, I sensed a lingering tension, like something was wrong beneath the surface.
Something subtle—but undeniable.
Meeting the Headmaster
We were escorted through the main hall, an expansive chamber filled with intricate tapestries and statues commemorating past heroes and scholars. At the far end stood a large wooden door. It opened silently, revealing a vast chamber lined with shelves piled high with scrolls and books.
At the center stood a large desk where an older woman sat quietly, scribbling notes onto parchment. Her silver hair was tied back neatly, her robes marked with symbols I didn't recognize.
"Headmistress Alarion," our escort said respectfully, bowing his head slightly. "The guests from the village have arrived."
She looked up, eyes narrowing slightly as they assessed us. After a moment, she stood, her expression unreadable. Her hair was streaked silver and black, pulled back tightly. Her eyes were sharp, analytical—taking in every detail.
"I am High Scholar Seraphina," she began calmly. "Tell me everything."
A Truth Revealed
We recounted everything—from the first Aberration attacks to our journey through the ruined settlements. My father spoke calmly but firmly, leaving nothing out. I interjected when needed, adding my experiences and the visions I'd encountered, the whispers, and the strange figure who had warned me.
High Scholar Seraphina listened silently, her expression betraying nothing until I mentioned the figure who had spoken to me, the one with the bone mask and crimson eyes.
At that moment, her eyes narrowed sharply. She stood abruptly, moving toward the back of the room and returning with a large, ancient tome. She placed it heavily on her desk, flipping quickly through the brittle pages until she found what she was searching for.
"Describe the mask again," she commanded urgently.
I closed my eyes, recalling every detail. "Bone-white. Jagged. Its body was wrapped in shadows, and its voice was—intelligent. It spoke clearly, deliberately."
Her fingers stopped flipping pages, tapping lightly against the parchment. Then she turned the book toward me.
On its yellowed pages was an intricate illustration—a tall, shadowy figure, clad in smoky robes, face hidden by a jagged mask. My heart froze. It was identical to the being from the attack.
Seraphina exhaled sharply. "They've returned."
I met her gaze, heart racing. "Who are they?"
She leaned back slowly, her voice grave. "Shadows of fallen gods. Entities we call The Forsaken."
"The false gods?" my father asked quietly.
She nodded slowly. "Exactly. Long ago, our ancestors worshipped them, gave them power through belief. But when their true nature was discovered—when we learned they fed on chaos and suffering—they were cast down, their shrines destroyed, their names forgotten."
"But now they're returning," I whispered.
She nodded gravely. "Yes. Because something—or someone—is awakening them again."
A Choice to be Made
For a long moment, silence settled heavily over us, broken finally by my father's deep voice.
"What do we do?"
Seraphina leaned back, her eyes never leaving mine. "We prepare. The Aberrations are merely the vanguard—heralds of a greater darkness. But this time, it seems different. They're targeting you specifically, Sylas. Which means you might hold a key we've overlooked."
I felt a chill crawl down my spine. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated, measuring her words carefully. "The whispers you've heard, the visions, your sensitivity to their presence—it implies a connection, perhaps deeper than we can yet understand. There's more at work here."
I glanced toward my father, who was tense, clearly uneasy at her words. Elara shifted nervously beside me, eyes wide.
"I'll help however I can," I said firmly. "But I need to know what I'm up against."
Seraphina's eyes softened slightly, revealing genuine empathy. "Then stay here at the Academy. Train, learn, strengthen yourself. Because the answers you seek might not be ones you're ready to face. Not yet."
A New Path
We left the High Scholar's chamber in silence, the weight of her words pressing heavily on all of us. Elara glanced at me with concern, her eyes questioning. "Are you alright?"
I forced a smile, though it felt weak. "I will be."
My father placed a steady hand on my shoulder. "Sylas, you don't have to face this alone."
I nodded. "I know. But whatever these beings are, they want something from me. I need to understand why."
He squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. "Then we stay. We face this together."
Elara nodded firmly, standing beside me. "You saved us back at the village. We're here for you."
For the first time since leaving home, a warmth blossomed in my chest, pushing away some of the lingering dread.
Together, we could face whatever darkness was coming.