Dawn arrived with a jarring chime that reverberated through the Drakescale dormitories. Edge bolted upright, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. The stone walls of his quarters reflected the faint crimson glow of a hovering light sphere that had materialized near the ceiling.
"Initiates, prepare for your first day," announced a disembodied voice that seemed to come from the walls themselves. "Breakfast in the dining hall. Class schedules have been delivered."
Edge glanced at his desk where a scroll had appeared overnight, sealed with Drakescale's emblem. He crossed the room and broke the seal, unrolling a schedule that made his stomach knot with anticipation:
Dawn - Breakfast
First Bell - Fundamentals of Mana Theory (Magister Veren)
Second Bell - Physical Conditioning (Magister Koll)
Third Bell - Practical Manifestation (House Master Ravencrest)
Midday - Meal
Fourth Bell - History of Imperial Magic (Magister Lorewell)
Fifth Bell - Combat Fundamentals (Magister Thorne)
Sixth Bell - Individual Study
Evening - Meal
Edge's fingers traced over the third entry. Practical Manifestation with the House Master himself. After yesterday's display, he'd clearly caught Ravencrest's attention, for better or worse.
He donned the uniform Talon had provided, noting how the fabric seemed to adjust slightly to his frame as he fastened the final button. The crimson tunic with black trim fit perfectly, the material lighter than it appeared while still providing surprising warmth.
The dormitory corridor bustled with activity as Edge emerged from his room. Other students hurried toward the dining hall, some still adjusting uniforms, others comparing schedules. He spotted Lyra Ironheart ahead, her copper hair unmistakable even at a distance.
"Regius!" The call came from behind. Edge turned to find Jace Underwood approaching, the nervous energy from yesterday still evident in his movements. "Heading to breakfast? Mind if I walk with you? Still don't know my way around, to be honest."
"I don't either," Edge admitted, "but I'm assuming everyone else does."
Jace laughed, the sound unexpectedly bright. "Right. Follow the crowd. Not exactly the tactical brilliance Drakescale is known for."
They fell into step together, descending the spiral staircase. "Your demonstration yesterday was incredible," Jace said. "I've read about manifestation magic, but I've never seen it."
"I didn't know I was doing it," Edge replied honestly.
"That's even more impressive. Most of us spent years learning basic control." Jace glanced around before lowering his voice. "My family runs a small apothecary in Westmark. When I started accidentally electrifying the herbs at age ten, they scraped together enough to hire a tutor. Five years of lessons just to control the discharge."
Edge eyed Jace with new interest. "You're not noble-born either?"
"Merchant class," Jace clarified. "Not common, but not noble. Middle ground. Still, I'm the first in my family to attend the Academy." He offered a lopsided smile. "So while I don't have Caius looking down his nose at me quite as far as he does at you, I'm still not exactly welcome in his circle."
They reached the dining hall, a vast chamber with vaulted ceilings and long tables arranged by year. Edge noted the seating arrangement seemed deliberate—initiates at the tables nearest the doors, with seniority granting positions closer to the raised platform where faculty dined.
Talon waved them over to where he sat with Min. Both had already filled their plates from the abundant spread laid out on serving tables along the walls.
"The uniform suits you," Talon observed as Edge took a seat.
"Thanks to you," Edge replied. "I appreciate it."
Min studied Edge with analytical precision. "I've been thinking about your manifestation. Have you attempted to create anything other than a sword?"
Edge shook his head, reaching for a bread roll that smelled better than anything from Eastford's bakery. "I wasn't even trying to create that."
"Fascinating," Min mused. "In theory, manifestation isn't limited to a single form. If you can create a sword, you should eventually be able to manifest other objects."
"Assuming he has proper training," came a new voice. Lyra Ironheart set her tray down beside Min, her expression neutral but not unfriendly. "Raw talent only goes so far without technique."
"That's what we're here for, isn't it?" Edge replied, meeting her gaze.
A ghost of a smile touched Lyra's lips. "Indeed. Should be interesting to see what the farmboy can do with proper instruction."
The conversation flowed more easily than Edge had expected. Jace described growing up in an apothecary surrounded by strange herbs and potions. Min spoke of her family's tradition of air magic that stretched back generations in the Eastern Territories. Talon shared tales of the Southern Isles where earth magic was used to raise incredible floating gardens.
Only Lyra remained relatively quiet about her background, deflecting personal questions with practiced ease. Edge noticed the omission but didn't press.
Caius never joined them, instead dining with older students who clearly came from similarly privileged backgrounds. Occasionally, his gaze would drift toward their table, lingering on Edge. He felt the creeps.
As breakfast concluded, a chime echoed through the hall. "First Bell," Talon explained, rising from his seat. "Fundamentals of Mana Theory awaits."
The initiates made their way to a classroom three levels up in the tower. When they entered, Magister Veren was already present, standing before a wall covered in complex diagrams drawn in shimmering light.
"Seats, quickly," she instructed without preamble. "Fundamentals of Mana Theory is the bedrock upon which all your magical education will be built. Those who fail to grasp these principles will find themselves struggling in all other disciplines."
Edge took a seat near the center of the room. To his surprise, Lyra chose the desk beside his.
"Mana," Veren began once all were settled, "is not simply energy. It is the fundamental connection between consciousness and reality. Your will, properly focused through technique, can reshape the world around you. But first, you must understand what you are manipulating."
She gestured, and one of the diagrams expanded, displaying a complex web of interconnected nodes. "Consider this a simplified representation of the energy that flows through all things. Those born with magical aptitude can perceive and influence these flows. The strength of that perception and influence determines your potential power."
Edge listened intently, taking notes on the parchment provided. Much of the terminology matched the book Veren had given him during their journey, but seeing the concepts illustrated with magical diagrams brought new clarity.
"The seven primary elemental affinities are not separate magics," Veren continued, "but rather differing expressions of the same fundamental energy. Fire is not merely heat, but the principle of transformation. Water embodies adaptability. Earth represents stability. Air signifies freedom. Lightning manifests as decisive action. Light reveals truth. Shadow preserves secrets."
She paced before them, her robes swirling with her movements. "Most mages have natural affinity for one or two elements. This determines which manipulations come most easily to you. However—" her gaze settled briefly on Edge "—there are rare exceptions that defy standard classification."
The lesson continued with exercises in basic mana perception. Each student received a small crystal similar to Edge's pendant but unenchanted. Their task was to channel their awareness into the crystal, attempting to infuse it with their mana.
Edge removed his dampening pendant, immediately feeling the now-familiar pressure behind his eyes and shimmer around his hands. When he focused on the practice crystal, it responded almost instantly, glowing with silvery light shot through with threads of crimson.
"Interesting reaction, Mr. Regius," Veren commented, pausing beside his desk. "But unfocused. You're flooding the crystal with raw energy rather than directing it with purpose." She lowered her voice. "Control will be your greatest challenge. Power without direction is merely a hazard."
By the end of First Bell, Edge's head throbbed with new information. The theoretical foundations of magic were far more complex than village tales had ever suggested. As they prepared to leave for Physical Conditioning, he noticed Caius watching him with narrowed eyes.
"Beginner's luck," the noble said as they exited, just loud enough for Edge to hear. "Raw talent fades quickly without the proper breeding to sustain it."
Edge chose not to respond, but Lyra spoke up unexpectedly. "Proper breeding didn't help Lord Dremell's son much, did it, Caius? Washed out after third year despite seven generations of 'proper breeding.'"
Caius's face flushed. "Watch yourself, Ironheart. Your family may have connections, but they're not untouchable."
Something dangerous flashed in Lyra's eyes. "Neither are yours."
The exchange left Edge curious about Lyra's background, but there was no time to inquire as they hurried to their next class. Physical Conditioning took place in an open courtyard nestled between Drakescale Tower and the Academy's outer wall. Here Magister Koll, a barrel-chested man with arms like tree trunks, put them through a grueling series of exercises.
"Magic depletes physical energy," Koll bellowed as they ran laps. "Weak body, weak magic. Simple as that!"
Edge found this class easier than Mana Theory, his years of farm work and sword training having built considerable stamina. He and Talon outpaced the others easily, while Caius and Lyra maintained respectable performances. Min and Jace struggled more visibly.
"Not bad, farmboy," Koll said with gruff approval as Edge completed the circuit. "But that's your old strength. Now we build mage strength."
The "mage strength" exercises that followed were unlike anything Edge had experienced—movements that required channeling mana through specific muscle groups, enhancing physical capabilities beyond normal limits. By the end, even Edge was drenched in sweat, his muscles burning.
"Every day," Koll reminded them as the bell chimed, "without exception. Slack in my class, slack in your magic."
"Does he know any words with more than one syllable?" Jace whispered as they departed, earning a snort of laughter from Min.
Third Bell brought the class Edge had both anticipated and dreaded: Practical Manifestation with House Master Ravencrest. The class took place in a circular chamber near the top of Drakescale Tower. Unlike the classroom used for Mana Theory, this space was virtually empty: smooth stone floor, high ceiling, no furniture save a weapons rack along one wall.
Ravencrest entered precisely as the bell chimed, his crimson robes replaced by a more practical tunic and trousers, though still in Drakescale colors.
"Manifestation," he began without preamble, "is among the rarest and most versatile magical disciplines. While elemental mages manipulate existing forces, manifestation creates something from nothing—or more accurately, shapes mana into physical form."
His amber eyes swept over them, lingering on Edge. "Traditionally, this class would be restricted to advanced students who've demonstrated specific aptitude. This term is... unusual." The slight emphasis made it clear who had prompted this deviation from tradition.
"Mr. Regius," Ravencrest called, "center, if you please."
Edge moved to the middle of the chamber, aware of the others forming a circle around him.
"Remove your pendant," Ravencrest instructed. "Show us what you did yesterday."
Edge complied, the now-familiar shimmer manifesting around his hands. He began a basic sword form, focusing on the movements his father had drilled into him since childhood. The silver-white energy followed his hands, stretching and elongating, but remained more diffuse than yesterday's demonstration.
"You're trying too hard," Ravencrest observed. "Manifestation isn't forced; it's released. Your body remembers the sword. Let your mana remember it too."
Edge closed his eyes, centering himself as his father had taught him before difficult forms. He breathed deeply, focusing not on the magic but on the sword—its weight, its balance, the way it extended his reach and intent. When he moved again, the change was immediate. The silver-white energy coalesced into a distinct blade shape, maintaining its form throughout the sequence.
"Better," Ravencrest said. "Now hold it still."
This proved more challenging. When Edge tried to maintain the blade without movement, it wavered, the edges blurring.
"Visualization is key," Ravencrest explained. "Movement gives your mana a pattern to follow. Without movement, you must hold the image in your mind with perfect clarity."
For the remainder of the class, each initiate attempted basic manifestation exercises. None achieved anything resembling Edge's sword, though Lyra managed to create a dim outline around her hands, and Min produced a brief flash of visible energy.
"Do not be discouraged," Ravencrest told them as the class concluded. "Manifestation typically requires years of study. That any of you showed results in a first lesson is promising."
As they filed out, he detained Edge with a raised hand. "A moment, Mr. Regius."
When the others had gone, Ravencrest studied Edge with penetrating intensity. "Your ability is unusual, especially in one with no formal training. The testing mages noted multiple affinity signatures in your results."
"I don't understand it myself, House Master," Edge said honestly.
"Few true manifesters do, initially." Ravencrest reached into his tunic and withdrew a small object wrapped in cloth. "I want you to have this."
Edge accepted the bundle and carefully unwrapped it to reveal a stone disk about the size of his palm, inscribed with spiraling runes that seemed to shift when viewed directly.
"A focusing disk," Ravencrest explained. "Ancient tool, rarely used now. Modern techniques favor direct manipulation, but for those with unusual mana patterns, older methods sometimes prove more effective."
Edge traced the runes with his fingertip, feeling a resonance with his own energy.
"Practice with it during Individual Study periods," Ravencrest continued. "Visualization exercises primarily. Start with your sword, then attempt simpler forms—a dagger, perhaps, or a shield."
"Thank you, House Master."
Ravencrest nodded once. "There will be those who resent your natural ability, Mr. Regius. Others who seek to exploit it. Trust carefully."
As Edge turned to leave, Ravencrest added, "One more thing. Dreams often reveal a manifester's true potential. Pay attention to yours."
The cryptic advice followed Edge through the remainder of the day. History of Imperial Magic proved surprisingly engaging under Magister Lorewell's animated teaching style, while Combat Fundamentals with the stern Magister Thorne built upon physical techniques Edge already knew, adding magical components.
By day's end, exhaustion permeated Edge's body and mind. During the evening meal, conversation among the initiates was minimal, all of them processing the day's lessons.
In his quarters that night, Edge examined the focusing disk Ravencrest had given him. By the light of the hovering illumination sphere, the runes appeared to pulse faintly, almost like a heartbeat. Following Ravencrest's instructions, he focused on visualizing a simple dagger, trying to project the image into the disk.
For nearly an hour, nothing happened beyond the usual shimmer around his hands. Then, just as he was about to give up, the runes flared briefly. The air above the disk solidified into a translucent, silvery outline of the dagger he'd been visualizing.
The manifestation lasted only seconds before dissolving, but Edge felt a surge of triumph. Progress, however small, on just his first day.
As he prepared for sleep, Edge placed his sister's wooden fox on the small table beside his bed, a reminder of home. Ravencrest's words about dreams echoed in his mind as consciousness faded.
That night, he dreamed of seven swords floating in darkness, each blade a different color. As he reached for them, they shattered into fragments of light that swirled around him like a cyclone. From the maelstrom, a single blade reformed in his hand—silver-white with veins of crimson running through the metal like blood vessels.
The Ascendant awaits, whispered a voice that seemed to come from the sword itself. When the seven become one, the veil will tear.
Edge awoke with a start, the words still ringing in his ears, the dampening pendant burning against his chest like ice.