Afternoon lessons dragged with the weight of history. Ancient Language, Spell Theory, Arcane Etiquette—a blur of half-remembered rules from the novel and half-understood lectures delivered with the exacting dryness only old scholars could muster. My mind wandered, replaying lunch over and over: Cassandra's warning, Seraphina's mischief, Elane's fluttering nerves, Liora's odd quiet, and Mireille's cold watchfulness.
By the third class, whispers drifted through the rows—about the "new Ulric," about why the heroines, pillars of the academy, were suddenly clustering around someone so unremarkable. The more I tried not to stand out, the more it felt like every corner held a pair of speculative eyes.
I made it through Spell Theory with only three botched answers and no explosions. As soon as the dismissal bell chimed, I bolted for the library, my unofficial safe haven.
The Sanctuary of Shelves
Arclight's library was a sprawl of labyrinthine stacks and high windows, yellowed tomes and beams of dust at war with the gloom. It was blissfully empty this hour—a hiding place, if only for a little while.
I ducked into a nook behind the history section and pulled out the thickest-looking book I could find, hoping my attempt at studiousness would discourage interaction.
It worked, briefly.
Footsteps—soft, measured. I glanced up and found Mireille standing at the edge of the reading bay, arms crossed, gaze sharp as ever.
"I thought I'd find you here," she said quietly.
She didn't sit, just eyed me with an intensity that made faking bravado impossible.
"Do you want to get stronger?" she asked—no preamble, no warmth.
I blinked. "Everyone says that at this academy. Why ask me?"
She hesitated, just for a second. "Because you act like you don't care. As if nothing matters here."
Mireille's eyes narrowed, but her expression softened. "If you want, I'll teach you. If not, you're wasting my time."
The challenge in her voice was unmistakable, but there was something else—something that felt oddly like… concern?
"I… I want to try," I managed, surprising myself.
She nodded once, briskly. "Tomorrow. At dawn. Don't disappoint me."
She vanished into the maze of shelves, leaving a chill in her wake.
Turning Pages, Turning Tables
As her presence faded, I slumped in relief. The room filled again—this time with quiet footsteps that seemed to echo only for me.
Elane appeared next, clutching a stack of dictionaries. She hesitated, then edged closer to the chair opposite mine.
"Can I… sit with you?" she whispered.
"Of course." The answer was simple, natural. She smiled, tension slipping from her small frame.
For a few minutes, we read in silence, interrupted only by the rustle of pages and the tick of the ornate clock above the door.
She scribbled a note and pushed it across: "You're braver than you think."
She blushed, eyes darting from the note to my face to her shoes.
The moment crystalized—fragile, peaceful. But peace in Arclight Academy never lasted.
A Web Expanding
Seraphina swept in trailing a scent of lavender and ink, glancing from me to Elane. "Study group tonight. Don't be late, or I'll turn you both into toads for the next week."
Hi-jinx, threats, and invitations. Each day at the academy was becoming a storm—every action a ripple, seen and unseen, drawing the five heroines closer, tying me in knots I hadn't even noticed forming.
As I packed my books to leave, I caught a reflection. Liora stood beside the stacks, half-hidden in shadow, her violet eyes glittering with secrets. She mouthed a few words I couldn't quite catch, then disappeared before I could react.
When I returned to the common room that evening, Cassandra was waiting. Her message was short. "Tomorrow, be ready. The academy's first trial is coming."
I went to sleep with her words echoing. Outside my window, the moon hung full and watchful—a silent witness to secrets I couldn't begin to uncover.
[End of Chapter 5]