Abish Royal Academy

As a matter of physical distance, the Abish Royal Academy sat just a courtyard’s length away from the adjacent village. It was no farther than the long hallway that Lavenza walked when she visited the quarters of the headmistress at the Menuan Monastery for disciplining.

But ordinary folk could not enter the royal academy. They could not find it. The snowstorm served as a veil between the world of magic and the world of the real. It was the lock. Magic was the key.

“Canta fela ten paladis.”

The storm yielded. A path, wide enough to fit just one person, delved through the blizzard and sealed itself when Lavenza stepped inside. She walked in silence. At the end of the path, the storm dissipated. The sun remained hidden by a batch of low hanging clouds. Abish Royal Academy came into view.

Lavenza always believed that the academy looked better in the shade. The windows and porcelain panes embedded in each of its three towers sparkled too much during daylight. There was something alluring about the academy during foggier days, something about the way the mists would playfully hide the tip of the astrology tower or enhance the brooding majesty of the brimming azure seal cast upon its gates. Abish Royal Academy was even more beautiful at night, when its magical energies twirled about the grounds and birthed a frosted emerald aurora that few in this world would ever see.

She approached the front gate. The mechanism of the seal comprised of a network of intersecting magical lines. To unlock it required one to peer into its depths and twist out the point from where each line originated. Possible, but time consuming. Lavenza had more convenient solutions.

Lavenza rolled up her sleeves and hoisted the square talisman bound to her wrists.

“I am here on orders from Her Royal Highness, Empress Seline,” she announced. “She demands that you open the gate.”

The gate seal glimmered. The lines at the edges of the seal began to retract. The lines beneath those lines followed suit, all retracing back towards an unknown center, until all that remained was a blue sphere that dissolved into specks. The gate parted ways. The large double doors behind it groaned open.

“Apostate Lavenza,” came a stern voice on the other side of the doors. “State thy purpose.”

Lavenza felt a sudden stiffness in both her hands and feet. She found it difficult to even turn her face. Golden bracelets emerged over her wrists and ankles, while a collar locked Lavenza’s neck in place. Each piece emitted both a low, humming vibration and an uncomfortable level of heat.

Several robed mages emerged from the entrance and shoved the edge of their staves into Lavenza’s field of view. They were followed by a stout man. Like the others, he had all the dressings of an imperial mage. Gray beard. Red robes. Pointy hat. Leather poulaines. But none of the other mages wore the emerald necklace that hung from his neck.

“Archmage Halifox,” Lavenza made the modest effort to bow her head. “An honor to be received by you.”

“Apostate Lavenza,” the man said again. “State thy purpose.”

“I’ve come to inform you. The Grixys Ley Line has been depleted,” Lavenza said, “and Her Royal Highness requests a report on your progress.”

“Your message is received,” said the archmage. “Progress remains steady. You may depart now.”

“Her Highness requires proof of progress,” Lavenza replied.

“We can prepare a written document. You will wait in town for it.”

“Her Highness requires that I inspect—”

“We will confer a truth incantation upon the document,” the archmage snapped. “That will make it more reliable than pure eye witness.”

“The truth incantation can be spoofed by a simple cipher, archmage,” Lavenza said. “Her Royal Highness is aware of possible subterfuge and would like an eye witness account.”

“Then the empress should have thought twice before sending you here,” Archmage Halifox spat. “Does she mean to mock the academy, apostate?”

“Of course not,” Lavenza smiled. “The empress knows, as you do archmage, that there is no one more qualified to review the merits of your work.”

“A-Archmage!”

A young man, younger than any of the mages surrounding Lavenza, hurried to the archmage’s side. He gasped for air and adjusted his wayward glasses.

“What is it, Walser?” the archmage snarled.

“A-an incantation,” the young man coughed. “I sensed a M-Menuan incantation piercing the snow veil.”

Archmage Halifox pointed at Lavenza. It took a moment for the young man to draw the connection.

“Those t-tattoos,” Walser murmured. “Would you happen to be the one who…?”

“Are all your new students normally this bright, Halifox?” Lavenza grinned.

“Walser,” the archmage growled. “happens to be the spearhead behind the project. Apostate Lavenza. If you’re to enter the academy grounds, you will abide by the proper conditions.”

“I’m listening.”

“The shackles stay as they are,” said Archmage Halifox. “Your staff will be confiscated, along with your other possessions, to be returned when you leave. I will accompany you on a tour of the grounds. You will only see what I permit you to see.”

“I have no complaints,” Lavenza tried shrugging, but her shackles locked her shoulders in place. 

“Lead the way.”

“Levitate,” Archmage Halifox commanded. “Follow.”

The words flowed out of the old man like an echo in a cave. Lavenza remained locked by the golden shackles, but her body floated alongside the archmage. The mages surrounding Lavenza dispersed and disappeared behind the doorway, while Walser stayed with Archmage Halifox and walked with Lavenza into the Abish Royal Academy.

Inside, Lavenza was greeted with tall ceilings and floating tomes. Mages occupied both the ground floor and the catwalks above, but the atmosphere was as quiet as any library. Most were simply consumed by their books or the parchments or chalk boards where they inscribed dense magical formulae. Any magical recitations were muttered at a volume below a whisper, akin to hearing just the texture of one’s lips forming letters.

“Are they all working on replacing the Endire?” Lavenza asked.

“What else is there to work on?” said the archmage. “Yes. Yes, they are all working on it.”

“And their progress?” she asked.

“Depends on the splinter,” he shrugged. “Some are further ahead than others.”

“Is that what you’d like me to relay to Her Royal Highness? That some progress is further ahead than others?”

“You can joke all you want. It doesn’t speed up their work,” the archmage said.

“You can make all the excuses you want,” Lavenza replied. “The Endire waits for no one.”

“We’ve understood the problem—”

“The problem has always been understood, archmage,” Lavenza laughed. “The end times have arrived.”

“What would you like me to relay to the empress?” the archmage snapped. “We are not ready, that much is true. But we are close. Very close now.”

“So show me,” Lavenza said.

“Walser?” the archmage asked.

“She can see it from the observatory room,” the young man answered after a moment’s thought. “It should be safe there.”

“So be it,” the old man nodded. “Apostate Lavenza. Follow.”

Lavenza continued to float behind Archmage Halifox who, along with Walser, led her through one of the side doors leading out of the entrance hall. They descended a spiraling staircase lit with torchlight that glowed a peculiar jade green. Every so often, a fellow mage or wandering scholar would approach from the other direction and would squeeze past Lavenza’s inert body to pass to the other side.

“I’m surprised,” Lavenza said, “that there is even anything to observe.”

“You are the not only talented mage, apostate,” the archmage said.

“It’s not a matter of talent, it’s magic, archmage,” Lavenza frowned. “There are rules.”

“How ironic that you would speak about rules.”

“Those who break them tend to realize why such things exist.”

“Humanity has been bending of the rules of magic for a millennia,” the old man scoffed. “I am pestered by tradition. I hope Her Royal Highness does not expect me to fulfill my task without twisting a few branches.”

“As you say.”

Two corridors sat at the bottom of the stairwell. One of the corridors exuded a great power, enough for Lavenza’s hair to bristle at the sense of it.  Time slowed. Her body wrestled against her golden shackles. But Archmage Halifox and Walser turned to the right, an empty shaft devoid of color or interest.

“What’s down there?” Lavenza tried nodding to her left.

“Very soon now,” the archmage muttered. “Very soon.”

“May I a-ask you something, Menuan?” Walser shifted close to her. “T-two things.”

“… You may.”

“W-what Menuan incantation did you use to penetrate the veil?”

“Canta fela ten paladis.”

“May the grace of the earth grant me passage,” Walser sighed. “Of course. What a lovely solution.”

“And your second question?” Lavenza yawned.

“Is it true what they say, that Menuans are born from the light of the Endire?” Walser asked. "And that is why there are no more Menuans?”

“Are you sure you’re a mage, what was your name?” Lavenza replied.

“Walser,” the mage stammered. “And yes, I’m a mage. I s-study illusions.”

“Among other fields,” the archmage said.

“Then think like a mage,” Lavenza murmured. “The academy expels its only Menuan and its superstitious prejudices return in a matter of years. And the archmage says you are in charge of all this? Preposterous.”

The further they entered the shaft, the more Lavenza’s senses felt muted. The power from earlier waned, like the sun’s warmth leaving her body. It grew cold enough for her breath to draw fog.

The observatory awaited them at the end of the tunnel. Flat metal sheets covered the windows facing every side of the room.

“Lift them Walser,” the archmage whispered.

“Rise,” Walser commanded.

The metal curtains lifted open and light flooded the observatory. Lavenza’s eyes squinted away the immediate tears. She realized then that the windows were tinted. Magical seals above them were filtering light into the chamber and even then, its heat and brilliance threatened to overwhelm her. She dared not look straight at the source for fear of blindness.

From her peripheral vision, she saw that the observatory faced a lower chamber deep in the heart of the academy. In the center of that room was an unyielding orb, wreathed in flame, tethered by magical chains to the ceilings, walls, and floor of the chamber itself.

The more Lavenza’s eyes adjusted to the brilliance of the orb, the more she turned her eyes to look at it. The closer she looked, the less brilliant it seemed to appear. But Archmage Halifox, as if possessed by the orb’s majesterial appearance, threw out his hands and moaned.

“Behold,” the archmage pronounced. “Witness a Miracle! Witness the birth of a new sun.”