Shadows of Change (Arcanum Academy #1)

5. Kaia

The hall smells faintly of old parchment and ozone, the kind of scent that clings to places steeped in magic. Students’ voices bounce off the high ceilings, and the light filtering through enchanted windows shifts like a kaleidoscope. Shadows twist uneasily around my legs, brushing against the marble floor like restless waves. Four massive banners dominate the walls, each representing a faction: Light's radiant sunburst on white, Shadow's crescent moon wrapped in darkness, Elements' intertwined elemental symbols, and Sorcery's tome surrounded by glowing runes. The banners seem alive with magic—Light's cloth shimmers with inner radiance, Shadow's ripples like liquid night, Elements' symbols pulse with raw power, and Sorcery's runes shift and change as I watch.

Mouse stays perched on my shoulder, his glowing violet eyes scanning the crowd. The energy in the air is overwhelming—too many people, too many bright lights and flashes of magic sparking in the corners of my vision.

It reminds me of the diner only everyone here is dressed much nicer, the air isn’t filled with the aroma of greasy food and day old coffee, and my shadows aren’t trying to actively steal from anyone for once.

At the front of the hall stands Professor Thorne, flanked by a handful of other professors who exude an air of power. Their robes shimmer with faintly glowing runes, and I can feel the magic thrumming around them like a low hum. Thorne’s presence dominates, his sharp gaze scanning the students with calculated precision. Even without speaking, he holds the room in thrall.

The Light students cluster near the center of the room, glowing with quiet confidence, while the shadow mages stick to the edges, their gazes wary. Element users move between them easily, their energy crackling like a barely restrained storm.

I slide into a seat near the edge of the hall, preferring the illusion of escape. A group of older students sit nearby, their whispers just loud enough to overhear.

“You know Thorne’s been here forever, right?” one of them says, a tall girl with fire-red hair. “My brother said he’s been a professor since before the last Headmaster. People say he’s got connections with… darker elements.”

The others snicker, but one boy leans forward. “My dad told me he’s worked with Alekir before. That’s why he gets away with so much.”

“Alekir?” the fire-haired girl rolls her eyes. “That’s a bedtime story for toddlers. No one even knows if he’s real.”

“Well, I heard he’s the one who pushed to keep Shadow and Chaos together,” another girl says, her tone dripping with disdain. “Probably so he can keep an eye on them. Everyone knows shadow mages are just one step away from losing control.”

The group mutters in agreement, and my jaw tightens. My shadows ripple with unease, but I force myself to stay still. Mouse nuzzles against my neck, pulling me back to reality as a sharp crack echoes through the hall. Thorne’s staff strikes the stone floor, and silence falls like a dropped curtain.

The air itself feels charged with different types of magic—sharp sparks of elemental power, the warm glow of light magic, the subtle whispers of sorcery, and underneath it all, the cool ripple of shadow magic that makes my own shadows stir restlessly.

The shadows of other students stretch normally across the floor, but mine... mine seem to reach for something. They're drawn to Thorne in a way that makes my skin crawl, though I can't explain why. Mouse's claws prick my shoulder in warning.

“Welcome, initiates.” His voice is a velvet blade, smooth but cutting. “You have come to Arcanum Academy not because you are ordinary, but because you are extraordinary—and dangerous. This is a place to hone your gifts, to learn discipline, and to discover where you belong in the world.” His gaze sweeps the room, lingering briefly on me. “You will find no mercy for carelessness here. Strength will be forged in hardship, and only the worthy will endure.”

Beside him, a professor steps forward—a stout man with a wide grin and glowing symbols etched across his skin. His voice is warm, in stark contrast to Thorne’s. “I am Professor Hartley, Head of the Faction of Elements. You’ll be learning much about the factions during your time here, so I’ll give you the short version. Each of you will be evaluated and placed based on your core magic affinity.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd, but Hartley continues, unfazed. “The four primary factions are Light, Shadow, Elements, and Sorcery. There are smaller divisions within these, but we’ll get to those later. Placement isn’t negotiable; the academy’s system is—thorough.” His grin sharpens slightly. “But I’ll tell you this: no faction is inherently superior. They are all dangerous, and they are all essential.”

The students themselves seem to advertise their affiliations. Light faction students practically glow, their uniforms trimmed in gold. Element users carry the scent of their power—ozone, earth, burning wood. Sorcery students' robes flutter with half-formed spells. And the shadow users... they try to blend in, but I notice how the darkness clings to them differently, how they instinctively seek the edges of the crowd.

The redhead snickers. “Shadow? What a joke. The losers’ faction.” A ripple of muffled laughter follows, and my shadows twist tighter around my legs. Mouse’s tail flicks irritably, mirroring my own tension.”

Thorne’s voice cuts back in. “You will find your affinities tested in the coming weeks. Placement is determined by potential and discipline, not your desires.” His gaze flicks toward a group of students who look like they’ve stepped out of a royal portrait, their shimmering uniforms denoting the Faction of Light. “Some of you will be disappointed. Adapt.”

A soft voice interrupts, drawing the room’s attention. “And some of you might surprise yourselves.”

The speaker steps forward. She is tall and elegant, with silver-streaked black hair always pulled into a loose braid. Her dark, flowing robes seem to shimmer with hidden runes. Her eyes have an unusual silvery hue, suggesting a deep connection to shadow magic. A master of Soulbinding and Shadow Magic, Lira is one of the few who might understand my potential—and my struggles.

“I am Professor Lira,” she says, her voice a calming counterpoint to Thorne’s sharp edges. “I oversee Chaos and Shadow magic disciplines. This academy is more than a place of discipline. It is a sanctuary for those who would otherwise be misunderstood. Remember that your potential is not defined by the opinions of others but by your willingness to embrace who you are.”

Her gaze lands on me for a heartbeat, warm and steady, before moving on.

The shift in energy is palpable, and even my shadows seem to calm under her soothing presence.

The difference between her and Thorne is like night and day—literally, as her shadow magic feels like a cool stream compared to his razor-sharp presence. Her voice feels like a balm against my raw nerves, and even my shadows respond, their restless twisting giving way to smooth, flowing movements. For the first time since I arrived, I feel… seen

Hartley’s jovial tone returns. “In addition to your factions, you’ll have access to a handbook—a guide to everything from rules and schedules to which parts of the academy you should absolutely avoid. Speaking of which, don’t wander into the Deep Archives unless you’ve got a death wish.” He chuckles, but the warning feels real enough.

“Finally,” another professor speaks up, her voice crisp and clipped. She’s tall and severe, with silver hair pulled into a tight braid. “I am Professor Kaleth, Head of Sorcery. You will respect the rules of this institution or face expulsion. Magic is a privilege, not a right.”

My attention drifts as the professors continue their introductions, outlining the academy’s purpose: to create balance in a world where magic often tips the scales toward chaos. They mention that the academy exists alongside human society—hidden in plain sight. Most humans have no idea magic exists, and the academy’s protective wards keep it that way. The idea is unsettling. I grew up surrounded by people who didn’t know my kind existed, and now I’m here—among others like me, but still isolated by secrets.

I find myself wondering about the years I lost—the gap between my childhood and the person I am now. My memories are fragments, sharp-edged and painful to touch. What would my parents think if they could see me here?

“You.”

The sharp voice snaps me back. Thorne’s eyes are on me, cold and assessing. I sit up straighter, my heart pounding.

“What do you think is the purpose of Arcanum Academy?” he asks.

My throat dries and Mouse quietly growls in my ear, his claws pricking my shoulder again in warning. My shadows go still, like they're holding their breath with me. "To... control magic?" I hazard knowing it's not the full answer.

Thorne’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes. “Control is a means, not an end. The academy exists to ensure magic serves its purpose—to protect, to heal, to create. When magic is wielded without purpose, it destroys. Remember that.” His gaze lingers, heavy with unspoken meaning, like a warning meant just for me

As the orientation concludes, students begin to file out. I catch snippets of conversation—excited chatter, nervous whispers, and a few glances cast in my direction.

A light faction student bumps my shoulder, her magic sending a jolt through my shadows. She mumbles an apology, but I catch her quick step backward when she looks at me. My shadows want to reach for her, to show her what real magic feels like, but I hold them back. First day isn't the time to start a faction war.

Mouse’s tail swishes irritably, and I resist the urge to glare at the students whispering about me. I focus on the faint hum of my necklace against my skin.

The glow is muted now, but its presence is a constant reminder of the power—and the danger—I carry. As I sit there, waiting for the other students to file out, I catch Thorne watching me again, his expression unreadable. But it's Lira's knowing smile that makes me wonder: just how much do they really know about what I am?