Glyph Academy's bells had long since chimed, their resonant peals echoing through the ancient stone corridors. The griffins, majestic creatures with feathers that glimmered in the golden sunlight, had long taken to the skies, their silhouettes dancing among the wispy clouds as they hunted for the day’s meal. The usual throngs of students and staff members that filled the academy grounds had vanished, leaving behind a silence that hung in the air. Classes should have commenced by now, marking the beginning of another day of magical learning.

  But, as had been the case the morning before, their homeroom teacher was conspicuously absent. As Elaine stepped into the classroom alongside Fearne, she was greeted by a scene of disinterest and mild irritation: her fellow sorcerers were slouched in their seats, some propping their heads on their hands, while others whispered in low tones, exchanging frustrated glances toward the empty professor's desk. Without needing to look closely, Elaine could sense the unmistakable absence of their instructor. You hate tardiness, don't you? she mused bitterly to herself as she plopped down into her seat. Then why is it you're the last person to arrive at your own class?

  "Elaine," Mason called next to her, and Elaine herself flinched in surprise at the sound of his heavy yet gentle voice. "I didn't get a chance to speak with you after Spellcasting Class yesterday. I wanted to compliment you on your magic."

  "Oh?" Elaine said.

  "Yes, it was...bright," he said, rather awkwardly. "That wasn't a basic-level spell, was it? How did you manage to learn it?"

  Elaine hesitated. “I... err...” How was she meant to tackle this question? The truth was, she hadn’t the slightest idea how she had pulled off the spell either; it felt as if it had simply materialized out of thin air. But she doubted Mason would be satisfied with such a vague explanation. “Every second I could spare,” Elaine began, her voice gaining confidence, “I dedicated to practicing spells with my eldest brother. I was absolutely awful when I first started out. Fire Magic, in particular, was a nightmare for me; I would tense up at the mere thought of the flames licking at my skin. Water Magic, too, proved to be a challenge—there were just too many variables to keep track of, not to mention the way it always made me drenched. But Light Magic just came naturally to me. Even my older brother, who had been diligently practicing Light Magic spells for years ahead of me, admitted that he was jealous of how quickly I learned the concepts and techniques. In a matter of weeks, I had already grasped the basics. Well, for the most part anyway.” Elaine chuckled at the memory; Ellend was red-faced and whining while she was glowing as brilliantly as the distant stars in the night sky. "I assumed he was putting on a front to make me feel better, but..."

  "I don't remember seeing you at the Entrance Exam," Mason said suddenly.

  "Oh, that's because I didn't take it."

  "Ah, makes sense," Mason replied, nodding contemplatively to himself. "Even still, when we were preparing to begin, I remember the overseer of the exam mentioning that all the participants present were on equal footing. That is to say, none of our abilities outshone or fell short of a fellow participant. It gave me peace of mind."

  Elaine sensed it, the sunken acrimony trapped in his words. "But..."

  "But," he continued, his voice tinged with a mix of hesitation and honesty, "when the exam commenced, only then did I fully grasp just how outclassed I truly was. The other candidates were effortlessly conjuring spells that I had never even glimpsed before. I couldn't help but wonder: did someone like me realistically stand a chance here? By some inexplicable act of divine intervention, I managed to scrape through and pass, although I confess I didn't feel the excitement or relief that normally accompanies such a victory." Elaine listened intently, allowing Mason to voice the heavy thoughts that had clearly been weighing on him. This was the most they had communicated since their paths had crossed barely a day ago. The more she engaged with him, the more her initial wariness began to dissipate. "There's a feeling I always get from people who are stronger than me," Mason said, his eyes reflecting clouds of self-doubt. "Yesterday, I experienced that same undeniable sensation from you."

  Elaine's eyes stretched open. "What kind of feeling, if I may ask?"

  Mason lowered his head at the desk. "A great feeling...of despair."

  Elaine hadn't put much thought into the implications of power, but one truth seemed universally acknowledged: when a sorcerer grew too formidable, the masses would inevitably flock to them, their faces alight with adoration, their voices raised in praise. However, there was an undercurrent of trepidation that accompanied this admiration; people often opted to keep a safe distance from the sorcerer’s path. It wasn't born of respect or loyalty, but rather an instinctual fear, an emotion as palpable and biting as the frigid winds that blew down from the icy peaks of the Argos Mountains in the north.

  Hypothetically, if her magical abilities were to continue growing and evolving, would others begin to view her with that very same dread? Would her close friends, Fearne or Custas, ultimately feel intimidated—or even frightened—by her burgeoning powers? No, the notion felt utterly absurd to her. After all, magic does not dictate the Essence of a sorcerer; their ideals, their values, and their choices do. Aunt Delilah had instilled that lesson in her during one of her rare, cherished visits, reminding Elaine that true power resided not just in spells, but in one’s character and intentions.

  This question now spiraled inward, bouncing around in her mind with renewed vigor: What kind of sorcerer did she genuinely aspire to become? The query had shifted in meaning, gaining weight and significance in light of her growing capabilities. She could make every effort to carve out her unique identity, striving to utilize her magic for the betterment of Incantian society. Yet, she couldn't shake the nagging thought that it might all be in vain if the country had already forged an enduring consensus about her—merely a strange girl raised in a humble countryside home, hailing from an unremarkable family, wielding that peculiar and often misunderstood Light Magic.

  As these troubling thoughts cascaded through her mind, a chill ran down Elaine's spine at the daunting prospect of such a future. She sensed that her unease had not gone unnoticed. Mason must have felt the shift in her mood. "Don't mind me, Harwood," he said, forcing a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I’m no stranger to powerful sorcerers—they’re a dul a dozen where I come from. But when I witness a spell or a type of magic that leaves me baffled, it tends to set me on edge. You know, the 'fear of the unknown' and all that."

  "Yeah, I get it," Elaine exhaled. "By the way, I was so focused on passing Professor Knight's insane exercise that I hadn't even gotten to see the type of magic you specialize in."

  Mason shrugged. "Nothing too fancy. Just a couple of basic protection spells, the kind you'd see your neighbor cast on themself to avoid getting drenched by rain."

  Elaine's frown was tiny, if only a tad noticeable. She didn't buy it; he was just being too modest. "Can you show me?" Elaine asked, leaning closer to him, scuttling to the edge of her chair. "I've got to see how it works."

  Mason gawked at her in total disbelief. "R...Right now?"

  Elaine clasped her hands together. "Pretty please?!"

  Fortuitously for him, their homeroom teacher had chosen that precise moment to swing open the door, its creak slicing through the mumbling and slight laughter in the room. A hush fell over the students like a shroud as Allan Marsh, the Abyssal Sorcerer, stalked inside. His expression was anything but inviting. With a pallid complexion and deep-set eyes shadowed by dark circles, his face wore an unmistakable frown that seemed to convey a singular message: "Please, don't bother me. I'm tired right now." Perched on his shoulder, a crow with iridescent black feathers cocked one of its glassy, blank eyes at the class, as if assessing them with an inscrutable judgment.

  In his hands, Professor Marsh carried a haphazard stack of documents, their edges frayed from overuse, along with several envelopes that were stained at the corners, suggesting they had been shuffled around more than once. He delicately placed them onto his cluttered desk, the sound of paper rustling briefly breaking the silence. A moment later, he began scanning one sheet of paper in particular, its content evidently capturing his full attention—or perhaps pulling him into a deeper funk. Whatever grim news lay within those printed lines was apparent; his already lackluster mood seemed to sour further, darkening like an oncoming storm. Covering a dehydrated scowl with his palm, Professor Marsh addressed the class in a voice that resonated with fatigue, “Good morning, class.” His tone was devoid of enthusiasm, simmering with barely contained irritation. "I've heard some... things from your professors regarding your performance during your first day of lessons."

  Custas snickered, shooting a hand overhead. "What kind of things, professor?"

  "Things," Professor Marsh repeated, refusing to elaborate further. "Now then, without letting the sun slip by, we should get right into this morning's main topic. It's customary for every class to have a representative, of sorts. A class president, if you will. And so before you leave homeroom, I would have expected you to select amongst yourselves one person who'd be willing to assume the position."

  A class president, huh? Elaine thought, amused. I guess at the end of the day, this place really is just a school.

  Professor Marsh pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "I don't believe there is such a need for this, personally speaking. It all just seems like one pointless waste of my time, but far be it from me to stand in the way of our headmaster's vision. So, let's have it. Who will it be?"

  Elaine hadn’t expected anyone to jump at the chance so quickly. Class president. The position sounded daunting, and she contemplated the responsibilities that accompanied it—organizing events, representing the class in meetings, and balancing it all on top of the usual academic workload. Who in their right mind would choose to add such a burden to their already full plate? Suddenly, a hand shot up from the front of the class. Elaine leaned forward, squinting to get a better look, and her eyes widened as she recognized Simon. “Sir,” he called out. "I believe that I possess the appropriate qualifications for serving as class president. With me as this class' spearhead, I can confidently say that I will—”

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  "Oh, no! Not so fast, Four Eyes!" Jack shouted, standing up in his seat. "With you as our class president, this place would turn dull. You'd probably have us spend our mornings reviewing a chapter of a textbook or reciting the academy pledge over and over again. Talk about lifeless!"

  Simon cut his eye at him. "It's called being diligent, Durge," Simon muttered. "A trait that we as students should naturally possess. I'll let you know that I have experience with these sorts of tasks. I think out of everyone present here, I would be the most suitable choice."

  "You'd be wrong," Jack grunted. "Now, if we're talking class presidents and crap like that, then I'm your sorcerer! Enforcing the law and keeping the peace is the duty of a State Sorcerer! This job was practically made for a guy like me! Pick me, and I'll have this place running as smoothly as a fine-tuned arcanetech contraption in no time flat."

  Simon rolled his eyes. "You? Don't make me laugh. You'd see to this homeroom's desolation before the day's end. Why, I imagine you'd more than likely force us to conduct practice duels and other such nonsense."

  "Practice duels?!" Jack exclaimed, his eyes igniting with excitement. "Now, there's the first good idea you've had all morning! In fact, when I'm class president, that'll be the first rule I'll make!"

  "Oh, hallocks! I was being sarcastic! Imbecile."

  "Hey, what about me?" Rayla pouted. "I'd like a chance to be class president, too. I like to think that I have some pretty solid organizational skills. I used to help out at my grandmother's store every day when I was little. Oh, I wanna do it! Pick me!"

  "No, I should be president," Edgar interrupted from the row behind where Elaine was sitting. "Don't got a reason. I just think it should be me."

  "Screw that. Let me do it!"

  "Over here!"

  "I want to try too!"

  In a matter of seconds, the entire classroom erupted into a hurricane of howling delirium. Most of her classmates were nobles, accustomed to positions of influence and leadership—was that the reason they felt compelled to dominate the scene? Or were they purely motivated by the allure of representing their homeroom? She mulled over these questions, but answers eluded her. Yet, one thing was undeniable: the infectious energy radiating from her classmates sparked a flame of excitement within her.

  Among the frenzy, Elaine's gaze landed on Kliff, who was trying his hand at commanding attention. Though the words tumbled from his lips in a barely discernible murmur, his determined expression spoke volumes of confidence, as if he believed every syllable could sway the hearts of his peers. Encouraged by the atmosphere of competition, Elaine felt a flutter of resolve stir within her. Tentatively, she began to raise her hand. It wasn't much, she thought, but she had experience—often tasked with watching over the potions shop by herself, or caring for Liam and Ellend when her parents were away. If responsibility were indeed a crucial trait for an effective class president, then surely she could perform decently well.

  Just then, the crow perched on Professor Marsh's shoulder unfolded its feathery black wings and let out a shrill caw, piercing through the din. Professor Marsh's glare shot daggers from across the room, his irritation palpable as he seemed to will his arguing students into submission with nothing but the intensity of his fierce scowl. "As I said, a pointless waste of time," he muttered. "For the sake of my sanity, we'll be conducting this conundrum my way."

  With a sharp snap of Professor Marsh's fingers, the crow leapt from his shoulder and soared into the air. It glided effortlessly, riding on a phantom current that seemed to swirl around it, the wind stirring the air with an almost magical quality. As it circled above, a few of its feathers began to shed, floating down like soft, dark snowflakes. One of these feathers landed directly on Elaine's desk. She gasped as she watched it begin to emit a faint glimmer of shadowy light. The delicate plume transformed before her eyes, expanding and reshaping itself into a rectangular sheet of thin, paper-like material.

  Next to her, the feather that had fluttered down onto Mason's desk underwent a similar magical metamorphosis, sparkling with a minor aura as it morphed. By the time the crow flew back to its master, landing with an air of ritualistic precision on Professor Marsh's left shoulder, every student was staring at their own gray-tinted sheet. Elaine already knew that the intelligence of the crow far surpassed that of ordinary birds. Yet, this one, it had clearly been placed under a specific kind of charm. Her attention was drawn back to the sleek creature as it cocked its head to one side, fixing her with its unnervingly vacant gaze, as if it were silently probing her thoughts.

  "There, write the name of who you'd like to be the class president," Professor Marsh dryly instructed. "The student with the highest number of votes will henceforth be appointed to the position. Sound fair?"

  "If I may, sir," Simon said cautiously, "this seems like a highly ineffective method of going about this matter."

  "He's right," Rayla agreed. "I mean, couldn't we all just choose ourselves?"

  Professor Marsh shrugged. "It's possible."

  "And yet you'd still have us do this?"

  "Beats listening to you brats bicker with one another all morning," Professor Marsh sighed. "But you know, for someone among you to procure more than a single vote, well, I'd say that would speak volumes about them as a character, wouldn't you?"

  Simon readjusted his glasses and grunted. Elaine had expected him to argue further, yet, surprisingly, he remained silent, perhaps recognizing the futility of contesting a decision that already seemed set in stone. Sighing, Elaine picked up her pen and let the tip graze the surface of her sheet of paper. Like Rayla had suggested, Elaine briefly entertained the idea of writing her own name down. But she quickly dismissed it. Deep down, she struggled with doubts about her own capabilities; she couldn’t picture anyone other than herself supporting her candidacy.

  Looking around the classroom, Elaine considered the other potential candidates, her mind landing on Simon again. He seemed like a strong contender—sharp, insightful, and disciplined enough to foster a sense of unity within their quirky class. Then there was Kliff, whom she hadn’t seen in a leadership role but intrigued her nonetheless. She glanced toward the front of the class where he sat, his dark blonde hair catching the morning light. Who would he choose to endorse? Assuming he hadn't already decided on himself. Elaine realized her knowledge of her fellow classmates was painfully limited. Other than Fearne and Custas, the rest were more or less strangers.

  I guess I’ll go with Simon, she thought, convinced that he was the safest choice. Yet, as the ink touched the paper, another name flickered in her mind unexpectedly. Without pausing to reconsider her decision, she hastily scribbled down the name with a sense of urgency. Almost instantaneously, the paper crumbled into black dust, disintegrating into tiny shards that scattered across her desk. She noticed several of her classmates' papers suffering a similar fate as well.

  Standing by his desk, Professor Marsh inhaled deeply through his nostrils, his eyes squeezed shut. "Very interesting," he said. "All right then, I guess it's decided. From this day forth, your class president shall be Adeline Griffith."

  The girl with auburn-colored hair exclaimed in her seat. "Me?!"

  Professor Marsh nodded. "It would seem so. Congratulations."

  "No, that can't be. There must be some mistake," Adeline stammered, nervousness shattering the tone of her voice.

  "Not likely," Professor Marsh answered her. "You're the only person in the class with two votes. Interestingly enough, neither of them was from you."

  So, does that mean Adeline voted for someone other than herself? Elaine pondered. She spotted the girl seated in the row ahead of her, her brow furrowed, trying to quell the storm of bewilderment swirling within her. Adeline was gulping down long, shaky breaths, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that betrayed her anxiety. Elaine had always perceived Adeline as a powerhouse—fearless, courageous, and sharp-witted. She was the surging Glacial Girl for Aeris' sake! This reaction, however, was entirely unexpected.

  "I...I want this to be unanimous," Adeline said, her voice faltering. "That is to say, I won't accept the position until I'm assured that there aren't objections from any of my classmates. This choice is as much mine as it is theirs."

  "Fair enough," Professor Marsh said, shrugging his shoulders.

  Elaine smiled at the respectable comment, and she would then raise a hand into the air. "I think you should do it."

  Adeline whirled around to meet Elaine's gaze. There stood Adeline, a noble by birth and a respected sorceress in her own right, the daughter of the formidable general of the Incantian Military. She was momentarily awestruck, her expression a mixture of disbelief and solace; a fleeting look akin to a child receiving an unexpected commendation from a revered mentor. By now, it was awfully apparent to Elaine that she'd gravely misjudged the girl. No matter the whispered stories of her prowess or the accolades she had garnered throughout her brief yet illustrious life, the truth remained: at the core, Adeline was just a child, grappling with the weight of expectations much like Elaine herself. So it seemed even those who appeared invincible, like Adeline, could have their spirits tested and their courage shaken by the relentless challenges posed by Glyph Academy.

  "If I recall correctly, you are Elaine, aren’t you?" Adeline asked slowly. "But tell me, why would you choose to place your faith in someone like me, of all people?"

  "Surely it can't be that surprising, can it?" Elaine chuckled. "During our Spellcasting Class, while everyone was panicking and trying to figure out what they should do, it was you who took control of the situation. You somehow turned chaos into order, and we were all better off. If nothing else, you'd make for a great leader."

  Adeline gasped. "A leader, you say? Me?"

  "Yup," Elaine affirmed. "You care more for the class as a collective than just yourself. An admirable trait for a leader, I'd say. It's the reason I voted for you, anyway."

  Adeline's fair cheeks were inflamed from her blushing. It was clear as day that the girl wanted to say something—her lips were quivering, failing to capture within them a single word—but she was too astounded to reply.

  Simon folded his arms, smiling as he nodded his head. "I concur with Elaine. I see no issue with Adeline being our president. Should she accept the role, I'll gladly follow her lead."

  "Hell yeah! The Glacial Girl herself is gonna be our class rep?!" Jack exclaimed. "Now I can get behind that. Sign me up!"

  "A fitting role for a member of House Griffith. At least, in my opinion," Mason added.

  Elaine smiled, and it looked like everyone in class agreed.

  "Very well, then." Exhaling, Adeline rose out of her seat, placing a hand over her chest. "While I'm uncertain what kind of expectations you've entrusted me with," she said, "I will nevertheless try my hardest to see them fulfilled. As your class president." There it was, her confidence was back. Her resolute tone was void of hesitance or doubt. A look as solid and unbreakable as ice. That was the formidable sorcerer prodigy Elaine was familiar with. Now that the decision had been made, Adeline's previous fit of shivering reluctance had vaporized, leaving in its place a fierce portrait of unfiltered determination. Adeline would be a great class president, which Elaine was sure of.

  "Yes, well, now that that's been taken care of, we can proceed with what I actually wanted to discuss with you." Professor Marsh held up his hand, and materializing out of purplish flames that billowed within his fingers was a small, gold-colored medal shaped like a star. "This is a Radiant Star." Elaine gulped as she observed it intently, the medal hovering idly above his hand. "Radiant Stars are awarded to students who have successfully achieved commendable actions or great deeds that extend beyond mere academic excellence. I’m not referring to simply maintaining good grades or asking for extra-credit assignments. These Stars are exclusively given to those who demonstrate honor and integrity—students who actively seek out opportunities to perform principled and admirable acts. In essence, they are sorcerers who truly embody the core ideals of Glyph Academy. Now listen closely, this is the important part. There are three distinct kinds of Radiant Stars, each representing different levels of achievement. The first, and most basic, are the bronze Stars; accumulating four bronze Stars will earn you a silver Radiant Star, which is the second tier of recognition. Lastly, we have the esteemed gold Radiant Stars, much like this one here. To earn a gold Star, you must collect three silver Stars. Achieving this will reward you with a gift—one personally bestowed by none other than Headmaster Valerian himself."

  "A gift, huh? Now you're speaking my kind of language, teach," Custas sneered, leaning forward in his chair. "And just what kind of reward are we talking about here? Tokens? I bet it's tokens."

  "If you want to find out," Professor Marsh said, "then I suggest trying your hand at acquiring one yourself."

  Custas puckered a pout. "Why do I even bother asking...?"

  "While obtaining Radiant Stars shouldn't take priority over your rudimentary studies, truly exceptional students will find the time to do so anyway. This is why I expect each of you to have obtained a Star on the eve of this semester's conclusion. Those who don't will receive a...special punishment of my choosing."

  "What?!" Rayla screamed in shock.

  "Oh, come on!" Jack complained loudly. "You just said they were super hard to get!"

  "I did," Professor Marsh replied casually, the Radiant Star floating in his hand disintegrating into golden ash. "But if you lot cannot even handle such a simple challenge, what hope do you have of becoming Professional Sorcerers? Much less graduating from Glyph Academy." True to his nature, Professor Marsh was a tough sorcerer to please. And on top of all the work they'd eventually be assigned from their other classes, they now had a new issue to agonize over.

  One problem after another, Elaine thought, frowning.