The Great Hall defied everything I thought I knew about architecture. While the rest of the Academy had prepared me for impossible spaces, this room seemed to exist in its own separate reality. The ceiling was the sky, an actual window into the cosmos that somehow existed within the confines of the massive chamber.
Constellations I'd never seen before wheeled slowly overhead, occasionally rearranging themselves into new patterns that pulsed with meaning just beyond my comprehension. Planets, some familiar, others alien and impossible, drifted across the vast expanse, casting subtle, colored light that shifted the mood of the room below.
"Close your mouth, Ardent. You're catching flies," Finn whispered, nudging me forward as we entered with the other first-year students.
"But it's…"
"An actual portal to the astral plane, yes," Gavril finished for me, moving alongside us. "This is the Headmistress' way of reminding everyone that the Academy exists in a space between realities."
The hall itself was arranged in a series of concentric rings, with tables forming perfect circles around a central dais. Each ring was elevated slightly higher than the one before it, creating an amphitheater effect. The tables themselves seemed to be crafted from living wood that occasionally shifted and adjusted its shape, branches extending to create more space or retracting to bring students closer together.
"Each ring represents a year of study," Finn explained. "We're in the outermost, of course. The innermost is reserved for faculty."
I nodded, still trying to take in the overwhelming spectacle. Crystal chandeliers floated freely, drifting between the tables without any visible means of support. Each crystal captured starlight from above and refracted it into prismatic patterns that danced across the tabletops. The floor beneath our feet was polished stone that seemed to ripple like water with each step, though it remained perfectly solid.
"And the food..." Gavril said, gesturing toward our assigned table.
I hadn't even noticed the feast laid out before us. Each place setting featured plates made from what appeared to be solidified moonlight, silverware forged from metal that occasionally phased between solid and liquid states, and goblets containing drinks that changed color and consistency based on the drinker's preference.
The food itself was arranged in elaborate displays that defied gravity and common sense. Fruits stacked themselves into perfect towers that rotated slowly, vegetables carved into intricate geometric patterns that reassembled themselves if disturbed, and roasted meats that steamed with aromas that triggered not just hunger but specific memories associated with comfort and home. Lance was right, one could apply for Arcanis just for the food.
"Is that... are those actual stars?" I asked, pointing to tiny luminescent spheres floating above a dessert platter.
"Star fruit," Finn replied with a grin. "Literally. Harvested from the cosmic gardens in the north tower. They taste like the feeling you get when you figure out a complex spell on your first try."
We took our seats, and I finally managed to tear my gaze away from the cosmic wonders above to survey my fellow students. The freshman ring was sparsely populated, a stark reminder of how few had survived the trials. Twenty-two of us scattered around a table meant for hundreds.
Beyond our ring, the second-year students, wearing yellow collared shirts, appeared more numerous but still far from a full class. They watched us with expressions ranging from sympathy to amusement, clearly remembering their own brutal introduction to the Academy.
Further in, third and fourth-year students, wearing orange and red collared shirts respectively, seemed progressively more confident, their uniforms more personalized with various emblems and accents representing their chosen faculties.
But it was the innermost rings that drew my attention. The senior students, wearing black collared shirts, were fewer in number but radiated power in a way that made the air around them seem distorted, as if reality itself bent slightly in their presence.
I recognized a few faces from magical journals and magazines, prodigies whose accomplishments had already earned them recognition outside the Academy walls. One senior appeared to exist in multiple places simultaneously, his form slightly transparent as he conversed with different groups at once. Another had skin that shimmered with cosmic energy, her eyes reflecting the same stars that wheeled overhead.
I felt like my eyes would burn or something even worse would happen if I kept staring at them, so I tore my gaze away and focused back on my fellow freshmen. I recognized the heir of house Astrelis and the grandson of the Grand Magister, besides others who had made impressions during the trials, a girl who had somehow tamed one of the automatons, twins who fought with perfect synchronicity, a boy who seemed to fade partially from view when not directly observed.
Then I saw Elias, seated with calculated casualness at the other side of our freshman ring. Unlike most of us who still looked somewhat shell-shocked, he appeared perfectly at ease, one arm draped casually over the back of his chair. Beside him, Soren Valdris maintained his usual rigid posture, his expression betraying nothing as he surveyed the room with cold precision.
Elias was listening to something Soren was saying, a slight smile playing at his lips. As if sensing my gaze, he glanced up, meeting my eyes across the hall. He raised his goblet slightly in acknowledgment, his smile widening just enough to be noticeable.
The gesture did not go unnoticed by those around me as whispers rippled outward like concentric waves.
"That's him, the one who passed out after the tower trial."
"I heard he manipulated probability itself during the climb."
"Is it true his luck can affect others?"
"Embrace it," Gavril suggested. "Mystique is currency here. The more they whisper, the less likely they are to challenge you directly."
My retort was cut short as the air in the center of the hall shimmered, drawing all attention. The dais at the center began to glow with runes that spiraled inward, creating a vortex of light. From this vortex emerged a woman unlike any I had ever seen.
Headmistress Astra materialized not by walking or teleporting in the conventional sense, but by seemingly coalescing from the starlight itself. Her form was tall and imposing, draped in robes that appeared to be woven from the night sky. Her hair, a silver-white cascade, floated around her as if underwater, occasionally forming constellations before dissolving back into individual strands. Her eyes, when they opened, contained galaxies.
The hall fell into immediate silence.
"Welcome," she said, her voice resonating not just through the air but directly into our minds, "to a new year at the Academy of Arcanis."
"To our returning students, we commend your continued growth and resilience," Astra continued. "To our newest members, we acknowledge the trials you have endured to earn your place among us."
"Not all who guide you on your journey are present today," she continued, gesturing to several empty spaces in the faculty circle. "Professor Nihil extends his regrets, as his research into deterministic magic requires his full attention. Professor Lumina continues her expedition to the Crystal Wastes, and Professor Tempus remains... elsewhere." This last word carried an oddly amused inflection, as if it were a private joke.
She raised her hands, and the cosmic display above shifted, forming new constellations that briefly resembled faces, perhaps former headmasters or legendary alumni.
"The path you walk is ancient and ever-changing," she intoned. "In the convergence of chaos and order, the unlikely becomes inevitable, and the cursed become blessed."
Again, her gaze found me. I resisted the urge to slide under the table.
"Remember," she continued, addressing the entire hall once more, "that at Arcanis, limitation exists only in the minds of those who accept it. Reality itself is negotiable."
With that very reassuring statement, she clapped her hands once, and the feast officially began. The plates before us activated, food arranging itself according to our preferences, though I hadn't consciously expressed any.
"Did she just deliver a prophecy while staring directly at you?" Finn whispered, wide-eyed.
"I think she did," Gavril confirmed, looking impressed. "That's rare. Usually, her prophecies are vague enough to apply to anyone. This was... specific."
"Wonderful," I muttered, staring at my plate, which had arranged itself into a perfect replica of my childhood home constructed entirely from food.
I glanced across the table and caught Elias watching me again. Unlike the other students who regarded me with curiosity or wariness, his expression was one of intense fascination. Soren, following his gaze, frowned slightly when he saw me, then leaned over to murmur something to Elias. Whatever he said merely made Elias's smile widen.
I reached for my goblet, hoping a drink might calm my nerves. The liquid inside shifted from blue to gold as my fingers touched the stem.
The moment seemed suspended in time, my hand extending toward the goblet, conversations flowing around me, the cosmic ceiling wheeling overhead. It was a perfect moment of belonging, of being part of something greater than myself, of finally finding a place where even my cursed luck might serve a purpose.
Which is precisely when that same luck decided to reassert itself.
As my fingers closed around the goblet, a tiny shooting star, an actual meteorite, I would later learn, broke away from the cosmic display above and plummeted downward. It struck my goblet with pinpoint precision just as I lifted it, causing the magically transmuted liquid inside to destabilize.
The resulting reaction wasn't large enough to be called an explosion. It was more like a localized reality hiccup. The contents of my goblet expanded outward in a perfect sphere of golden light, encompassing the entire freshman ring before collapsing back in on itself with a sound like a whispered laugh.
When the light faded, everything at our table had been transmuted. The wooden surface had become crystal. Our plates had transformed into blooming lotus flowers. The food had rearranged itself into perfect fractal patterns that slowly rotated above the table.
And every student seated at the table, myself included, now sported hair in varying shades of luminescent blue.
The hall fell silent for three heartbeats before erupting into a mixture of laughter, gasps, and excited chatter. From the faculty circle, Professor Zephyr gave an appreciative whistle. While a serious looking professor, must be Professor Gravitas, pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Headmistress Astra simply smiled, as if I had just confirmed something she had long suspected.
"Well," Finn said, examining a strand of his newly azure hair, "at least it's a fashionable color."
Gavril's hair had taken on a deeper sapphire hue that oddly complemented his features. "I was considering a change anyway," he said with resigned amusement.
I slumped forward, resting my forehead against the newly crystallized table. "So much for staying low-profile."
"Look on the bright side," Finn offered, patting my shoulder. "No one was injured, nothing exploded, and we all match now. By your standards, this is practically a success."
I lifted my head to retort, only to find Elias standing beside our table, his own hair now a striking electric blue that somehow made him look even more aristocratic. He ran a hand through it, examining a strand with academic interest rather than dismay.
"Fascinating," he said, his voice carrying none of the annoyance I would have expected. "Spontaneous transmutation triggered by cosmic interference." He looked directly at me. "You continue to be full of surprises, Ardent."
Soren appeared at his shoulder, his dark blue hair contrasting sharply with his pale complexion. Unlike Elias, he did not seem amused. "An impressive display," he said coolly. "Though perhaps you might consider practicing more control in public settings."
Before I could stammer an apology or explanation, Elias waved a dismissive hand. "Why? This is far more interesting than the usual freshman antics." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Besides, I've been curious about what your luck would do in a place where reality is so... flexible."
"You… you knew this would happen?" I managed.
"Not specifically. But I suspected something would." He straightened, addressing our entire table. "Consider it an honor. Not everyone gets to experience Ardent's peculiar brand of chaos firsthand."
With that, he turned and walked back to his seat, Soren following after giving me one last measuring look.
"Did Elias Aurellian just defend your magical mishap?" Gavril asked, sounding genuinely shocked.
"And did he imply he's been waiting for it to happen?" Finn added, wide-eyed.
As conversation gradually returned to normal and students adapted to the transformed table (several were now trying to harvest the lotus plates as souvenirs), I couldn't shake the feeling that this innocent mishap was just the opening act. My luck had been quiet during the trials, even helpful at times, which meant it had been saving up for something truly spectacular.
And at the Academy of Arcanis, where reality itself was negotiable, I could only imagine what form that might take.
"Tomorrow's going to be interesting," I sighed, cautiously sampling a fractal-shaped dessert that tasted like summer lightning.
Finn's laugh echoed with genuine delight. "With you around, I don't think 'interesting' begins to cover it."