Academy Arcanist [Chps 19-21]

Here are lots of fun moments for Academy! o.o

Shami

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE DORMS

Nini and I rejoined the group. We hung a few feet behind, allowing everyone else to travel up the stairs first. A few people glanced back at Waste, their eyes narrowed in suspicion.

My father would’ve hated Waste. He hated anything that was considered bad luck. Reapers were some of the worst. They were mystical creatures of death and gloom. Who wouldn’t consider them a bad omen?

But Nini didn’t seem to mind.

Waste floated close to her, and when I snuck a glance, I noticed she was holding a part of his tattered robes, as if to keep him nearby. Waste’s scythe floated around him, held by some invisible and incorporeal force.

He really was just an empty cloak and a weapon. And a small chain.

Mystical creatures grew older the longer they were bonded. As a creature aged, their appearance changed. How would Waste change? Would he gain more… clothing? More weapons? Would he get bigger?

I was tempted to ask, but I opted to remain silent. The people glancing back at us had judgmental expressions, and the way Nini kept her gaze on the stairs made me think she wasn’t in the mood to talk.

Instead, petted Twain as we climbed the stairs. He purred the entire way.

When we reached the top, it was a glorious sight to behold.

There was a large common room that seemingly connected a myriad of dorm rooms. The common room had a wall completely made of windows that went from the floor to the ceiling, just like in the infirmary. The sight of the distant mountaintops was breathtaking. The snow, the wind, the glittering blue sky—it was an oil painting come to life.

Everyone pointed and murmured their amazement. A few people walked over to the gigantic windows to get a better view of our surroundings.

There was a fireplace, several tables, a few desks, a small bookshelf of essential tomes, and a couple massive couches.

“This is the common room for first-year students,” Captain Leon stated. He pointed to the doors. “You’ll find there are two dorm rooms for the boys, and two dorm rooms for the girls. Each dormitory has ten beds, ten dressers, and large washroom.”

“With running water?” someone asked.

Leon puffed his chest and nodded. “That’s right. Astra Academy is proud to say that all our rooms have water that comes straight to them. Heated. It truly is a marvel.”

There were more delighted whispers that circled through the crowd.

“I’ve never seen water piped into a place before,” Nini said to me, her voice so low I almost missed it. “Have you?”

I shook my head. “We had a water pump for our house, but not pipes, like they have here.”

“A-Are you excited to stay here?”

“Definitely.”

It felt like a vast improvement over my old home. Our island probably wouldn’t get indoor piping and heated water for another hundred years—maybe more. Everyone there was backwards. We still had a candlemaker, after all.

With a sigh, I ran a hand down my face. It was frustrating even thinking about it.

“There are no set sleeping arrangements,” Captain Leon stated. “That will happen once you become second-year students and pick your specialty. Then you’ll join the dorms of your fellow students and get your own room.”

That all sounded amazing.

Sorin and I had separate rooms back home, but they had been tiny. I could only imagine what the Astra Academy rooms would be like.

“That concludes our tour,” Sticks announced. “For the rest of the evening, you’re to relax, unpack, and prepare yourself for classes in the morning.”

“Where are our belongings?” someone in the crowd asked.

“They’re in the dorm rooms, safe and sound.”

The crowd of people quickly broke off into smaller groups. Some went to the fireplace, some gathered at the tables—but I didn’t care about any of that. I went straight for the one of the boy’s dorms. Before I left Nini, I gave her a quick wave.

“I’ll see you in a bit,” I said. “After I unpack.”

“O-Oh. Okay. See you.”

She and Waste headed for the girl’s side. She glanced over her shoulder twice before committing to leaving, though. I wondered if she would be all right on her own. She seemed nervous. Was she afraid someone would figure out the reaper’s true Trial of Worth? The thought crossed my mind, but I shook it away.

Then I opened the dorm room and stepped inside.

It was a long rectangular room with ten beds, just as Leon had described. Blue and white rugs covered the stone floor, and large dressers were positioned next to each bed, clearly creating a small personal space for everyone.

My bag was by the door, along with everyone else’s.

I picked it up, went to the back of the room, and threw it down on the last bed in the row. I was the first one to claim anything.

Twain leapt out of my arms and landed on the soft mattress. He walked around in a single circle before rolling himself into a little orange croissant and purring.

“Like it?” I asked.

“Soft beds are the best.” Twain kneaded his claws across the white blanket, immediately scratching them up and pulling out threads.

I snatched him off the bed—his claws still hooked into the blanket, which I dragged off the mattress by accident. He hissed at me as I untangled him from the bedding.

“What’s wrong with you?” I demanded.

“I was getting comfortable!”

“Where’s that treehouse?” I joked.

But then I saw it.

There was a window at the back of the room, right next to my bed, that had a walkway built into the outside sill. The walkway was the branch of a tree that had been twisted and molded into a five-foot-wide path. The branch led back to a massive redwood tree that grew next to the Academy. The tree itself was hollowed out in several areas, creating rooms and walkways.

Some of the treehouse rooms were as a large as the entire dorm.

I opened the glass panel of the window and leaned out to get a better look. Twain leapt over to join me, his orange fur fluttering in the afternoon winds.

One of the treehouse rooms had hay beds. Others had mattresses. A rare few had rocks or nests. A small waterfall spilled off the roof of Astra Academy and poured into a pool in the tree. That pool had its own small waterfall that traveled all the way down to the roots of the tree. The cascading waterfalls left some mist hanging in the air, which in turn created rainbows.

The whole area was…

A paradise.

“Wow,” Twain said, his eyes wide. “My bedroom is so much better than yours.”

I huffed and laughed at the same time. “Wait until I become a second year. I’m sure the dorm rooms they give me then will be way more impressive.”

“Pfft. You wish. Look at that treehouse! I bet a hundred mystical creatures could live there.”

“Neighbors are overrated.”

Twain twitched his whiskers. “You sound jealous.”

I shot him a sideways glance. “I can assure you, I’m not.”

The door to the dorm opened. I turned around, my heart already firing up.

There he was! Sorin entered the dorm with a confused expression. He glanced around until he spotted me. Then a smile bloomed across his face.

“Gray!”

I smiled as well. I couldn’t help it.

With excited energy, I jogged over to him, eager to see what kind of mystical creature he had bonded to. But where was Sorin’s eldrin? No creature walked in with him. In all my excitement, I had forgotten to grab Twain. My little mimic leapt off the sill and chased after me, running like only a kitten could.

Sorin must’ve known I wanted to figure out what kind of arcanist he was, because the moment I was halfway across the room, he covered his forehead with one of his broad hands. I practically ran into him, gave him a hug, and then glared at the hand on his forehead.

“What’re you doing?” I demanded. “This is childish.”

Sorin embraced me with one arm, and then playfully pushed me away. “You have to guess!”

“I’m not guessing, Sorin.” I grabbed for his wrist, but Sorin was still larger than me. He shoved me away and laughed. “C’mon,” I said. “Stop this.”

“You have to guess. That’s the rules.”

“Curse the abyssal hells…”

I leapt at him, faster than before, and I tried to drag his hand away from his forehead. Sorin just laughed as he turned his body away from me. I practically climbed onto his back as Sorin circled around, just laughing the entire time.

Even I started laughing after a bit. What was wrong with him? Why wouldn’t he just tell me! Where was his eldrin, anyway? Why I hadn’t I seen it? Had he sent it to the treehouse already?

The door to the dorm opened and another boy spotted us wrestling. He stared for a prolonged moment, and then slowly stepped backward and shut the door.

Embarrassment got the better of me. I slid off my brother and pushed him as hard as I could.

“Enough,” I said with a huff. “Did you bond with a griffin?”

“Nope,” Sorin said, still smiling and chortling.

“A hippogriff?”

“Guess again.”

“A fairy.”

“That’s not it.”

I ground my teeth and glared at him. “Sorin. I’m not guessing anymore.”

Sorin didn’t remove his hand from his forehead. He replied with a wider grin, like he was reveling in what tiny information he had that I didn’t.

“Mimic arcanists can sense magics,” Twain said to me matter-of-factly. “Since you’re a mimic arcanist now—”

“Wait, you’re a mimicarcanist?” Sorin asked with a gasp. He stared at my arcanist mark. “That’swhat that means? Your empty star is a mimic thing?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s a mimic thing.”

Twain licked a paw and rubbed it along his face. “Like I was saying… Mimics can sense magic. As my arcanist, you should have the same ability. Close your eyes and feel the magic. Smell it.”

I glanced over to him. “Smell it?”

“Uh, yes. And taste it. And feelit.”

Sorin kept his hand on his forehead, covering his arcanist mark. When I returned my gaze to him, he just shrugged. But he didn’t show me his mark.

After a long exhale, I closed my eyes. I wasn’t sure how to feel, taste, or smell magic, but I tried to focus on my surroundings regardless. It took me a minute of thinking to realize that I didfeel something.

Lots of somethings.

In my mind’s eye, it was like grasping at string. I felt thin lines of string that led from me to everyone else. From… Twain. To Sorin. Even… to other people. I couldn’t locate them—I just knew they were nearby. Arcanists in the common room and around the Academy. Probably Nini, too, though it was difficult to determine which string was hers.

“I feel strings,” I said aloud, hoping Twain would help me.

“That’s weird,” my brother commented.

Twain huffed. “Yes. Strings. That’s a good way to describe it. Tug the strings.”

Tug?

I focused on a string and tried to mentally pull on it. The connection seemed taut after that. Stable. When I pulled on Twain’s string nothing happened, but when I pulled on Sorin’s… I felt something dark. Something odd.

I tugged it a little more… And Twain meowed.

My eyes flew open at the same time that Twain was transforming. His body molded and bubbled, and then changed to a blackish coloration. My forehead burned as my arcanist mark shifted to accommodate Twain’s change.

CHAPTER TWENTY

CLASSMATES

Twain transformed into a suit of armor.

Not just any suit of armor.

He was empty inside, like the reaper. Just a floating suit of armor with no one wearing him, yet somehow moving, as though adorned by an invisible man.

Twain was now black plate armor with a shadowy cape. Raven feathers lined the collar of the cape, as well as a belt around the waist, giving him a striking appearance.

The armor wasn’t complete, though. It was as if… pieces were missing.

Sections of armor were missing from the legs and arms, leaving holes throughout. Why was that? It seemed odd for armor. Was it damaged? Or just missing bits?

The helmet turned and moved without a head. It was a full helmet, with a slit for eyes. Yet there was still nothing inside. When the helmet “glanced” at me, I froze.

“Are you okay?” Twain asked, his voice now deep and gruff. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What are you?” I asked.

“Me?” Twain glanced down to examine his new body.

Sorin removed his head from his head. “He’s a knightmare.”

The arcanist mark on Sorin’s head was a seven-pointed star with a cape and shield. Was the mark of a knightmare? The cape seemed similar to the suit of armor. That had to be the case. Was the knightmare a variant of a reaper? They seemed similar, yet very different.

The shadow around Sorin’s feet flickered and moved on its own. Then another suit of armor—identical to Twain—rose from the darkness. It lifted into the room without much movement, emerging from the shadows as though it was made of liquid void.

The same feathery cape. The same missing pieces.

“This is my eldrin,” Sorin said as he patted the shadow armor. “His name is Thurin. He’s a knightmare, and he says he’s a philosopher knight, and I can’t believe how well we get along.”

The suit of armor bowed at the waist.

“You may call me Thurin,” the knightmare said, his voice masculine but rusty. He sounded young. Like me and Sorin. “I lived in the Astra Academy Menagerie for some time. I thought I might never find an arcanist…”

Sorin smiled as he turned to face me. “But I passed his Trial of Worth. Thurin said that I was willing to give my life to protect another, and that exemplified what it meant to be a knight.”

“Who were you willing to give your life for?” I asked.

My brother half-laughed. “Huh? You. That weird spider-puppet almost killed you. When I told the whole story to Piper and the headmaster, Thurin was there to hear everything. He said he wanted me to be his arcanist. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Yeah,” I muttered as I glanced back at his eldrin.

The armor was rather imposing. Did it really fit my brother? Sorin didn’t seem like the type to bond with something so…

“Your brother will make an excellent philosopher knight,” Thurin said matter-of-factly. “It takes great patience and dedication. Sorin has those qualities in spades.”

Sorin smiled at his knightmare eldrin. Then he returned his attention to me.

“Can your mimic turn into anything?” Sorin asked. He walked over to Twain and examined his knightmare body. “He looks exactly like Thurin! That’s amazing.”

“I can transform into almost anything.” Twain turned on his heel and allowed his cape to flutter about. “But I—”

His body bubbled and collapsed in on itself. One second, he was a knightmare, and the next he was back to his kitten form. He fell onto the nearest bed, his orange fur puffed.

“But I… can’t hold it very long,” Twain mumbled into the blankets. Then he picked himself up and smoothed his fur. “Once Gray and I train a bit—and I grow a little older—I’ll be able to maintain my new shape for a long time!”

“That’s excellent,” Sorin said, genuine awe in his voice. He tapped his knuckles onto the chest of his knightmare. “I’ve been trying to think of a poem for my bonding with Thurin. Do you want to hear it?”

“Not really,” I said.

“Oh, you don’t mean that. But I’m not quite finished with it.” Sorin rubbed at his chin and stared up at the ceiling. “I need a word that’s a mix of angry and sad.”

“Smad?” I quipped.

“Disheartened?” Thurin suggested.

Sorin snapped his fingers and smiled. “Yes! Thurin. Perfect.” He cleared his throat and said, “In my darkest hour, disheartened and adrift, I fended off monsters between here and a dream rift. My destiny sealed, I turned to a knight. Now that we’re together, we have fearsome might.”

I wasn’t sure how to react. It seemed needlessly silly to make a poem out of everything. On the other hand, it clearly made him happy. I wished he wouldn’t—especially not in front of others—but I supposed we were alone.

With a half-hearted clap, I said, “I think I prefer your poems that rhyme.”

“Most of them rhyme.”

“Well…” I shrugged. “Sure.”

The door to our dorm room opened again, ending our conversation. I recognized the man who stepped inside. It was Knovak Gentz—his pointed-hat immediately gave him away. That and his white cape. And his ruffled shirt. And too-tight pants.

Really, the man’s whole wardrobe was so flashy that it reminded me of a circus every time I saw it. Knovak technically had sandy blond hair and dark brown eyes, but I had to work to even notice those kinds of details.

Knovak strode into the dorm room like he owned the place. His chest was puffed as he gave everyone—and everything—a quick once over. With a frown, he said, “This is it?”

And then his eldrin pranced into the dorm.

I also recognized it.

Knovak’s eldrin was a unicorn. It was Starling! The same unicorn from my home island. Starling had been taken away before he bonded. Had they brought him to Menagerie? And since mystical creatures didn’t age until they were bonded, Starling was still a foal, even though Sorin and I had grown.

Starling’s white coat glittered in the afternoon light. His beauty was on full display as he trotted over to his arcanist. His spiral horn, deadly sharp yet also regal, seemed polished and sparkling. He was still only three feet at the shoulder, though. Too small to ride. Yet.

Knovak’s arcanist mark was the seven-pointed star with a unicorn wrapped around the points.

Starling’s bright blue eyes went wide the moment he spotted me. “Y-You!”

I offered him a quick wave. “Hey.”

“You’re that dastard! The liar! The trickster!”

Knovak grabbed at his pointed hat, his own eyes going wide. “You’re a liar?”

“Wait.” Sorin held up his hands. “I think we all need to calm down. Gray and I can explain. We’re not dastards or tricksters.”

“You’re charlatans,” Starling said as he stomped his silver hooves on to the stone floor. Then he whinnied and swished his tail. After a quick circle, he leapt behind his arcanist, like we would attack him at any second.

Twain tilted his little kitten head. “Eh. Unicorns are so fussy… Me and this one never got along.”

Although there were only three arcanists in the dorms, the noise levels almost hurt my ears. The unicorn snorted and stomped. Knovak whispered calming words. Thurin—the knightmare—walked away from the situation to stand by the far window, and each of his steps sounded like a clatter of metal.

What would this room be like with seven other people?

I almost wanted to live in the treehouse.

Then it struck me. This was why the eldrin had the massive tree to begin with. It would allow them to make all sorts of noise, and it wouldn’t interfere with our sleep.

Once Starling stopped shouting accusatory declarations, Knovak shot me a glare. “So, you lied to this unicorn when you were younger to get it to bond with you?”

I half-shrugged. “I guess that’s accurate.”

“That’s a heinous act.”

Sorin held up a finger. “Gray didn’t do it, though. We told Starling we were sorry and left before bonding.”

That clearly didn’t satisfy Knovak. He sneered as he backed away from us. With an expression that basically confirmed he thought we were criminals, Knovak went to the bed farthest from us.

“Hopefully Starling and I won’tbe in either of your classes,” he said. “That way, we won’t have to see each other for longer than absolutely necessary.”

Starling huffed and then held his nose up in the air as he trotted over to Knovak’s bed.

I almost reminded him there was another dorm room, but I didn’t actually want to speak to the man. Him and his snooty unicorn could do whatever they wanted, so long as they just left me alone.

After a short sigh, Sorin walked over to me. He glanced from one bed to the next. Then he finally spotted my bed at the far back. “You’re all the way over there?”

“Yeah.” I motioned to a bed near mine. “We’ll have more privacy if we’re back there.”

“You don’t want to be near the door? We should be ready at a moment’s notice. What if adventure comes calling?”

That was the corniest thing Sorin had ever said.

“We don’t have to have beds right next to each other,” I said.

Sorin stared at me. For a silent minute, he said nothing. Then he nodded once. “You know what? That’s true. I mean, we can’t be together forever.”

His reply surprised me.

I thought… He would’ve changed his mind and joined me in the back.

But before I could comment, Sorin stepped close. He lowered his voice and asked, “Uh, but what about your dreams? Do you think you’re going to be attacked again?”

“I think I’ll be fine,” I whispered. “I’m an arcanist now. And I think the person behind the attacks was killed.”

“Really?” Sorin asked, his voice much louder than before.

Knovak and Starling glanced over.

I grabbed Sorin’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Yeah. And don’t mention it to anyone. Okay? I don’t want people knowing about the dreams.”

“What about Professor Helmith?”

The mere mention of her name caused my chest to tighten. I hadn’t seen her since we arrived. That worried me. I pushed my anxiety aside and then shook my head. “I’ll speak to Professor Helmith. You just… don’t mention the dream puppets. To anyone.”

“You have my word, Gray.”

I offered my brother a smile. “Thank you.” Then I pulled him even closer. “Oh—I wanted to tell you something. The headmaster has an assassin bodyguard.”

“Really?” Sorin asked, his tone one of clear disbelief. “The headmaster seemed like a gentle man to me.”

“I saw it with my own eyes. The headmaster was being bothered in his office, and then bam. Bodyguard out of nowhere. He was invisible and just waiting for a chance to strike.”

“I wonder if the headmaster gets attacked often?”

The comment made me pause and think. That would explain the need for a bodyguard…

“This place is full of capable arcanists,” I said, repeating the headmaster’s words. “I doubt people go around attacking one another.”

Sorin nodded. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

The door to the dorm opened.

Everyone went silent as we collectively turned our attention to the arrival.

In walked another familiar face. It was the man from the boat ride—the one with the scars on his face. The man who had refused to give us his name because “we didn’t know if we’d be arcanists or not.”

The man wore the same black cloak and large cap as before. They hid most of his features, but I remembered his sun-tanned skin and dark eyes from the trek over here. He was someone who had spent a lifetime out in the harsh rays of daylight.

A fox walked in behind him—the same kitsune fox from the Menagerie.

What was the fox’s name?

Miko.

She had flames on her feet that burned nothing. Embers wafted from her as she pranced around, her fluffy red tail switching behind her. Miko stayed close to the scarred man, flashing everyone else a coy smile.

“What do we have here?” Miko asked. “I see I’ve found some of my Menagerie friends.”

Twain turned away and said nothing.

“Ah, Miko,” Thurin said from the back of the room. “I see you’ve found someone to tolerate you.”

The little kitsune puffed her red fur, and her pointed ears stood as straight as they’d go. A little flame burst to life on the tip of her tail. “I’ll have you know that I’m mysterious. Why do you keep equating that to underhandedness?”

“I asked you simple questions, and you refused to answer.”

“You’re a weird suit of armor! I’m not going to trust someone like you.”

“I’m your senior, and the questions were reasonable.”

The scarred man stepped in front of his kitsune eldrin. He glowered in Thurin’s direction. “Leave my eldrin alone,” he stated, his tone cold. “Before I make you.”

The kitsune peeked around the man’s legs with a smug smile. “Yes. We wouldn’t want to show you whose magic is superior, would we?”

Everyone was aggressive today, for some reason. Perhaps it was the close quarters. Or perhaps everyone was simply tired after a long couple of days. Either way, it seemed as though there was a lot more yelling and bickering than what I imagined for the Astra Academy dorms.

“And who are you?” Knovak asked as he stepped forward. His unicorn stood proudly at his side. “I think I remember you from the pier.”

The man removed his hat, revealing his dark hair and scarred face. He had obviously been slashed by something. He had a few scars near his hairline, and one on his lip.

“I’m Raaza,” the man said.

Miko walked around him, her fox fire glowing a bit brighter. “My lovely arcanist.”

“Well, Raaza, where I’m from, it’s considered proper to introduce yourself with your full name.” Knovak tipped the front of his pointed hat. “I’m Knovak Gentz, and this is my unicorn eldrin, Starling.”

He said the last part with a haughty tone.

“Feh,” Raaza said with a roll of his eyes. “Very well. I’m Raaza Luin. And this is my eldrin. Where I’mfrom, they introduce themselves.”

“I’m Miko the kitsune.” Miko wove her way between Raaza’s legs.

I wondered if anyone in the Academy wanted to get along. With a sigh, I reminded myself that they were probably fatigued. I had to chant that in my mind over and over, lest I make a snarky comment and get everyone angry at me in a matter of seconds.

Sorin stepped into the middle of the room. “It’s great to finally know your name, Raaza. It’s definitely unique. I like it. It rolls off the tongue well.”

“Are you mocking me?” Raaza asked, his words slow, like he was genuinely confused.

I shook my head. “Sorin just like words. He’s not making fun of anyone.”

“Hm.”

Silence.

Raaza never answered. My brother clearly didn’t know how to follow up after that interaction, and Knovak was too busy unpacking a mountain’s worth of clothes.

“I’m going to take a nap,” I said as I headed for my bed. “Don’t wake me unless class is starting, okay?” Whatever they were going to argue about, I didn’t want any part of it.

And I could meet everyone else in the dorm later, after everyone was well rested and in a better mood.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE FIRST CLASS

I awoke in the middle of the night to the shining of a full moon.

With a shiver, I pulled my blankets up over my shoulders. The window that led to the treehouse was gigantic. A stream of moonlight filled the dorm. There were curtains beside the window, but I didn’t want to get up and deal with them. Not only that, but the window itself acted as a door for everyone’s eldrin, so that they could travel to the treehouse. Shutting the curtains seemed rude.

The branches of the paradise tree didn’t offer any shade to shield me from the light of the moon, which was unfortunate.

At least I hadn’t experienced any more nightmares.

Maybe they were all over now.

That would be a relief.

The window creaked open. I glanced over just in time to catch sight of a tiny kitten-shaped silhouette. Twain had gone to the treehouse, even though I had wanted him to stay. I suspected he had gotten lonely over there, because he crept over to my bed and silently leapt onto the mattress.

Without a word, I lifted my blankets and allowed him to snuggle up next to me. Then I lowered the blanket and tucked him in. Twain’s purring practically rumbled the whole bed.

No one else had entered our dorm. It was just me, Sorin, Knovak, and Raaza. Had all the other boys gone to the second dorm? That seemed odd, but I had a theory.

The four of us were the boys who had bonded to a mystical creature in the Menagerie. We were the “special recipient” arcanists—the ones too poor or lacking connections to become arcanists on our own. I bet that angered Knovak. His family, the Gentz Merchants, typically considered themselves quite wealthy. Why hadn’t Knovak traveled with his family around the islands? That was normally how members of the Gentz family became arcanists.

The rest of the first-year boys had probably become arcanists before arriving at Astra Academy. They probably wanted to avoid us four.

The thought swirled around in my mind, getting me angrier the longer I thought it. We weren’t good enough to mingle with? Or perhaps everyone else already knew each other.

“There are lots of mystical creatures in the treehouse,” Twain whispered.

“I bet,” I replied, my voice equally as quiet.

“There’s a dragon here.”

“What kind?”

Twain stopped purring. “I don’t know. He liked the water, though. He slept in a fountain.”

The floorboards groaned. I rolled over, my heart hammering. What if it was another spider-puppet? But I breathed a sigh of relief the moment I spotted Sorin. He tip-toed over to the bed next to mine, but he was so large—and un-stealthy—that he wasn’t silent about it. Even the bed creaked as he rested on top of it.

The moonlight provided ample illumination for me to see my brother smile.

“Gray?” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can see that,” I quipped.

“I’m too excited.” Sorin pulled the blankets up around his body. His feet hung off the end of the bed. “Sleep is a luxury for an untroubled mind—a comfort for the confidant.”

“Hm.”

Twain pressed his tiny body up against mine. I gently petted him under my blankets.

“Where’s your eldrin?” I asked.

Sorin pointed to the floor. “Knightmares are mystical creatures made of shadows and terror. Apparently, Thurin can make himself into a pool of darkness, and hide in my shadow. Isn’t that amazing?”

I turned my attention to the floor. The darkness fluttered at the edges all around Sorin’s bed, as though bats were hidden in the shadows and silently flapping their wings. The knightmare, Thurin, seemed both ominous and mystical.

I was almost jealous.

Almost.

Twain could become a knightmare, though. So, in essence, my eldrin was more versatile—more powerful.

“Thurin said that baby knightmares aren’t complete suits of armor,” Sorin said as he scooted to the edge of his bed, the closest he could get to me. “That’s why there are pieces of his armor missing. As he gets older, the missing parts will form.”

“Like an old woman slowly knitting clothing.”

My brother snorted and shrugged. “I thought you’d be happier, Gray. We’re finally here! You’ve been talking about this for years.”

“I’m happy.”

Mostly.

“Is it because you haven’t spoken to your honeysuckle?” Sorin playfully asked.

“Don’t call her that,” I hissed under my breath. “Professor Helmith is probably twice my age. It’s creepy when you call her my honeysuckle.”

“But love is a force that shatters all boundaries. Professor Helmith’s maturity will deepen your understanding of the world. And yourself.”

“Oh, good stars save me… That’s even creepier.” I ran a hand down my face, hoping that Sorin wouldn’t say anything like this in front of anyone else.

My brother rolled onto his back and laced the fingers of his hands together under his head. He stared at the ceiling, the moonlight blanketing him as much as the bedding. For a long moment, he seemed lost in thought.

“You don’t mind if I take this bed, right?” he whispered.

I shook my head. “I was hoping we’d… ya know. Stick together. At least for a little while longer.” I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but I figured I should say it now because I might not get another chance.

“Good night, Gray.”

“Night, Sorin.”

***

In the morning, I awoke in a groggy haze.

I dressed, washed my face, and brushed my hair back before exiting the dorm and entering the common room. All the other first years were gathered in front of the fireplace, and just to conform to the others, I lingered around the group. My eyes were heavy. I hadn’t slept much.

Twain was small enough—and light enough—that he could sit on my shoulder without a problem. I petted his head. He, too, wasn’t really awake.

Sorin stuck close to me as everyone left the fireplace and headed for the stairs. Our classrooms were on the first floor of the main Academy building, and as I rubbed the sleep crust from my eyes, we arrived at the first classroom.

Piper stood by the door with a stack of papers in her hands.

Today, she wore a black and blue robe, similar to the headmaster’s during orientation.

“Urg,” she groaned as the twenty-seven of us approached her, each with our own eldrin. “Why is so bright this morning?”

Reevy, her little ferret-looking rizzel, sat at her feet. He grabbed the bottom of her robe and then pulled himself onto the hem. He “rode” the train of her robe like a little moving bed. He even curled into a little ball and closed his eyes, as though this were too early for him to function.

Piper squinted at us. She straightened the paperwork and then counted everyone one by one. “All right,” she muttered. “Class One will be made of nine arcanists. These were picked at random. Listen up for your name.”

The haze of sleep began to clear.

Would I be in this class?

Piper pinched the bridge of her nose and then focused on the list of names. “Class One is… Nasbit Dodger. Exie Lo…lilan?”

“Lolian,” a girl in the crowd snapped. With a harsh whisper, she add, “It isn’t that difficult.”

“Right. Exie Lolian.” Piper rustled the paper. “Ashlyn Kross. Nini Wanderlin. Sorin Lexly.”

I held my breath, hoping that I’d be placed in the same class as my brother.

“Knovak Gentz. Phila Hon.”

When she didn’t immediately say my name after Sorin’s, my heart sank. Twain glanced over at me, a slight frown on his kitten face. I didn’t say anything.

“Raaza Luin. And lastly… Gray Lexly.”

I stifled a laugh. Thank the good stars. I thought she was going to skip right over me. My brother turned to face me, an odd half-smile on his face. Had he been worried as well? Probably.

So, that was the nine of us.

We separated from the others. Piper motioned to a large oak door. On the front of it was carved the words: CLASS ONE, YEAR ONE.

“This will be your room,” Piper stated. “In Astra Academy, the professors are the ones who move from classroom to classroom. Each day of the week, you will have a different professor, for a total of six. The last day of the week is a free day. We encourage you to join a club during that time. That isn’t required, it’s just highly advised.”

Muttering and whispered flew through the group of first years.

Piper pointed to the door. “Go on, Class One.”

I headed for the classroom, along with the other eight arcanists. We entered one at a time to a large room with five long tables, a gigantic chalkboard, nine wooden trunks, and a desk for the professor.

The window at the back of the room had a walkway that led to the redwood treehouse. That meant our eldrin could meet us here in the classroom—they didn’t need to enter the dorm and walk with us. That was probably for the best. Some of the mystical creatures, even in my class, were gigantic, and they would only get bigger as they grew older.

Once everyone was in the room, I gave my fellow classmates my full attention.

There was me, obviously. A mimic arcanist.

Sorin—the knightmare arcanist—with Thurin, his shadowy armor eldrin. My brother went to the center of the room and spun around once, getting a good look at everything in one go.

“This is amazing,” Sorin said. “This room is huge!”

Nini—the reaper arcanist—kept her massive coat on, even though it was warm in here. She ducked her chin below the collar, half hiding her face. She, too, spun around to take everything in.

“It’s so much nicer than anything on my island,” she whispered.

Sorin shot her a smile. “Right? What more could we ask for?”

“I agree.”

Her reaper floated over to a wooden table. The edge of its cloak lifted and then wiped the surface and bench clean. “Here you are, my arcanist,” Waste said, his hollow voice frightening.

Nini hesitantly smiled as she hurried over to the table. “Thank you, Waste.”

“My pleasure.”

Everyone in our class avoided her and the table that Waste had cleaned. They even walked around the table, giving it plenty of space.

Reapers were bad luck. It didn’t surprise me that no one wanted to get close.

Knovak—the unicorn arcanist—wore an outfit of bright red. His pointed hat was tilted back to show off his unicorn arcanist mark. His unicorn, Starling, proudly pranced at his side.

“Now this is a proper classroom,” he said, smirking.

Raaza—the kitsune arcanist—didn’t say a single word as he shuffled across the classroom. The man loved his cloak. He kept his gaze on the floor and immediately took a seat at the back of the room without talking to anyone.

What a friendly chap.

His kitsune leapt onto the table and proudly showed off her red fox fur. “I like it here. So many people and creatures.”

The last four arcanists…

They stuck together, away from the rest of us.

Nasbit Dodger—the stone golem arcanist—was shorter and portlier than everyone else. He wore a fine silk shirt, tailored trousers, and sock-cap that reminded me of sailors at the docks. The sock-cap seemed thick and warm, though. Very comfortable.

His golem was the size of a human kid but made of boulders and giant rocks. It was a sandstone golem, really. Bright gold flecks of dirt sparkled throughout the golem. It had no eyes, just stone.

The creature lumbered through the room, each step creating a hefty thump sound.

“Over this way,” Nasbit said to his golem. “We need to sit at the front of the class if we want to make sure we’ll hear everything.”

His golem rumbled as it turned around and headed for the front table.

Exie Lolian—never pronounce her last name wrong, apparently—stood with her arms crossed, a scowl marring her otherwise beautiful features. Her curly chestnut hair was so well-cared for and maintained that each little curl had its own bounce and shimmer. They only went to her shoulders, but it was still striking.

She wore a dress, which was odd. No one else had chosen such an outfit. The white dress was tight on her and reminded me of the fancy gowns some girls wore when they finally became an adult. It accentuated her darker skin, and also allowed her green eyes to steal the show. They were a pop of bright color.

Exie was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous person in the room.

And she was… an erlkingarcanist.

Erlkings were the kings of fairies. They grew larger than most fairies and were more powerful. Exie’s was a baby erlking, though. It was the size of my fist and fluttered around with dragonfly-style wings, leaving a trail of glitter as it sped around everywhere.

Exie glanced over to me, then to Sorin, and then finally to Nini.

“Oh,” she said, her voice higher and quite loud. “You three are the ones who bonded with the bizarre mystical creatures in the Menagerie.”

“Bizarre?” Sorin asked.

“I heard that there were three creatures in the Menagerie that hadn’t bonded in years,” Exie said as she brought her fingers to her chin. “My cousin said it was a knightmare, a reaper, and a mimic. And here you three are.”

Nini fidgeted with the sleeves of her jacket. “Um. Yes.”

The erlking fluttered about like only fairies could. “Bizarre. Look at you all.”

Exie pointed to my arcanist mark. “Your star is empty… That’s just plain weird.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” I quipped.

She fluffed her hair and gracefully turned away from me. I wasn’t even that mad, really.

The last two arcanists in our class entered the room together, and relatively quietly.

Phila Hon was a woman with red hair down to her waist. It was a strawberry blonde—much lighter than Nini’s blood-red hair. Phila wore a gentle expression and a beautiful green shirt that seemed crafted for royalty. It had beads and jewels woven into the fabric. It flowed past her waist like a tunic and highlighted her hair. Her trousers were loose as well. But I barely paid attention to her.

She was the coatl arcanist.

Her serpent eldrin had rainbow wings and colorful feathers around its head. It was the length of a person, but still thin, because it was a hatchling. It seemed just as beautiful as Phila’s shirt.

“Astra Academy,” Phila said with a slight smile. “I’ve longed for this day.”

The last person in our class…

Ashlyn Kross.

Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and she wore leather riding pants, a vest, and shoulder guard, as though she expected some sort of combat. Her boots went to her knees, and her outfit reminded me of an old-world adventurer.

Athletic. Confident. Tall.

Very tall.

The tallest of the women in our class, for sure.

And her eldrin…

It was the largest one in the class.

A baby typhoon dragon. They were regal guardians of the sea—dragons who spent their days beneath the waves. Her dragon’s scales were every color of blue, from sapphire to aquamarine. It was the size of a desk, and instead of wings, it had fins on its spine, tail, and arms.

The dragon had a serpent-like head, but it was gills along its long neck.

To bond with a dragon… Hadn’t Twain said they had deadly Trials of Worth?

Ashlyn turned and caught me staring. Normally, I would glance away, and feign disinterest, but I didn’t do that this time. I blatantly stared, wondering how she would react. Ashlyn had blue eyes—not gray-blue, like mine, but dark blue, like the ocean.

She didn’t flinch or back down. We stared at each other for a prolonged moment, as though locked in a challenge. Who would glance away first?

I lifted an eyebrow. Ashlyn offered me half a smile.

Our little game seemed more playful than I had been expecting.

Exie walked over to Ashlyn and touched her elbow. “Have you seen our class? It looks like you got exactly what you wanted.”

Ashlyn didn’t glance away. Instead, she addressed me when she said, “You there. Mimic arcanist. What did the professor say your name was?”

“Gray Lexly,” I replied.

Everyone else in class stopped what they were doing and paid attention to our conversation. Did they think we were going to get into a fight? The tension in the air seemed thick.

“And you’re Ashlyn Kross,” I said. “I paid attention when the professor was calling names.”

Her dragon stepped to her side and lifted his head. With his long neck, and fins on his head, he was already tall enough to stare down at me. Still a baby—and very thin, for a dragon—but still powerful enough to bite me good.

The dragon glared, but said nothing.

“I don’t know much about mimics,” Ashlyn said, her tone slow, her words precise. “What kind of Trial of Worth do they have?”

Twain gripped his little claws into my shoulder. This was the moment he had been fearing, apparently.

I didn’t answer immediately. Ashlyn must’ve sensed my hesitation, and for some reason, this amused her. She stepped closer.

“Typhoon dragons require a competition.” She patted the brilliant blue scales of her eldrin. “Their Trial of Worth requires hopefuls to gather a special kind of pearl from an abyssal clam. During my Trial, one boy drowned, and one girl was killed by the abyssal monster.”

Her statements sent a chill through the room. It seemed as though no one looked away.

Twain had been right. Dragons always had difficult—and deadly—Trials of Worth.

Ashlyn cut straight to chase when she said, “I heard you were injured in the Menagerie. Was that from the mimic’s Trial of Worth?”

Everyone glanced in my direction.

No one spoke. No one took in a sharp breath. They waited for the answer.

I wondered why.

Twain gripped my shirt tighter, and even he was anxious to hear what I would say. We had made deal, though. I wouldn’t reveal his secret.

“It wasn’t part of the mimic’s Trial,” I said with a casual shrug. “What happened in the Menagerie was an attack. Someone tried to kill me.”

“Really?” Exie asked, just interjecting her way into the conversation. “You?”

I nodded once. “That’s right. Little ’ol me.”

“But why?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Okay, then—what was your Trial of Worth?” Ashlyn asked.

She seemed pretty fixated on it, for some reason.

I patted Twain’s head and said, “I apologize, but mimics are complex and highly magical creatures. The only people who get to know their Trial of Worth are them, and their arcanists.”

“It’s a secret?” Ashlyn’s tone seemed to be a mix of amusement and irritation. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Sorry.” I shrugged a second time. “But no one gets to know unless they’re a mimic arcanist. That’s the rules.”

“Arg!” The kitsune on the far table fluffed her fur. “That’s so mysterious even I’m jealous!”

Raaza chuckled as he stroked the fur down on his eldrin. “I think he just doesn’t want to say.”

Twain held his head high. “Nope. Gray’s right. It’s a mystery. Deal with it.”

The others glanced between each other. A few of them stared at me with renewed interest. My plan to keep it a mystery seemed to be working. Now they would ponder my situation. The air of mystery was a useful tool.

“Gray is really your name?” Exie asked, once again interjecting herself into the conversation. “Is it short for Grayson or something?”

“No,” I stated. “It’s just Gray.”

Sorin stepped close to my side. “Everyone always assumes its short for something longer. One time, the baker on our isle made Gray a little cake for his birthday, and he wrote Graywartin berry slices on the top.”

I ran a hand down my face. “Oh. Right. I had almost forgotten about that.”

“It was hilarious. I called him Graywartfor like a year, and he hated it.” Sorin laughed and playfully smacked me on the shoulder.

Exie snickered into the palm of her hand.

Everyone else remained relatively quiet. Someone coughed once. The silence in the room was almost unbearable.

I patted my brother on the arm. “Let’s not talk about awkward childhood stories, okay, Sorin?”

Then Exie grabbed Ashlyn’s elbow and pointed to the classroom door.

We both broke away from our staring contest at the same time. The door opened, and in walked our first professor.

I recognized her, of course. I almost called out her name the moment I spotted her.

Professor Helmith.