So the first day did not go exactly how I wanted.

I’m sure I knew, maybe, a quarter of what was being asked the other day. The rest, not a clue. Like, what the hell is the “Law of Sympathy” supposed to be? Nothing I read before mentioned anything about that! Sure, there were some fundamentals that were described and hammered in quite vigorously, but all this theory stuff was left out completely.

But today I turned my ill fortune around. Today, I will rebound!

Got to the academy early. Mom didn't tease me too much on the way over. Also left me at the gate this time instead of walking all the way in. Said she needed to run some errands and see some more old friends.

Pretty sure that these are ‘friends with benefits’.

When I arrived, I met up with Elsia inside the auditorm/waiting room place. Wasn't hard to find her in the crowds. Her bleached white hair stands out amongst the throngs of blondes and brunettes. She was also the only person that looked too small in their clothes. Curiously, she seemed a little surprised that I sought her out. Maybe she’s not use to genuine companionship; as opposed to the usual acquaintance nobles usually have with one another?

While we waited, and chatted, I could feel the difference from yesterday. Gone was the energetic atmosphere. Gone were the throngs of kids happily talking to one another. Gone were the adults who filled the length of the auditorium. It was all replaced by something far more somber.

Nervousness.

Hushed whispers.

Even a sob or two.

Maybe they all felt like I did? That feeling of smug superiority that comes from being a big fish in a small pond. That they were on top of the world. That they were one of the smartest people in the room. Only for reality to ensue and get a swift gut punch right out of the gate.

“Some failed already,” Elsia spoke up on the issue when I brought it up. “Mother said that academy’s servants delivered notices of failure to their homes this morning.”

“Wait, really?”

She nodded, “they were mostly likely informed before dawn not to come today. Mother said she heard one of the neighbor’s started yelling at an academy servant at their manse’s gate. It’s probably happened to more than one family.”

Looking around, the room didn't seem that depopulated. Technically, the room was emptier, but I chalk that up to the lack of adults, parents and the like, rather than fewer kids. Then again, my counting might be off. Anything with less people than yesterday would make the room feel emptier.

Wait, what if I failed and I don’t know they gave me the boot yet!

“Could someone, you know,” I began, hand awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck. “Not get that notice before getting here? Like, they failed, but they don’t know they failed.”

“Does the academy have your postbox address?” Elsia questioned. She didn't even entertain the notion that I was thinking about anyone but myself.

“Yes,” I dropped the act as well. I mean, I think they do.

“Then you would have been informed this morning,” she stated. “And even if they didn't have it,” she cut off my next question. “You would have been stopped at the gates if you had failed but tried to enter regardless.”

“I-”

“Some people failed, you did not. Take strength in that,” Elsia was more forceful this time. “At least, that's what Mother told me this morning when I questioned her about it.”

I was going to ask her something else, but the proctor got on stage. The sound of his clearing throat sliced the quiet murmurings across the room.

“Good day, and congratulations for successfully passing the first portion of the written exam. Today, you shall demonstrate your writing and information gathering skills in the grand library.” He told us.

“You will each be given two prompts. You shall complete both to the best of your abilities. They shall be no less than one and a half pages in length. To accomplish this, you will be ushered into one of the library’s wings. There, you will find a selection of texts chosen by the staff that are relevant to your prompts. Quills, ink, and parchment, shall be provided. You shall have until dusk to complete and submit your paper. If you have any questions, the staff will do their utmost to assist you in whatever concerns you.” He gestured to the table in front of the stage, “please proceed to the table, and best of luck on the exam to come.”

As he finished, the masses of children made their way to the table in question. Slowly, and with far less enthusiasm than yesterday.

The line moved faster than yesterday.

“Name?” The man at the desk asked me when it was my turn.

“Syllia Dawnguard,” it was getting easier to say the whole name now without having a look on my face that I was doing something wrong.

He looked at his list. For the briefest of moments, in the back of my mind I feared that I had failed but wasn't told.

Irrational? Probably.

Also, all for nothing. He handed me a sealed envelope a moment later.

“Hallway on the far end,” he stated.

Wait, what did he- Oh right.

I thanked him and made my way to the hallway. Saw Elsia going down a different way. She gave me a small smile and a wave. More animated than yesterday I noted. I responded in kind as we went our respective ways.

--

‘For an auditorium, this place sure has a lot of hallways’, I mused.

The halls of this place are covered in runes, glyphs, inscriptions, and enchantments of every kind. I can only begin to imagine what they actually do. Lights? Alarms? Just walking, I could feel the mana circulating around me. Like having a giant fan blowing on me.

As I walked down the hallway, near the library entrance, I caught a glimpse of a collection of large paintings. All of them depicted regal looking elves. Out of the corner of my eye I read the gold plate beneath the first portrait: Deth’Remar Sunstrider, First King of Quel’Thalas.

I stopped in my tracks to look more carefully.

The first king certainly cut a regal look. Sharpe features. Radiant blond hair. Bright blue eyes. A masterpiece of art. And yet it all looked off.

He looked far more muscular than a high elf ought to be. Ears were longer too. The armor he was in was certainly colored like a high elven king’s armor should be, red and gold, yet the actual design looked quite foreign. And while his eyes were blue, they didn't shine the same way a High Elves ought to.

Now, to the average person, none of this would look that strange. Most would probably chalk all these little physical quirks to artistic flair or a stylistic choice. Nothing to think too much on. Of course, all the little changes and differences make complete sense when you know this isn't a painting of a high elf.

It’s a portrait of a pale, blonde, Night Elf.

While conceptually I know high elves were descended from night elves thanks to my first life’s knowledge, but seeing the differences, rather than merely reading or remembering them, was staggering. For obvious reasons, I have had no other night elves to contrast my appearance to.

I looked over the other portraits along the line.

Arelar Sunstrider, Second King of Quel’Thalas

Teladian Sunstrider, Third King of Quel’Thalas

Bemariel Sunstrider, Fourth King of Quel’Thalas

Annasterian Sunstrider, Fifth King of Quel’Thalas

And the last, I mused at the ‘recent’ portrait.

While all the kings shared many of the same general features, hair color, eyes, skin tone, I could see the changes that were occurring to the high elven race as each king came and went. Or at least, the changes to the royal family itself. While side by side the changes seem small, almost insignificant. But when I compare Dath’Remar to Annestarian’s portrait, I can see the deviations quite blatantly.

Annestarian’s ears are shorter. His build is far more lithe, no visible sign of muscles to speak of. Facial features have smoothed out, losing than sharpness from ages past. The flowing crimson robes seemed more at home on a high elf than the Greco inspired armor Dath’Remar wore. I could even hear the names changing. To an English, or in this case Common, speaker you can’t really tell the difference. They all sound equally ‘elfy’ in that flowing, wishy washy sort of way.

In Thalassian however, the names do not sound similar at all.

Only King three and onward had names that sounded Thalassian. Or in layman's terms, normal to a high elf. The first two, Dath’Remar and, I assume, his son sound very foreign. Also hard to pronounce. For example, I have to catch myself from pronouncing ‘Dath’Remar’ as ‘Deth’Remier’.

Come to think of it, how closely related is Thalassian to the night elf language? I know some words carry over, like Quel’dorei basically means the same thing in both languages. But the rest? Is it going to be something like Spanish to Portuguese, close but still distinct, or is it more like German to English, where you can understand every tenth word of each other’s language?

Maybe-

Wait. Stop it!

I don’t have time for this! First write my essays!

Then wonder about divergent evolution!

--

Thanks to my detour, I arrived several minutes later than I would have liked.

Say what you will about elves, but we sure do know how to build a fine looking library. It was large and open. The center area was given over entirely to desks, writing stations, and comfortable seating. All around this center are bookcases upon bookcases. Filled to the brim with all manners of texts, tomes, and literary sources. Large stained-glass windows allow light to flood the chamber. Additionally, crystals floated above to provide additional artificial light.

That being said, for something of this size the library seemed empty. Just kids, and library staff. Lots of empty areas. Guess this was closed off for the day to regular students.

I reached an empty desk, papers, ink, and quill set aside on it. Time to see what I actually had to write today.

Opening my envelope, I skimmed the small slip of paper inside. Not flowery words. No instructions beyond ‘write one and a half pages minimum’. Just two short sentences composing the prompts.

The first prompt was ‘Interaction between Magic’. The next was ‘Troll Conflict’.

Okay then, I mused. The first one was simple enough for me since I remember a good amount of Warcraft wiki stuff on that. The second one, however, was a little vague. Did it mean all troll conflicts or a single conflict? Guess that's the point through. Kids must have to figure that out themselves and write from there. Makes the whole ‘meeting thing’ tomorrow make a bit more sense.

It's not what you write, but how you write.

Well, time to get to work!

First the books!

The books were preselected for us. Probably because the library staff didn't want a bunch of eleven-year old's rolling through their library of precious books. There were over a dozen of them lined up in neat rows on some of the longer tables. Some even had little bookmarks in them. Probably reducing the amount of reading we had to do to find some of the more obscure stuff.

Amongst the rows of books, one tome immediately caught my eye.

Not because it was large, every book here seemed thick enough to stop a bullet, nor was it because it was nice looking, it was because it looked like it didn’t belong here. All green, moldy, and almost falling apart at the seems to be honest. Looked like it had been dropped into the ocean and fished out after a day soaking in the sea.

Why does a place as ‘classy’ as this has something ratty like that? I have no idea.

And not my problem. Because next to the weird book was something more along my lines, Scouring of the Eversong. If that wasn’t about trolls, I don’t know what is. I picked up the one next to it for good measure, incase the Eversong one didn’t pan out. Content with my choice I picked the book up and walked back to my table.

But that’s when things got…weird.

When I placed the book down to start skimming the tabbed sections, I noticed that I had taken the old looking green book instead. Which was really strange, since I clearly remember picking up the correct tome. Muttering a curse at myself for seemingly getting the wrong book, I marched back to the table to put it back and take the right book.

However, I soon noticed that the book I wanted was missing from the lineup and the book I had thought I had taken was still in the same place. Yet I was still holding the green book I thought I had taken. Why were there two of them? Putting them side by side, they were indeed the same book; or were damaged in such a way that they looked the same.

But in my examinations, I noticed one little detail I had seemingly ignored the first time around.

On the slimy looking spine of the books there was a serrated sun like symbol with an eye at the center and tendril like appendages swirling around it. As I looked into the eye, thing started to get REALLY weird. The book adjacent to the two green books I was examining was also now a carbon copy of the strange tome.

No, EVERY BOOK on the table were now green, moldy, and tattered. EVERY SINGLE ONE.

Okay then.

I let go of both books and slowly backed up from the table, walking so far that my back bumped into the bookcase behind me.

With the whole table in sight, I noticed oily black smoke begin to leak out from between the closed pages of each of the books; as if bubbling out like ooze. Rubbing my eyes did not make the sight disappear.

Then I heard something.

Whispers. Just above a hushed silence. Yet clear as someone speaking to me in a normal voice.

Look at me.

Come to me.

Read from me.

Learn from me.

The phrases kept repeating ad nauseum. Not a single voice but a choir of dozens.

Okay.

Yep.

Yeah.

Not touching that thing anymore.

I might still be a bit new to the whole ‘being in Azeroth’ thing (even over a decade on) but even I knew what Old Gods bullshit looks like. Bet my life on it. Ignoring the obvious ‘cuthulu-y’ symbol and the tentacle designs, these things are already giving off way too many red flags with the oily shadows and whispering.

Pretty sure this is all in my head too. Looking around, it seemed like no one else was paying any mind to this eldritch bullshit going on. Some kids casually walk by the book in question without batting an eye. One even opened one of them, frowned, then put it back, making no comment of the mist coming out.

So this is all probably in my head. And I have zero doubt that if I open any of them up, and I probably get a jump scare tentacle thing popping out. Or some maddening vision due to eldritch writing in it. Or something equally bad that I just can’t comprehend. Would make me look crazy if I just started screaming, seemingly, out of nowhere.

Yep. Just going to ignore it.

I grabbed two books at random from the bookshelf I bumped into and walked away. Putting as much distance between myself and the books as I could.

For the next ten minutes everything was normal. I had my parchment out, quill in hand, ready to write down notes. Thankfully I had actually picked up a book on types of magic, so that was good.

Then I heard the whispering again.

Glaring to my side, I found one of the books I had taken, which had bright red just a bit ago, has been replaced by a moldy old book leaking oily shadows.

Look at me.

Read from me.

Learn from me.

I groaned. Getting up I walked back to the tables, past the one still covered in old god bullshit, to get another book. To my own horror, each time I reached for a book, be it on a shelf or a table, it changed. One after another. Row after row. Oily mist pooled on the floor. In the quiet of the library, the whispers joined together in a deafening chorus of thousands of voices. The light around me seemed to dim as the shadows covered everything.

So, this is how it's going to be? I bit my lip, trying my damn best to not freak out since it was clear this was all just an illusion or in my head. Of course, that raised a bigger question, was this because I merely looked at that first moldy book, or was I being targeted specifically.

Taking a deep, if shaky breath, I walked back to my seat. I did my best to look as normal as possible, as I waded through the mists that pooled along the floor up to my knees. It felt like trudging through cold water. On the way, I passed a servant. They asked me a question, but I heard nothing over the ravenous whispers. All I saw was their lips moving and a concerned look on their face.

“Thank you, I’m fine,” I told them hoping I guessed what they were asking me correctly. I was careful not to give into the urge to raise my voice above the eldritch noises, knowing full well I was the only person hearing them.

Didn't want to seem crazy or anything.

Rushing back to my desk, I sat down with more force than I probably needed if the turned heads was any indication. Without thinking, I pushed my papers and ink to the side and folded my cold hands together. I tried to think of what to do, while also doing my best to block out the damned whispers, absently noting one of the books I had picked up earlier was still on my desk. Looking and acting just like the rest of them.

Look at me.

It’s all in my head.

Come to me.

None of this is really happening, it’s all in my head.

Read from me.

None of this is real!

Learn from me.

SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Reflexively, my hands slammed down on the table.

“Is there a problem, young lady?”

Blinking, I register the voice, and then the lack of voices. In the blink of an eye, everything had turned back to normal. Mists were gone. Voices silenced. Even the book beside me was normal again as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Though my ears still rung a bit from the prior noises.

What was the point of all that?

“Well young lady, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Looking to the source of the question, I saw a librarian with an unamused look staring at me. Eyebrow raised, she crossed her arms, waiting for my response.

With nothing to say, since I doubt telling her I was having a damn schizophrenic episode would go over all that well, I just blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

“Reading.” FUCK!

Her face remained stoic, “reading?”

“Yes ma’am,” I lied through my teeth.

Giving me a quick looked, seemingly not believing my ironclad reply, she snatched the lone book off my desk fingered through the pages. It was dusty brown now. Probably its original color. Come to think of it, I have no idea what the book actually says. Or what most of these books are about.

Wait! What if it's a book about something completely out of left field! Or something not normal! I’m supposed to be writing something about a ‘Troll War’. I really don't want to explain why I’m reading something not related to the work. What if it's something like-

“Unexpected,” the librarian broke my mental ramblings with her a comment. She put the book back down a gave me a stern look, “Since you weren’t fooling around, I’ll just give you a warning. Do try to control yourself. No matter how excitable the contents of the texts may be, you are in a public setting where many others are currently trying to concentrate.”

Without waiting for my reply, the librarian strode off to another corner of the room; her eyes clearly set on some boy who was seemingly reading something he should not be; given how quickly it was ripped from his hands and the embarrassed look on his face when interrogated on why he had a “Demon Bestiary” in his possession.

I dodged one hell of a bullet.

Out of curiosity, I looked at the book she had picked up that I actually hadn’t read yet: “An account of the Gurubashi-Stormwind War”

Huh. Not a bad place to start I suppose.

I tried to put the whole ‘waking nightmare’ thing behind me for the rest of the exams. Though it was kind of hard given the headache the whole experience had left me with.

---

“Congratulations on completing the written phase of the entrance exam. And congratulations for reaching the third day of examination,” the proctor called out from the stage.

The room was far emptier than it was yesterday. His voice echoed much further and more clearly than days before. Whereas it was difficult to really gauge if there were less people yesterday, today it became very apparent that many people had failed. My best guess was that, maybe, half of the original number of kids were still here.

Thankfully, Elsia was still here. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

“Within the next hour, you will be summoned for consultation by members of our staff,” he began. “From there, you will be evaluated. Should you meet their expectations, you shall be seconded to the final portion of the exam. Should you be found wanting in your meeting, then we thank you for your time.”

Lay it on thick why don't you.

As the hour went by, servants would periodically come in and call out a name. One by one, the children trickled out of the room. Most came back looking broken up. Red faces. Puffy eyes. Tear stricken clothes. Oh yes, this was very comforting.

“I wouldn't worry Syllia,” Elsia comforted me as we waited. She was, awkwardly, patting me on the back. “It's more about how you answer your questions than what you answer.”

I blew a strand of hair obstructing my vision, “You are seeing everyone walking out looking like their dreams were just shattered right?”

“They were shattered,” she quipped back. “More likely, they are afraid of what their parents or guardians will react to their failings.”

Fair enough. “That doesn’t fill me with confidence.”

“It’s just-”

“Miss Elsia Emberbirth!”

We both looked to see a servant gesturing Elsia to come over.

“Well,” she took a deep breath, straightening her clothes. “Looks like it’s my turn.”

“Good luck,” I offered her my hand.

Smiling, she took it, “you as well, Syllia.”

Seeing her walk off into the distance, following the servant down a hall. I wondered how much longer I would have to wait.

The answer, it turned out, was two minutes.

“Miss Syllia Dawnguard!”

---

A short walk later, we reached somewhere. An office? Conference room?

The servant knocked on the fine door twice. Waited three seconds, then cracked it open.

“Pardon the intrusion, your Lordships,” the servant spoke softly. “The applicant you requested has arrived.”

A moment of silence. A clearing throat. “Good, send her in,” a man replied.

“Of course, your excellency,” she opened the door fully. Head tilted downward, eyes to the floor, she gestured for me to enter.

Walking in, I quickly observed two things. First, the room was beyond opulent. Less an office suited for a teacher, and more of a private study you'd find secluded in a mansion. Fine furniture. Rich tapestry. A set of bookcases filled with all manners of tomes, scrolls, and texts. A gold-plated fireplace, flames blazing on within. So many floating crystals, gems, and other do dads I had no name for. What’s more, even a single step in, I could feel the density of mana that was currently circulating in this space. Like wading through a room of thick steam.

The second thing I noticed, as the door closed behind me, were the room’s two occupants of the room.

The first man was the one I expected. He looked very old, wrinkles layered his face here and there. Spectacles gleamed in the light. Greyed out hair was well kept. Red hued robes with gold accents, though the red was closer to a wine red then the fiery red I've seen the other mages wear. He gave off an old, grandfather vibe with his soft smile.

His counterpart, however, did catch me a bit off guard. Unlike the first mage, this man looked young. Mid-twenties by human estimates. Of course, they could put his age anywhere from twenty to two thousand in elf terms. He had long chestnut brown hair that ran down his back. Almost feminine, by human standards, in style. But a form favored by many elves I have seen. He had a neutral facial expression, betraying nothing. The most striking departure from the norm was his robes. Instead of the reds and golds I've seen until now, his were predominantly blue and purple.

And emblazoned on them, quite boldly, was the sigil of the Kirin Tor.

“Don’t be shy dear, he doesn't bite,” the older mage jokes, beckoning me to come over. The other mage rolled his eyes at the old man’s humor.

I complied, of course, taking a seat in front of his desk.

“Ah, where are my manners. I am Keeper Lyandros,” the elder mage introduced himself. He gestured to his companion, “and this gentleman is Archmage Aethas Sunreaver of Dalaran.”
Sunreaver. The name rang a bell. Wasn’t that a Blood Elf faction name? I’d think about that later.

“Greeting your excellences, I-”

“We know who you are, Miss Dawnguard,” Lyandros interrupted, chuckling at my introduction. “By the way, which do you prefer to be addressed by, Syllia or Miss Dawnguard?”

“Either one your excellence.”

“Splendid. And dear, a simple sir will suffice for me. Can’t speak on Aethas’s behalf, but in private I find the whole ‘excellence’ thing a bit overdone.”

“If we were in my lecture hall,” the Archmage finally spoke up, “or meeting in a more official capacity I would insist. But here? Sir will be enough.”

“Yes sirs.”

“Now that introductions have concluded, let us get to the point of this meeting,” Lyandros fiddled about with a paper on his desk. “How have you been finding the exam so far Syllia?”

I tried to find the right words, “It’s,” Hard, “not what I expected.”

“You are not the first to feel that way,” he chuckled. “Nor do I believe you shall be the last.”

“This is all just a little, overwhelming,” I confessed. “Forgive me sir, but why is-”

“Aethas here?” Lyandors finished my question.

I nodded, looking to Sunreaver, “I don't mean any insult sir. I’m just surprised that a mage from Dalaran is here.”

“Nothing to apologize about, child. Truth be told I only arrived an hour ago, “ Sunerever explained.

“I used to be a part of the Kirn Tor myself in my distant youth,” the Keeper elaborated. “Eventually I retired to teach at the academy. My days in Dalaran may be over, but I still have some friends amongst the Council of Six. I just wanted to have a second opinion on some of the things you wrote about in your essays. Aethas was the first to respond.”

Oh fuck. What is this about?

“All that being said, let us begin. What can you tell us about this diagram you drew,” Lyandros placed a paper before me.

It was my sketch from the exam. He didn't show the question, just my answer. In the packet of sheets was the chart I made to visualize what I meant in the written part.

It was a rather simple design. An X with a single line down the middle. At each end point, a word was written: Light, Arcane, Death, Shadow, Fel, Life. Each word was paired against each other at opposite ends of the same line: Light-Shadow, Arcane-Fel, Death-Life.

I stared at it, “is it wrong?”

“No. No. Oh no,” the Keeper replied quickly. “On the contrary, this is quite accurate.”

“Though most mages tend to consider them as separate, isolated, spheres of conflicting energies. Rather than parts of a greater whole,” the Archmage added.

“So,” I tried to piece together what they were getting at. All I did was draw the chart the way I remember I saw it on the wiki. “Did I write it the wrong way?”

“We’re just curious,” Lyandros did not address my question. “Why did you draw it this way specifically.”

Because that’s what I remember from the wiki. Doubt that answer would mean anything to them. I mean, the books the library provided seemed to take almost twenty pages to explain something as simple as ‘Fel bad, Light good’. I just wanted to get to the point, so took it upon myself to use the wiki, sparingly, to get things done a little faster.

I’m pretty sure I didn't use anything too in depth.

“They all relate to one another,” I replied. “Nothing is isolated, everything connects in some way.”

“So you say, but most mages would assume Light would oppose both Shadow and Fel,” Sunrever countered. “The nature of Shadow is self-explanatory, but Fel is the domain of demons; of destruction and ruin. Light, as the priests will never let us forget,” that remark got a chuckle from Lyandros, “is the domain of purification and healing.”

“I wasn't saying that the light couldn’-”

“That may be,” Aethas interrupted me. “But the question remains. Light the very antithesis of the Fel. So how did you come to think that Arcane is the counter to Fel?”

“Shadow and Light oppose each other because they are opposites by nature, Light and Dark,” I explained. “But Fel is Chaos. Not destruction. Not ruin. Just chaos. Arcane, by contrast, is order. Therefore, order and chaos naturally oppose one another.”

They were both silent for a moment. A few glances to one another. Knowing looks.

Lyandros scribbled something down and cleared his throat. “Moving onto your second paper.” He snatched the chart back, “truth be told this is the aforementioned reason why I called for my friend here, as this topic is far more within his purview than my own,” he explained. “In your paper, you mention a human mage as being instrumental in the Kingdom’s victory against the Guribashi. One ‘May-dev’.”

“Medivh,” I corrected him. Once again, I had to rely on my wiki knowledge again to properly answer this question. The books got some of the information right, but there wasn't a single mention of how Medivh single handedly saved the city of Stormwind from annihilation. Granted I wasn't expecting them to say ‘Medivh, Guardian of Azeroth’ because the whole Guardian thing was a secret, but they didn't even mention him at all. Seems like a pretty big oversight to me.

He gave a quick look to Aethas, who nodded. “Of course. My mistake. The mage Medivh,” he flipped through some papers and scribbled something down. “You wrote that,” he adjusted his spectacles, “quote, ‘the human victory in the war would have been impossible without the aid of mage Medivh. His intervention during the siege of Stormwind proved the deciding factor of, not only the battle, but the war itself’, unquote. Is that correct?”

“Yes sir,” I nodded.

“Can you expand upon that,” the keeper explained.

“What do you mean sir?” Does he mean why the trolls even made it the city in the first place?

“Forgive me if I seem brusque, but how can a single mage, no matter how powerful they might be, shift the tide of a war? Even the Battle of the Alterec Mountains required the combined effort of hundreds of mages to decimate the troll hordes.”

Okay, how to phrase this without going into the whole ‘He is the Defender of Azeroth from the Burning Legion thing. “Well, he was the greatest human mage to ever live.” Who was roided up on several mages worth of power. “And the Troll army was all bunched together when they assaulted Stormwind. It’s not that hard to wipe out an army when they’re all together like that. Especially from the battlements as the trolls are smashing themselves against the city walls.”

Lyandros looked to Sunreaver, an arched eyebrow silently asking for his input.

“While it may seem strange, Miss Dawnguard is correct. It is important to remember the scale of the war in question. The Battle of the Altrec Mountains was for the survival of all civilization. The Siege of Stormwind, merely the survival of a single nation.”

“Merely,” Lyandros joked.

“Compared to the survival of the civilized world? Yes, merely.”

“Well there go my questions,” Lyandros said to himself. “Still, I have to say that it was quite fortuitous for the King of Stormwind to call upon such a mighty mage in their hour of need.”

“Indeed,” Sunerver agreed, “It was fortuitous that King Wrynn brought him into the conflict when he did.”

Wait a second. I remember the wiki! Sure, it’s been over a decade since I looked at it, but to me it feels like just a few weeks memory wise. And I know what I read. And that's not what happened! The king had no idea about Medivh. It was his son who called for his help.

But, do I really want to risk them failing me on the spot for trying to one up them? Am I really so proud that I have to show off my knowledge to people who are centuries my senior?

...

Damnit.

I shook my head, “that is not correct.”

The mages looked at me.

Lyandros raised an eyebrow, “It's not?”

“No,” I took a deep breath. “It wasn’t the king who called for Medivh's help but his son, the prince. At first, Prince Wrynn suggested bringing Medivh to Strangethorn to deal with the Gurabashi threat once and for all before they could attack Stormwind. Medivh wiped out the Guabashi in the area, but the trolls later regrouped and laid siege to the city itself. Most likely to sack it to exact revenge for their prior defeat. King Wrynn died in the battle. Prince Wrynn assumed the throne and asked Medivh to aid them one last time. Which he did, destroying the invading army and ending the Guabashi War.”

Whatever they expected me to say, it certainly was not that. The two looked owlish at me, as if I had grown a second head. They exchanged some looks with one another. I heard the quick scribbling noise of a quill on parchment.

Maybe I relied on the wiki a little too much for that explanation.

“Correct,” Sunreaver seems genuinely surprised. “You seem to be quite well read in history for someone of your age.”

I almost blushed from the compliment, “I just like reading sir.”

“If only youth today were as humble and educationally inclined as you,” he complimented me. “In fact, I have half a mind to bring you to Dalaran this instant. Only half Lyandros,” he quickly added when the Keeper shot him a look.

“Unfortunately for you, but fortunately for the Academy, she is set to compete in the practical examination tomorrow,” the Keeper finished his feverish writing. Stamping whatever it was he wrote on. “You may be my friend, but I will not quietly let you poach our applicants. Only so many hopefuls make it this far.”

“And I have every confidence that only a third of them, at most, will meet this Academy's exacting standards.”

“And should she not be a part of them, you should rest assured that you will be among the first to know; outside of the admissions council themselves.”

Wow. Mages are sure territorial over ‘prodigies’ like myself. This is some highbrow bickering.

Sunrever gave a light chuckle, “as much as I want to continue this, now that my task here has concluded, I must be off.” He held his hand out expectantly to Lyandros. Sure enough, the old man handed him a sealed letter. Probably the thing Lyandros was just writing.

“Fair enough. Give my best wishes to his Lordship for me when you see him.”

“I shall. Though knowing Antonidas, he will scoff and claim he is merely old; not decrepit.”

“Yet,” Lyandros solemnly noted.

“Yet,” Sunreaver agreed. He turned to me, “Farewell Syllia Dawnguard, this meeting was more productive than I had thought it would be. Best wishes on your exam to come. And know that the doors of the Violet Citadel will be open to you should your venture here come to a premature end.”

With those parting words, in a flash of light, he was gone.

Seems like a nice guy.

I turned to Lyandros, the old elf was once more writing at a furious pace. As seconds ticked by, it would appear that he had forgotten about me.

“Sir?”

He looked up, “ah yes. Forgive my absent mind. Arrive at the meeting hall before noon tomorrow. Everything else shall be explained there.”

I meant if I’d passed or- Wait!

My heart fluttered. Did that mean….

“So I passed?”

“Pardon?” He looked at me.

“The exam, sir,” please don't tell me he has elf dementia or something! Did he really forget the whole point of the meeting? Less than a minute later! “Did I pass? You said to come tomorrow, so does that-”

“The exam? Oh, yes, of course you passed,” the keeper replied. His tone made it seem like it was an afterthought. “You are free to head home for the day.”

I did my best not to squee in front of the man. That would probably ruin the, I hope, good impression I had cultivated during the meeting. Had to bite my lip to keep the cheer down. But my arms did jerk into a semi fist pump. I walked to the door, careful not to look like I was rushing. Or skipping.

“Word of advice, Miss Dawnguard,” Lyandros spoke up before I left. “I would highly encourage you to get a full night’s sleep and have a good breakfast before arriving. You will need all your energy for tomorrow’s exam.”

I turned back, “Sir?”

“I can say no more on the matter,” he smiled. “Just be well rested, well fed, and prepared for anything.”

Well that’s not ominous.

I nodded. Thanking him for the advice, I stepped out of the room, doing my best not to trip over my own legs as I rushed out.

Sadly, I failed to keep my balance on the way out. Scraped my knees on the stone floor. Thankfully no one was there to see me hit the ground.

But I didn't even care. My ego was restored! I was ready! I had my second wind! All my fears about washing out ignobility were gone!

I could do this!

Just one more step!

And God was I nervous about the hellish gut punch I knew was coming my way tomorrow!