The dawn of a new school year always carried a certain weight, but at Prestigeon Academy, it was nothing short of monumental. All across the globe, families whispered with equal parts pride and envy as their children—eleven years old, freshly chosen—set foot on a path no ordinary mortal had ever known.
The journey began not in carriages or buses, but in a vessel designed for a future few could even comprehend. A sleek, silver jet—its surface glinting with light as though sculpted from liquid steel—waited on the runway. Its body was angular yet graceful, its engines whispering with a soundless hum powered by technology hidden from the outside world. Sixty seats lined the cabin: each prepared for one of the year's new initiates.
The students filed in with wide eyes, their hands clutching suitcases and satchels, the last remnants of home. Some were dressed in polished, formal attire, eager to impress. Others wore casual clothes, hoodies, or simple dresses, trying to mask their nerves behind normalcy. Yet each bore the unmistakable glint of anticipation in their eyes—the weight of knowing they had been chosen.
The Interior of the jet was more akin to a luxury liner than a simple transport. Soft lighting glowed along the walls, embedded runes pulsing faintly as if alive, while cushioned seats adjusted themselves to the shape of each occupant. Windows, sleek and tall, offered panoramic views of the sky, though beyond the clouds, the faint shimmer of enchantment suggested their view was carefully curated.
Conversations began in bursts, awkward at first. A boy boasted of his family's long history of warriors, his voice sharp as he puffed up his chest. A girl clutched a sketchbook to her chest, her gaze darting nervously as though every glance was a test. Some leaned forward in excitement, peppering the attendants—artificial humanoids of flawless design—with endless questions about the Academy. Others sank into their seats, silent, caught between fear and awe.
The hum of the engines grew. The jet lifted effortlessly, no lurch, no turbulence—just smooth ascension, as though the vessel itself glided on invisible currents. The world below shrank into a quilt of rivers and lights, fading into mist.
Hours passed in a blur of chatter, daydreams, and the silent rhythm of thought. For some, the trip was a chance to bond, forging the first fragile threads of what would become alliances, rivalries, friendships, and more. For others, it was solitude, a quiet reflection on the unknown future.
The sun had just begun to dip low, painting the sky in shades of amber and violet, when a subtle shift in the cabin drew all eyes to the windows. The enchantments dimmed, unveiling a sight that stole every breath in unison.
Far on the horizon, rising above the clouds, stood a silhouette of impossible scale—spires piercing the heavens, domes gleaming like crystal, banners drifting through no wind stirred them. The Academy. Prestigeon.
The jet pressed forward, the murmurs of awe and disbelief swelling into a tide of wonder. No name had yet been spoken, no bond yet solidified, but each heartbeat faster with the same truth.
They were about to begin the greatest journey of their lives.