Lucian walked like he owned the sunlight.
Starched tunic crisp beneath a tailored navy-blue coat, matching trousers falling neatly over dainty, polished shoes, his black hair shimmered with dark blue undertones where the light hit, and his storm-grey eyes flicked from building to building, barely restraining their curiosity.
Even his stride had that natural charisma—that smooth, I-know-I-don't-belong-but-I-look-good-here-anyway grace.
Beside him, Ellie sauntered like she'd built the place with her bare hands.
A tall beauty in scholarly robes that clung where they should and flowed where they must. Gold-rimmed glasses perched elegantly on her nose; her pointed hat tilted just enough to suggest she didn't care—but absolutely did. A wand rested at her hip like a ceremonial blade: casual, elegant, dangerous.
Mages and staff turned to look. A few stared outright. One man nearly dropped his levitating stack of scrolls. Ellie paid them no mind.
Before them stretched the Aetherion Arcanum—a city sculpted by gods with an obsession for symmetry and magic. The air shimmered with refined mana, thick with history and power. The whole campus felt alive.
Nine towers rose in a grand arc, forming a half-circle around the central grounds—each dedicated to a school of magic. Each radiated its own aura and aesthetic:
The Evocation Tower crackled with ambient sparks.
The Illusion Tower shimmered like a dream caught mid-flicker.
The Abjuration Spire pulsed gently, surrounded by unseen protective wards.
The Conjuration Tower floated inches off the ground, held aloft by mystery and spatial trickery.
Their spires reached skyward like fingers casting a spell into the firmament.
The buildings didn't just stand—they glowed. Not literally, but with that unmistakable aura of ancient wealth and institutional pride. Silver inlays lined their edges. Enchanted glass glinted with sunlight. Floating lanterns adjusted brightness as clouds passed. Even the cobblestones gleamed.
Lucian muttered, "It's like a royal palace had a baby with a spellbook…"
Ellie let out a nostalgic sigh.
"This brings back memories," she said softly, her tone dipped in fondness. Her gaze swept the towers, the students, the manicured lawns. "Gods, I got into so much trouble here."
In the center of the arc was a stunning quadrant—paths carved through perfectly trimmed hedges, leading to a grand fountain. At its heart stood a marble statue.
White-stone and silver-threaded, it depicted a man no older than thirty, robes parted at the chest, arms folded over a twisted staff of crystal and wood. Long hair tied back, smirk carved eternal. Sharp, too perfect features.
Lucian blinked.
"Wait. That's Merlin?"
Ellie nodded. "Yep. The man, the myth, the magical menace. That was sculpted when he was already over two hundred. Still looked like a heartbreaker."
His eyes, though stone, twinkled with that brand of trouble only immense magical power—and an ungodly amount of free time—could conjure.
High above them, suspended like a frozen tear of the cosmos, floated a massive crystalline structure.
Lucian stared. "That's…"
Ellie followed his gaze. "The Crystal Tear. Heart of Aetherion. Power core of the school." Her tone grew reverent. "One of the Seven Wonders of Merlin. Don't ask how it floats—professors are still arguing."
Around them, students bustled in pristine uniforms: white and royal blue, golden accents denoting rank and year. Some holstered wands at their hips, others floated books beside them or flicked minor spells mid-conversation. They were vibrant, alive.
Lucian narrowed his eyes. "Yup. I'm gonna break a few egos."
Ellie smirked. "That's the spirit."
They passed monuments and murals—bronze plaques to notable alumni, enchanted topiaries that mimicked famous spells, even a small dueling arena surrounded by tiered stone benches.
At last, they arrived at the Administration Hall—a marble structure crowned with a gold-trimmed dome, flanked by massive spell-forged gargoyles whose eyes flickered with faint enchantment.
Inside, the building buzzed with organized chaos. Faculty moved like a magical current, some guiding levitating books, others juggling scrolls that scribbled midair. Voices overlapped:
"His mana ratio's unstable—"
"Someone reset the wards on Tower Six—"
"The wyrm's escaped again—"
Lucian moved unseen. Ellie, however, drew nods and nervous bows. One clerk actually bowed deep enough to nearly fall over.
The ceiling above was a starmap dome—glowing constellations shifting with celestial grace. A comet trailed slowly across it, like a silver ribbon in the sky.
They ascended a wide spiral stair lined with old runes.
Two guards in glimmering arcane armor flanked a massive set of doors.
"Lady Ellie," one said, bowing.
She returned it with a lazy salute.
"The Headmaster's dramatic," she murmured. "Try not to stare at the beard."
Lucian blinked. "Wait, wha—"
The doors opened.
The Headmaster's Office was a sanctum of arcane authority. Circular walls housed ancient tomes and crystal globes. The ceiling above was a living projection of the real sky. Painted murals of previous headmasters lined the stone walls—each proud, each powerful.
And behind an obsidian desk carved with starlight runes...
Sat the wizard himself.
A long white beard, silver eyes that seemed to read too much. Deep violet robes shimmered with magic thread. He looked like every textbook wizard... yet something in his gaze was wild.
Ellie bowed. So did Lucian.
"Master," she said.
The old man groaned and rose, arms stretching. "You're still calling me that? And now... a student? You? I thought you'd die before mentoring anyone. What happened? Did you finally admit you're not the smartest person in every room?"
Ellie rolled her eyes. "He's different."
The Headmaster turned to Lucian.
And just like that, the smile vanished.
Lucian felt the weight of his gaze—piercing, analytical, cold in that thoughtful kind of way.
The silence dragged. Lucian swallowed.
Then—
"Oh stars, look at you!" the man boomed, breaking into laughter. "You look like you're about to piss yourself!"
Tension shattered. Lucian blinked. "What?"
The wizard waved. "Relax. I'm not turning you into a frog. Ellie, what stories do you even tell about me?"
Ellie sighed. "Nothing inaccurate."
The Headmaster eyed Lucian again. "You've got the eyes. And that posture. You hold mana like a sword, not a scroll." He squinted. "You must be Lucian."
Lucian straightened. "Nice to meet you, sir."
The man nodded... then frowned.
"Hm. I expected someone taller."
Ellie choked.
Lucian gawked. "Seriously?!"
The wizard grinned. "You'll do."