Goodbyes never looked dramatic in Elio's village.
They happened near fields, beside half-built fences, under skies that didn't care. His childhood friends walked with him for a while, kicking stones, pretending it was just another day. Someone joked that if Elio became famous, he better remember them. Someone else said he'd probably be back in a week.
Elio laughed with them.
When they finally stopped walking, no one said much. One by one, they clapped his shoulder and turned back. Elio watched them shrink into the distance, the land opening wide between them, and realized this was the first time he was leaving something without knowing if he'd ever come back the same.
At home, his mother packed and repacked his bag like the act itself could delay time. She fixed his collar, brushed invisible dust from his sleeves, and hugged him so tightly it stole his breath.
"You'll write," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I will," Elio promised.
His father didn't say much. When Elio knelt beside him, his father rested a hand on his head, fingers warm and steady.
"Whatever you become," he said quietly, "don't let them decide who you are."
Elio nodded, though he had no idea how to do that.
The journey felt longer than it should have.
The roads changed first. Then the buildings. Then the people. Everything became sharper, cleaner, louder. By the time the towers of the Aurelian Institute came into view, Elio's excitement had twisted into something closer to fear.
The institute was massive.
Stone walls rose high, carved with symbols that shimmered faintly, as if remembering old magic. Towers stretched toward the sky, connected by bridges that looked too thin to trust. The air itself felt different here, heavy and alive, pressing against Elio's skin like a silent inspection.
The gates stood open.
Elio hesitated for only a second before stepping inside.
Judgment came instantly.
Not shouted. Not announced. It crept in through glances and pauses. Elio felt it in the way conversations slowed when he passed, in the way eyes flicked down to his clothes and back up again.
They were dressed better than him. Everyone was.
Fine coats. Polished boots. Fabrics that shimmered faintly with enchantments. Some wore their Astrae openly, pendants glowing softly against their chests.
Elio's clothes were plain. Practical. Clean, but unmistakably rural.
He looked like someone who had wandered into the wrong story.
Most people ignored him. A few whispered. One boy laughed under his breath.
Elio kept walking, hands shoved into his pockets.
As he moved deeper into the courtyard, names floated past him.
"Seris arrived already."
"Of course she did."
"They say she's unbeatable."
Another cluster of voices followed.
"Rothern's here too."
"Fire again?"
"When is it not?"
The names carried confidence. Expectation. History.
Elio wondered what it felt like to be known before you even spoke.
He nearly ran into someone near the central fountain.
"Oh—sorry!" Elio blurted, stepping back.
"No, my fault," the boy said quickly. He had a calm smile and eyes that reminded Elio of rain before a storm. Blue thread marked his sleeve, subtle but unmistakable. "First day?"
"Is it that obvious?" Elio asked.
The boy laughed. "Only because you look like you're trying not to panic."
Another voice chimed in. "He looks lost, not hopeless. That's an improvement."
A girl stood beside them, arms crossed, watching Elio with sharp, assessing eyes. Her clothes were neat, earth-toned, and sturdy. There was something steady about her, like she knew where she stood.
"I'm Mirel," the first boy said. "Water."
"Thane," the second added, giving a lazy salute. "Air."
The girl nodded once. "Orena. Earth."
Elio hesitated, then said, "I'm Elio."
There was a pause.
"Just Elio?" Thane repeated, eyebrows lifting. "That bad, huh?"
Mirel snorted. Even Orena's lips twitched.
Elio flushed. "No, I mean— I didn't mean it like that. I meant—"
He took a breath. "I'm a mind-reader."
That did it.
Thane burst out laughing. "Oh, that's worse. You could've just said poor."
"I'm serious," Elio said quickly. "I can hear thoughts. Sometimes. Not always. I don't control it yet."
The laughter faded.
Mirel studied him more closely. Orena's expression softened, just a little.
"That explains the look," Mirel said finally. "You hear too much."
Elio nodded. "I think so."
They didn't move away from him. That mattered more than he expected.
They talked easily after that. About where they came from, about how terrifying the place was, about how all of them felt slightly unqualified despite their backgrounds. Mirel and Thane came from smaller elite families. Orena's family worked land tied to earth magic. None of them were famous. None of them were nobodies either.
Elio sat somewhere below that line.
But for the first time since arriving, he didn't feel completely alone.
A sudden silence spread through the courtyard like a held breath.
Students straightened. Voices died.
A clear announcement echoed through the air.
"All new students are to gather immediately."
Elio's stomach tightened.
"Professor Draven Veyr will be arriving shortly."
The name carried weight even Elio could feel.
Mirel swallowed. Thane stopped smiling. Orena's jaw tightened.
Elio looked toward the great steps leading into the main hall.
He didn't know what awaited him there.
But whatever it was, it would decide more than just his future.
And somewhere deep inside him, something unexplainable stirred.