The library was bathed in silence.
Books drifted lazily up above us, rustling pages like wings. The midday sun shone through the large stained glass windows to provide a warm ambience. Sophie and I were still immersed in our textbooks, she continued reading about Merlin and his escapades. While I was scrawling symbols in the back of my new notebook absentmindedly.
Time seemed to pass differently here, it felt surreal. Thoughts lingered longer than they should, silences stretched out further, things just generally seemed to come to a crawl in the library.
I still had the copy of The History of Grimoires: Fragments of the Soul on the desk. I wanted to understand more about my own Grimoire but after flicking through the book I couldn't find the answers I had been searching for. There was definitely more to my grimoire than what I had experienced, the first spell it had was to do with shadows and darkness. But I could tell there was more to it, for starters it looked more like a fire grimoire.
Sophie tapped her quill.
'You look like you're waiting for the book to talk back.'
'I'd be so lucky, huh?' I muttered, offering a sheepish smile.
She raised an eyebrow but restrained herself from pressing any further. Her eyes returning to her notes, I was kind of envious of her focus.
'Sophie?'
'Yeah?' She replied, her eyes still on her notes.
'Your sister. You said she became a Magister?'
That got her attention, she met my gaze. 'Dearest Emily. She graduated last year, top of her class. But that wasn't enough, she was offered the badge before the ink on her degree was dry.'
'That's… fast?' I said, unsure - was it fast? I still had no idea how careers worked in the magical world.
'She's the youngest in history,' Sophie replied, but there wasn't a hint of pride. Just the weight of the burden of expectations.
'She's everything I'm not.'
I scowled at her.
'You froze a dummy in your first lesson. And set it on fire. I think you're doing fine.'
She smiled, but it didn't last.
'I'm the same as you though, I'm still trying to figure things out. Emily said she knew straight away.'
Before I could answer the lights above us dimmed, the university's enchantments whispering out a low barely audible chime, magnified by the library's silence.
'Magic History,' Sophie said, gathering her things. 'Maybe we'll find out more about Merlin?'
—
The air inside the lecture hall was stale, an indescribable scent filled the air that made you think of a time long forgotten. There was a faint hum of magical energy, vibrating through the walls of the room. I sank into my seat, staring up at the grandiose lecture hall that stretched up high, the ceiling was adorned with intricate murals depicting events I imagined held some historical significance.
I glanced around at the other students, some fidgeting, others scribbling notes in preparation for the lesson. Sophie sat beside me, her finger tapping rhythmically on the edge of her desk, she was observing the other students. Ever since I brought up her sister she had become unusually quiet, perhaps I shouldn't have brought her up…
The door at the front of the hall creaked open with a groan, and the class fell silent.
The professor strode in with an air of superiority, his oversized robes trailing behind him like a shadow. He was smaller than average and lean, his face was sharp with sunken cheeks and a cold piercing stare that seemed to see through you. A deep scar ran down the left side of his face, stretching from his scalp to his jawline, although it hardly seemed to affect his stern appearance. He appeared to carry an aura of wisdom, but there was something colder beneath it, a well of secrets that had been buried.
He raised a hand, and the room fell silent in response.
'I hope you had a pleasant lunch. My name is Professor Hawthorne, and today we will begin to peel back the veil of time,' he said, his voice was deep and croaky, reverberating around the acoustics of the hall. 'Not all knowledge is meant to be understood at once, but for those of you brave enough to dig into it, you will come to know the truths of our world.'
The hairs on my forearm prickled. There was something unsettling in the way he spoke, it made me feel uneasy. I shifted in my seat, trying to find comfort in the hard wooden chair.
I could feel Sophie watching him intensely beside me, she seemed to be really invested in the history of the magical world. She was in her element here.
'Magic, in all of its forms, has a history deeper and darker than most of us can truly fathom. It has been hidden for centuries, controlled by aristocrats behind legends and myths. But the truth is, those stories were carefully crafted to mask the horrors of their ancestors and the sacrifices that built the very foundations of this school - and even this world.' Professor Hawthrone continued. His voice booming off of the walls, demanding your attention.
'Velos Arcana was not always a place of study. It was a battleground. A warzone between mages who sought to shape the world in their image, and those who wished to preserve a balance.'
A heavy silence settled over the room as his words sunk in. And then in unison, the hall was filled with the sound of quills scratching his words into parchment. In that brief moment, the ambient hum of magic felt sharper, responding to the students.
'Centuries ago,' Professor Hawthorne went on, pacing slowly at the front of the room. 'Velos Arcana was built upon the ruins of an ancient society, a secret even among mages. It was here that the Magisterium was formed - not as protectors of magic, but as rulers who bent it to their will. They sought to control not only the world, but the fabrics of reality itself. They tore families apart, waged secret wars, and erased entire histories to ensure their dominance.'
I felt my stomach drop as his words painted a grim picture of the past. It made sense, even without magic there were atrocities committed during war. But what if they also had control over a supernatural power, where society was no longer on even footing with their neighbours? I shuddered at the implication.
Magic was dangerous. There was an allure to the power, and a destructive force it could produce.
'The Magisters were not always wise leaders, but there are lessons to be learned from history.' the Professor continued, he observed the room, locking onto each of us in turn. 'They were tyrants, claiming that only those with the greatest power should be allowed to wield magic. They silenced dissent, buried knowledge, and twisted the very essence of magic to create artifacts and spells capable of causing irreparable damage to entire civilisations.'
I wanted to look at Sophie to gauge her reaction, but she was staring at the professor, her eyes wide and her face was pale. She was trembling slightly, as if she had heard similar stories before. Maybe she knew more than she had been letting on.
'The Magisterium was born from that desire of absolute control,' he said, his voice low and filled with heavy undertones. 'They sought to reunite the fragments of their souls - their grimoires - by any means necessary. In doing so, they began to lose their humanity. Descending into madness, they became colder and even crueler - starting a war that nearly tore the magical world apart.'
The room felt colder, as if an icy breeze had snuck through one of the closed windows. This sounded darker than I imagined, more destructive and violent. I thought back to my spell in the courtyard, the way the shadows had moved with a hunger of their own.
'Velos Arcana,' he paused dramatically, 'Was built as a place of both preservation and penance. A place where the old ways could be contained. But make no mistake - there are remnants of that power even now, echoes in this very school. Some of you may come to experience it in time.'
I sat back trying to process everything. His words carried a pressing weight on my chest. I couldn't help but wonder where I stood in all of this. Was the bloodied history of the past something I really wanted to learn about? Were there lessons within the very walls of the university itself? Opportunities you could come across by awakening some dormant power that had been buried here?
'Now,' Professor Hawthorne said, his voice still low, 'you must ask yourselves: where do you stand in this history? Are you simply students of magic, or are you part of something larger? Only time will tell, but remember - every choice you make shapes your future.'
The class went silent as the professor's words sank in. I glanced at Sophie again, but she was lost in her own thoughts. I didn't know what she was feeling, but I had a feeling she was asking why her sister would join the Magisters when they had such a dark history.
The room was still quiet, the only sound was the faint rustling of papers and soft murmurs of students.
'If you take anything away, remember this: the truth of magic is never what it seems. It is a weapon, and like all weapons, it can be used to build or destroy.'
When the class ended I stayed seated, swirling in the aftermath of my own thoughts. I was starting to question whether I was really ready for what lies ahead. Was the shifting of the dormitory the other night residual magic from the darker times in this place's history?
I knew I couldn't really turn back now though, even if magic came at a cost. I had chosen this path, and I was intent on walking it.