Truth be told, Aya did not know much about the Academy. So much of her personal adventure into the new, awakened world was so much of a whim that she did not stop to think or research much beyond what an internet search engine would tell her. As far as she was concerned, it was the most logical step after committing to aetherial tattooing.

What little she knew, is that it was erected in the Americas following the Awakening, however it was considered to be much older. The name Snowcrag implied its origins, a hidden mage enclave deep in Antarctica. It had taken many forms and names over the centuries but ultimately settled on that title, and they became the most prominent givers of knowledge once the world became aware of their existence.

There’s actually several of them dotted around the world, but the one Aya would find herself in would be in Canada. She did actually have some agency in this, as she was looking for a smaller variant of the system to better acclimate herself within the magical community. That’s not to say this one is small by any means, it’s just one of the newer established facilities and was thus filtering their students a bit more thoroughly as to not flood themselves with the curious.

Even when she entered its halls, it was bustling like a small city in its own right. She felt like a child again, walking into the first day of high school. However the environment was much more mature, as she couldn’t peg anyone being under twenty as she surveyed the crowds. This was not a place for children, as the knowledge kept within could be very unstable in the wrong hands. There was even an on-campus bar! Aya took a mental note of its location for later use.

The campus was a modern design, with some adjustments. A fair amount of the aesthetic was heavy with clear glass, endorsing a clear air and open door vibe for its students. A type of communal ‘openness’ was encouraged, though you’d be hard pressed to find a student who knew what the hell that meant despite some professor’s best efforts to explain it.

Also adjusted was how the entire thing even worked at all. You see, this place did not give degrees. The Council itself was exclusive, and there were no overt ‘jobs’ that one could take in the magical industry. Indeed, a lot of magic was used more in entertainment more than anything else. Mages were few and far between, and companies had only just barely begun utilizing magic in the likes of factories and labor. On applications there may or may not be a box asking “Can you use magic”, but ultimately there were no high level jobs that required any kind of certification for magic use. The world just wasn’t quite there yet.

As a result of the strangeness of the idea, the whole facility (and all the others like it) more or less acted as a live-in library. A library with benefits, if you will. Students can generally come and go as they please, choosing their hours. Since most attendees are adults, they generally have day jobs that they must return to. There was a ‘credit’ system, but as mentioned before they acted more as points towards knowledge acquired rather than being a marker for a future degree. In comparison, it would be like Aya’s claim of having ten years of retail experience over a younger person’s three. Still impressive and might be a selling point for future employers, but grocery stores don’t hand out degrees. Similar concept, on a more elegant scale.

Aya was chauffeured into a meeting hall where a few dozen other initiates gathered. It reminded her of a church, of which she had abandoned the minute she was old enough to do so. She found it incredibly charming as the leading professors gathered at a long table overlooking the initiates. They were a diverse group, but ultimately they wore a new fashion she was unfamiliar with. They were modified and modernized robes with silly (but stylish) popped collars. Collars that held various medals or pins, not unlike a military uniform.

“Oh hell, is that going to be our uniform?” She silently quipped to a nearby hopeful. A small group of them listened in, having a small giggle which was thankfully drowned out by the idle chatter that everyone was engaging in before the professors spoke proper.

It was the standard fair of greeting. The usual expectations and rules, but unfortunately Aya lost her entire track of thought when others walked in from a side door that stood below the professor’s table. Most had similar uniforms but less pins, so she assumed they were teachers in their own right. However one stood out to her, as she looked nothing like anyone else (and did cause some whispered chatter).

Almost straight out of a fantasy witch’s cave, this woman seemed to wear actual armor. Like, old school knight and shining armor. Hell, Aya only assumed this was a woman from her build alone as there were no other signifiers beyond how she carried herself.

This woman wore plated greaves that had a lip above the knee to allow for easier bending or kneeling. Her right arm and chest were the most armored, while her left seemed to just have robed leathers. Her chest armor was also lipped to go slightly above her neck, but there was plenty of space for her to move her head if needed. She also wore some furs around where a collar would be, which draped into an asymmetric cloak. All of this was colored in deep reds and blacks, while the steel being slightly bronzed.

She had a massive tome tied onto her belt, having its own holster. Possibly a grimoire of hers, something Aya had heard about in passing. Of note was also the two handed sword slung across her back, though she could not make out its design as much of it was sheathed and covered in cloth. It was strange to see a sword wielded so casually in this day and age, which only fueled her fascination.

She had a hood on, like most of the professors but it only seemed to shield the most interesting part about her. A mask of incredible craft, Aya’s own personal guess would place it as an Italian Carnivale mask, though it lacked any lips or a mouth typical of those types of masks. It was a white base, with gorgeous golden and black accents around the upper parts of the face, designed with an artist’s love. The lower portion of the mask looked cracked however, like old paint beginning to peel off of a wall. However upon closer inspection (as best as she could manage, this creature became Aya’s sole focus after a while), nothing was peeling off the mask itself. The cracks were innate in the design, as some slight reflected off of it like a glossy sheen. It was fascinating, unique.

She was forced to snap back to the speech at hand, only personally gathering about twenty percent of it, as the gathering began leaving their chairs and started to congregate in small groups. Most of these conversations were mostly about which avenue of magic they were going to study, and all of these twenty-somethings were trying to figure out which lectures they’d be attending together. Normally Aya, the social butterfly she usually is, would jump at the chance to join them. However she acquired a personal quest; find out who that armored mage is.

She immediately set off to catch one of the professors before they shuffled off into parts unknown. She caught a younger looking man, immediately introducing herself.

“Hello, hi, uhm, I’m Aya al-Hareem?” She says as if she’s asking a question.

“Oh hello, I think I’ve seen your name on a report. One of the few aetherial infusions we now have here,” he smiled. He was younger, but had ashy blonde hair and a clean, kind face. He introduced himself, “I’m Soren, I am a student of the aether myself.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!” Aya exclaimed, but it was mere diplomacy. What the fuck is the aether, she immediately thought. She shook it off and saw Soren was opening his mouth to say more on the matter but she tried to cut him off;

“Uhm, quick question?”

“I-oh, go ahead?”

“Who is that”, she said while pointing in the armored witch’s direction. The witch in question standing at the corner by her lonesome, her aura and aesthetic too eerie for most to bother approaching. She appeared to be surveying the student body, her gaze may have passed Aya once or twice but nothing of note had caught her attention for it to be a consistent stare. Aya caught onto this and was thankful.

“Oh, that’s… The Matriarch.”

“The matriarch of…?” Aya asked, noticing that he didn’t finish the sentence.

“No, no, just Matriarch. Like, a name. It’s what she goes by,” Soren turns to survey said Matriarch. Making sure it was a classy conversation, so they both were not staring at her.

Aya inquired further, “Is she a teacher here?”

Soren’s previously kind face soured slightly, his consistent smile downgraded into a neutral expression, eyes squinting briefly into a wince. “Eh… Not quite. More of a consult. She’s… a necromancer, you see. Which is still highly illegal as far as the Council and general consensus goes. However she’s pretty highly regarded as one of the ‘sane’ ones, and she’s been accepted to consult on certain darker subjects during lectures. She apparently has incredible experience, and is apparently some kind of immortal. Because that’s a thing now, I guess,” he did chuckle at his own comment. The world has become a strange place, after all.

“Immortal? That’s amazing,” Aya was pretty much staring directly at her at this point, which did not go unnoticed by The Matriarch herself. Soren also noticed the met gaze, and quickly worked to shuffle away from the conversation.

“Well uh, feel free to talk to her. She’s fairly knowledgeable but just… be careful. She works with all manner of illegal magics, and is only here because she’s incredibly diplomatic. But if you get involved, you won’t have the same freedoms she does. Food for thought.”

Aya nodded politely, giving an “Of course,” before Soren nodded a goodbye and left the immediate area.

This fascinated Aya greatly, as this man seemed both in awe and afraid of the woman. She went towards a table that had some customary (read: cheap) drinks and snacks that some initiates had drained already. The two women’s gazes seemed to start following each other a bit, with the occasional break to formulate some semblance of social etiquette.

Goodness, Aya thought. There’s no way a woman like that would want to talk to my dumb-ass. An immortal necromancer versus a grocery clerk, there’s absolutely not a chance in however many hells there are.