Chapter 15: Knowledge

The palace halls echoed with the sound of footsteps and dragging luggage. Well—Rias and I carried most of our belongings by hand, but Sköll insisted on tugging one of my bags with his teeth, tail held high like he was proving a point.

“Easy,” I muttered, chuckling as the strap caught a corner.

Behind us, Hati and Freki stood stiff-legged at the top of the stairs, ears twitching with what I could only describe as sulking pride.

Geri gave a soft whine and nuzzled Rias’s side. Of the two we were leaving behind, she and Sköll were the only ones going with us—though not without drama.

Hati gave Sköll a low growl as we passed. Freki barked once and turned his back entirely, nose in the air.

Of course, Sköll took it as a challenge. He stopped, stood tall, and practically pranced past them like a war general returning from victory. I swore I saw him flash Geri a cocky grin.

“They’re jealous,” Rias whispered with a giggle. “I can feel it through our bond.”

“Sköll knows it too. He’s such a showoff.”

Sköll tossed his head at that, clearly satisfied with himself.

Henry stood near the gates, arms folded, watching the wolves like they were dignitaries at a summit. “Shall I prepare them for battle or just get them a chess board?”

“They’d probably flip it halfway through,” I muttered, adjusting my satchel.

With one last look at the palace—its blackstone towers rising into the early morning sky—we set off for the Magic Academy.

The Academy wasn’t far, but it felt like crossing into another world.

The grounds sprawled across the eastern rise of the city, surrounded by high, rune-etched walls that shimmered faintly with protective enchantments. Beyond them, sleek towers and arched bridges connected clusters of buildings, each made from white stone and trimmed in gold or navy.

At the entrance gate, a massive bulletin board had been posted under a glass canopy.

Students clustered around it, muttering, pointing, some cheering, some groaning. As we approached, the murmuring quieted… then quickly shifted into hushed excitement.

“That’s him…”

“Is that… the prince?”

“He brought a Dire Wolf to school?”

I tried not to look too affected, but the stares were sharp and unrelenting.

Rias walked beside me calmly, one hand resting gently on Geri’s back. Sköll gave a low growl—not in warning, more like smug acknowledgment.

We reached the board.

Each student’s name had been printed on neatly sorted parchment, grouped by dormitory, floor, and classroom assignment.

I scanned the list quickly.

Arthur Fenrir – Men’s Dorm - Room 32 - Class 1S

Rias Fenrir – Women’s Dorm - Room 31 - Class 1S

Seraphine and Caelan weren’t far down the list—both also marked under Class 1S, with their own room numbers nearby.

“Top of the class,” I muttered. “S-ranked students.”

Rias nodded. “I suppose the pressure starts now.”

Just then, a familiar voice called from the side of the courtyard.

“Well, I’d say that’s cause for celebration.”

Seraphine waved from beneath an arched hallway, her golden hair catching the morning light. Caelan stood beside her, arms crossed as always, but his mouth twitched into something dangerously close to a smile.

I raised a hand in greeting. “Found your room?”

“Of course,” Seraphine said, stepping closer. Her amber eyes flicked toward the wolves. “And I see your entourage hasn’t diminished.”

Caelan eyed Sköll warily. “He’s… larger up close.”

Sköll gave him a single sniff, then huffed as if unimpressed.

“This is Geri,” Rias said, gently guiding the white-furred wolf forward. “She’s the only one I was allowed to bring.”

“And she’s quite beautiful,” Seraphine said kindly. Geri gave her a sniff and a soft whine in approval.

Caelan tilted his head. “Two of them didn’t come?”

“Hati and Freki are back at the palace,” I said. “Not exactly thrilled.”

“They’ll get over it,” Rias added. “Eventually.”

Seraphine smiled. “Well, I suppose this is where we split. Dorms are separated by gender, but we’re all on the top floor of each building.”

Caelan gave me a half-wave. “Try not to draw too much attention before classes start.”

“No promises.”

The men’s dormitory loomed ahead like a miniature fortress—white stone walls accented with gleaming sapphire runes, and tall glass-pane windows arched like cathedral towers. But it wasn’t just grand. It hummed with mana.

I could feel it under my skin—like the walls were alive with energy.

Inside, the first floor opened into a massive circular common room. Students were already scattered across the plush couches and lounge chairs, some chatting, others simply staring around in awe.

The floor was polished marble with veins of glowing blue. Above us, the ceiling stretched at least four stories high, with floating platforms gliding through the open air—each carrying luggage, students, or both. It reminded me of a ballroom… if the ballroom could fly.

At the center of the room stood a hovering altar—a thick disc of silver-lined crystal, part of it carved directly from a glowing blue mana crystal the size of my torso. A series of faintly lit runes circled its edge, pulsing in rhythm like a heartbeat.

“Whoa,” I whispered.

A professor in slate robes stood at a podium near the entrance, holding a stack of glowing mana keycards.

“Name,” he said, not even looking up.

“Arthur Fenrir.”

He paused and glanced up, brow twitching slightly. “Ah. Room 32.” He handed me a small, translucent keycard with shimmering blue edges. “Place this on the altar, and it will guide the platform to your assigned room. Each card is bound to your mana signature. Do not lose it.”

Next to me, Caelan accepted his own card without a word and followed me forward.

We approached one of the floating platforms—flat, smooth, and round, with an embedded ring of gold etchings around the edge.

I placed the keycard on the altar.

The platform lit up beneath our feet. A gentle whoosh of wind lifted us, and the platform began to ascend in a slow spiral toward the upper floors.

Dozens of doorways lined the walls like balconies stacked in layers. Some students stood in the openings of their rooms, waving down at others or watching wide-eyed.

“Bit more magical than I expected,” I muttered.

Caelan gave a soft grunt. “They weren’t kidding when they said S-class rooms were premium.”

Our platform slowed and floated toward a doorway labeled Room 32. As soon as it got close, a smooth stone bridge extended from the floor, linking us to the room. I grabbed my bag and stepped off. The platform drifted away with a quiet hum, returning for the next student.

My room door opened with a click as I held up the keycard. Inside… was something else entirely.

A tall window overlooked the city, framed in enchanted curtains that shifted colors with the lighting. A large bed, a writing desk, a bookshelf, a personal mana crystal lamp, and a wardrobe enchanted to sort clothes lined the walls. A small crystal screen rested on a desk nearby, pulsing faintly—some kind of magical announcement board.

I set my bag down and whistled low. “Not bad.”

Sköll trotted in, sniffed the rug, and leapt up onto the bed like he owned it.

“You know that’s my spot,” I muttered. He just flopped over and let his tongue hang out.

I cracked open the wardrobe. It was already filled with extra school uniforms, each one lined with mana-thread runes along the collar. I guess the academy wants to make sure we always have spares in case something goes wrong. Maybe the tailor was told to send extra.

Next door, Caelan’s door clicked shut. A faint thud sounded like something had already fallen over.

For now, I had a ceremony to get ready for.

The moment we stepped into the banquet hall, I felt my breath catch.

The ceiling arched high above like the inside of a cathedral, with floating chandeliers made entirely of wind-woven crystals humming softly. Dozens of tables filled the room in neat rows—each one labeled by year and class.

Long banners hung from the rafters: First Years, Second Years, Third, and Fourth. Within the First Year section, every table was clearly marked: 1S, 1A, 1B, all the way down to 1E.

Our table stood near the center, adorned with white and navy trim. A golden plaque shimmered across its edge: Class 1S.

Most of the seats were still empty. Rias, Seraphine, Caelan, and I settled into the open end of the table, with Sköll and Geri curling up quietly beside us on the floor.

Another student slid into the seat beside Caelan. He had white skin so pale it looked like he’d never seen the sun, thick curly hair, and wore a pair of enchanted goggles strapped to his head—currently resting above his forehead.

“You guys mind if I join? I saw you on the list—Class 1S, right?”

“Yeah, that’s us,” I said. “I’m Arthur. This is Rias, Seraphine, and Caelan.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Name’s Toren Vale. My dad’s a rune-engineer in the outer rings. I like tinkering with golems and enchantments. Not great at combat spells, but I can break apart a ward in under a minute if you give me a chisel.”

“You’re the one who triggered the proctor’s anti-cheating charm on purpose during the written exam,” Caelan muttered.

Toren grinned wider. “Guilty. I just wanted to see how strong it was.”

Before we could respond, another student arrived—a tall girl with straight black hair tied into a long braid, her posture almost military. She glanced at us, eyes sharp but not unfriendly.

She sat beside Rias and gave a small nod. “I’m Marza Idrin. My family’s military. My test scores weren’t the highest, but I specialize in barrier magic. If we ever get attacked mid-class, I’m your girl.”

“I like her,” Rias said with a faint smile.

One final student arrived—this one looking barely awake. Pale, freckled, with a mop of silver-blue hair, he slumped into a chair with a yawn so wide it nearly cracked his jaw.

“…Did I make it?” he asked no one in particular.

“Depends,” Seraphine said dryly. “Who are you?”

He blinked slowly, then gave a lazy salute. “Orrin Wells. I, uh… apparently scored high enough to land in 1S. No clue how. I mostly sleepwalked through the exams.”

“Wonderful,” Caelan muttered.

The five of us exchanged glances—and then chuckled. Somehow, this odd group felt like the start of something.

Then, without warning, the room stirred.

A powerful gust of wind swept through the hall—not chaotic, but controlled. Elegant. Every candle flickered in unison as silver mist curled through the rafters.

From high above, a figure descended in a slow spiral, her cloak billowing like wings.

She touched down lightly in front of the long table reserved for professors, her boots clicking softly against the marble floor.

A woman with long silver hair and piercing blue eyes turned to face us. Wind stirred constantly around her shoulders, lifting her cloak like an unseen breeze.

When she spoke, her voice echoed through the chamber—clear and commanding.

“I welcome you,” she said, “to Dival’s Academy of Magic.”

A hush fell over the room.

“I am Lysandra Mourne, Headmistress and Archmage of Wind. You are the next generation of spellcasters, tamers, benders, and scholars. Within these walls, you will either shape your legacy… or be forgotten by it.”

She raised a hand, and dozens of plates soared into the air, caught in smooth, spiraling currents of wind magic. Meals glided across the room, placing themselves gently in front of each student —freshly roasted meats, spiced vegetables, and glimmering pastries.

Then the ground rumbled.

Chairs shook. Silverware clinked. A few students cried out, startled.

The headmistress didn’t even flinch.

“Do not be alarmed,” she said calmly. “You are witnessing one of the Academy’s oldest traditions.”

The runes on the walls shimmered brighter.

“This academy,” she said with a proud smile, “is not bound to Ikol. The true grounds lie far above the clouds, in the floating isles of Dival. The journey will take several days, so please eat well and enjoy yourselves—there’s still time before our arrival.”

Gasps rippled across the room.

Lysandra gestured once more. “Eat. Talk. Laugh. Tonight is your welcome. Tomorrow… your journey begins.”

The rumbling gradually settled into a steady hum beneath our feet, and through the massive arched windows, clouds drifted by—slow and silent. We were flying. Actually flying.

None of the older students batted an eye.

They were already digging in, chatting like this was routine. After a brief pause, we followed their lead and joined the feast.

We laughed, told stories, cracked jokes about how intimidating the professors looked, and compared dorm rooms like we were already lifelong friends. It wasn’t long before the nerves wore off and it started to feel… real.

When I turned to feed Sköll some scraps, I froze.

Both he and Geri had full plates of their own—steaming with perfectly cut portions of beef and grilled poultry. Geri chewed daintily. Sköll was halfway through his before I could even speak.

My head turned slowly toward the staff table.

Headmistress Lysandra Mourne was already watching me.

She raised her glass slightly and winked.

I blinked, then gave a small nod of thanks before turning back to my own meal, warmth stirring in my chest. She had thought of them. Somehow, she’d noticed what I was about to do before I’d even done it.

As the night wore on, the hall filled with the sounds of clinking glasses, muffled spells, bursts of laughter, and even a few students showing off harmless tricks between bites of food. The ceiling above glowed softly, enchanted to mirror the night sky outside—stars twinkling, a faint aurora drifting lazily across the magically simulated heavens.

By the time the feast finally ended, we were full—both from the food and from the joy of it all.

We stepped outside.

A light breeze swept over the floating grounds. Not too strong—just enough to rustle our clothes and stir the ends of Rias’s hair.

The stone courtyard now shimmered faintly from the runes along the edges, forming a soft barrier that rose just chest-high. They looked like waist-high guardrails from a distance, but up close, you could see the magic dancing faintly across them in pale blue lines.

We approached the edge and looked down.

The kingdom stretched far below, like a painted landscape. Tiny lights flickered across Ikol City, roads threading through the countryside like veins of silver.

I’d never seen the world like this.

Others joined us—students from all years leaning over the rails, pointing, laughing, making memories.

Eventually, we decided to call it.

Caelan gave a yawn that ended in a muttered curse. “If we don’t get some sleep, we’ll miss the first bell.”

“Dorm time?” I asked.

“Dorm time,” Toren agreed.

The four of us—Caelan, Toren, Orrin, and I—made our way across the courtyard with Sköll padding beside me, tail swaying contentedly.

We didn’t even make it past my room.

Once inside, we threw ourselves onto chairs, couches, the bed—whatever was softest and closest. Someone had smuggled in some warm bread and glimmering pastries.

We kept the celebration alive for another hour or two, swapping stories and laughing over childhood mishaps—mostly theirs. Caelan told us about runaway spells that lit his curtains on fire, and Orrin confessed to accidentally blowing a hole in a wall while trying to impress his cousins. I mostly listened, smiling. Their stories felt like a glimpse into the kind of life I never got to have.

Sköll curled up near the foot of my bed, already dozing off with a full belly.

At some point, I must’ve nodded off mid-sentence, because the next thing I knew, everything had gone quiet.

The laughter had faded.

The academy drifted onward through the clouds.

And for the first time in a long while…

I felt at peace.