The Light Beyond The Rift

As the landscape shifted from rolling hills to towering spires, excitement surged through the trio. The streets bustled with life, the architecture grew more elaborate, and an unmistakable energy pulsed through the air. 

Unlike Valamore—where magic was rare and those who possessed it kept their abilities discreet as to not draw unwanted attention—Auron thrived on it. Here, magic wasn't just accepted; it was the city's lifeblood. 

They watched in fascination as mages transmuted stone into bricks, their hands moving in seamless synchronization with the builders they assisted. Nearby, a water mage conjured a delicate bird from liquid, only for an air mage to send it soaring—its wings rippling as if it were truly alive. Further down the street, a fire mage knelt beside a merchant's stall, shaping molten glass from sand to replace a shattered shop window. 

It was a world unlike anything they had known—a city where magic wasn't hidden, but celebrated, woven into the rhythm of everyday life. 

A group of children ran alongside the carriage, their laughter ringing through the square as they waved eagerly at the arriving apprentices. Their joy was infectious. Unable to resist, the trio leaned out, grinning as they returned the enthusiastic gestures, their own excitement swelling in response. 

To Aileen, Auron felt like a living maze. The carriage rumbled over cobbled streets, winding through labyrinthine alleys, past soaring spires and sprawling marketplaces. Merchants called out their wares, the air hummed with the pulse of magic—it was a world brimming with wonder, unlike anything Valamore had ever known. 

At last, the carriage slowed to a halt. 

The sight before them was breath-taking. The Guild's gates loomed over everything—an awe-inspiring testament to ancient craftsmanship. Rising twice as high as the tallest building in the city, they were forged from deep black stone, their surface adorned with swirling patterns that seemed to shift, almost imperceptibly, as if imbued with a life of their own. 

Aileen had read about how ancient mages had enchanted the very stones of the Guild with their very own blood to fortify them with powerful spells as to ensure its walls would stand against any siege. The Guild was more than a place of learning—it was Auron's last bastion of defence, a shield for the kingdom should calamity ever strike. 

A deep, resonant groan echoed through the air, interrupting her thoughts as the gates slowly began to open. 

Standing before them was a lone figure. At first glance, the trio mistook it for a man—but with each step closer, its inhuman nature became undeniable. 

"It's a Basajaun!" Len shouted, his voice brimming with childlike wonder. 

The Basajaun loomed above them, a hulking figure covered in thick, matted brown hair. Its broad, muscular frame was man-like, but its immense size and wild appearance made it unmistakably not human. Beneath its tangled mane, sharp, intelligent eyes glowed faintly, exuding a deep, primal wisdom. Its large, clawed hands moved with surprising gentleness, as though it held reverence for the very earth beneath its feet. Despite its fearsome appearance, the creature radiated an aura of calm power. 

The Basajaun stretched out his hand toward the drakes. "That's Master Gordon to ya, youn'un." A faint smile tugged at his lips as the drakes nuzzled against his hand, greeting him like an old friend. "I'm a teacher 'round here. I tend to the animals, forests, and gardens in my spare time. Now get goin', you're runnin' late. Join the others." 

As if in understanding, the drakes roared in unison, their voices shaking the very air around them. Without warning, they unfurled their massive wings and blasted upward into the sky. The sudden jolt caught the trio off guard, Aileen, Len, and Angeline were thrown backward into their seats, tumbling in surprise as the carriage lurched upward. 

The wind whipped around them, the ground below quickly falling away as the drakes carried the carriage effortlessly into the sky. Aileen grabbed onto the side of the seat, her heart pounding in her chest. "I didn't know this thing could fly!" Len shouted, his voice tinged with equal parts shock and excitement. 

The trio exchanged wide-eyed glances, half-laughing and half-reeling from the unexpected lift-off. Aileen was the first to regain her composure and quickly poked her head out of the window, curiosity overtaking her surprise. 

The guild was bigger than anything Aileen had ever seen, a sprawling fortress of stone that stretched endlessly into the sky. Towering spires pierced the clouds, their intricate designs and sheer height leaving her breathless. Grand battlements lined the outer walls, giving the appearance of an impregnable stronghold, while carvings of mythical creatures and ancient symbols adorned the stone, hinting at the rich history and arcane knowledge contained within. 

The main structure resembled a proud, ancient castle, with thick stone walls that withstood centuries. Bridges connected the various towers, suspended high above the ground with seemingly no support, creating a labyrinth of walkways that seemed to defy gravity. 

Aileen stared in awe, her heart racing. This was more than a school, it was a fortress of knowledge and power, a manifestation of the boundless strength of human will. 

"Hard to believe we're finally here..." Len's voice trembled with emotion, his eyes scanning the towering spires before them. 

"Please tell me you're not about to cry, Len..." Angeline teased, her voice dripping with impish mischief. 

"N-No! Besides, my room was right next to yours. I could hear you crying whilst writing letters to your parents." 

Before the argument could begin, Aileen suddenly stopped, her breath hitching. A lump formed in her throat as she took in the towering gates, the ancient stone—the undeniable proof that she had made it. They all had. Her fingers clenched around the necklace her mother had given as her vision blurred, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. 

"I'm finally here, Mom…" she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of years spent dreaming of this moment. 

Len and Angeline exchanged a knowing smile, their teasing forgotten. Without hesitation, they moved closer, wrapping Aileen in a comforting embrace, their shared bond strengthening in the quiet, emotional moment. 

As the drakes begun their gradual descend, the trio saw what appeared to be their destination, an expansive courtyard that seemed as vast as a small village. The ground was paved with intricate cobblestone patterns, forming swirling designs and runic symbols. At the far end of the courtyard, a series of grand stone archways marked the entrance to the Guild's inner halls. Each arch was adorned with delicate carvings of mythical beasts—griffins, wyverns, and an unknown type of bird which seemed surrounded by lightning, one Aileen was not familiar with. Above the arches, an enormous stained-glass window glowed faintly, depicting the emblem of the Guild. 

A tranquil fountain sat at the centre of the courtyard, its water cascading down in gentle streams, creating a soft, calming sound that contrasted with the buzz of excitement. The fountain's surface shimmered, reflecting the towering spires and the bright sky above. 

As the drakes landed, the trio was met by a middle-aged woman draped in dark, flowing robes. Her sallow olive skin bore a deep burn that ran down the right side of her face and neck, its ridged texture catching the light in uneven patches. Though her features were otherwise delicate, the scarring gave her an imposing presence. 

Her dull black eyes held no warmth—only a piercing scrutiny, assessing them like prey. The soft curve of her button-shaped nose might have once lent her a gentler look, but the severity of her expression and the sharp cut of her lips stripped away any notion of kindness. 

"You are... late." The remark wasn't directed at the trio but at the drakes, who recoiled as if scolded, ducking their massive heads beneath her icy gaze. 

Aileen instinctively reached for the carriage door, a retort poised on her lips in defence of the creatures, but the woman's sharp glare cut through her before she could utter a word. The weight of that gaze was suffocating, assessing, as though she were peeling away her very essence layer by layer. 

The woman's head tilted slightly, her lips curling into a knowing sneer. "Well, well... if it isn't the daughter herself." Contempt laced her words, an almost amused cruelty woven into the way she said it. 

Before Aileen or the others could react, the woman turned abruptly, her robes sweeping behind her as she strode toward the entrance. She paused only briefly to glance over her shoulder. "Come in and wait with the others. Do not cause any issues." she ordered, her tone clipped, leaving no room for disobedience. And just like that, she disappeared through the doorway, leaving an unsettling silence in her wake. 

"What was that about?!" Angeline exclaimed as she and Len stepped out of the carriage, her voice laced with disbelief. 

"Beats me, but something tells me we should listen and head inside." Len was quick to start unloading their luggage, not wanting to anger whoever that woman was. 

"Do you know who that was, Ail? She seemed to know you." Angeline's expression was inquisitive, her eyes fixed on her. 

"No... at least, I don't think I have." She replied, her brow furrowed in thought. 

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Len said as he moved past them, carrying their luggage inside causing the two to quickly follow behind him. 

They found themselves inside a grand foyer, Aileen's breath hitched. The space was vast, almost overwhelming, with ceilings that stretched impossibly high. Suspended torches hovered above, their flames shifting colours with no visible source—their glow casting strange, flickering shadows along the stone walls. 

Towering arches lined the perimeter, leading to unknown corridors, their surfaces etched with runes that pulsed faintly as if acknowledging each new arrival. Tapestries depicting legendary battles and mythical creatures hung in long, sweeping folds. In the wavering torchlight, the figures seemed to shift ever so slightly—though Aileen attributed it to just a trick of the eye. 

The floor beneath them was polished black marble, flecked with silver that shimmered under the shifting light. Towering stone pillars framed the vast room, their presence commanding. Her father had taken her to grand estates before, attending diplomatic gatherings among nobles, but none had come close to this. 

All around them, other applicants stood in small clusters, their voices merging into a low, steady murmur. None spared the trio more than a passing glance, too preoccupied with their own excitement and anticipation. 

Len exhaled beside her, shifting uneasily. "Am I the only one feeling completely out of place here?" 

"That's odd. I didn't realize the guild allowed personal servants to apply." a voice interjected smoothly, laced with a smug, almost lazy drawl, each word dripping with condescension. 

Aileen turned toward the voice and found herself facing a tall, pale, stocky young man with perfectly slicked back black hair and soft almond eyes. 

Everything about him radiated wealth and privilege. Though he wore the standard black apprentice's robe, it was tailored to perfection, with subtle silver embroidery along the cuffs and collar—a quiet display of custom craftsmanship. Beneath the robe, a deep blue vest adorned with intricate patterns peeked through, and a heavy gold chain hung around his neck, catching the light with every movement. Even his boots, crafted from soft, polished leather, looked better suited for a royal court than the Guild grounds. 

"Servants?!" Angeline's outrage erupted like lava spilling from a volcano. "Who are you calling servants, pendejo?!" 

She had already started to march toward the young man when two female attendants stepped forward, positioning themselves protectively in front of their master. 

The young man stepped forward, pushing past his attendants as he sized up both Len and Angeline. "Oh, you're not servants? My apologies—I didn't imagine any noble would let their children wear such rags, especially to a place so important." A gleam of amusement flickered in his eyes, and a slight smirk played on his lips. 

Aileen stepped forward, lifting her chin with quiet defiance as she met his gaze. "Maybe if you had spent less time learning to judge people by their clothes, you might have learned some manners." her voice cool but laced with a quiet authority that made him hesitate. His smirk faltered—just for a moment—before his eyes swept over her, lingering a beat too long. Aileen resisted the urge to step back, but a shiver of unease crept up her spine. 

A flicker of something—amusement? Interest? —flashed in his gaze, quickly masked as he schooled his features back into an insufferably smooth smirk. 

"Well, well," he drawled, ignoring Len and Angeline's sharp glares. "I suppose not everyone here is completely lacking in refinement." 

His gaze stayed fixed on Aileen as he dipped into a slow, mocking half-bow. "Damien Rothwell, heir to House Rothwell." The title rolled off his tongue like an unspoken challenge, meant to impress—yet all it did was cement her disgust. 

Straightening, he gave her a final, knowing look. "Perhaps we'll have the pleasure of speaking again." he mused before turning on his heel, his attendants falling into step behind him as if the routine was rehearsed. 

Angeline scoffed, crossing her arms with a huff as she watched him disappear into the crowd. "What a pompous ass," she muttered. "Who does he think he is, sneering at us like that? I can't stand him." 

Len nodded, his eyes narrowing as he looked in Damien's direction. "He's probably used to getting everything he wants, including people," he muttered. "Just stay clear of him, Ail," he added, casting her a concerned glance. 

Before she could respond, a booming voice cut through the crowd, sharp and commanding. "Attention, new apprentices!" 

The apprentices turned toward the sound, spotting a middle-aged woman with beautiful smooth ebony skin and straight brown hair. Her face radiated both beauty and power, framed by long black robes trimmed with silver embroidery in the Guild's colours. 

She moved with purpose, her robes flowing effortlessly with each step. In one hand, she held a staff topped with a glowing gem, its light casting faint, shifting patterns across her steady fingers. 

Despite her elegance, there was an undeniable authority in her stance. Her sharp brown eyes swept over the group of new arrivals with practiced scrutiny, missing nothing. 

"Gather around!" she called, waving her staff impatiently as her voice echoed through the grand foyer. 

"My name is Maeve Wormwood," her voice carrying a mixture of authority and impatience. "High Professor of Earth Magic. I don't tolerate lateness, nor do I appreciate distractions," she said, casting a stern look over the crowd as if daring anyone to defy her. 

Her gaze lingered briefly on Aileen, Len, and Angeline, taking in their expressions and attire with a scrutinizing eye. "You're here to learn, not to prance about or waste time. As apprentices, you will be expected to show discipline, commitment and respect for the knowledge you're being granted access to. Only those who understand this will succeed." 

She tapped her staff against the ground, and a faint ripple spread outward from its base, the ground beneath them vibrating slightly. "Now, fall into line. We mustn't keep him waiting." 

At Maeve's command, the students quickly fell into line, exchanging excited yet anxious glances as they prepared to follow the professor. With a decisive turn, Maeve led them down a wide corridor, her staff clicking sharply against the stone floor. 

The corridor shimmered, its walls appearing almost fluid—like water frozen in motion, rippling without ever truly moving. Light from the levitating torches above flickered against the surface, casting shifting reflections that danced across the students' faces. Unable to help herself, Aileen reached out, half-expecting to feel the cool, yielding touch of liquid beneath her fingers. Instead, her fingertips met solid stone. 

Maeve strode ahead with purpose, her dark robes swishing with each step as she led them through a labyrinth of hallways and up a flight of stairs. But these were no ordinary stairs—at each footfall, chunks of earth rose seamlessly from the ground, forming steps just in time to meet them. As soon as the last apprentice moved forward, the stone steps sank back into the floor, leaving no trace they had ever existed. It was as if the Guild itself was alive, adjusting to their every movement with effortless precision. 

The students moved in hushed awe, marvelling at the structure's responsiveness and adaptability. Maeve glanced over her shoulder with a smirk, catching a glimpse of their wide-eyed expressions. 

"Impressed?" she asked dryly. 

"The Guild's design is the result of centuries of enchantments. Each element here has been carefully crafted, not only to protect but to teach. You'll find that magic is woven into every corner of the guild, so pay attention—there's much to learn from it." 

As they continued deeper into the Guild, passing towering archways adorned with runes that glowed faintly as they approached. Here and there, other students and professors moved purposefully through the halls, casting curious glances at the newcomers. 

Finally, after navigating through a particularly wide passageway lined with statues of notable past guild members, they reached a set of towering, ornate doors. 

Maeve stopped before them, her gaze sharp as she addressed the group. "This is the Scryer's Hall, the first of your many challenges." With a single tap of her staff, the doors groaned open, revealing the vast chamber beyond. 

"It's only fitting that I say my goodbyes and best wishes to you all, as I may not see most of you again." She paused, her gaze lingering on each face, as if committing them to memory. "I wish you all the best in the following test." With that, she stepped aside, gesturing for the students to enter. 

Aileen took a shaky breath, her heart pounding as she watched the students file in ahead of her. 

This was the moment she had spent years preparing for—the culmination of countless nights spent studying, ever since her mother's disappearance. 

Yet now, standing on the precipice of it, doubt crept in like an icy tide, threatening to pull her under. What if she wasn't enough? What if she was found lacking? Worse still, what if she had no magic at all? 

Hope and dread twisted together in a suffocating knot as she swallowed against the rising fear. 

She had come too far to falter now. Taking a slow, steadying breath, she forced herself to move forward.