A Welcoming Convocation?

Grace’s carriage had long since left into the distance, leaving Cecilia stranded in a sea of overwhelmingly impressive beauty.

She was entirely alone, a lone figure draped in the pristine Imperial Blue of her brand-new coat-dress, her flat boots clicking softly against the pale marble walkways.

Her grandmother was gone, returning to the isolated safety of the mountain ridge, but Cecilia’s legs felt no sorrow. Instead, the deep, wanderlust inside her chest surged forward like a physical tether, pulling her deeper into the geography of Lumen Academy of High Sorcery.

She had absolutely no idea where she was going.

To her right, the towering, sky-piercing spires of the academic sector twisted toward the low clouds like frozen lightning, their deep blue glass banners snapping majestically in the wind.

On her left, older students moved in small clusters, their tailored uniforms fitting them with a practiced ease that made Cecilia feel like a curious interloper.

She wandered aimlessly, her striking blue eyes darting wildly from the elegant stone-carved arches to the pale balconies. Everything about the architecture was perfect, crafted with a level of precision and wealth.

As she drifted down a sunlit arcade running along the perimeter of the great archive, her footsteps slowed.

Sitting on top of a fluted stone pedestal near a massive arched doorway was a small creature. It looked entirely like a living bird, a massive, majestic owl whose feathers possessed a faint, mineral-like sheen. Yet it stood completely, unnaturally still, frozen in place with the permanence of a masterfully sculpted statue.

Captivated by the texture of its plumage, Cecilia stepped off the main path. She leaned forward, her face tilting until she was directly in front of the creature, her nose nearly brushing its beak. She stared in infatuation.

The owl's eyes were magnificent, large, golden-rimmed glass orbs with deep green pupils that looked almost identical to a flawless, raw Emerald.

Suddenly, the statue's beak parted.

“You seem lost.”

The voice was low, resonant, and echoed clearly against the stone walls.

“EEEEK!”

Cecilia let out a sharp, high-pitched shriek, her boots losing their traction against the smooth floorboards as she tumbled backward, landing unceremoniously on her bottom in the dirt border of the walkway. She scrambled back a few inches, her blue eyes wide with a mix of terror and exploding delight.

“YOU CAN TALK? That’s amazing!” She practically scrambled back to her feet in a fraction of a second, her previous fear entirely forgotten as she leaned closer again, her voice bursting with a child-like excitement. “Do you know how beautiful your eyes are, by chance? What are you? Are you a real bird?”

The emerald pupils of the creature shifted slightly, tracking her erratic movements with a slow, dignified focus. “You may call me Celestia. I am what you can call a guide.”

“How can you talk? If you don't mind telling me, I mean,” Cecilia asked, her words tripping over each other as she leaned against the pedestal, her bright blue eyes filled with wonder. The technical mechanics of the creature completely consumed her attention.

“I am a Tsiboú,” Celestia answered smoothly, her tone carrying an ancient, soothing calm. “A Lapidaries best friend. We are spirits summoned directly from the internal frequencies of Līthostērs, given form through a master’s imagination. I was summoned from an Emerald.”

“So I get to have a talking animal friend when I become a Lapidary?” The sheer excitement shot out through her voice, her hands tightly gripping the golden chain of the Opal necklace resting against her Imperial Blue collar. “Like, a real, live spirit that walks around with me?”

“Only if one takes a liking to you,” the owl replied deadpan, its stone-like posture never breaking.

“Enough talk for now, young wanderer; the welcoming convocation will begin shortly within the primary auditorium. Follow those students passing the terrace, and you will find your way. If you are to get lost again, simply look for a door. You will always find one of me sitting near.”

“Okay! Thank you, Celestia!”

Cecilia offered a bright, energetic wave and sprinted back toward the main path, her mind mapping the conversation as she fell into stride behind a small group of first-years.

The crowd began to thicken, channeling hundreds of blue-and-white-clad teenagers toward the towering timber doors of the grand auditorium.

The air was thick with the nervous energy of registration day, the rustle of paper permits, and the heavy scent of active Alké floating from the surrounding spires.

As Cecilia reached the entrance, an imposing figure stepped forward to intercept her, a clipboard clutched tightly in her leather-gloved hands.

It was Professor Nieva Crevasse.

The woman’s presence was immediate and terrifyingly beautiful. She featured long, wild, flowing white hair with a sharp, frozen texture that seemed to resist the wind, accented by small Sapphire Līthostērs woven throughout the strands like glittering frost. Beneath the pale skin of her jaw, thin, elegant frostbite patterns and branching ice cracks glowed with a faint, blue luminescent light.

She commanded the doorway in a sleek, floor-length asymmetrical coat of midnight black, detailed with jagged geometric patterns resembling creeping frost that climbed the fabric toward her dark indigo corset.

The professor’s icy eyes dropped down, locking onto Cecilia’s blue ones. “Name?”

“Cecilia Voss-Thorne,” she answered quickly, smoothing down the flared hem of her coat-dress.

“Voss-Thorne,” Nieva repeated, her voice carrying a sharp, crystalline ring.

The professor ran a dark leather glove down the chart of names, her finger stopping over the ink. She paused, her eyes lingering on the specific spelling for a long, quiet moment, her expression shifting into a calculating, intense look, as if she had seen that specific lineage documented somewhere deep within a restricted archive.

Nieva leaned down slightly, the frozen crystal pendant at her neck clicking against her corset. “Have you ever heard of the Kingdom of Thornvalla?”

The world around Cecilia seemed to fracture. The name Thornvalla slammed into her mind like a physical blow, and for a fleeting, terrifying millisecond, she froze solid in place. Deep within her empty mind, a ghostly echo of roaring heat, burning colors, and a mother's dying whisper surged against her consciousness.

She felt herself desperately searching for a memory she couldn't reach, her breathing catching in her throat as a dark weight pressed against her chest.

But in almost an instant, as if nature itself were taking its course to protect her fragile mind from her own history, her eyes cleared.

The darkness vanished.

Her standard, child-like self bounced back to the surface, entirely unaware of the psychological anomaly that had just occurred.

She tilted her head, her blue eyes sparkling with innocent curiosity as she began asking questions at a hyperactive rate. “Nope! Never heard of it! Is it beautiful? Do they have good snacks there? Is it past the western ridges?”

Professor Nieva didn't reply to the barrage. She simply straightened up her tall frame, her long, split-leg Victorian skirt shifting as she fixed an intensely interested, evaluating look on the young girl.

“History is very important for a Lapidary, Miss Voss-Thorne,” Nieva remarked softly, a small, unhinged smile playing on the corners of her lips. “The fact that you know nothing of it... is quite interesting. I hope you enjoy your stay here at Lumen Academy.”

“Thank you!”

✦ ✦ ✦

Cecilia stepped past her, entirely unaffected by the brief chill, and walked through the heavy double doors into the interior of the primary auditorium.

The room was ginormous. It was a spectacular, prestigious curved auditorium lined with dark, polished mahogany tiers that curved around a massive central stage.

Everything was saturated in the official school colors; drapes of rich Imperial Blue hung from the vaulted ceilings, held together by massive banners of crisp Alabaster White that bore the golden insignia of the high sorcery academy.

Wherever Cecilia looked, it seemed like most students came from some grand, aristocratic background, their posture rigid and expensive.

Wanting to keep an eye on her surroundings, Cecilia slipped into an open seat located right near the entrance door she had just opened, her boots swinging slightly above the floorboards as she waited.

The low chatter of the crowd suddenly died.

Behind the grand wooden podium on the central stage, the air fractured. Thick, vibrant green vines began to manifest out of nothingness, weaving together into a dense, solid lattice that thrummed with a heavy Earth frequency.

Snap.

A singular, concussive sound echoed through the hall. With that snap, the green vines vanished into thin air, and everyone’s focus turned instantly to the beautiful elven lady who had materialized in their place.

It was Principal Vaeloria Sinclair.

She stood with an undeniable presence, her short pink hair with distinct green highlights framing long, pointy elf ears.

She wore a wide-brimmed, structured dark hat tilted downward to obscure her green eyes, the gold band and light-colored feathers giving off an immediate aura of mystery and authority. Her high-collared white Victorian blouse featured massive bishop sleeves that gathered at her ruffled cuffs, pinned sharply beneath a brown lacing under bust corset that cinched her waist with an ancient, elegant precision.

As she took a step forward in her sleek black pointed high heels, her magnificent split-front overskirt pooled on the stage behind her, the gold embroidery along the hem catching the light.

A ring of antique metal keys clinked softly against her left hip.

“Hello,” she began. Her voice was whimsical, deceptively cheerful, and light, yet it carried a staggering, deep resonance that cut through the massive room like a physical wave, leaving no doubt about the power she commanded. “I welcome you all to the Lumen Academy of High Sorcery.”

Immediate, hushed whispers exploded through the tiers around Cecilia.

“Is that her? One of the great Lapidaries?”

“She’s such a pretty elf... I heard she’s over a thousand years old...”

“Look at her Līthostēr pouch... she’s an emerald user… that’s awesome… think she’ll teach me if I ask?”

Vaeloria raised her dark leather-gloved hands, and the whispers died instantly.

“I am assuming you all came here to be respected Lapidaries,” the Principal continued, her cheerful tone shifting into a deeply perceptive, serious cadence.

“But you must understand the weight of the path you have chosen. Being a Lapidary comes with just as much risk as it does benefits. You will be able to see things you have never seen before, go places you would have never thought possible in your short lives. But you can very well lose your life along the way. Lapidaries are not all loved by the world beyond these walls. If you don’t wish to face the dangers, now is your chance to leave.”

She paused as if waiting for anyone to get up and leave, but no one did. They just sat readily waiting for her next words.

She began to pace across the stage, her pointed heels clicking rhythmically. “Very well, if you wish to graduate from this institution and earn your official license to travel, you will be expected to acquire exactly three of the six legendary academy medals before your final year concludes. They are as follows:

The Scholar Medal: You must end two full academic years within the top twenty of your class.

The Event Winner Medal: You must win a formal tournament. These matches are held once a year. Freshmen will compete within their own private bracket; however, after your first year, you will be forced to participate against all other classes simultaneously.

The Creation Medal: You must successfully manifest and document an entirely new spell frequency. Or create a spell that’s never been seen before with an existing frequency.

The Professor Approved Medal: You must earn a direct, specialized validation of merit from any of the high professors in this school.

The Good Citizen Medal: You must execute a certified, high-impact good deed within the borders of the Astraean kingdom.

The Multi- Līthostēr User Medal: You must demonstrate the tactical ability to dual-wield and manipulate more than two distinct Līthostēr aspects efficiently in active combat.

Graduation is not reached with these medals alone. You must also maintain an overall academic average higher than a 3.7 grade point.”

Vaeloria stopped in the center of the stage. She raised her left hand, her hidden Emerald stones pulsing through her glove as she summoned a thick, rope-like vine that grew outward to form a small landing platform.

From the shadows of the high rafters, a massive bird descended.

The owl touched down softly on the greenery, its large golden-rimmed eyes reflecting the stadium lights. Cecilia's breath caught; it was the exact same Emerald-eyed creature she had encountered outside the archive.

“This is Celestia,” Principal Sinclair announced, her whimsical cheer returning as she gestured to the bird.

“She is the official school mascot, and she serves as the only direct way to reach my office. She can answer any general campus questions you harbor, but if you possess a private report intended strictly for my ears, she can lead you directly to me. You will find one of her manifestations sitting near every single door on this campus.”

The Principal swept her arm outward, the intricate gold embroidery of her black skirt pooling beautifully as she delivered her final command.

“Your classes and schedules will be decided tomorrow. First thing in the morning, at exactly nine o'clock, you will head directly to The Crescent Hall. Once there, you will step up to the center pedestal, your raw capacity will be evaluated by the Moonstone, and you will be chosen by your official professor. Do not be late.”

✦ ✦ ✦

The heavy timber doors of the grand auditorium finally groaned backward, and the structured stillness of the convocation fractured into a sweeping wave of motion.

A sea of Imperial Blue and Alabaster White uniforms surged out into the expansive courtyard, the crisp fabric of hundreds of flared coat-dresses and straight tunics rippling under the late afternoon sun.

There was still a decent amount of clear golden light left in the day, the high Astraean sky casting long, pale shadows across the pristine marble walkways.

While the majority of the first-year students congregated in tight, anxious clusters to discuss the Principal’s speech or find their way to the residential dormitories, Cecilia on the other hand did not.

Her legs, filled with that lifelong, unyielding restlessness, immediately propelled her ahead of the pack. She didn't care where the crowd was going, neither did she have any desire to go to the small events being held.

She simply wanted to see where everything was, to follow the perimeter of this massive building that was like a stone labyrinth and map its hidden dimensions on her own terms.

Her wandering footsteps effortlessly guided her past the open plaza and straight into the institution's main academic building.

The interior was magnificent, maintaining the exact same high-born, prestigious aesthetic as the grand auditorium. The vaulted ceilings stretched high overhead, draped in rich blue tapestries, while polished mahogany trim lined the sprawling corridors.

Multiple classrooms lined up down the long hallway, each entryway flanked by a pristine stone pedestal. On top every single pedestal sat a manifestation of Celestia the owl, standing completely motionless with its emerald-glass eyes staring blankly into the corridor. Resting precisely above each bird was an etched brass plaque displaying the name of the professor assigned to that specific room.

Cecilia slowed her pace slightly as she drifted down the hall, her blue eyes tracking the foreign names, completely fascinated by the uniformity of the school's layout.

She pushed further into the depths of the academic, her boots clicking softly against the reflective tile floors until she reached the end of the corridor.

Standing before her was a pair of colossal double doors that seemed far too massive for any normal-sized human to interact with. The handles were forged from heavy, dark iron, positioned at a height that suggested they were meant for giants or ancient architects.

Cecilia pressed her palms flat against the dark wood and shoved with all her weight.

The monolithic doors swung inward without a single sound, and she was instantly met with a ginormous, breathtaking expanse of knowledge.

It was the Great Archive. All around her, millions of books were stacked with flawless precision on towering shelves that climbed so high they became lost in the shadows of the rafters, stretching down winding aisles that seemed to go on for miles.

The air inside smelled rich and heavy, steeped in old parchment, dried lavender starch, and the faint, sweet scent of leather bindings. It was a paradise for a curious mind.

Unable to contain her sudden burst of energy, Cecilia ran down the long aisles, her long brown hair trailing wildly behind her as her eyes darted across the countless genres neatly categorized along the dark wood. History, folklore, ancient Līthostēr texts, sweeping romantic plays the library seemed to possess every piece of literature ever.

As she slowed her sprint to a casual stroll, turning down a more secluded aisle deep within the fiction section, she spotted a small figure.

Standing on her tiptoes, a girl with distinct blonde pigtails secured tightly by crisp black bows was stretching her short frame to its limit, her fingers straining desperately to reach a book nestled on a shelf just out of her grasp.

Cecilia stopped in her tracks. Her mind immediately flashed back to the colossal white outer walls of the kingdom, mapping the girl's short stature, and the graceful way she moved.

It finally clicked.

“It’s Toxin girl!” Cecilia exclaimed, her voice bouncing vibrantly off the high mahogany bookshelves.

The blonde girl froze, her fingers slipping from the edge of the shelf. She snapped her head around, her striking yellow eyes locking onto Cecilia with a mix of quiet confusion and sudden defensiveness. She adjusted the collar of her Imperial Blue uniform, blinking at the intruder.

“Toxin?” the girl repeated softly, her voice carrying a highly refined, delicate cadence that sounded completely puzzled.

Before her quiet mind could even begin to process the strange nickname, Cecilia was already standing right in front of her, her child-like, hyperactive tone completely taking over the aisle.

Her blue eyes sparkled with adoration as her arms flailed to mimic the motions of a duel.

“Your fight outside the walls was so cool!”

Cecilia rambled at a manic pace, her words tumbling over one another in a rush of excitement.

“You went like woosh with the sword, and then wosh right against that rock pillar! And then your steel turned that super pretty green color and the whole thing just went crunch into sand! It was amazing!”

The quiet girl’s face went slightly rigid, a faint tint of pink dusting her cheeks. She shot a frantic glance down the empty aisle, clearly startled by the sudden influx of chaotic energy. She raised a small, delicate hand, interrupting softly.

“You... you shouldn’t be so loud,” she whispered, her yellow eyes wide with a gentle but firm reprimand. “We are inside a library. The proctors are incredibly strict about the volume.”

“Oh! Very sorry!” Cecilia instantly clapped both hands over her mouth, her voice dropping into an exaggerated, dramatic whisper as she leaned in closer.

“I just found it so incredibly cool. You were doing so good against that guy, and he was a General! He had the gold stars and everything! You must be super strong to fight someone like that!”

The blush on the blonde girl’s cheeks deepened, spreading up to the tips of her ears. She looked down at her boots, nervously smoothing down the white lace underskirt of her uniform dress.

“It... it was just a standard training session,” she murmured softly, her fingers tracing the seam of her sleeve.

“My father wasn't going hard on me at all. He was limiting how much Alké he put into the Līthostēr. If he had actually cycled his Regis Fleuret and Līthostēr, I wouldn't have lasted a single exchange. I still don’t understand how he does that.”

Cecilia’s brows knit together, and she immediately put a prominent, frustrated pout on her face, crossing her arms defensively.

“Hey! You still did amazing, don't put yourself down like that. He’s a whole General, and you’re the same age as me! And besides, your Zoë is so beautiful. The way the yellow light came out of your sword and went boom against his Citrine... it looked just like a screen of fireworks.”

At the mention of her Zoë being beautiful, the young lady seemed to turn an even brighter shade of red. She shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot, completely overwhelmed by Cecilia’s blunt compliments.

Seeking a distraction, Cecilia’s gaze traveled up to the high shelf, a mischievous smirk breaking across her flawless face. “So, what were you planning on reading anyway? Since you were stretching so hard for it.”

The girl’s yellow eyes darted away, her voice dropping into a barely audible mumble. “It’s... um... it’s nothing important. Just a standard reference text.”

“Don't be so embarrassed! It can't be that bad,” Cecilia teased playfully, her smirk widening as she nudged the girl’s shoulder.

“Is it a secret book of forbidden hexes? Or a manual on how to defeat generals? Though why would any of that be in the Romance Section?”

Giving in under the pressure of the teasing, the blonde girl let out a soft, defeated sigh.

She raised a slender finger, pointing reluctantly toward a beautiful piece of historical romance literature nestled near the top divider.

The title was etched in delicate silver script: A Princess and Her Maid.

“Ah! Hold on!”

Without a moment's hesitation, Cecilia reached into the heavy leather pouch resting at the natural waist of her coat-dress. Her fingers moved around her training diamonds and closed around a dull green Emerald.

She didn't close her eyes or execute a lengthy channel; she simply introduced a smooth, fluid stream of Alké pool into the stone, convincing the frequency with ease.

The Root Stone glowed a stable, vibrant green.

Thud-shrift.

With a soft, localized vibration, a tiny, perfectly smooth pillar of compressed earth manifested directly beneath Cecilia’s boots. The localized stone platform lifted her exactly two feet into the air, perfectly aligning her height with the top shelf.

Cecilia reached out, smoothly snatched the silver-titled volume from its slot, and allowed the Earth Zoë to cleanly dissolve back into dust as her boots touched the carpet.

She extended her hand, offering the book with a wide, radiant smile.

“No need to be embarrassed at all,” Cecilia said cheerfully, her blue eyes sparkling.

“You know, Miss Alenor’s works are really well put together. My grandmother has a few of her historical folklore locked in her study crates back on the mountain. They’re super fun to read, my favorite’s A tale about a girl who chased the fireworks.”

The blonde girl stared at the book, then looked at the emerald slipping back into Cecilia's pouch, her yellow eyes widening slightly at the effortless, silent way the girl had manipulated Earth Zoë without any physical sluggishness.

She carefully accepted the volume, her thumbs tracing the leather cover as her posture relaxed.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Cecilia asked, tilting her head with an innate warmth. “I’m Cecilia.”

The girl took a quiet, deliberate moment to answer, as if she were carefully logging the name into her own mind.

A tiny, incredibly elegant smile finally broke through her reserved expression, completely transforming her quiet demeanor.

“Vivienne,” she answered softly, her yellow eyes holding Cecilia's blue ones with a genuine sense of clarity. “It’s very nice to meet you, Cecilia.”

Holding the romance novel safely against her chest, Vivienne offered a small, polite nod of farewell. She turned on her heel, her tailored coat-dress flaring elegantly around her knees as she walked down the long, sunlit aisle of the archive, leaving Cecilia alone among the miles of books with a satisfied grin on her face.

✦ ✦ ✦

Cecilia stayed within the towering aisles of the Great Archive for a few moments longer, her fingertips brushing lightly against the leather bindings as she continued to explore the quiet corners of the repository.

By the time she finally pushed back through the massive wooden double doors and exited the main building completely, the sun had fully set beneath the western foothills of Astraea.

The clear afternoon sky had transformed into a deep, velvety canopy, and the brilliant moonlight was now shining directly down upon her.

The stars looked beautiful, scattered across the sky like handfuls of silver dust, shining their sharp, elegant lights onto the clean white stone spires of the academy.

As she walked along the quiet courtyard path, her boots clicking softly against the cool marble, she spotted another stone pedestal near the entrance archway of the residential courtyard.

Sitting on top of it was another manifestation of the guide owl, its feathers catching the faint, cool glow of the night.

Cecilia stepped closer, a warm smile breaking across her face. “You look prettier in the moonlight.”

Celestia did not shift its stone-like posture. It moved only its large, emerald-glass eyes to look down at Cecilia with a dignified, mechanical focus. “Thank you. How may I help you, young wanderer?”

“I’m looking for the dorms,” Cecilia responded, her fingers rising to lightly touch the thin gold chain at her neck. “As well as how I’d know which room is mine.”

“Your name, please,” the guide requested smoothly, its beak parting without a sound.

“Cecilia Voss-Thorne,” she answered.

The emerald pupils of the bird flashed with a faint, brief pulse of internal light as it processed the data. “Miss Voss-Thorne, you have been assigned to the western residential tower of the Alabaster Darks. Take the winding stone staircase to the third gallery. Your designated chamber is Room 314. The registration proctors have secured your key inside a brass lockbox mounted near the left frame.”

“Room 314, brass lockbox... got it!” Cecilia offered a bright, child-like wave, her blue eyes sparkling under the starlight. “Thank you so much, Celestia!”

“A safe night to you,” the owl murmured before returning to its stillness.

Following the guide’s precise instructions, Cecilia made her way across the silver-lit courtyard and entered the cool, white stone arches of the western tower.

She climbed the winding stone staircase, her boots striking the steps in a rhythmic, echoing cadence until she reached the third gallery level. Walking down the quiet hallway lined with blue glass lanterns, she quickly located the door marked with the brass numerals 314.

Just as the owl had promised, a small, polished brass lockbox was mounted flush against the stone left of the frame. Cecilia reached out, her fingers snapping the latch open to retrieve a heavy, silver-plated key etched with the academy’s golden insignia.

She slid the metal into the lock, turning it until the mechanism gave a smooth, heavy click.

When she pushed the door open and stepped inside, she noticed the room housed two identical beds, placed tightly on opposite sides of a large arched window.

One of the beds was already occupied, a quiet form resting beneath the heavy wool blankets. The girl's long, delicate blonde hair laid flat across her pillow, her body turned entirely toward the stone wall so Cecilia couldn’t get a clear or proper view of her face.

Not wanting to disturb her sleeping roommate, Cecilia kept her movements minimal and quiet. She slipped into the small private washroom to take a quick shower, washing away the dust of the four-day carriage ride.

Once finished, she quietly changed into her loose, comfortable night clothes. She reached up, carefully tucking her beautiful Opal necklace inside the collar of her shirt so the swirling, vibrant colors were safely hidden against her skin, and lay down to sleep.

Curling beneath the heavy blankets of her own mattress, Cecilia stared out the window at the distant, shining stars, letting her restless core finally settle as her blue eyes drifted closed in the quiet dark.