passage, casting glints on the floor, which was made of white and blue marble. Kalen squinted as he walked along with the stream of other students, some yawning, some in a hurry, and some chatting nonstop. The academy seemed to be waking up and pulling everyone who had decided to study there with it.
On his shoulders was a leather study tablet, containing a schedule, a pen, a magometer, and a cloth-wrapped Elemental Points map that had been given to him in the morning. Behind him were the still-warm memories of Reyna, her eyes, and that damn tattoo. Kalen walked, lost in thought, until he bumped into someone around the corner.
"Watch it, gadfly," said a tall girl in a white-and-gray robe with a blue border. It was the usual academic uniform for the Ephoeota course. And the whip at her belt was no fake.
"You should take an ethics class," Kalen muttered, brushing himself off.
"You should take a lesson in manners first," she snapped, and disappeared into the crowd.
The first lesson was "Theory of First-Level Magic." The teacher was Archmage Lohrai. He stood at the podium in the old hall with its arched ceilings, as if he were made of fabric, dust, and power. He spoke slowly, as if each word had to be scraped out of the air, but each word was like a spell.
"Magic," he said, as if he were driving a nail. "It's not just a force. It's a contract. The world gives, and you pay. Those who don't pay pay with their bodies. Or their minds."
Kalen sat and took it all in. He was hearing most of this for the first time, but something inside him resonated as if he had known it all along. The smell of old parchments, the scratching of a pen, and the quiet murmur of the students all combined to create an atmosphere where he felt at home.
Next is a fiction. And the teacher in black, with a green necklace — Madame Orvina. A pure formalist.
"The magic of illusion," she said as she walked past the desks, "works as long as the mind believes. Deceive the senses and create reality. Convince the heart, and deception becomes truth."
She called the students up one by one, asking them to create a simple illusion. When it was Kalen's turn, he created a pathetic mirage—a shadow in the air. Someone behind him snorted.
He just gritted his teeth.
Then there was the physics of epheot - the control of flows, the influence on matter through the laws of magical pressure. The teacher, Master Uvrane, an old man with long arms and jerky speech, conducted a demonstration:
"Think not of strength, but of balance. Water does not flow where there is no incline. Neither does magic."
After a couple of explosions from other students and one burnt textbook from Kallen, he realized that this subject was a real puzzle.
He scratched his head, staring at the smoking feather.
— That's awesome. I've only just started, and I've already almost burned down the academy.
But the real surprise was the next lesson, which was a free practice of Shadows.
The classroom was half-shadowed. The teacher was a silent man with a long cloak that seemed to move on its own. He simply nodded and said,
- Summon your Shadow.
Kallen clenched his fists. Inhale, exhale. The darkness thickened for a moment beside him. A faint glow appeared. Someone giggled in the corner. His Shadow was barely visible.
"Is that... all?" someone asked.
"For now," Kalen said, restraining his anger.
But when the lesson was over and he was about to leave, the teacher's voice rang out again:
— Lionheart. Stay.
Kallen tensed. When they were the only ones left in the classroom, the teacher approached them.
"You know that your Shadow is rare. And it's the weakest of the recorded ones. An unusual combination."
"Yeah, just lucky," Kalen snapped back.
"It's not a mockery. It's a warning. The Academy doesn't forgive those who hesitate. You must either unlock the potential of your Shadow or..."
"Or die," he finished, nodding. "Yes, I've already figured that out."
He left, his teeth clenched, and headed towards the dormitory. Reina was already waiting there, leaning against the wall, as if she had known he would come at this very moment. Her scarlet eyes danced with mockery.
"Well, did you survive the day, you idiot?"
Kalen just chuckled, glancing at the setting sun.
— I fucking survived. For now.
***
The evening descended on the Academy slowly, lazily. The orange sun slanted through the stained glass windows, spreading golden streaks across the corridors. Kallen, left alone, wandered aimlessly, as if hoping the walls would tell him what the hell was going on.
He turned down one of the side passages of the south wing, where the air grew quieter and his footsteps grew louder. Even the light seemed afraid to linger for more than a few seconds.
"I don't know where I'm going," he muttered, looking around. "What the fuck is a 'light absorber'... It's like I'm in a book about crazy people. Oh, right, there was something about it in the notebook."
The floor beneath my feet suddenly clicked.
"Eh?"
He looked down. The slab beneath his boot sank slightly, and everything around him shook.
— You're kidding me!
The corridor around him seemed to disappear. A flicker, a flash, and the world changed. The walls were made of black stone, and the ceiling was lost in darkness. The air was heavy and dense, like before a thunderstorm.
— ... What the…
Kallen stepped forward, clenching his fists.
The floor glowed faintly, as if reacting to his presence. Along the walls, there were signs carved with something sharp—strange, letter-like signs. He reached out to one—but in the same second, his body jerked.
Pain shot through my veins.
"A-a-a-a, you motherfucker!" he cried, falling to one knee.
The heat spread from my chest all over my body. My heart was beating so hard it felt like it would break through my ribs. My skin was sticky, and something was waking up inside me.
— No, no, no, what the fuck is going on?
He grabbed his head, his breath coming in short pants. Images flashed through his mind: a sphere, darkness, a sound... fading.
Something inside him was pulsing—as if his magic were… coming to life. Changing.
He gasped in horror.
It was as if he was burning from the inside, but not from heat, but from a force that had never been his own and was suddenly seeping out. He fell on his back, clutching his chest.
And then it started.
First, a whisper. Thin, like the sound of a fingernail on glass. Then a pulse on his skin. The tattoo under his right shoulder blade, which he had previously thought was just a spot, flared with black light. A sharp, painful heat ran down his spine.
Kalen gritted his teeth.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he hissed through his teeth. "What the hell is this?"
The skin seemed to open. The shadow on my back moved. It unraveled. It came to life.
A silhouette began to rise from her skin, writhing and almost smoky, but still distinct.
Dragon.