Chapter 35
It wasn't even eight in the morning, and my roommates and I were already being marched toward an unknown destination.
Naturally, Joelle was leading the way.
She had been the one to wake us up and drag us out of bed for the first meeting between the strongest class and Draksen Ardevayne.
“I still can't believe they stuck me with babysitting duty this year,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
Meanwhile, my attention drifted to her appearance.
More specifically, to her dark plum-colored blazer.
It reminded me of the two boys I'd seen on my very first day here—the ones who had practically torn the sky apart with lightning.
Their blazers had been dark blue.
The question had been bothering me for a while, so I finally asked it.
“The Academy has twelve classes,” Joelle began with an exaggerated theatrical sigh as we crossed a perfectly manicured lawn toward the main academic building.
“Eleven of them are tied to the elements of the Eleven Worlds and the Zodiac signs. The twelfth class is considered mixed and admits only the strongest students.”
She paused briefly.
“Each class has its own color and blazer. Every year, the strongest class gets to vote on its color. Whatever wins becomes the official color for that year.”
“And you're in the strongest class?” Gia asked, struggling slightly to keep up with our pace.
Joelle didn't so much as glance back, let alone slow down.
“Yes.”
The answer came immediately.
“And now I'd appreciate it if you'd stop asking questions. It's bad enough that we live together. Now I'm expected to run after you like an overprotective mother hen.”
“You'll survive,” Stasia replied with that trademark steel-edged smile of hers.
Joelle ignored her completely.
When Gia started asking another question, Stasia drifted closer to me and lowered her voice.
“You look terrible.”
That was putting it mildly.
I'd seen myself in the mirror that morning.
No amount of concealer had been able to hide the shadows beneath my eyes.
“I had a nightmare around one,” I admitted. “Didn't sleep a minute after that.”
I was exhausted.
Distracted.
During the morning rush, I'd forgotten where I'd put half my things.
Gia had ended up reminding me more than once.
My gaze met Stasia's.
For a moment, I wondered how she survived her visions.
How anyone could.
But that wasn't a question I could ask.
Not yet.
******
As it turned out, we were among the last to arrive.
The only available seats were at the very front—a five-person table that, judging by the empty space around it, no one else had been brave enough to claim.
Joelle disappeared toward the back of the room almost immediately.
As for me, I tried my best to ignore the stares following us as I took my seat.
There had to be over forty people packed into the room.
“Why are there so many?” I whispered to Stasia as she sat down beside Gianna.
“No idea,” Stasia whispered back. “Tarven told me the strongest class usually admitted, at most, thirteen students a year.”
“I heard they're planning to split the strongest class into two groups this year because of the number of applicants,” Gianna said, leaning closer to us.
Then she glanced over her shoulder.
“And it looks like there are upperclassmen sitting back there too. There's even—oh...”
Gianna stopped abruptly.
Her gaze flicked from Stasia to someone behind us—
Then back again.
And once more.
“Alicia,” Stasia murmured.
I noticed her ring-covered fingers curl into her palms.
“One of the girls back there looks exactly like you,” Gianna said.
“My sister studies here,” Stasia replied flatly.
“Wow.”
Gianna turned back toward the front of the room.
Then froze.
I followed her gaze.
The figure standing before us was anything but ordinary.
A towering man with impossibly broad shoulders stood at the front of the room, surveying us like a predator studying its prey.
A thick mane of white hair framed his rugged features and prominent nose.
“Draksen Ardevayne,” Gianna whispered.
“Am I the only one who thinks he looks like a lion?” I whispered back, unable to stop staring at the impressive amount of facial hair the Academy's director possessed.
“That's because he's a werewolf.”
Stasia leaned closer.
I immediately turned to her, not even attempting to hide my shock.
“What?”
The words escaped me louder than I meant it to.
“Werewolves actually exist here?”
Stasia nodded.
Then one of her brows lifted skeptically.
“What exactly were you and Airis doing all that time alone if you still don't know something this basic?”
Memories immediately flooded my mind.
His fingers leaving trails of fire across my skin.
His lips capable of erasing every fear I'd ever carried.
His eyes...
I cut the thought off before it could continue.
Clearing my throat, I quickly looked away.
“We mostly argued.”
“Of course you did.”
There was far too much irony in her voice.
Desperate to change the subject, I asked,
“Who else lives here besides werewolves?”
“Pretty much every creature you can imagine,” Stasia replied.
That answer wasn't nearly detailed enough for my liking.
A proper list would've saved me from plenty of future surprises.
“Welcome, students of Istmond and newcomers blessed with exceptional abilities.”
Draksen's deep voice rolled through the lecture hall like distant thunder.
“I am the headmaster of this institution, Draksen Ardevayne—”
“My apologies.”
The headmaster was interrupted by a young man entering the room.
A tall Asian student.
The right side of his hair was dyed white, while the left remained black.
“I got hopelessly lost in your maze of hallways.”
Shrugging casually, he headed toward the empty seat beside me.
“And please forgive me as well!”
Another student followed close behind him, flashing a dazzling smile.
His blond hair was braided, and numerous piercings decorated his face.
The two of them headed straight for our table.
“We're here today to discuss the Selection.”
Draksen spoke, then fell silent.
His expression darkened noticeably.
“This year, unforeseen changes have been made. As a result, the preparation process has been significantly intensified.”
“What kind of changes?” Joel's voice called from the back of the room.
Draksen Ardevayne paused before answering.
“The Novers have decided to participate in designing this year's Selection trials. Because of that, the Academy has not been informed of the challenges awaiting the recruits.”
The room fell silent.
Not just the students.
Even the air seemed to still.
An uneasy feeling stirred somewhere deep inside me.
A warning.
Though I wasn't yet sure whether it was something worth listening to.
“Do they even remember why these preparations exist?” Joelle demanded. The tension in her voice was impossible to miss. “Why the strongest students are hidden in the first place? Do they understand how reck—”
A cold look from Draksen cut her off before she could finish.
“The decisions of the Novers are not open for discussion.”
I swallowed.
Even during my conversations with Stasia, I'd begun to suspect that the leaders of Noveris were... far from trustworthy.
Now those suspicions felt increasingly justified.
“Of the traditional trials, only the Oracle of Truth and the Encounter with the Subconscious will remain unchanged,” Draksen continued.
“Of course they'd keep the most humiliating and dangerous ones,” Stasia muttered under her breath.
“As a result, today's objective is to become more familiar with each of you and your abilities. Afterward, we will conduct evaluations and divide you into smaller groups, each supervised by a separate trainer.”
Anxiety flared through me at once.
I'd never liked being tested.
First at school.
Now, apparently, with magic as well.
A moment later, a tall woman stepped up beside Draksen.
Her skin carried a warm caramel hue that matched her long, curly hair.
What stood out most, however, were her striking crimson eyes.
She appeared calm.
Yet there was something in her gaze that hinted at entire stories she had no intention of telling.
“Who is that?” I whispered to Stasia.
“Dilraba,” she whispered back. “One of the Strongest Twelve.”
“And what can she do?” I asked immediately.
Stasia nodded toward the woman.
“You're about to find out.”
Then the room erupted in blinding light.
Instinctively, I squeezed my eyes shut.
******
A second later, the classroom vanished.
We were standing in an open training arena.
Six-meter walls surrounded us on all sides, forged from some black material threaded with crimson light.
Many of the newcomers looked just as lost as I felt, their gazes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings.
Stasia and Gia, however, remained perfectly calm.
“Dilraba's gift revolves around fields and transportation,” Stasia explained. “She's one of the Strongest Twelve because her capacity is the highest ever recorded. She can transport nine hundred and forty-two people simultaneously.”
I tried to hide my surprise.
Failed miserably.
My eyes immediately returned to Dilraba, who was speaking with a small group that included the Headmaster, Mr. Shiford, Eugene, and a woman I'd never seen before.
Though unfamiliar wasn't entirely the right word.
She looked remarkably similar to Dilraba.
The same height.
The same build.
The same warm skin tone.
The same facial features.
Everything except her eyes.
And her hair.
Those were midnight black.
“And who's that?” Gia asked, absentmindedly twisting the hem of her oversized blue shirt.
“Azriella.”
Joel's voice made me realize she'd somehow appeared beside us.
Or maybe she'd been standing there the entire time and I simply hadn't noticed.
“She's the Academy's head instructor of mental disciplines.”
“Are they related?” Gia asked.
“That's Dilraba's mother.”
Before anyone could continue the conversation, Mr. Shiford raised a hand.
“Students, please take your seats. We'll be calling you one at a time.”
As we headed toward the stands, I spotted the two boys who had interrupted the meeting earlier.
The late arrivals.
Just like before, they had chosen seats closest to the training grounds.
Oddly enough, sitting near them felt more comfortable than sitting anywhere else.
So I settled beside the quiet Asian student.
The moment I sat down on the cool stone bench, the pierced blond immediately leaned across him.
“Hey, we were sitting next to each other a few minutes ago. I'm Seris.”
A dangerously charming smile spread across his face.
“And that's Kaeron. We bumped into each other outside Istmond a few days ago and ended up as roommates.”
“Do you introduce yourself to everyone this way?” Stasia asked with an amused smirk, slipping effortlessly into her usual flirtatious role.
“I'm Stasia. And this is my friend, Ria.”
“You could say that.” Seris shrugged. “Where are you two from? I'm from Miliarus.”
My brows immediately furrowed.
I remembered which elements belonged to which worlds.
Remembering their names, however, was an entirely different matter.
“So you're a water mage?” Stasia asked, providing a painfully obvious hint.
“Actually, I inherited Iceflame magic.”
I blinked.
That existed?
“I've only heard of it once,” Stasia admitted. “It's incredibly rare, isn't it?”
Seris nodded.
Meanwhile, I found myself wondering what Iceflame magic could actually do.
Freeze things?
Burn them?
Both?
“I was born in Utararus,” Stasia continued, “and Ria is from Vuduarus—”
“And first to demonstrate his abilities will be Kaeron Dreival.”
The moment Draksen's voice echoed across the arena, our conversation came to an abrupt halt.
With a heavy sigh, Kaeron rose to his feet.
Both hands remained buried in the front pockets of his loose black trousers.
“My ability works best when it has something to interact with.”
My breath caught.
What kind of magic could possibly hide behind such a quiet, composed exterior?
“What ability does he have? Could mine help?” Joelle called out.
Her voice carried across the arena with surprising ease.
No one else seemed willing to speak.
All four instructors fell silent.
Eugene narrowed his eyes, clearly considering the question.
“I'd be interested in seeing what his ability would do to Arachne's inherited gift,” Azriella said thoughtfully.
“I'd be even more interested in seeing how it interacts with a power that lacks physical form.”
Eugene's gaze immediately found mine.
“Let's observe the compatibility between two recruits.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
What compatibility?
What did that even mean?
“Illariana Arden.”
Eugene nodded toward the center of the arena.
“If you would.”
“He's talking about you, right?” Kaeron asked.
Only then did I notice that each of his eyes matched the color of one side of his hair.
One pale.
One dark.
“What exactly does your ability do?” I whispered as I slowly rose to my feet.
“Density.”
Kaeron made no attempt to hurry toward the center, allowing me to catch up easily.
“And how does that even work?” I asked.
I'd never heard of anything like it.
Not in books.
Not in films.
Not anywhere.
“What's your ability?”
“Fire,” I answered immediately.
“Good.”
For the first time, a flicker of interest crossed his face.
“I'll give it a physical form.”
My stomach tightened.
“And what am I supposed to do? Just summon flames?”
The anxiety inside me sharpened.
I wasn't even sure I'd be able to control them.
“You can aim at me.”
I stared at him.
Hitting targets had never been easy for me.
Aiming at an actual person?
That felt impossible.
Stopping in the center of the arena, I took a slow breath and tried to force my panic into something resembling calm.
“You don't need to demonstrate raw power today,” Draksen said. “We're already familiar with your potential. What we need to see is your control.”
“You may begin,” Azriella added, folding her arms across her chest.
For several long seconds, my body locked up completely.
As though I'd never touched magic before.
As though I had no idea what I was doing.
Dozens of faces watched from the stands.
Their features blurred together.
Heat swept through me.
But not the familiar kind.
Not the heat that accompanied my fire.
This one seemed to smother it.
Cool it.
If such a thing was even possible.
“Well?” Kaeron asked patiently.
I raised my hand.
Searching for even the smallest spark.
Anything.
Nothing came.
I felt absolutely nothing.