The students clustered together in uneasy murmurs, their voices low, as if the air itself demanded silence. A heavy, unspoken tension bound them, rooted in the colossal structure looming ahead.
It didn't just tower… it watched. The kind of structure that didn't need guards; it simply existed, and that was warning enough.
Most of them had never been near this corner of Eldrynn, let alone crossed its boundary. Now, standing at the Spire's doorstep, they understood why it was forbidden. No one came within two miles for a reason.
Words weren't needed. The pressure in their chests spoke louder.
Alaric blinked, caught off guard. He instinctively reached for his neck, pausing mid-motion. His gaze shifted upward, locking onto the golden halo of light encircling the spire. A flicker of realization passed through his eyes.
'So that's it.'
Beside him, Rowan stood slack jawed.
Alaric narrowed his eyes, studying the Ethereal light.
'These pulses—it's Ether. Massive, swirling currents of it.'
The glow was beautiful from afar. Up close, it was terrifying.
'Who's the genius that thought this was a good way to greet a bunch of students?'
Alaric's mind raced, and he couldn't help but continue his thoughts.
'They must have an entire reservoir of Ether inside to run this thing.'
The golden halo, magnificent yet terrifying, was a dense mass of raw Ether. While Ether was the lifeblood of their world, it was used for power, magic, and even day-to-day tasks, it was also incredibly dangerous in high concentrations. Too much exposure to Ether would either kill a person or corrupt them beyond recognition.
The dread that seeped into his classmates' bones was primal. It was their bodies recognizing the danger long before their minds could process it. The only reason Alaric broke free of its grip was through sheer force of will.
Professor Urwyn didn't flinch. Not out of discipline, but because her rank insulated her from the worst of it. Even so, if she reached into that halo, she'd vanish like a leaf in fire.
He glanced around at his classmates. Their faces were pale, fear written plainly across them. Some looked as though they might bolt at any moment, but something, whether their pride or frozen terror, kept them rooted in place.
Even the nobles, always so eager to flaunt their bravado, were stripped of their usual airs. Alaric's gaze flitted between them: Triston, Lyana, Eira Drayton, Blane Ingram—all of them bore the same wide-eyed look of horror.
Alaric scoffed quietly. But before he could fully enjoy their discomfort, the halo began to dissolve. The haunting light retracted, and the massive double doors creaked open. Just like that, the suffocating pressure lifted.
From within the Spire stepped a man. He was young-looking, with dark hair that seemed almost tainted in blood. His leisurely stroll betrayed a sense of ease, and his lips curved into an amused smile as he approached the group.
Professor Urwyn's neutral expression darkened in disapproval.
'There's the culprit,' Alaric thought.
The man spoke first, addressing Urwyn with a casual tone.
"Thank you, Miss Urwyn. I'll take it from here," the man said, his tone polite but firm.
Professor Urwyn hesitated, her frown deepening. For a moment, it seemed as though she might protest, but then gave a curt nod. "They're yours." She turned without another word, vanishing down the path they came.
The man faced the students. "Welcome to the Celestial Spire," he said, voice smooth and clear. "I am Professor Janis Ficht, Senior Lecturer and your vice headmaster. I'll be your guide."
His gaze swept over the crowd, taking in their pale, apprehensive faces. The tension in the air was still thick, lingering like the remnants of the earlier dread that had gripped them. The once-glowing halo of Ether around the spire had vanished, but the memory of its terrifying presence remained.
"Today, you'll make one of the most important decisions of your life. Within these walls, you'll choose the path that will shape your future as Etherists."
The silence grew heavier. No one moved.
Professor Ficht's smile didn't falter. "Please, follow me."
He turned toward the Spire but paused after a few steps, no one followed.
"Well, I see you're all cautious. Understandable, but unnecessary," he added, his tone light but slightly teasing. "There's no danger now. The barrier has been lifted and the path now safe."
Still, no one moved.
Ficht's smile wavered as he ran a hand through his hair, a flicker of regret flickering in his expression.
'Maybe I overdid it.'
After a couple awkward seconds:
"Well, ah—" he began again, his tone softer now.
But before he could finish, a figure moved.
Alaric.
He stepped forward without ceremony, his jaw set in quiet irritation.
Reaching back, he grabbed Rowan's arm and pulled him forward too.
"Hey—!" Rowan stumbled but didn't resist, glancing nervously at the spire as he was dragged toward it.
Alaric didn't speak.
The silence broke, which was enough. A few others began shifting, watching them, torn between fear and the urge not to be outdone.
Ficht watched them go with a raised brow. "And there's always one," he murmured. "Thank the gods."
With Janis leading the way, the group passed through the massive doors in a quiet, tense march—quite different from the excited chatter earlier. What greeted them inside was a beautifully decorated room, though it felt strangely empty, save for a few pieces of ornate furniture and one figure standing by the edge of the hall near the grand, spiraling staircase.
The students walked only a few steps before reaching the man, who stood still, waiting. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with long black hair cascading down his back. His stern expression made it clear he wasn't just a decorative fixture like the rest of the room. Positioned in front of the regal staircase, its grand design nearly as imposing as the man himself, it was obvious he was guarding access to the next level.
As the group approached, the man gave Janis a curt nod, stepping aside without a word to allow them passage. They ascended the spiraling staircase, moving through several more hallways, each filled with a unique blend of design and artistry. Inside, the Spire was unexpectedly quiet. Ornate furnishings, intricate tilework, and vaulted ceilings welcomed them, but the space felt strangely hollow. Only one figure stood in the vast hall, guarding a regal spiral staircase.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Long black hair. He didn't speak. Just nodded at Janis and stepped aside.
They climbed.
Through silent corridors and lavish hallways filled with tapestries, armor, and relics of forgotten wars, the students kept moving. Some corridors dazzled; others were curiously plain, their simplicity more unsettling than the grandeur.
The students simply kept moving, their footsteps echoing as they ascended further, finally reaching the fifth floor before Janis brought them to a stop.
By then, many of the students were winded, their faces flushed and their breath labored. ome were openly sweating, clearly unaccustomed to the strain of climbing so many flights of stairs. Others, however, appeared more composed, managing the workout with ease.
Alaric, scanning the group, couldn't help but smirk inwardly.
'It wouldn't take a genius to deduce who's choosing which path at this point.'
He thought, glancing at Rowan beside him, who looked like he'd just run a marathon, panting heavily.
But Alaric wasn't much better himself. Once, he'd possessed endurance beyond mortal limits. That was in the past.
Now? Now he was sweating like a liar under a truth spell. That wasn't a comfortable realisation.
They continued, this time turning towards the inner section of the floor, where a large, imposing door awaited them. It was made of polished wood lined with gold, exuding an air of wealth and prestige. Inside the room beyond, two guards stood stationed in front of a much smaller door. The space they entered was vast enough to accommodate all of them comfortably.
Finally, Janis broke the silence.
"Alright," he began, his voice steady and authoritative. "Behind that door is the spell inventory, which houses a collection of powerful and appropriate spells for your rank. You will form a single line and enter the room one by one. Choose carefully. Remember, the spell you pick today could very well determine your specialization and, by extension, the course of your future."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in.
"You will have no more than ten minutes to make your choice," he continued. "Every move you make inside will be closely monitored. There will be no second chances."
The tension in the room thickened, the enormity of the decision ahead was unmistakable.