The long corridor finally split into two directions. The overseer raised a lantern glowing with pale blue fire.
"Girls, to the left—Dormitoria Puellae. Boys, to the right—Dormitoria Pueri. Follow the signs on the wall."
The children started to separate, their footsteps echoing against the stone floor. The blonde girl who had been near Caelum on the bus moved with the group of girls.
"Hey—wait!" Caelum blurted out. She turned quickly.
"I don't even know your name yet."
She offered a faint smile. "Seraphina Aldebrant."
"Caelum Dominic," he answered a bit nervously.
Seraphina gave a single nod, then disappeared with the other girls down the corridor. Her short smile was enough to make Caelum's chest beat strangely.
Caelum pushed open the door marked Chamber XII. The room was wide, three beds lined neatly, trunks stacked at the foot. Two boys were already unpacking.
The first, dark-skinned with thick curly hair, grinned broadly. "Hey! So you're our roommate? Name's Malik D'Aramo." He stuck out a hand.
"Caelum," he replied, shaking it.
The second boy was quieter. Straight black hair, sharp almond eyes. He only glanced briefly. "Shen Liang," he said curtly.
"Looks like we're gonna be a great trio," Malik laughed, slapping Caelum's shoulder. Shen only gave a low huff in response.
Suddenly—KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
The door swung open. A tall man in a black guard's uniform stood there, his presence filling the doorway. In his arms he carried neatly folded garments.
"These are your uniforms. Keep them with care," he said in a low, steady voice.
Each boy received a set:
A black hooded robe, heavy yet strangely warm, bearing a stitched emblem of a radiant cross entwined with an eight-pointed star.
A crisp white shirt with the school's crest embroidered on the pocket.
Maroon trousers for the boys.
And a gleaming maroon tie, the same shade worn by the upper-class students they had glimpsed earlier
Caelum lifted his robe. It weighed more than it looked, and warmth pulsed faintly through the fabric—as if it carried a hidden energy.
The guard then unrolled a parchment and read aloud:
"By order of the Academia, you three are hereby assigned to Class Fantasia—First Year, Lower Division."
Malik let out a small cheer. "Yes! We're classmates!"
Shen gave a short nod, unimpressed.
Caelum stared at the uniform in his hands for a long moment. To him, it wasn't just clothing. It was a seal—an irreversible step. His life had changed, and the way back no longer existed.
The first morning at Academia Arcanum Sanctum was wrapped in a pale mist. The great bell in the eastern tower tolled three times, marking the beginning of the school day.
Caelum adjusted his black hooded robe and crimson tie carefully. Malik, still wrestling with his own tie in front of the mirror, grinned.
"How do I look? Like a knight of magic, right?" he bragged.
Shen, already dressed neatly, sighed. "We'll be late if you keep admiring yourself."
The three of them hurried out into the corridor, joining the crowd of nervous first-years moving toward their classrooms.
Class Fantasia was located in the east wing of the castle. The room was shaped like a half-circle, with rows of wooden desks curving toward a small altar at the front. Crosses of bronze hung on the walls, candles lined the shelves, and stained-glass windows depicted angels battling winged demons.
At the front stood a tall man in flowing white robes. His hair was streaked with silver, and his eyes shone with a piercing light. In his hands, he carried a thick Latin tome.
"Good morning, new students," he said in a deep voice. "I am Magister Valerius, your instructor in Liturgia Magica—the sacred art of turning Catholic prayer and the Latin tongue into living magic."
The room fell silent. Every child leaned forward.
Valerius placed the book on the altar. His voice echoed with authority:
"The foundation of magic is not the wand, nor the length of the spell. It is faith and words. A prayer, uttered with truth, can become a sword, a shield, or fire that consumes the darkness."
He raised his hand, chanting clearly:
"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti… Fiat Lux!"
(In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit… Let there be Light!)
A sudden burst of pure white radiance erupted from his palm, flooding the entire room with brilliance. The students gasped, some shielding their eyes.
"And that," Valerius said calmly, lowering his hand, "is how prayer becomes power. Today, you begin to learn how to wield it."
He stepped down from the altar, his gaze sweeping across the room. "Now… each of you will try. Stand, one by one, and attempt your first invocation."
Murmurs rippled through the class. Malik leaned toward Caelum, whispering nervously, "I don't even know half the Latin prayers yet!"
Shen closed his eyes, muttering softly as if recalling something from memory.
Caelum stared at his own hands. Deep inside, words in Latin echoed—phrases he had never studied, yet somehow knew. It was as if they had been waiting in his soul since the day he was born.
Magister Valerius pointed to the front row. "Begin."