The border gate of the Celestine Empire loomed ahead, taller than I expected. Massive stone pillars flanked a wrought-iron arch, runes glowing blue along the edges, humming with energy. The crest of the empire—a crown encircled by stars—shone above, casting a faint light on the guards below.
The carriage slowed to a stop as a patrol waved us through. One guard, clad in silver-plated armor, glanced inside briefly. His eyes lingered on Elira and Taren—nodding respectfully—then flicked to me with a hint of dismissal.
"Academy recruits?" he asked the coachman.
"Aye. Three nobles, one scholarship."
The guard grunted. "Move along."
As we passed under the arch, a wave washed over me—warm, tingling, like static electricity on my skin.
Mana.
Denser here. Thicker.
I could feel it in the air, pressing in. The strands I'd seen in Valenridge were nothing compared to this. Here, they swirled visibly, like faint auroras in the evening light.
The carriage picked up speed, rolling into the outskirts of Aetherhold, the capital. The road widened, cobblestones giving way to smooth paved stone. Buildings rose taller, with crystal accents catching the fading light. People moved with purpose—merchants in fine robes, guards with glowing spears, a few commoners hurrying by with lowered heads.
The world felt alive. Charged.
Familiar in a way that unsettled me.
The carriage finally halted in a bustling square near what looked like the academy's outer gates. Towering walls encircled a massive structure in the distance, spires piercing the sky, lights twinkling like stars.
"This is it," the coachman called. "Out you go."
Elira stood first, smoothing her cloak. "Finally. Taren, Silas—let's find the noble entrance. They should have our papers ready."
Taren hopped out, stretching. "About time. See you in F-Class, commoner. If you last that long."
Silas hesitated, giving me a brief nod. "Good luck."
Elira paused for a moment, glancing back over her shoulder with a small, silent nod – no words, just a fleeting acknowledgment before she turned away.
They walked off toward a grand archway lined with guards, leaving me standing alone with my backpack and travel bag.
No goodbyes. No offers to show the way.
Just me.
I slung the backpack over my shoulder and gripped the travel bag in my hand, its weight a reminder of how little I had. Then I looked around the square. Vendors hawked wares—fresh bread, glowing amulets, potions in colorful vials. A group of young nobles laughed nearby, their uniforms crisp and embroidered.
Aetherhold was beautiful. And intimidating.
I started walking, no particular direction in mind. The academy gates were closed for the night—entrance tomorrow, I guessed from the parchment. I needed a place to stay, something cheap.
The streets branched off the square, some leading to opulent districts with mana-lanterns flickering in gold, others to narrower alleys with dimmer lights.
I chose the narrower ones.
The air cooled as the sun dipped low. The mana strands thickened, almost visible in the twilight. A faint hum filled the air, like distant bees.
The city was alive with sounds I didn't recognize: the soft chime of mana-lanterns, the murmur of merchants closing their stalls, the occasional spark of magic from a passing mage. Everything felt too vibrant, too real.
I turned a corner into a less polished part of the city—shops with faded signs, commoners hurrying home, a few beggars in the shadows.
One building caught my eye—a forge, its doors still open despite the hour. Above the entrance, a lightly battered sign hung: "Celestite Anvil."
The glow of the forge fire spilled into the street, casting long shadows. The clang of hammer on metal rang out, rhythmic and familiar.
I paused, drawn closer by the sound.
Inside, the blacksmith worked shirtless, sweat glistening on his back. His hammer struck a blade again and again, sparks flying like tiny stars.
On a display rack near the entrance, a dagger caught the light.
It was simple—dark steel, almost black. But when the forge fire hit it at the right angle, the blade shimmered like the night sky: deep indigo and violet flecks dancing across the surface, as if the stars themselves were trapped within the metal.
The dagger seemed to pull at me. The violet shimmer reminded me of my own hair, of the piercings in my ears. It felt... right.
I stepped closer, reaching out to touch the hilt.
"Interested, lad?" the blacksmith called without looking up.
I froze, hand hovering. "How much?"
"Thirty-five Silberkronen. Good steel, light, balanced. Perfect for a young adventurer."
Thirty-five Silberkronen.
I choked on my own saliva, coughing as the number hit me. That was more than a tenth of what I had. Thirty-five could mean months of food, or a room if I needed it. But the blade... it called to me, like it belonged in my hand.
The blacksmith glanced over, wiping sweat from his brow. "It's got a bit of Celestite in it—from a fallen meteor. Holds mana better than regular iron. Sharpens itself under moonlight, they say."
Celestite.
The word meant nothing to me, but the dagger felt... necessary.
I shouldn't.
But I did.
"I'll take it," I said, pulling out the coins.
My heart bled a little as I counted them out—thirty-five Silberkronen lighter. It hurt, but the weight of the dagger in my hand felt... right.
I sheathed the dagger at my belt and walked out of the forge with a small smile tugging at my lips, the violet shimmer lingering in my thoughts.
So beautiful.
As I walked on, the streets grew narrower.
The mana-lanterns here were dimmer, some flickering weakly. A sign creaked in the wind: "Oddities and Artifacts – Bargains for the Bold."
The window was dusty, displaying odd trinkets: a rusted dagger, a cracked crystal, a small ring on a velvet cushion.
Something about the ring tugged at me. Simple silver band, etched with faint runes.
I paused, staring.
The door creaked open, and an old man peered out. "Looking for something, lad? Closing soon, but for a commoner like you, I might make an exception."
I nodded, stepping closer.
The shop waited.