The echo of the massive gates closing behind him reverberated through Eryndor's chest. The world he knew—his estate, the competition, even the exhausting final match—already felt distant, replaced by the towering halls and sprawling courtyards of Stormcrest Academy.
Students moved with effortless grace, some practicing elemental spells mid-step, others blending martial strikes with faint gusts of wind or sparks of electricity. The air was alive, every movement charged with energy that whispered of skill and potential far beyond what Eryndor had experienced at home.
He walked alongside Lyanna, who had accompanied him until the first checkpoint of the academy. Her eyes scanned everything with quiet awe, though she tried to mask it. "It's… bigger than I imagined," she said softly. "I can feel the magic in the air."
Eryndor's gaze swept across the courtyards. "It's not just magic," he replied. "It's the combination. Every student here… they're learning to move like the world itself is part of them. Lightning, wind… fire, earth… even the flow of the body. And they all blend it together."
The main hall opened before them, high ceilings carved from pale stone, with murals depicting legendary founders bending storms, manipulating currents of magic and martial skill with flawless precision. Teachers moved among the students, their presence commanding yet serene, offering guidance, corrections, and challenges with subtle authority.
A loud chime echoed across the courtyard. "Attention!" called a figure standing at the steps of the central tower, cloaked in the academy's ceremonial robes. "All incoming students, report to your first trial area immediately. Today, your potential will be tested. Not just your strength, but your ability to adapt, to think, and to survive."
Eryndor's heart quickened. This was what he had been preparing for—his Ember Tier abilities, his Eightfold Flow training, and the lessons from his family all leading to this moment. But he knew instinctively that nothing here would resemble the controlled environment of the estate. Every student would be a challenge, and the environment itself seemed designed to push even the strongest to their limits.
As he stepped forward into the courtyard, sparks of lightning danced faintly across his fingertips, wind tugged at his coat, and he took a deep breath. Every sense was heightened; every instinct sharpened. He wasn't just entering an academy—he was stepping into a crucible that would forge him into something far greater than he had yet imagined.
And already, somewhere beyond the courtyards and halls, other students had begun to notice the newcomer—the boy with pale skin, Ember Tier mastery, and the faint crackle of lightning in his eyes.
The trials were about to begin. And Eryndor knew, with certainty, that survival here would demand everything he had—and then some.