"Admirable work, students. That shall be all for today's lecture," Professor Dragonthorne said in her jolly tone of voice. "Do remember to revise chapters three and four, as they will be incredibly important to the topics we will review next week."

  Elaine let out a weary sigh as she slipped her heavy textbook into her satchel, the weight of the material settling against her side. She had to give her roommate credit where it was due; mastering Abjuration was no simple feat. This particular class was dedicated wholly to the intricate applications of the Art Form, a fact that both excited and intimidated Elaine. Fearne had confided that she had been practicing Abjuration since her childhood, and it showed—her natural affinity for the craft made the complex spells seem almost effortless. Yet the thought of the vast array of material they needed to cover loomed over Elaine like a storm cloud. They were required to navigate through several chapters of their textbook before they could even think about attempting to cast a genuine Abjuration Spell.

  At its foundation, Abjuration—one of the six Archaic Art Forms of True Magic—involved casting a variety of healing spells, those capable of alleviating ailments or sealing fresh wounds. However, Elaine was acutely aware that a sorcerer had to wield this power with great caution. A miscast healing spell could easily turn disastrous, potentially inflicting harm rather than remedying it. According to her readings, incorrectly performed healing spells could pose risks far greater than simple offensive spells. The very thought sent a shiver down her spine, and part of her felt a sense of relief that they were not diving headfirst into practicing such daunting magic just yet. The notion of inadvertently robbing someone of their eyesight or sprouting an additional arm from their back was not just an unsettling hypothetical—it was genuinely possible. Abjuration was indeed a dangerous Art Form, filled with both promise and peril.

  As she gazed out through the diamond-shaped glass windows, the warm orange light of the afternoon sun spilled into the classroom, casting long shadows against the walls. She had only one final class of the day left to endure, though the thought of it filled her with trepidation; it was being overseen by her homeroom teacher, the intimidating Abyssal Sorcerer. Elaine couldn't shake the anxiety that bubbled within her at the mere thought of his strictness. If he had been so stern and dispassionate during homeroom, what fresh horrors awaited them in an actual lesson?

  While her classmates, including Fearne and Custas, began to file out toward the exit, Elaine found herself drawn to the front of the classroom. There, Professor Dragonthorne was preoccupied, erasing the myriad of illustrations she had hastily scrawled on the chalkboard during the lesson. The classroom itself was decently sized, with five rows of desks stretching across the room, each capable of accommodating four to five students. A faded green mattress, streaked with yellow, covered the wooden floor, muffling footsteps as students moved about. Glass cupboards lined the walls, filled with an assortment of oddly designed apparatus that elicited curiosity but also a bit of fear. In the center of the room, there was a significant gap between the front-most desk and the professor's own, where a lifeless, gray homunculus lay sprawled on the floor. Elaine imagined it would be the unfortunate subject of future demonstrations.

  "Excuse me, Professor Dragonthorne," Elaine called.

  The professor whirled around to greet her with a cheery smile. "Ah, Ms. Harwood. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

  Maya Dragonthorne embodied the quintessential traits of a Medical Mage, her personality radiating a buoyant cheerfulness that made interactions with her feel effortlessly warm and inviting. She had inherited long, cascading locks of dark hair, elegantly styled into two ponytails that bounced with each movement. Her lively, emerald-green eyes sparkled with curiosity and compassion, set against the soft, rounded contours of her face that seemed to reflect her nurturing spirit. Standing just above average height, Maya carried herself with a gentle confidence. Her attire was both practical and distinctive: she wore a snug, brown shirt made of a lightweight fabric that allowed for ease of movement, which contrasted beautifully with her flowing red dress that reached just below her knees, its hem dancing lightly with every step. A wide, intricately woven sash cinched her waist, accentuating her figure while also securely holding her medical supplies. Draped over her shoulder was a well-worn leather holster that housed her wand.

  "It's nothing much, really," Elaine said. "I was just wondering if you were knowledgeable about injuries concerning Lightning Magic."

  Dragonthorne began humming out of her clasped lips. "Lightning Magic, you say? And what, might I inquire, spurred your interest in it?"

  Elaine hesitated, shifting uncomfortably where she stood. "Oh...it's just...I..."

  Dragonthorne inflated her mouth and expelled a series of light chuckles. "I'm just teasing, love. I know exactly what this is about. You're trying to find a cure for your brother, aren't you?"

  Elaine looked at her in plain shock. "How did you..."

  "I've been a professor at this academy for many suns and moons. I know everything that goes on around here," Professor Dragonthorne replied with a smile. "It was such a terrible thing. Why, I can't imagine how you must have felt when it happened. Poor child, and he seemed like such a promising student as well."

  "Yeah, he did..." Elaine replied, sullenly gazing at the floor.

  "Well, if it's a cure you're looking for, then I'm afraid I have nothing to offer," Professor Dragonthorne said, hands clasped in front of her. "Lightning Magic is a tricky beast to decipher. The Essence particles that compose its spells are far more discordant and chaotic. It makes comprehending how it functions a nightmare, and treating serious Lightning Magic-related injuries next to impossible."

  "I see..."

  "I've heard a few scholars in Rymevar claiming that farroots seem to have a positive effect on the patients there."

  Elaine nodded. "Yes, I've heard that as well."

  "Sadly, however, no experiments have proven successful in Incante thus far. Then again, Rymevar has always one-upped us when it came to medical advancements," Professor Dragonthorne said, crossing his arms. "Even so, I'll put in a good word for you. I know some capable Medical Mages in the Capital. I'll notify you immediately if they've made any breakthroughs."

  "Y...Yes!" Elaine exclaimed. "Thank you, professor. Thank you so much!"

  "Think nothing of it, love," Professor Dragonthorne laughed, winking an eye at her. "Our job as professors is to look after our students, but that doesn't negate our responsibilities as Professional Sorcerers. If Aeris truly blesses us, we'll find a way to get Ellend standing back on his two feet."

  Elaine felt a cloud of relief comfort her. With Glyph's help, she might very well find a way to heal her brother from his injury. Even so, her worries for the day weren't entirely alleviated. She still had one more class to attend; the Abyssal Sorcerer would be waiting for her.

  *

  * *

  The classroom was utterly silent as Elaine entered, the only sound the soft rustle of paper as their professor flipped through the pages of a thick textbook. His dark eyes moved with a sharp intensity, scanning the words with meticulous care as if he were searching for something hidden within the text's depths. Elaine made a deliberate choice to avoid looking in his direction. Instead, she concentrated on finding a place to sit as quickly as possible.

  To her relief, a spot was open next to Fearne; it seemed as though she had deliberately saved the seat for her. The desk was shared with Custas, Simon, and Edgar, who sat at the far end. Each of them wore expressions of barely concealed anxiety, mirroring her own unease. As Elaine navigated her way to the desk, she felt the weight of Professor Marsh's relentless glare bore into her from across the room. Was he angry with her? She couldn't have been that late, could she?

  A quick survey of the classroom revealed she was indeed the last student to arrive, embarrassment and shame gnawing at her as she brought her head down and hurried to the seat. She plopped into the chair next to Fearne, her satchel thudding on the wooden desk as she set it down. The classroom's atmosphere was stifled; none of the small, square-shaped windows sprinkled across the walls were open, casting an oppressive gloom over the room. The dim lighting made it hard to see, and Elaine realized that without the flickering wax candles scattered across the tables or perched precariously on golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, she might not even have been able to recognize her own hands.

  Grunting to himself, Professor Marsh shut the book he was reading closed with a forceful slap! Then the sorcerer surveyed his audience, slowly turning his frown from one side of the room to the next, absorbing every student present into his half-open eyes. Per usual, his crow sat idly atop his left shoulder, the bizarre animal pecking its beak underneath a wing. "I suppose," he said, his voice hoarse and gravelly, "there's no need for introductions, yes? Welcome to Black Magic Defense Studies."

  Professor Marsh slowly drew the wand from its holster. With a graceful flick of his wrist, he waved it above his head. In response, the sparks crackling at the tip of each candle leaped into the air, swirling together to form towering columns of vibrant fire that shot upward. The flames danced with an otherworldly intensity, casting dynamic shadows that leaped along the rough stone walls of the room. Gasps echoed as the sudden burst of fire caught everyone by surprise, with a startled scream escaping Fearne's lips, her eyes wide in disbelief. The fiery pillars, bright and fierce, stretched high towards the ceiling, roaring with an exhilarating energy. Just as abruptly, they began to retract, collapsing back into their respective candles, where the flames settled to their original forms, flickering gently, their soft glow now tranquil and inviting.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  "Magic is dangerous," Professor Marsh started. "People often forget this fact. They've been normalized by the fantastical, and celebrate this Era of Magic as if it were void of flaws and blights. In this class, however, I'll reveal to you all the truth. Black Magic: the weapon of monsters and warlocks. Though the practice of Black Magic is forbidden, there are several lowlifes out there who use it to wreak havoc on the innocent. Good men and women just trying to survive their days as they come."

  Elaine swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how her fingers had tightened around the edge of the table. Much to her mother's dismay, her father delighted in spinning dark tales that filled Elaine's bedroom with a sense of dread. He would weave stories of sinister warlocks and the eerie Shadowborn, painting vivid images of monstrous figures lurking in the darkness, always on the prowl for disobedient children. At the time, Elaine had believed every word, just as her younger brother, Ellend, had.

  Their father's tales were little more than a crude attempt to instill fear, a method to ensure their good behavior. Yet, the impact of those twisted stories ran far deeper than she had understood back then. As a little girl, Elaine had lain awake at night, the remnants of her father’s fearful fables swirling in her mind, creating nightmares that felt all too real, each monster lurking just beyond her dreamscape. The shadowy figures would creep into her imagination, their menacing laughter echoing long after the tales were told, turning her innocent bedtime stories into a personal portal of horror.

  "Black Magic can take on various insidious forms," Professor Marsh elaborated. "It curses, it corrupts, it destroys. It stands in total contrast to True Magic, practiced by those favored by Nether. As future Professional Sorcerers, you bear the weighty responsibility to unveil these shadows for what they truly are, and to respond to these dark forces accordingly." Despite the initial shock from his dazzling display of fire, Elaine steadied herself, determined to absorb every word the professor spoke. She quickly flipped open her notebook, its pages shimmering slightly as she began to jot down his insights with growing urgency. This was Professor Marsh, a revered figure known for his rigorous standards and high expectations, and Elaine was eager to demonstrate her commitment to her studies. "That being said," he continued, his tone shifting to one of caution, "studying Black Magic is no simple task. Its unpredictable nature means accidents can occur at any moment, often with devastating consequences. Therefore, before we delve deeper into this complex subject, you will participate in an initial assessment—a test, so to speak, that I have organized for each of you."

  His gaze swept across the classroom, lingering on the anxious faces of the students, before finally locking eyes with Elaine. She sat in her seat, her heart thundering against her chest, but she kept her lips pressed together, refusing to voice her worries. Surrounding her, her classmates shared a mutual silence. Through the slight crack between her eyelashes, she could sense Fearne shuffling nervously beside her. Fearne’s fingers were tightly clenched in her lap, the knuckles white against her uniform's fabric, and her expression was a careful mask of composure, though the flicker of anxiety in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

  "Hmm, that's odd," Professor Marsh commented. "I had anticipated a grander reaction. I'm kind of disappointed, to tell you the truth."

  "It might be because," Adeline started near the front of the class, "up until this point, we've already taken other of these 'tests' from the rest of our classes. In fact, I imagine my fellow classmates had anticipated that you wouldn't be much different."

  "She's right, teach!" Jack shouted, standing out of his seat, a fist raised in front of him. "Throw whatever you've got at us! We're more than ready!"

  "Yes," Simon nodded. "I think you'll come to find that we aren't as helpless as you otherwise might have assumed."

  Professor Marsh dropped his head at his desk, and the bird on his shoulder ruffled its feathers in irritation. "You're wrong," Professor Marsh said, his voice weighing heavily. "I'm not like the others; these false impressions you have of me will surely disappoint, class. For your information, Glyph Academy doesn't adhere to standardized syllabi. In fact, Headmaster Valerian has given each of the professors here free rein to conduct our lessons however we so choose, and that involves being granted the authority to fail or even expel those of you whom we deem unfit."

  "Crap," Elaine heard Edgar whimper. "Adeline was right. That stuff he mentioned yesterday, it wasn't just a bluff."

  "With all due respect, Professor Marsh, this is completely absurd!" Simon loudly protested.

  Jack slammed his hands onto his desk. "So...so then, what? You're saying you can kick one of us out of here at any time?"

  Professor Marsh shrugged. "Essentially."

  "No..this...this can't be true," Rayla stammered. "I can't speak for everyone here, but most of us worked hard to get into this academy. That surging Entrance Exam was a nightmare. Even so, even after everything we've done, we could still lose it all? That just isn't fair, sir!"

  "Fairness? I realize that you all are beginners, but don't tell me you're so embarrassingly naive," Professor Marsh said strictly. "Was it fair when hundreds of innocents were wiped out in a single night during the outbreak of the Aetherium? Or when a feral dragon went on a rampage on the outskirts of our country, burning countless villages to dust and ash. Or maybe when a mage could be executed simply on account of being able to cast magic? Newsflash, class. Nothing about this cruel world is fair. I dare say the act of practicing magic—to be able to warp reality to our individual choosing—is unfair to the way of the universe in and of itself. Excavating and enacting fairness—what do you think a sorcerer is? As Professional Sorcerers, we are entrusted to neutralize any evil, fair or otherwise, so that the peace our predecessors worked so hard to forge won't lead to a bad memory."

  The class grew quiet again for some moments, but Adeline was next to speak, raising her hand as she asked, "This test of yours, may I ask, what exactly does it entail?"

  "I like to call it Integrity's Rift." Professor Marsh swiped the wand out of his holster again. It was a dark-colored thing with a crooked, almost broken-looking shaft possessing a sunken emerald—a greenish orb that shined ever so slightly—lodged at the bottom of its hilt.

  Miregrove bark, Elaine thought, staring at it focusedly. Unless I'm misremembering, those can enhance Shadow Magic and Dark Magic spells.

  "Voneras," Professor Marsh grunted, pointing the tip of his wand at the class. A muffled shuffling sounded from behind her, and Elaine started in her seat as it flew past her head rapidly, moving in a shadowed blur. Professor Marsh held his hand out, catching it out of the air in a swing. It was a wooden chest, one adorned with an intricate, spiraling pattern and runes. A crimson-colored ruby was embedded into its locking mechanism. "This is what we'd call a pocket prison. It's where you'll be taking your test."

  "So let me get this straight," Custas said, a unique kind of bewilderment brandished on his tongue, "we're going to be tested...inside of that thing?"

  "Yes, that would be correct, Mr. Cloude," Professor Marsh affirmed. "Back in the old days, we'd use these to capture and imprison especially dangerous sorcerers and other magically-enhanced individuals. I'm told that they've gone out of fashion now, but it never hurts to have one on your person. Built this beauty myself. In any case, you'll find your task from within the prison. And though I abolished this foolish idea that the world should be...fair, I can sympathize with a new student's concerns. This test isn't inherently easy; I designed it to challenge even intermediate sorcerers. Should any of you feel inclined not to take it, then I urge you to exit my class now," Professor Marsh said apathetically. "Although it should be noted that such a decision would result in you failing my class outright. I am still your professor, after all. Furthermore, if a student ever fails more than two classes in a single semester, they would be effectively expelled from the academy then and there. It's your choice; however, do choose wisely, students."

  If we leave...we'd fail? Considering the insane conditions of his test, Elaine couldn't help but ponder why an admission of his lesson would not be grounds for expulsion. If that were the case, wouldn't it make sense for everyone to simply cut their losses and leave? Yet, to her surprise—and perhaps dismay—nobody did. The only sounds breaking the silence were the occasional heavy breath or the quiet tap of a fidgeting finger against a desk. Was this, too, part of the test? A test concealed within a test? Fearne was practically trembling, her hands tightly clasped in her lap. Despite her soft-spoken demeanor and overly polite nature, Fearne had the fierce determination to pursue her dream of becoming a Professional Sorcerer—a Medical Mage, to be exact. That resolve, however, was visibly being challenged in this moment of uncertainty.

  It was then that Elaine found herself confronted with a different consideration. They had more or less survived the tests of their previous classes, but there was no telling how much more difficult each subsequent challenge would become as the semester wore on. She couldn't afford to accept defeat so easily, especially when it was being so blatantly offered to her. With that attitude, her aspiration of becoming a Professional Sorcerer would be nothing more than a na?ve fantasy, an ideal belonging to a deluded child. In response, Elaine steeled her tenacity, mentally chanting the reasons that had driven her to enroll at Glyph Academy in the first place.

  Besides, she recalled Professor Marsh's words from their initial meeting—he had emphasized that he valued resolve above all else. The fact that no one—not even Rayla, who had panicked earlier, or Simon, who was known for his outspoken nature—had dared to walk out of the classroom could only mean one thing. That very observation likely sparked the crooked grin that split across their professor's face, a rare sight for them all. It was alarming; this was the first time Elaine had seen him without his usual scowl or glower, and yet he somehow appeared even more unsettling. "Good, very good!" he sneered excitedly. He glanced at the crow sitting on his shoulder—the bird shuffled on its spot, and gave what looked to be a small yet approving nod. "Well, then. I suppose we can get this day started."

  With a firm twist of the heavy iron key Professor Marsh had pulled from his pocket, the chest's lock clicked open. The moment the lid lifted, a thick smog of black dust erupted like a volcanic cloud, swirling wildly into the air. Elaine instinctively raised a hand to shield her face, squeezing her eyelids shut against the dark particles storming at her. Around her, chaos erupted as her classmates recoiled in fear, their screams cutting through the air like jagged glass. Cries of confusion and panic mingled with wild questions—“What’s happening?” and “Is it safe?” echoed through the thickening haze. Gradually, the cacophony of shouts diminished, giving way to a tense silence punctuated only by her panicked breaths.

  Elaine slowly opened her eyes again, only to find herself no longer in the familiar confines of the Black Magic Defense classroom. Instead, she stood in a narrow, dimly lit hallway, flanked by walls made of dark, weathered bricks. The bricks were rough to the touch, and their surfaces jutted out at irregular angles, almost as if they were breathing. Purplish veins, resembling some otherworldly vine or plant species, slithered across the walls’ surfaces, forming intricate patterns of spirals, curls, knots, and crosses that seemed to pulse softly with an inner light. Above her head, there was no ceiling—only an endless expanse of darkness. Elaine initially thought that night had fallen, but as she scanned the void, she realized no stars were twinkling above. Instead, vibrant ribbons of purplish and crimson light danced through the blackness like foggy bolts of electricity, casting an eerie glow that flickered and swayed, as if beckoning her to follow. The walls loomed above her, rising more than ten feet into the air, and they stretched on into the far distance on either side, disappearing into the shadows.

  "Testing. Hello, testing, one, two, three. Can you all hear me?" Elaine recognized Professor Marsh's dry voice as it echoed into her ears, but she couldn't discern where exactly it was coming from. "Welcome to your test site: The Sunken Labyrinth. Now the rules of the test are fairly simple. Hidden somewhere within the labyrinth is a single "exit"—you'll know it when you see it. You are to locate this exit and escape, that is all."

  Elaine exhaled. Maybe this test wouldn't be so difficult after all—

  "Do be warned," Professor Marsh continued, "as with most pocket prisons, this labyrinth has no beginning and end. To succeed, you'll have to let your magic guide you out. Also, there are multiple, let's say, obstacles interspersed here and there. If you are captured or bested by any of them, you will immediately fail the test, and also be expelled. You have the remaining time to complete the test, which should give you an hour, give or take. And as I've said, the last person to escape the prison will also be expelled. So move fast, and the best of luck to you."

  That was that.

  Elaine inhaled sharply prior to picking a random direction and charging down the singular path. There wasn't time to doddle or delay. She needed to find a way to get out of this labyrinth as quickly as possible. And when taking into account how talented the classmates she'd be competing with were, she realized that she'd be starting this race with a broken leg.