The gates of the Outer Academy rose like a crown of dark silver, their stone edges etched with glowing runes that shifted slowly under the morning light. Students flowed through the archways in groups—some laughing, others solemn—all bearing the same silver-threaded scarf pinned with the emblem of their chosen Faction.
Kaelen's scarf bore no pin.
He lingered on the edge of the courtyard, tugging his satchel closer, the forged registry scroll tucked into his sleeve like a hidden weight. Beside him, Selene scanned the grounds with quiet intensity—mapping exits, counting guards, calculating odds. When she caught him fidgeting, her lips twitched faintly.
"You're fidgeting," she said.
"I'm not," he muttered.
"You are."
He sighed, eyes flicking up to the towering main building. "You're sure this is going to work?"
"As long as you don't glow, float, or start proclaiming forbidden truths to the headmaster, you'll be fine."
"Comforting."
Before he could retort, a voice chimed from behind them.
"Newbloods, huh? Late registrants?"
A tall girl approached, sun-browned skin framed by auburn braids. She wore the Lorekeeper emblem—a watchful eye surrounded by inked script—and held a spellbook under one arm. Her gaze swept over them with practiced ease before settling on Kaelen.
"You're not from around here," she noted.
Selene arched a brow. "Sharp eye."
"I'm Mira," the girl said, extending a hand. "Year Two. You?"
Kaelen hesitated, then took her hand. "Ren Taleth. Just enrolled."
Mira gave him a crooked smile. "Don't look so nervous. The Outer Academy eats its young, but not on the first day."
Then her eyes dropped to his unpinned scarf.
"Unaffiliated?"
He shrugged. "Didn't know we had to pick already."
"Careful," she said, voice lowering. "Don't let the Flameborn catch you like that. They love recruiting the 'wild ones.'"
She gestured toward a group draped in gold and crimson, laughing like they owned the courtyard. One of them—a boy with silver-blonde hair and a smirk too polished to be anything but practiced—caught Kaelen's stare and returned it with a slow, mocking wave.
"Great," Kaelen muttered. "They've already seen me."
"That's Lorien Valcairn," Mira said. "Flameborn duel team captain. Thinks he's untouchable."
"He looks like the kind of person who gets his tea pre-steeped," Selene said flatly.
Mira snorted. "You're fun. What's your name?"
Selene didn't answer. Kaelen jumped in. "She's Sera. My cousin."
Selene raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.
Mira smiled anyway. "Well, Ren and Sera, welcome to hell. Orientation's in the east wing. I'll show you."
The orientation chamber loomed like an amphitheater, glowing glyphs floating above the crowd. Kaelen sat stiffly between Mira and Selene, doing his best not to look suspicious. Students filtered in, row by row.
One girl stood out the moment she entered.
Long midnight hair. A silver pendant hidden beneath her collar. Violet eyes that swept the room like she was analyzing each person, down to their bones.
She took a seat two rows ahead without acknowledging anyone.
"That's Lyra Caelthorn," Mira whispered. "Inkveil."
"Inkveil?"
"Unofficial rebels. Not loyal to the Tower or the Crown. They're… complicated. She's brilliant. And scary."
"She looks sad," Kaelen murmured.
Mira studied him. "You're interesting."
He felt Selene shift beside him. A subtle tension.
Before he could respond, a man in ceremonial robes appeared at the front.
"I am Archivist Tannen Vale," he announced. "Your Orientation Master."
His voice, amplified by spell, cut cleanly through the air.
"For those who haven't read the rules: No dueling outside sanctioned events. No unsanctioned sigil use. And most importantly—no inquiries into the Tower's affairs."
A pause.
"Break these rules and you will be expelled. If you're lucky."
The room went silent.
Then the doors creaked open again.
A group entered—envoys of the Tower, robed in shadows, faces obscured by rune-woven veils. One of them turned and paused, staring directly at Kaelen's row.
Kaelen felt something cold unfurl in his chest.
Selene leaned in. "Don't move. Don't blink."
The envoy moved on.
Kaelen exhaled only when they were gone.
Mira's voice was barely a whisper. "What was that?"
Selene's eyes were hard. "The Tower reminding us who built this place."
Later, under the ivy-wrapped lanterns of the Academy's lower garden, Mira chatted while Kaelen sketched on a stone bench. Selene, ever watchful, stood nearby.
"You draw?" Mira asked, peering at his parchment.
"Not well."
"That's Veritas structure work."
Kaelen tensed. "How do you know that?"
She grinned. "I don't. Just guessing."
There was something too clever in her smile. And too sharp in her gaze.
"You're not like the other newbloods," she added.
Selene stiffened slightly. Kaelen noticed.
"We all have secrets," Mira said, brushing off her skirt. "Come to the south hall tomorrow. Elective spell-casting demo. You'll learn fast who's bluffing."
As she turned to leave, she looked at Selene.
"You're protective. I get it. But he won't stay small forever."
Selene's voice was quiet. "I know."
That night, Kaelen dreamed again.
A glass garden. Trees that shimmered with moonlight. And Seraphine.
This time, she was solid. Real.
"You're waking up too fast," she said.
"Who are you really?"
"I don't know yet," she said. "But we're tied. Thread by thread."
She reached for his hand—just as a sigil blazed across the sky.
Truth.
Kaelen woke with a gasp.
Beside him, Selene stirred.
"You okay?" she murmured.
He stared out the cracked window, watching the towers shimmer in the night.
"Yeah. Just… strange dreams."
"Do they feel real?"
He didn't lie.
"Yes."
Selene turned her back to him.
But as she drifted off, Kaelen swore he heard her whisper:
"Don't forget who's still real beside you."