The light outside Virethorn Academy had shifted, casting long shadows over the stone courtyard. Cade stood quietly amid the dispersing crowd, his coat marked with the lightning crest of the Wenblood line stirring in the breeze. The iron-forged cruciform sword on his waist caught the sunlight—his parting gift from Lord Rurik Ironheart.
"Cade!"
The voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
He turned just in time to see two familiar figures pushing through the crowd. One was a lean, dark-haired boy with a perpetually cocky smirk. The other, taller and more composed, had her reddish-brown hair tied back in a tight braid.
"Darrow. Lysa," Cade said with a nod.
His other siblings just looking at what's about to happen and decide to leave without saying anything.
"You didn't write," Darrow grinned, bumping Cade's shoulder. "Figured you died somewhere in the borderlands."
"Died?" Lysa snorted. "Not him. The rumors said you wrestled a fallen beast with your bare hands."
Cade gave a faint smile, the scar running down his right eye catching the light. "That one was exaggerated. I used a blade."
Darrow whistled low. "Still breathing, still grim. Rurik would be proud."
The three of them stood there for a moment, letting the silence settle. It wasn't awkward—just heavy with memory. Training scars, shared meals, late-night duels behind the Ironheart barracks. They weren't blood, but they had bled enough together to feel like it.
A bell chimed across the courtyard, followed by a voice amplified through magic.
"All students are to collect their dorm numbers. You have one hour to move in before reassembly."
"Well," Lysa said, checking the token in her hand, "we're not bunking together. I'm in Tower B."
"Tower C for me," Darrow replied. "And you, Cade?"
He held up his token. "A-3."
Darrow blinked. "That's my room."
Cade raised an eyebrow. "Huh."
The two exchanged a look, then a grin broke across Darrow's face. "Looks like the gods want to relive the glory days."
They parted ways with Lysa and made their way through the great doors into the school's west wing. Virethorn's interior was even more imposing than its exterior—high vaulted ceilings, carved stone arches, magical glyphs humming faintly beneath their feet.
They followed a spiral staircase to their assigned floor. A-3 was tucked between two columns etched with old kingdom script. The door creaked as Cade pushed it open.
It was modest, but solid. Two beds, two desks, a shared armoire, and a wide window overlooking the sparring fields. Cade stepped in, setting his bag down, then glanced to the right—where a third bed stood.
"Three beds?" he asked.
"Guess we got a roommate."Just then, the door opened again.
A skinny boy stepped in, wearing circular glasses too big for his face and carrying a satchel that jingled with bottles. His pale blue hair was styled in a neat side part, and he looked like he belonged more in a laboratory than a battlefield.
"Oh! I was hoping I wouldn't be alone," the boy said brightly. "Name's William. William Azor. Pleased to meet you."
Cade gave a curt nod. Darrow, ever the smoother one, stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Darrow Ironheart. This is Cade."
William's eyes widened. "Wait—that Cade? The Wenblood who lived with the Ironhearts?"
Cade's expression didn't change. "That's what they say."
"I read about you. Rumors, mostly. I love rumors. They usually lead to facts."
"Or graves," Darrow muttered.
William either didn't hear or didn't care. He placed his satchel on his bed and looked between them. "You two are knights, right? I'm on the alchemy track. Planning to specialize in transmutations and explosion theory."
"You blow stuff up?"
"Eventually," William said, beaming.
The three barely had time to settle in before another chime echoed through the halls.
"All students, report to your assigned lines. Your instructors await."
Back outside, the courtyard had transformed. Ten lines of students, each around forty strong, had formed across the massive square. Cade found Line Three, marked by a floating glyph above the group. Darrow and William were right behind him.
The air buzzed with tension. Nobles, commoners, mercenaries, spell-scholars—Virethorn was a cauldron, and the fire had only just been lit.
Then a figure walked up to the podium, and silence rippled outward like a wave.
She was striking. Long black eyes and silk hair fell down her back, a cigar tucked between her lips. A sharp eyepatch covered her left eye, and her military-style coat hung from her shoulders like a cape. She wore a black blouse, a few buttons undone to reveal a scandalous flash of cleavage, and tailored pants that showed off the combat boots beneath.
When she spoke, her voice was a low, smoky drawl.
"Name's Captain Selene. I'm head of security and the investigation unit for this fine institution. And before you get ideas—no, you can't switch lines to get me as your instructor."
A few students laughed. Most held their breath.
"This is how it works," Selene continued. "First month is probation. You're not real students until you survive it. You will study you aspects but also your opponents weaknesses mages will learn how to counter knights and vice versa on the field you often go up against the other and if you don't know how to counter the basic ones well you might as well enlisted into the military."
"You'll also take general ed: arithmetic, geopolitical history, environmental logic, and alchemy. Yes, alchemy. Because gods forbid one of you morons drinks the wrong vial and dies on my watch."
She flicked a piece of ash from her cigar and grinned.
"After your first year, you pick your track and join a faction. Don't find one? We throw you into one. Cry about it later."
A pause. Then her smile faded.
"You start with 50 points. Lose them all, you're gone. Fail a test? Minus 10. Tardy? Minus 5. Get caught using force outside training? Minus 15. Detention? Minus 10. And if you sneak into the dorms of the opposite gender…"
She let the silence hang.
"Immediate expulsion."
A murmur passed through the lines.
"Only 200 of you will survive this month. Out of 800."
That shut everyone up.
Then her smile returned—sharp as broken glass. "Now follow your instructors to the cafeteria. Enjoy your last easy meal."