"Crows, huh?" Custas snickered. "I kinda like it. Makes us sound mysterious, enigmatic, bold!"

  Elaine rolled her eyes. "It wasn't meant as a compliment, Custas. According to Hound, everyone thinks of us as a blight on the academy."

  "Again, not really seeing the issue here. If anything, it just paints us as sorcerers not to be trifled with."

  "Forget it," Elaine sighed. This "bad news" obviously wasn't getting through to him, its connotations flying ignorantly over his head.

  The snickering boy leaned casually against the edge of the desk, arms crossed as Fearne took a seat at the desk beside him. Her usually vibrant demeanor was overshadowed by her discomfort at the confrontation with Minerva—her expression was a mix of anxiety and pain. She hadn't spoken much since, and Elaine knew when to hold back and not pry into personal matters. She had seen this particular kind of expression before, one that manifested a heavy heart. The way Fearne sat—shoulders hunched and posture slouched—was reminiscent of Liam's demeanor whenever he faced Mother’s reprimands, which were often a result of mischief that escalated beyond innocent fun. Elaine could easily recognize the unmistakable signs: defeated sighs that escaped like whispered regrets, a reluctance to meet anyone's gaze, and an overwhelming desire to retreat into solitude; out of respect for her friend, Elaine chose to remain a comforting presence in silence.

  She trusted that Hound would honor his word and initiate a serious discussion with the headmaster regarding the trio of bullies who had been tormenting her roommate. But was she being overly optimistic in believing that this would yield any real results? Over time, Elaine had learned that even a noble who lacked magical abilities could wield enough influence to reshape the world to their advantage. If Minerva's father truly held a significant position within the academy's hierarchy—as a wealthy benefactor or a member of an esteemed family—could the headmaster, or any staff member for that matter, really afford to reprimand his children? Furthermore, despite Fearne's insistence that they drop the subject to avoid further complications, a nagging curiosity drove her to unravel the mystery behind the whispers circulating through the school. How had anyone come to discover the details of her last-minute enrollment or Fearne’s mixed heritage as a halfbreed? More critically, what other potentially damaging secrets were in the hands of this gossip, and how long would it be before they began spreading rumors about Glyph as well?

  "So, you had a run-in with the Barrows, did you?" Custas asked snarkily.

  "Unfortunately," Elaine grumbled, her voice tinged with frustration. "And I can't say they were the most welcoming of folks. They barred us from entering the classroom, all because I own a commoner’s wand rather than one of their so-called 'high-class' Advanced Wands." As she spoke, Elaine's gaze flickered to Fearne, who winced in her seat. Elaine wouldn’t reveal to Custas the true reason for her targeting—not today. Secrets, after all, were like precious gems; they belonged solely to their owner, and it was important to keep them hidden, preserved from prying eyes.

  "Man, guys like them really make me sick," Custas spat. "I swear they'd have you believe the entire world revolved around them. Delusional sulmos."

  "You know them?"

  "Eh...sort of. Saw them once at, let's say, a social gathering for nobles in the Capital. I doubt they remember me though."

  Elaine raised a brow. "You live in the Capital?"

  "Lived, past tense," Custas corrected. "And...kinda..."

  "Right, and tell me, just what were you doing at a noble event?"

  "Hey, a guy's gotta make a living somehow," Custas snickered. "In any case, House Barrow are kinda like celebrities. They're known for their lucrative trading businesses, specializing in the mass production and distribution of enchanted items in and out of the country. Word on the street is that they've got their fingers in quite a few upper-status circles. People these days crave their notoriety, their influence. So it isn't too surprising to hear they're sponsoring Glyph Academy to some extent. But it does make dealing with their snobby nobleings that much more difficult."

  Elaine found herself lost in thought, recalling the moment with Minerva, whose condescending expression had etched itself into her memory like a brand. The sheer arrogance radiating from Minerva had been infuriating, and as Elaine reminisced, she caught herself wrestling with the urge to snap the pencil in her hand. Instead, she opted to grip the edge of her table, her knuckles white with tension, which drew a curious stare from Custas and a few other classmates, their whispers buzzing around her like flies. Minerva had wielded her wand with an air of superiority, pointing the stylish, intricately carved instrument directly at her. At that moment, it took Elaine longer than she'd care to admit to recognize the gravity of the situation—they were on the brink of a duel.

  What would have happened if she had accepted that challenge? The image of herself, wand in hand, channeling her magic into a powerful burst of energy, filled her mind. She envisioned a colorful display of magic illuminating the corridor as she fired back at the noblewoman with fierce determination. Yet, as that potential future played out, Elaine was reminded of the weight of her hesitation. It wasn't merely about stepping up to the sorcerer's duel; it was about the uncertainty of victory. Winning a duel required not just courage, but skill, and the realization made her heartbeat quicken, leaving her with more questions than answers. I ask that you not antagonize them, she heard Hound say inside her head. Lest you're capable of beating them in a duel, that is.

  Elaine was a mage, a sorcerer in training. She had never considered herself a fighter; the world of dueling, while undeniably thrilling, was a realm filled with peril that she preferred to observe from a safe distance. Her thoughts often drifted back to a particularly harrowing tale from her childhood, one that clung to her like a shadow. It involved a local farm boy who had, through sheer misfortune and lack of control, inadvertently set his family's homestead ablaze. The flames had danced fiercely, consuming crops and wood alike, leaving nothing but charred remains in their wake. His father suffered severe burns while attempting to save their livestock, underscoring a lesson she encountered repeatedly amid her endeavors in sorcery: magic was akin to a griffin, majestic yet savage, or a veladora snaptrapper, beautiful but deadly.

  Elaine understood that her burgeoning abilities were a double-edged sword; they sparked fascination and excitement within her, yet also demanded respect and caution. She realized it was crucial to temper the intoxicating allure of her powers, lest the reckless thrill lead her down a path of devastation. If she allowed herself to be swept into reckless competition, even once, it could very well end in ruin—not just for her, but for others as well. She had witnessed that tragedy firsthand with her eldest brother, whose arrogance in the pursuit of magical prowess had led to his downfall.

  "Hey, Fearne, I don't mean to be nosey, but maybe it'd be better if you sat this lesson out, yeah?" Custas carefully suggested. Fearne wrapped her arms around herself and didn't meet either of their concerned stares. "We could always ask the professor to excuse you if you're not feeling well. I mean, it's kind of hard to focus when you've got other...problems on your plate."

  "You mean for me to miss a class on my first day here? And what good would that do?" Fearne asked, her expression distant and barren. "I came here to study magic. I won't let one bad encounter jeopardize my dream. I'll just have to live with it...for now."

  Custas glanced at Elaine. Was he expecting her to say something, to challenge Fearne's sentiment? No, she had nothing. And if her friend really was intent on dropping the matter, then she'd leave her be. Realistically speaking, she couldn't think of anything to say that would automatically cheer the girl up. She hadn't that much light in her, certainly not enough to illuminate an abyss. As morbid as it sounded, sometimes people procured contentment in isolation.

  A thunderous slam! erupted in Elaine's ears, getting her to jump in her seat out of sheer surprise. It ushered a reaction from the rest of the class, too; some poor student at the front of the room had tripped over his shoes and stumbled into a nearby desk. "All right, you imps! Go ahead and take your seats! Class has officially begun!" In strode a large tan-skinned fellow with a bald head that practically gleamed. His hulking frame, robust and imposing, was contained beneath a dark blue jacket that seemed tailored to match his powerful physique; the fabric stretched across broad shoulders and a barrel-like chest. He possessed a pair of deep-set, dark eyes that sparkled with intensity, and his neatly trimmed sideburns traced down the angles of his square-shaped face. As he smiled, his wide teeth formed a dazzling, almost plated grin.

  Something about this man struck a chord with Elaine; there was an odd familiarity about him that nagged at the edges of her memory. Most of the staff at Glyph Academy were renowned sorcerers, each plucked from prestigious organizations like the Arcanum. Could this towering figure be among their ranks as well? She certainly struggled to recall such a striking presence. The man, though not as muscular as Hound, stood almost as tall, his physicality commanding attention. As he marched towards his desk, each heavy step resounded with authority, boots thundering against the floor. With every stride, her mind rippled with fleeting waves of memory—glimpses of faces and names from distant days—but ultimately, they slipped away like sand through her fingers, leaving only a lingering curiosity about who he truly was.

  "It's a pleasure to be here today!" he announced with a roar. His explosive yet solid tone would take some getting used to. "My name is Jared Knight, and I'll be your instructor for this Spellcasting Class!"

  Jared Knight...? Elaine thought. Nope, it's still not ringing any bells.

  "Now, then, we've got a busy semester ahead of us, so let's get right to it. Hmm, first on our list...is that of...err, what was it again?" Professor Knight's eyes flashed with what could best be described as bubbling agitation, as if he'd forgotten something important or a frustrating memory had returned to haunt him. "Hmm...shall we begin with the criteria...?"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Sir," called Adeline, raising her hand. "I don't mean to interfere, but wouldn't it be better if we started by taking attendance? This is our first time attending your class, after all."

  "Ah! Attendance! Right!" The large man shuffled through the documents on his desk, and he clicked his tongue as he procured three long sheets of thin paper. "Okay, then, first up is...Malcom Agott."

  "Present," said the light-haired boy seated at the desk next to a window at the front of the class.

  "Okay, Lily Binx."

  "Here!" called the short-haired girl with a round face and pigtails sitting in the second row.

  "...Abigail Bovine...?"

  The quiet, brown-skinned girl gave a nod at him. "That would be me—"

  "Argh! This is too boring!" Professor Knight screamed to the ceiling, grabbing the sides of his head. "I hate the start of new semesters! They always force me to do this useless crap! Don't those surgin' sulmos upstairs know that someone like me isn't built for patience!"

  Elaine furrowed her brow at him. But won't you have to take attendance every day?

  Their steaming professor slumped into his chair, plainly defeated, plopping down with a loud thump. He would stay in that unmotivated state for the next five minutes or so—nobody in class dared to interrupt him, not even the adept Adeline—until a wide sneer split on his face. The man hopped out of the chair, clenching a fist in front of him. "It's settled then!"

  "Uh, what is, sir...?" Simon reluctantly asked.

  "Ah! We won't be wasting time running through the motions. I'll leave that sort of nonsense to the others," Professor Knight grinned at him. "You don't know a lot about me, I get that. But if there's something I advise that you keep in mind, well, it's that I was taught from a young age that it's easier to practice Spellcasting effectively when you've got your blood pumping!"

  "Blood pumping?" Adeline repeated. "Care to elaborate, sir?"

  Professor Knight's smirk grew even wider. "Now, why would I do that? It'd spoil the fun."

  *

  * *

  The professor had guided them to an expansive room on the seventh story of the academy, the walls of which were made of thick, orange-colored bricks.

  In the center of the vast room, a magic circle was intricately inscribed into the stone floor. The circle shimmered with a deep amethyst hue, the runes elegantly arranged in the shape of a massive five-pointed star. Each rune appeared to pulse softly with latent energy, while the outer rim was adorned with spiraling symbols, and surrounding the circle, a jagged perimeter of earthen stumps and rugged rocks created a natural barrier. As Elaine stepped into the room, she was immediately captivated by its grandeur. Towering stone pillars soared from the ground, their rough surfaces etched with the passage of time, reaching up to the high, vaulted ceiling.

  The corners of the room were shrouded in deep shadows, where the shapes of wooden crates stacked haphazardly and the remnants of burnt training dummies loomed. The dummies bore the marks of countless magical encounters, their fabric singed and frayed, with deep scorch marks and ragged tears that told stories of past lessons in Spellcasting. Elaine pondered how their professor might integrate these worn-out dummies into their training sessions.

  As she ventured deeper into the room, Elaine's attention was drawn to a set of metal bleachers on her left, their once-sleek surfaces now marred by patches of rust. To her right, an arched passageway jutted from the rough-hewn stone wall, its edges worn smooth by time and possibly the hands of many who had passed through. Beyond this passage, an eclectic display of bizarrely shaped tools and rusted weapons adorned the wall like a museum exhibit, each piece hanging with a sense of solemn history. The dim space was illuminated by an array of torches mounted along the walls, their flickering flames casting a warm, oily glow that danced across the surfaces, creating shifting shadows that seemed to come alive in the corners of the room. Professor Knight strode down the stairs leading to the magic circle, and then he spiraled around, arms on his waist, to face the crowd of bewildered and silent students that Elaine was a part of. There was an eagerness in each of his steps. Obviously, the professor was excited to put into motion whatever lesson he had concocted.

  "Wow!" exclaimed Jack next to her. "Now, this is a training arena! I bet we'll learn some wicked spells in here! Ain't that right, teach?"

  "Something like that," Professor Knight chuckled, and he snapped his fingers.

  In a blinding flash of iridescent light that compelled several of her classmates to avert their gaze, an ensemble of strange, lifeless humanoids materialized around the tall man. Their skin, a disconcerting gray hue mottled with segmented stitching lines, gave them an almost puppet-like appearance. Lanky arms and legs elongated beyond the norm, leading to unsettling frames that seemed to hint at a disjointed anatomy. What struck Elaine most were their absence of mouths and the haunting quality of their dead-eyed stares; where eyes should have been were merely lifeless slits devoid of emotion. Elaine immediately recognized them for what they were: homunculi—artificial beings birthed from the skillful hands of enchanters, each designed with a specific, often servile purpose.

  While homunculi could take on many bizarre shapes and sizes, this particular group seemed strangely conservative. The eerie stillness of their forms, paired with the unsettling rigidity of their stances, sent a chill down her spine; Elaine could feel her throat constricting. Nestled within their chests, a turquoise crystal pulsed rhythmically, resembling the steady pulse of a heartbeat. Unlike worker golems, which drew their power from hearthstones, these homunculi were animated by modified wunderstones—arkstones—specially crafted to infuse artificial life into their constructions. Each homunculus loitered idly, yet some shifted their weight restlessly from side to side, as if waiting with unsettling patience for their master to issue a command. At that moment, Elaine comprehended a harsh truth: these weren't living organisms, but rather pale imitations of life, masks that could walk yet were devoid of genuine vitality.

  "I'll have to apologize to Mantle later," Professor Knight admitted with a laugh. "He won't be a fan of me swiping his prized homunculi collection at the last second. Ah, well, nothing in this life is won without a bit of sacrifice. Gather around, you implings. These guys were enchanted to attack their designated targets: all of you. Ha! Isn't that fun? You'll each have a personal magic-training buddy, one that doesn't talk back, get tired, or complain that you accidentally broke their arm!"

  Elaine felt her mouth hang open. "...You want us to...fight them? Here and now?"

  "Sure do!" Professor Knight happily exclaimed. "This is a Spellcasting Class! So I want to see how well you cast your spells."

  "Hell yeah!" exclaimed Jack. He pounded a fist into his palm. "Now we're talking! I've been itching to let loose!"

  "Wait, hang on a sec," Custas called, quickly making his way to the front of the crowd. "This is a class, isn't it? What if some of us don't know any combat spells? Aren't you going to teach us the bare essentials first?"

  Professor Knight laughed. "I believe a sorcerer's natural instincts are great teachers all on their own, and fear is a more than serviceable motivator."

  Professor Knight snapped his fingers once again, and in an instant, one of the homunculi broke free from the tightly clustered group. A cloud of dust and debris swirled around it as it swiftly closed the distance between itself and the students, its movements fluid and unnerving. To Elaine's relief, the creature displayed no interest in her, Fearne, Simon, or Jack, as if they were mere ghosts against the chaos. Instead, its nonexistent eyes were fixed solely on Custas. The homunculus surged forward, almost as if it were being drawn in by an invisible force, its spindly limbs reaching out like a spider’s legs unfurling in pursuit of prey. Panic washed over Custas' face, and he pivoted sharply on his heel, desperation fueling a hasty retreat as he darted away. As he weaved and squirmed through the throngs of shocked students, who stood frozen as if time had momentarily stopped, the homunculus pursued him with an alarming speed. It was almost a blur, its motion causing a gust of air that made Elaine's hair billow wildly behind her.

  "You’ve gotta be kidding me!" Custas shouted, his voice laced with sheer terror as he sprinted for his life. His eyes darted toward the exit doors as he pushed his way through the bewildered crowd, their faces etched with confusion and fear. Upon reaching them, he wrapped his fingers tightly around the cold metal handles, pulling with every ounce of strength he could muster. He heaved with all his might, his muscles straining, but the doors remained obstinately shut, as if sealed by some unseen magic. "What the?! Why won’t these surgin’ things…!" he shouted, the strain of his voice rising in pitch as he gritted his teeth and pulled harder. He arched his back, desperation driving him to wrestle with the unyielding doors, but they remained firmly steadfast, leaving him vulnerable to the relentless advance of the homunculus.

  "I'd give that up if I were you," Professor Knight called. "Those doors have been enchanted by yours truly only to open once the lesson is over. No, I suppose it'd be more accurate to say they'll let you out once I deem this exercise to be finished. Once all of those homunculi have been defeated."

  "No way! You jerk!" Custas growled.

  His homunculus pursuer lunged for him, its grotesque form twisting as it moved. Custas instinctively dropped to the ground and rolled just in time. The homunculus's bony fist, with its long, claw-like fingers, connected with the massive entrance doors behind him, slamming into the wood with a thunderous crack. The impact reverberated through the room, causing both doors to shudder violently, the sound echoing like a warning. Custas scrambled to his feet and scrambled off as fast as he could before the homunculus could continue its onslaught. Elaine had watched the engagement with her eyelids peeled back and her jaws slackened. If Custas had been struck by that attack...

  "Today is all about aptitude, you worthless imps!" Professor Knight announced as the homunculus gave chase to Custas again. "Sure, I can teach you a combat spell or two, but every one of you has made it into this academy on your own merits. And so I'm eager to witness your skills for magic firsthand."

  Another sharp snap of fingers, and in an instant, the entire homunculus horde surged into action. They charged forward like a tempest, a whirlwind of claws and limbs kicking up clouds of dust. Elaine felt her breath hitch as she gasped, her heart racing with a mix of fear and exhilaration. Around her, those who hadn’t succumbed to a paralyzing terror had already drawn their wands, their faces set with determination. Elaine realized then that freezing in place would only seal her fate; clenching her jaw, she recalled the voice that had echoed in her mind. Show them that you're earnest, that you belong here, it urged. She drew a deep breath, recalling that Professor Knight was no different from the other professors she had encountered—each one a gatekeeper of sorts, testing the capabilities and resolve of their students.

  Intent on rising to the occasion, Elaine gripped her commoner's wand tightly, feeling the familiar wood warm against her palm. Her heart raced, but she steeled her emotions, shoving aside any lingering doubts. If a battle lay ahead, she would face it with unwavering focus, clarity of purpose, and, above all, strength. She was ready to prove herself; she was prepared to embrace the challenge.