While no answers to my question came, what did arrive was a message from the Academy. A faint popping sound and a dull flash of light from my bedside table was my only warning. Thankfully, every room was sound-proofed, and no one heard my undignified shout. Then again, it was not every day a sealed letter appeared through magic, so I did not dwell long on it.

My meeting was in the morning the following day, with a man named Master Julian. After informing Girem, I laid down and decided to try and get some rest, but sleep did not come easily.

All night, I tossed and turned, my thoughts continuing to run rampant. My entire life, I had little cause to worry or second-guess myself, but it was damn near impossible to feel confident with my choices now. Every move I made had the looming threat of a doomed future hanging over it. More than once, the temptation to run from the inn and flee Volaris hit me. It was a terrible idea, one that would end in disaster, but a part of me still considered it.

In the end, it was thanks to Girem that I managed to get any rest at all. Over and over, I repeated his mantra, "One problem at a time, " focusing on what was in my control. The plain truth was that there were too many unknowns and variables, and the Academy was the only real option. I needed knowledge and power, and that was the best place to gain both.

That resolution, to grow as a mage and reevaluate later, did nothing to stop the nightmares. Over and over, I felt blades carving my flesh and saw an endless fleet approaching in black waters. More than once, I woke with a strangled scream, hand clutching at phantom wounds. In the end, I managed only a few hours of sleep and practically dragged myself out of bed.

A scorching hot bath and scalding coffee did little to help my tired body, but it did clear some of the fog hanging over my thoughts. By the time I made my way downstairs, fully dressed in an ensemble of dark greens and browns, Girem was waiting with his typical unreadable expression.

"Normally, I would accompany you to the Academy, but other duties demand my attention," he said as we walked towards the entrance, his eyes focused and his posture as perfect as always. It seems he did not have any trouble sleeping.

Truthfully, I assumed he would join me, and his words caused the strangest feelings to bubble up. Part of it was anxiety at the prospect of facing the Academy alone. Despite everything else, this was the next step in my life, and even with my training, it was daunting. But the rest of it was something unidentifiable, not quite relief but close.

Either way, my mixed reaction went unnoticed, and when Girem turned to me, I schooled my face into a neutral expression.

"However, I did arrange for transport to the Academy to ensure you made it there on time. It would not do for the representative of a Duke to arrive sweaty and disheveled."

I nodded, affecting a polite smile and bowing my head low, responding, "I understand. Thank you, sir. Please, let me get the door."

Like most things nobles owned, the carriage was crafted with the finest materials to demonstrate wealth and power. The outside was a beautiful carved dark wood, with silver embroidery shaped like a tree's roots. Inside, plush forest green seats softer than a cloud waited for me.

I paused, turning to Girem, who met my eyes with a brief flicker of a smile.

"I would wish you luck, but you do not need it. You have done well with your training, and I expect you will serve our lords well. We will be in touch soon." Girem said, and I nodded again before climbing inside. It was the closest thing to a misty-eyed, surrogate father-son talk as we would get, and I nodded before climbing inside the carriage.

Like yesterday, the streets had already filled with people, and I stared out the window at the passing sights. Our destination was around three hours away on foot, but with the assistance of a carriage, that journey was down to an hour, give or take. Technically, the Academy was outside of Volaris but lay closest to the Upper District, the nobility's home.

As buildings passed, I noted the change from small, pragmatically built wood and brick structures to towering marble homes; Nonsense like gold filigree on doors, enchanted colors in windows, and the like decorated everything. For most, it might be gaudy, and in my eyes, doubly so.

We stopped, waiting for a path to clear ahead, and I scanned one building particularly closely, amending my opinion after a moment. There, along the foundation, were similar markings to the ones I saw yesterday, and again I wondered at their purpose. With my eyes still on the runes, I reached into my pocket, pulling out a small notebook with an attached pencil.

Ever since childhood, I have had a habit of taking notes for later research. My memory was decent but far from perfect after all. So far, my list included prior expeditions onto the Azure Expanse, foreign magic, and Seers as topics to explore. Underneath those, I wrote, "Runes and magic?" in neat handwriting before returning it to my pocket.

As time passed, my thoughts continued to turn over, and I nearly missed the shade cast over our carriage. Something massive was blocking the sun, and as I leaned out the window, my suspicions were confirmed.

A towering stone archway made of pure white marble hung over us, several hundred feet tall. The object, known as the Invictus, was covered from base to peak in carvings of robed figures, surrounded by intricate swirls, waves, with a city beneath their feet and clouds above their heads. Creatures, ranging from dragons and serpents to bears, wolves, and other furred beasts, crouched at the edges.

According to our legends, over a thousand years ago, forgotten gods descended onto the world. They granted seven leaders the Awakening as a reward for the suffering wrought upon our ancestors by the monsters of the continent. With their newfound might, these seven beat back the creatures and carved out the land which would one day become Ferris. After their deaths, the Founders became gods themselves, and to this day, our primary religion revolves around worshipping them.

By Girem's account, the truth was both more impressive and more mundane. Ferris was, at the time, a loose alliance of nomadic groups and hidden villages struggling for survival. There was no blessing from fickle gods but a triumph of ingenuity, determination, and sheer desperation. The leaders of the seven largest factions came together, sharing scraps of magical knowledge passed down generations.

Time had swallowed most details, but they had gained unmatched powers never wielded by humans when these seven reemerged. Soon, their secrets spread to the most loyal followers, and as their numbers swelled, our territory grew. Girem theorized that they fell in battle in the following decades, but we did not know in truth.

Either way, the Invictus served as a marker, created by the Founders to mark where they became mages. It served as both a symbol of their might and as the entrance to the Academy's lands. Even now, I could see the building in the distance, large but not quite as impressive as I expected.

Like the Invictus, the entire structure was pure white marble, the favored building material of nobles dotted with shining blue glass windows. The front was a rectangular entrance hall with columns lining the opening doorway. Each pillar had intricate designs, similar to the runic circle I had seen in my visions.

Open green fields surrounded the main building, with stone walkways leading to smaller structures. I knew that behind the Academy was a forest, carefully maintained and filled with domesticated magic beasts used by some mages.

The cart stopped by a fountain standing before the Academy on a circular platform. Rather than marble, this one is made from translucent crystals, with three serpents of greens and blues locked in battle. Their bodies twisted around one another, fifty feet long with water spraying from gaping jaws into the air. Rather than falling straight down, the streams weaved around and through them in dizzying patterns.

Men and women walked to and from the entrance hall, each wearing near-identical uniforms. Their shirts were dark blue, their pants black and their boots shining, with bronze trimming along the edges. I noted that each had vertical lines on the upper arms, the number dictating year.

As I climbed the steps, there was a brief flash in the corner of my eye. It was small and dark, possibly an animal of some kind, but a cursory glance found nothing.

I did not dwell on it long and continued on my way, entering through the open doorway and into a towering hallway. The floors had a mirror-shine finish, with columns rising to meet the ceiling. Like with the outside, I spotted no seams, as if they carved everything from a single titanic piece of stone.

Frescoes covered every inch of the ceiling with illustrations of battles against monstrous beasts. Spells danced around robed men and women, and I realized that the pictures were moving after a moment. I had seen magical artwork before, but never to this extent, and certainly not with this level of skill.

Looking back down, I spotted statues lining the walls. They stood ten feet high, holding staves, wands, swords, and a dozen other implements, and surrounded by diffuse clouds of mana in every color imaginable. One of the closest to me was an older woman who held what looked like a spear but with twin tines.

I stepped closer, trying to take in her features. Her lips were a thin line and her eyes focused on something far away. I could almost see the white in her hands as she clutched her weapon and feel the weight of her mana bearing down.

"That's Archmagus Lyrei, called the Spell-Breaker by her contemporaries. Supposedly, she could use that bident like a tuning fork to force mana in the area to resonate, letting her break down magic mid-casting."

I jumped, whirling to look behind me at the sudden voice. The young woman who snuck up on me started a bit before chuckling.

"Sorry, I thought you heard me."

She wore the same uniform I had already seen, with two bronze bars on each arm. Unsure of proper protocol for an apprentice, I settled on caution and bowed low before responding, "No, the apology is mine, my lady."

She giggled a bit at my formal tone, shaking her head before gesturing with one hand for me to straighten.

"None of that. I'm just an apprentice like you, after all. My name is Grace, and I'm here to guide you to your advisory meeting and familiarize you with the Academy."

"Vayne. And thank you. Please, lead the way." I responded, giving her another bow of my head and a smile just in case. Apprentice or not, she was still a noble, and caution was vital.

We began walking down the hallway, and I decided to satisfy some burning curiosity, asking, "Are all of those statues of Archmagi?"

She nodded, half-turning to me but not breaking stride. "Yes. The statues are our way of honoring our forebears and greatest mages. We have ninety-four in total, built from marble enchanted with magic to make them near-unbreakable. The rest, their weapons and mana coloring, mimic what they used in life. "

"There have only been ninety-four? I thought there would be more." I asked, tilting my head to one side.

"There are ninety-six. Statues are a posthumous honor, a memorial of sorts. Two are still living, and most suspect a third will rise in the next decade or two. Archmagi tend to appear every twenty to thirty years. For all we know, one of your classmates might become one! "

I had to hold back a laugh, wondering if she would appreciate the irony.

"Really? I know about Elden, but who is the second?" I asked, straining to recall any other famous mages. My mind felt sluggish and slow to respond, something that was more frustrating than I cared to admit.

Even on the Eastern Plains, Archmagus Elden the Earthen Spear was near-legendary. His nickname was as subtle as his magic, which used earth and rocks shaped into spires to slay his foes. Some stories claimed you could tell he was nearby because the ground itself shook for miles whenever he grew angry. Two days ago, that would be impressive, but after my visions, it sounded almost lackluster.

"Her name is Archmagus Alexandria Esteed, and she is far more withdrawn than Elden, disliking a public life and preferring research and study. Ironically, you have a much better chance of meeting her than Elden."

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but she seemed to know what I would say, continuing, "She is the current headmistress here. Traditionally, an Archmagus heads the Academy, and our previous headmaster died a few years ago."

Her explanation made sense, and I responded, "I see. I know about Elden's magic, but what does she use?"

"Mind magic, which usually involves telepathy and the like. She's written half the books in the Archives on the subject," she replied, briefly glancing at me.

Now that could prove problematic. I might be safe from a Seer for now, but telepathic invasions into my memories might pose a bigger problem. Again, I debated the logistics of running for my life, quite literally.

Before I could make an escape plan, we stopped outside a tall wooden door covered in swirling, carved storm clouds. They glowed a soft blue color, moving in waves above a mountain. I had no doubt it was meant to look beautiful, but the surface was so cluttered it was almost headache-inducing.

"Your advisor is inside. Good luck." She said with something that could have been sympathy in her eyes as she took several steps away. I looked at her for a moment before knocking on the door, waiting for a response before entering. For better or worse, it was time to move into the Academy. I could only hope I was not making a mistake.