The storm had been chasing Thalen all day.Not following… chasing.
It started as a dark smear on the horizon when he left the village that morning. By the time he was halfway up the mountain path, the clouds were rolling over the peaks like a pack of beasts, snapping with lightning that burned an unnatural blue.
The wind clawed at him, trying to push him back down the slope. Cold rain slid beneath his collar, soaking through the rough wool of his cloak until it clung heavy against his skin. He kept walking. If he stopped, he wasn't sure he'd start again.
Every so often, he caught a glimpse of his destination through the swirling fog — spires that gleamed faintly in the storm light, suspended on nothing, connected by glowing bridges. Towers leaned at impossible angles as if some giant had reached down and twisted them for fun, yet they held fast in the air. He'd heard stories about Aurelia Academy his whole life, but seeing it in person was like staring at a dream someone had built out of stone and magic.
He told himself that the tight feeling in his chest was excitement.It wasn't.
The path narrowed to a strip barely wide enough for his boots, clinging to the cliffside. Somewhere below, he could hear water crashing — a river swollen with rain, roaring like it wanted to eat the mountain whole. The wind shifted, and for a heartbeat, the air carried a whisper that made the hairs on his neck stand up.
He couldn't make out the words, but he didn't think it was the wind.
When the gates finally came into view, he stopped without meaning to. They were enormous, forged from black iron and carved with runes that curled like smoke. The symbols pulsed faintly in the rain, casting shadows on the wet stone road. Two torches flanked the entrance, their flames flickering without bending in the wind, as if the storm didn't dare touch them.
A figure stepped from the shadows beneath the arch. At first, Thalen thought he was human — tall, broad-shouldered, clad in a dark breastplate engraved with scales — but when the man's face tilted toward the light, his eyes gave him away.
Gold, slit-pupiled, faintly glowing.
"Name?" the guard asked. His voice was deep and rough, like gravel grinding under boots.
"Thalen Aric."
The guard studied him for several long seconds, gaze flicking from Thalen's travel-worn boots to the battered satchel slung over his shoulder. It wasn't recognition Thalen saw in those eyes, but something heavier — like the man had just been told a secret and didn't know whether to believe it.
"You're late," the guard said at last. "Headmaster Thorne doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Thalen shifted his bag higher. "I didn't exactly have a map." His words came out sharper than he meant.
The guard's mouth twitched, almost a smile but not quite. "Stay close. The Academy isn't friendly to wanderers."
The gates groaned as they swung open, the runes along the iron flaring in time with the sound, brighter for a moment before dimming again.
The instant Thalen stepped through, the world changed.
The air inside the gates was warm despite the rain, thick with scents he couldn't name — lightning after a summer storm, paper fresh from the press, flowers that only bloom at night. Magic shimmered faintly in the air like dust motes catching the sun, though there was no sun to see.
Students filled the vast stone courtyard: a girl with silver hair drifted several feet off the ground while reading from a floating book; a boy with scaled hands balanced a ball of fire in his palm as another tossed small bursts of water at him; two winged figures darted overhead, laughing as they raced toward a cluster of towering dormitories.
Thalen slowed, letting his eyes drink in every detail — the way the buildings seemed alive, shifting slightly when he wasn't looking directly at them; the cobblestones under his feet humming faintly as if greeting him; the enormous statue of a robed figure in the center fountain, holding a sword in one hand and a scroll in the other.
Somewhere deep inside, under the awe, something twisted — a strange awareness, like stepping into a room that had been waiting for him.
But alongside that came another thought, darker and harder to ignore.
The storm was still above them.
And the moment he crossed the gates, it had stopped moving… as if it had found what it was looking for.