The room smelled of sand and dust. The sandstone walls were heavily scratched, chipped, and scorched all over, a testament to their age and strength. Although they were almost crumbling, Zane could feel how steady the room felt, like a mountain still standing strong after every weathering trial. It felt like he was inside an impenetrable fortress compared to the memories of living in a home built of creaky driftwood that was either found or bartered for.

The Academy of Fire is one of the oldest and most important buildings in the Firelands, and maybe even the world. It was here that countless fire mages learned and trained in magic throughout history, and it will be here that Zane begins his own journey as a novice. He is also not the only one. To his front, his back, and both of his sides he saw several other children sitting behind a desk similar to his: carved out of smooth sandstone.

This was the first time that any of the students officially met. The only chance that they had before was the entrance exam at the arena. Now they were able to exchange names and talk freely. Many of them bonded straight away with each other. Zane, however, was having a harder time making new friends. Whenever he tried to talk to someone, they would look at him, pull a face of some sort, and then shy away from him. So he resorted to sitting back in his chair waiting for something to happen. He scanned around the room for a recognisable face from the entrance exam, hoping that he could start a conversation over a mutual experience during the exam. He saw the noble boy, Marcian, surrounded by a group of students. They were all having a fun conversation it seemed, except for Marcian who gave only the smallest of smiles and yet somehow remained stoic. Zane also recognised the boy in a corner who was talking to himself before the exam, only this time he was huddled in on himself and talking to a doll in his hands. He knew that it was probably for the best that he kept his distance from them, especially from the strange doll boy. He started to regret not making friends sooner, and wished that he could start the day over again to try.

It was mostly of his own doing though. When the students were assembling at the main gate of the academy, he remained at the back of the pack. Even when a hooded mage came to guide them to the classroom, he made sure that he did not bring any attention to himself. Even on his way to the academy he did not stop to talk with anyone partly because of his excitement and partly because he was too nervous to say anything.

His mind then started to focus on Maria. He realised that she was nowhere in sight, and that he had not seen her all morning. In fact the last time that he saw her was right after the entrance exam when she left him in the crowd that came by to congratulate him. He hoped that she was accepted into the academy, just in another classroom. The last time he saw her, she seemed a little upset and he understood why. She had pledged to help him pass the exam, but he did not need her help in the first or second test and when she did help him in the third, it only led to them being caught cheating. That was when he showed his explosive magical talent. Perhaps she felt that her efforts were a waste of time and that was the reason for a grim mood, he thought. This was something he intended to apologise for as soon as he saw her again.

He thought for so long about her that he did not notice the man standing at the front of the class. He recognised the face of the archmage who gave him the special test during the exam. Before, he was smiling, but this time his face was full of scorn and disgust. It made him feel extremely uneasy. His sudden presence was unnoticed by the other students. Eventually someone noticed and hushed the rest into silence. The archmage then began to speak, “Before I say anything else, let us get one thing straight: what you were before is irrelevant. You are no longer nobles, peasants, merchant boys, or orphans. As of this moment you are all novices, so to me you’re all less than nothing regardless of how much skill or talent you may possess, and you will continue to be so until you prove your worth. Understood?”

No one uttered a word. They were either too shocked or too scared to speak. He took their silence as compliance and continued speaking, “Welcome to the Academy of Fire. I am Archmage Aesior, and I will be your magic instructor this year. Today will be nothing special. After this I will take you on a tour of the academy, and be sure to listen well because I will not repeat myself. Then you will be taken to your respective dormitories where you will wait for the dinner bell. After that, you will all retire to your beds and await the dawn. Your uniforms and books will all be given to you later today. Now follow-”

He abruptly stopped when he saw a dark skinned boy, sitting in the front row, with his hand raised. The boy began speaking straight away, “Sir, when will we start to learn magic?”

Everyone shuffled in their seats awkwardly. They looked back and forth from the boy to the archmage waiting for a response. Zane stared at the archmage with unease. He thought he saw veins pressing against his temples. 

Aesior took a breath, and then replied calmly, “You boy, what is your name?”

The boy stood up and answered timidly as if he only now realised the seriousness of his earlier question, “Breston, sir. Breston Kahdis.”

“Kahdis, eh? A respectable name. I sit with your grandfather on the council.” He bowed his head slightly before continuing, “But do presume to believe that I respect you. Since you are in such a hurry to learn, come stand by me.” He turned his back to walk to a cupboard place against the wall, and searched for something inside. He pulled out a pair of gloves and a small bucket. By then Breston had stopped beside him. Aesior handed the gloves over while speaking to the whole class, “These are tuning gloves. All of you will be given a pair, and will not be allowed to take them off unless instructed to do so. The gloves will amplify your magical ability, and help you learn how to control your magic. Put them on and wait for my instructions.”

Breston obeyed and slipped his fingers into the gloves. Meanwhile Aesior took a large water skin from the cupboard and emptied it into the bucket. Once it was empty, he turned to him and ordered, “Stick your hand into the water and bring it to a boil.”

He hesitated for a moment, unsure if there was any deeper intentions behind this task. He took a deep breath, and slowly lowered one hand into the bucket stopping at the wrist.

All was silent after that. Minutes passed by and the water remained still, until a single ripple disturbed everything. It did not take long for steam to rise from the water bringing it to a complete boil. Breston smiled widely and almost jumped with joy. Several students applauded at his success. Aesior remained unfazed however. His voice was still stern as he spoke, “Now keep your hand in the water.”

The boy cocked his head up to the archmage in worry and confusion, and timidly replied, “Yes sir, but… It’s getting a little too hot right now.”

“Any decent mage is able to withstand extreme heats. Here, I’ll do it with you!” With that, Aesior plunged his right hand into the boiling bucket, while using his left to grab Breston's, keeping it deep within the water. Almost immediately, the boy began to scream with pain. His cries cut through everyone’s ears like a sharp knife causing some to wince back as if they were the ones in pain. Tears flooded from his eyes as he begged for relief, but the archmage was unflinching. He seemed to relish in the situation, stirring the ever boiling water with his bare hand. His face was still the same expression as it was before. He spoke softly yet clearly, “Hastiness is a quick way to get yourself burned. You will get to learn magic when the time comes. This is something all of you need to learn. Thank you Breston, for helping me demonstrate this. Oh, and it’s master to you lot! Understood?”

He furiously nodded his understanding, prompting Aesior to let go of his hand. He reeled away from the bucket clutching his forearm close to his chest. He ripped the glove off of his hand, which peeled some delicate flesh off his hand, revealing bright red skin and bulging white blisters underneath. Everyone turned their eyes away in disgust.

The archmage, still unfazed, turned to the rest of the class and spoke, “Now, if you’ll follow me, we can begin with the tour.” He then left the room, immediately followed by the students who rushed out of their seats.

Zane was once again left to follow at the back, because he was too late in leaving his seat. He was joined at the back of the group by Breston who was whimpering away tears and gently blowing on his hand. He took a step away from him so as to physically and socially distance himself from the poor lad. He felt that others might see him as foolish for being associated with another fool.

They all walked down the long corridor which their classroom was situated, until they came upon a spiral staircase and began to descend. After descending two flights, they divert into another corridor passing by several doors on each side. Aesior held out a hand to point while simply naming each room, “History class, philosophy class, enchanting room, storage room, politics class, study room, botany, animals and beasts…” He kept naming each class one by one, seemingly without taking a breath. Zane tried his best to place each door with their respective name, but all doors looked the same so he resorted to remembering the most important ones: the classroom he had just come from, and the botany classroom.

Coming to the corridor’s end was another spiral staircase which they descended all the way to the bottom. A giant hallway awaited them, where many faces walked about with precision. They walked along the adjacent wall to the staircase and came across more doors, “This leads to the alchemy room. The door opposite this one, on the other side, leads to the library. Next to this door is one that leads to the garden. The door in front of us leads to the infirmary. Novice Breston, you can see yourself here.” He ordered without even looking back.

Zane turned to the boy next to him, still blowing on his hand and still teary eyed. He noticed how when the group passed the infirmary that he did not go inside. This sparked an intrigue in him, so he asked, “Why aren’t you going inside?”

Breston looked at him for the first time and answered with a genuine tone, “W-well… if I do, then I won’t know where the dining hall is.”

Such an appropriate yet ridiculous answer, he thought. He could not help but let out a small laugh though. Perhaps he was wrong about what he thought earlier. He held out a hand and introduced himself, “My name’s Zane. Nice to meet you.”

The boy made certain that he used his uninjured hand to shake Zane’s. He did not say his name, but he did show equal politeness. They both smiled and held their heads up a little higher.

The group then came across a large wooden door the size of four tall men. The door was placed at the end of the large hallway, mirrored by another large door on the opposite side which everyone remembered as the entrance to the academy. Aesior spoke in his usual tone, “This is the dining hall. Remember to come only when the bells are rung. Now, onto the dormitories.” He turned left from the dining hall and walked straight towards a smaller door that was hiding in the corner. Another spiral staircase awaited on the other side, only this time they ascended all the way to the top. It was a long and difficult journey, and by the end of it everyone, including the archmage, was out of breath. He even took a cloth out of his sleeve and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He then opened a door to a large room filled to the brim with chairs, sofas, tables, and even a fireplace. The morning light shone through the ornate windows that acted as the room’s walls. It was a homely room designed for comfort. Aesior quickly pointed out that it was the common room, but more importantly pointed to the two doors standing side by side to each other on the left wall, “The door on the right is the girls’ room, and the other is for the boys’. Each has a bathhouse. The doors are also magically sealed when the sun sets, so don’t try anything stupid!” Somehow, it felt like that last comment was directed to only a certain group of people. With that, he left the room and the students.

At first everyone waited for someone to come by and carry on their orientation, but when no one did they diverted back their groups to go back to chatting freely. Many of the seats in the common became occupied with groups of friends, even the floor became cramped as people sat together down on the floor. Zane and Breston though, feeling ostracized, stayed back by the door, and leaned against the wall side by side.

Zane noticed his companion examining his hand, and so he asked, “Are you sure it’s okay to ignore the infirmary?”

His head popped up as he answered, “Doesn't look too bad. I’ll go after dinner.”

The pulsing blisters and veins, and the wrinkly red skin said otherwise, but he did not want to speak out of terms so he replied formally, “If I may be so bold-”

“You don’t have to be so formal. We’re equal, remember?” He interrupted. His eyes then shifted onto something by the other side of the wall, “Besides, I think you have some bigger things to worry about.”

Zane turned his head to see what he was talking about. He did not see anything that was alarming to him, until he met with another pair of eyes that were staring coldly at him. He immediately recognised the face to which they belonged to: Marcian. It was the same sharp look he received at the arena. He turned away uncomfortably back to Breston, “I’ve met him before. He was kind at first but then…”

“That’s just how he is. If you don’t impress him, then he won’t give you much attention. Although I’ve never seen him stare like that before. You must have done something, right?” He spoke as if he was an expert on the subject of Marcian.

“I… I don’t think I did anything to him.” He answered completely confused.

“It doesn’t even have to be direct. He can get disappointed by the way you breathe, you know!” A light chuckle escaped him, “That’s how highly he thinks himself.”

“But that’s normal for nobles isn’t it? I mean, for most of them.” He quickly added, afraid to insult his new acquaintance.

He was just about to reply when the door beside them opened, and five robed figures walked in. They all wore similar robes to that of Archmage Aesior, so everyone knew them to be archmagi. The room went quickly quiet again in their presence. A man with a long braided beard stepped forward. His eyebrows were just as long as his beard making his whole face look like it was made of hair. He spoke slow and loudly with a deep bellowing voice that would have scared a large beast, “Greetings all. We, the archmagi, welcome you to the academy. We will be your teachers this year.”