As the last sparks of the fireworks fizzled away, the gymnasium melted once more into forest. The sky above blazed with streaks of crimson and amber, fire spilling across the clouds like a painter's brush. Birds hummed low in the branches while fireflies wove lazy patterns between the trees. The scent of cedar and musk drifted on the cool breeze that brushed against the Celestials, carrying a hush over the crowd.
A few students shivered and sneezed into their sleeves.
Are they going to freeze to death already? Chast thought, rolling his eyes as sneezes echoed one after another like a chain reaction.
The boy beside him let out a monstrous sneeze—and warm spray misted across Chast's arm.
"Hey!" Chast jerked back, scrambling away.
"Disgusting!" His face twisted as if he'd been cursed.
The boy sniffled, wiped his nose with his sleeve, and shot him a glare. "Relax. It's not deadly."
"Not deadly?" Chast snapped. "It's disgusting!"
"Shut up, defective!" the boy shot back, barely suppressing his anger.
"So, we're using terms of endearment now?" Chast sneered. "Fine, sick boy."
That was the last straw. The boy had enough. He pushed to his feet, rolled his sleeves up, and stretched his arms. His eyes glittered; his hair bristled into spikes. He raised his right hand, and a small flame winked into being on his palm.
Chast swallowed hard; a cold sweat slid down his spine. "Shit," he muttered. What a short-tempered jerk.
Chast cleared his throat. "Use your powers for good, not for foolishness or evil." He recited the golden rule firmly, his voice steady and betraying no nerves.
For a moment the boy didn't move; the flame trembled and flared, brighter and wilder. Chast cursed under his breath, wiped his face, and straightened. That boy can't scare me that easily. I won't lose to this sick boy.
Chast looked up at him, his icy glare darting to the boy, and repeated the line—colder this time, voice hard as iron. "Use your powers for good, not for foolishness or evil."
The words seemed to slice through the heat. The boy's eyes flickered; the flame guttered. He panted, breath coming fast and shallow.
Chast froze, then realized the boy was struggling to breathe. He shot to his feet, reaching for him—only to find Professor Morrwynn already there.
Morrwynn had been watching. She had observed the two of them since they arrived and had been ready to intervene. She masked the two students so no one else would see and be distracted, shielding them in a mist. While the other students never noticed, she saw the boy choke and moved in a blink, appearing at his side. She helped him sit and murmured a cadence of words, rubbing his back as her spell wound around him.
"Is he okay?" Chast asked, voice low, his hard expression softening. For the first time since arriving, he was genuinely worried.
"Maagasan ka, man anges ka!" Professor Morrwynn kept chanting, her voice steady. She didn't hear him. The boy's breathing slowly steadied under her hands.
Chast let out a disappointed sigh and sat down on the grass, folding his legs and resting his chin on his palm. I'm defective anyway. Who would want to talk to me?
"What's your name, young man?" Professor Morrwynn asked once she was sure the student was alright.
The boy smiled faintly and answered, "Turtoise."
Chast snorted, trying to hold back a laugh. Tortoise? What is he, a turtle?
"Okay, Turtoise." Professor Morrwynn smiled and patted his back. Then she faced Chast, who was still chuckling under his breath.
When Chast noticed her gaze, he cleared his throat and sat properly.
"All is well," Professor Morrwynn said with a faint smile before teleporting back to the others.
"Huh?" Chast was left confused. What did she mean by that?
Seeing Chast's confusion, Turtoise whispered, "Stupid. She meant I'm fine."
Chast glared at him, then snorted again, remembering his name. "Sure, Tortoise!" He pronounced the word slowly and deeply, then chuckled. What a ridiculous name. Poor child.
"Tsk." Turtoise's face grew serious, his eyes narrowing on Chast. His blood boiled, his vision tinting red.
"Uh oh." Chast stiffened, thinking Turtoise might attack him with fire again. Short-tempered as ever.
"Was it you?" Turtoise asked, his voice low and serious.
"What about me?" Chast asked, blinking, his face full of confusion.
"You attacked me!" Turtoise accused, pointing a finger at him.
"What the hell are you talking about, man?!" Chast's voice rose, loud and dominant. Some students turned to look curiously.
"What are they doing?" a student in front of them whispered, shrugging her shoulders before turning away.
"Are they seriously going to attack each other in front of the professors?" another muttered.
"You creaking turtle!" Chast's eyes turned icy, his voice colder still.
Turtoise froze, then slowly stepped back. Chast's eyes were flickering strangely—monstrous, unsettling. Turtoise's body trembled, his strength faltering.
What the hell is he? Turtoise thought. Seeing Chast's monstrous gaze, he became convinced Chast had been the one to attack him earlier.
A cold breeze coiled around them. Sweat trickled down Turtoise's back. He looked toward Professor Morrwynn for help, but she was chatting calmly with the other professors.
"Man, remember the golden rule!" Turtoise stammered, his voice cracking.
Then Chast laughed. "What about it, turtle?" His eyes slipped back to normal. Chast wasn't even aware of their flickering—he only thought he'd been glaring.
Turtoise's eyes widened, his mouth hanging open. The shift was too sudden. What was that? Does he… have a mental illness?
"You're a monstrous evil!" Turtoise shouted, pointing at Chast.
"And you're a turtle devil!" Chast shot back.
Before Turtoise could respond, he noticed the frozen grass around Chast's seat. His hands trembled. Shit! Did I awaken the evil inside him? He pressed his palm against the ground, melting the frost. The grass grew damp.
"What the heck!" Chast bolted upright as soon as he felt dampness under him. Damn! He scrubbed at his backside, grateful he'd noticed quickly—at least he wasn't walking around with a fully drenched butt. He glanced around to make sure no one had seen. Thankfully, everyone else was distracted. That would've been another humiliation!
Turtoise slapped a hand over his mouth, but laughter burst through anyway. That's what you get, asshole!
Chast scowled, eyes narrowing, but before he could retaliate, Professor Sylverynth clapped her hands. The sharp crack echoed through the forest-like hall, snapping the room into silence. Even the birds hushed mid-chirp.
Students shuffled back to their teams, spines straightening as if pulled upright by an invisible thread.
Professor Sylverynth smiled broadly and said, "Now, it's time to meet your professors!"
The students roared in excitement, clapping eagerly. Some, however, sat nervously in their places.
"I hope it's not Professor Draven," one girl in the front line muttered, wringing her hands. "They say she can freeze a student with just a glare."
Her friend swallowed hard and nodded. "She's the strictest professor in Labrynthia. Just looking at her makes me sweat."
"She's merciless," another whispered, leaning close.
"First class with elemental and nature magics," Professor Sylverynth announced brightly. "Please meet Professors Thorne, Darian, Florryn, and Firewynd."
The first class erupted in cheers, clapping wildly as the four professors stepped forward, each distinct in presence.
Professor Thorne emerged first, his deep green robes patterned with silver vines that shimmered faintly as though alive. His aura was grounding, like standing beneath an ancient oak. He smiled warmly, reassuring even the most anxious faces.
"Roots matter as much as branches," he said. "Grow steady, Starlights, and you'll withstand any storm."
Professor Darian followed, calm and collected in flowing pale-blue robes trimmed with silver. His sleeves rippled like water as he moved, his dark eyes steady and unflinching. Though he spoke little, every word carried the weight of authority.
"Discipline is the current that carries you forward," he said firmly. "Waste it, and you'll drown. Master it, and you'll flow to greatness."
Professor Florryn brought an entirely different energy. Her robes bloomed in soft rose and white, embroidered with tiny constellations that twinkled faintly. A sweet fragrance of flowers seemed to follow her, and her cheerful wave sent ripples of excitement through her class.
"Hello, my little blooms!" she chimed with laughter. "We're going to grow together—and trust me, you'll shine brighter than stars!"
Then Professor Firewynd stepped forward. His crimson robe gleamed with ember-like runes glowing faintly across the weave. Heat shimmered subtly around him, raising the hair on nearby arms. His amber eyes burned with intensity, and his voice rolled like a barely-contained inferno."Starlights," he said, a dangerous smile curling his lips, "flame is not only destruction—it is renewal. What you burn away, you must also rebuild."
The Starlights roared proudly, swept up in their professors' energy, their cheers echoing like a storm.
"Tsk, the novices cheered as if they were the most powerful in the room." Turtoise rolled his eyes.
The boy in front of him turned with a glare. "Stop talking, Turtoise."
"You shut up, Hunter," Turtoise shot back.
Professor Sylverynth continued, "Second class, with illusionary and mystic magics. Please meet Professors Vale, Archora, and Whumzy."
Before the three professors could even step forward, the room erupted in thunderous cheers.
"This is going to be fun!" a student from the second class exclaimed.
"Who would've thought the three crazy professors were assigned to us?" another joked.
Professor Vale stepped forward, left hand in his pocket, right hand waving lazily at the crowd. His long coat shimmered like shifting smoke, his grin sharp and cocky.
"Hello, Rockstars!" he called, raising his hands in a rock-and-roll sign.
The Rockstars copied him and roared like thunder.
Beside him, Professor Archora swirled forward in robes lined with deep violet, his sleeves trailing stardust-like glitter. He bowed theatrically, hair sparkling as if dusted with moonlight. "Mystery is the beginning of mastery!" he declared, winking at his students.
Finally, Professor Whumzy hopped up, his mismatched robe stitched with silver bells that jingled at every bounce. "Let's make magic fun!" he shouted, spinning in a full circle and nearly toppling over—his students laughed and cheered louder.
Professor Sylverynth laughed softly, shaking her head, before moving to the next line. "Third class, with enchanted and runic magics. Meet Professors Draven, Tharolyn, and Grunt."
Several third-class students groaned inwardly. The moment Professor Draven's name was called, they gasped. They knew their training wouldn't be easy—it would be hell. Still, they raised their voices to join the chant of their peers, their cries echoing like a battle song.
Professor Draven stepped forward gracefully, her long hair swaying with her movements. Her robes were black trimmed in frost-blue, her aura sharp as ice. Her expression remained unreadable. "Hello, students," she said flatly, then stepped back.
"Students?"
"We're nameless?"
"That's it?"
The third class was in disbelief. They had expected a name, but got nothing. "Booo!" Disappointment showed openly on their faces.
Professor Grunt panicked and stepped forward. His robe was plain brown, almost forgettable, and his bulky frame seemed better suited for farm work than sorcery. He swallowed hard and forced a smile. "Hello, Magicalists!" he blurted, then looked out nervously.
The class stared back in silence, blank-faced. Regret flashed across his features—"Magicalists" had just slipped out without thought.
After a moment, the Magicalists began to clap, then chant. "Magicalist! Magicalist!"
Professor Grunt exhaled in relief. Professor Tharolyn, tall and severe in a robe covered in glowing runes, patted his back. "You did great," he said with rare warmth.
"And last but not least—the fourth class," Professor Sylverynth said. "Meet Professors Morrwynn, Valkiery, and Vrynth."
Chast's gaze locked on Professor Valkiery, tracing every feature—green almond eyes, pointy nose, thin lips, the mole on her chin. Green almond eyes, just like him. Just like her.
The hall erupted. Cheers shook the floor, the ground itself trembling with their excitement.
"The best students get the best professors!"
"The trio we never had before!"
"The best of the best!"
"I'm so jealous!"
Chast clapped his hands over his ears. I don't want to hear another word! Their voices are buzzing like bees in my head.
Professor Morrwynn stepped forward with a warm smile, her deep-purple robes trimmed with silver thorns, her aura heavy yet comforting—like a storm cloud that chose to shield instead of strike. "Hello, young Celestials!"
"Hello, Professor Morrwynn!" the students chorused.
Professor Vale grimaced, jealousy flashing in his eyes. Tsk. Attention seeker.
Morrwynn turned back to her class. "Hello, my dear Enigmatics." She winked. "We, your professors, are excited to train with you!"
Professor Vrynth followed, his presence darker and quieter. His robe shimmered like midnight ink, embroidered with symbols that shifted when stared at too long. His eyes glowed faintly silver, cold and precise, and shadows seemed to cling to his movements. He didn't smile, didn't wave—just observed, as though memorizing every student in a heartbeat. His aura pressed against them like a tide of secrets.
The Enigmatics smiled and clapped, their excitement spilling into the air, though some shifted uneasily under Vrynth's piercing gaze.
The cheers still rattled the forest-like hall, echoing like a storm. Professor Morrwynn's warm aura wrapped the Enigmatics in comfort, but beside her, Professor Vrynth remained unmoving. His crimson-lined robes whispered against the air, his presence heavier than stone.
His voice, when it finally came, rolled through the gymnasium like distant thunder."Tomorrow, you will learn whether you are worthy of the magic you carry—or if it will consume you instead."
The room fell silent. The fireflies dimmed as if listening. Even the trees seemed to bow.
Chast's chest tightened. Great. Exactly what I needed. Another reminder that I'm the Academy's defective joke.
But as his gaze flicked back toward Valkiery—those green almond eyes staring straight ahead—he couldn't shake the chill crawling up his spine.