The entire freshman class was gathered in an auditorium at the rear of the campus towards the empty fields and thick woods. Sunlight poured through the high windows, illuminating the stage where eight podiums stood, their glossy wood surfaces gleaming. Andromeda Morgenstern stood in front of the stage, her flaming mane streaming over her shoulders and down her back, her rosy pink eyes scanning over her freshman with a hint of pride, her mouth a genuine smile. She drew a watch from her pocket, noting the time, ten minutes before she would start.

The room was in an uproar, laughing and cheering and curious conversation filled the air. Zeidan Lovelace was posted by the double wooden doors, his eyes panning over the students, and then settling on Andromeda, who was pointedly avoiding his gaze. She was, instead, having a light conversation with the tall gentleman next to her. He appeared to be younger than Zeidan, and he donned an entirely black suit with a tie the color of blood. The suit hugged him, outlining his ripped body, and his eyes were closed, head thrown back in laughter. His bronzed skin was as smooth as the limestone walls of the auditorium, and his hair, black as night, was disheveled as if he’d just woken up. But it didn’t make him look any less handsome. And seated atop that messy hair were the sharp, furry black ears of a wolf. He was a Valian, a majestic wolven race that hailed in the southern territories of Jestra. Zeidan held back his amazement, it had been years since he’d seen one of the Valia’s people. Most races had isolated themselves after the war.

A few of the students stared in awe at the beastman before them. Some of the young women gawked at his handsomeness, swooning over his muscles and his delicate, yet sharp face. The men only eyed the man as competition of sorts, wondering who he was and what he was doing on campus. Zeidan shared those questions as well. Why hadn’t he been informed of this man’s, this beast’s sudden arrival? The magical pressure could be felt from all the way in the back where Zeidan stood with his arms crossed. It was as if the Valian was purposefully aiming his power at him; he was either showing off, or he saw Zeidan as a threat.

“I am so glad you could make it, Faelar.” Andromeda said, smiling up at the Valian man before her. “Perhaps you’d like a treat? Or maybe,” she reached towards his head, standing on her tiptoes to pat him when he grabbed her wrist. 

“Need I remind you, I am a Valian,” he said in a low growl, releasing her hand and stepping closer, lowering his lips to the tip of her ear. “Your dog is the one you should be giving a treat to. He’s had his eyes on me this entire time as if could tear me apart at any moment.” 

Andromeda stepped back, admiring the wolven man before her, his sharp eyes staring daggers back at Zeidan.

“Oh, Faelar. You’re all dogs to me, darling.” Andromeda brushed her hair away from her shoulders, letting the conflagration drape down her back as she released a sudden wave of dense magical energy, sending the entire room into silence. Zeidan smiled to himself.

“Good morning, everyone!” Andromeda started with a bright smile. Her white cloak danced around her as she took a step forward, looking out over the hundreds of students. “I hope everyone has had an easy time adjusting to the academy life here at Swinescar. Many of the freshman classes are of course intros, to give you a preview of what’s to come. But there’s one thing that you all MUST do before your sophomore year, and that is being sorted.”

She smiled at the dozens of wondrous eyes, casting a brief gaze to Faelar whose ears were forward, and whose tangerine eyes scanned the students cunningly. 

Turning back to the students, Andromeda exclaimed, “The sorting is how you are placed into your respective houses, be it Cyrean, Trollain, Leonel, or Hawkaun. One of these houses will be your family for the next four years. You will learn together, fight together, and live together while you attain magical knowledge left behind by our great ancestors. Everything you learn during these four years will hopefully be put to good use in your futures. 

The sorting consists of three trials, and the passing or failing of each one will determine which house you will be a member of. I can’t tell you which trials will get you into which house, so do your best on all of them for the best results!”

Abel Wolfe sat toward the back of the mass of students, his hazel eyes darting frantically from body to body. “Dude, she was in pretty bad condition when you found her. I doubt she shows today.” Abel glanced over at Solomon, his stocky friend shooting him a sad smile. “Today is about us, I’m aiming for Cyrean. How about you?”

Abel brushed a hand through his hair, exhaling softly. “Maybe Leonel,” he lied, “Have you seen the dresses their girls wear, oh man!” The two of them agreed, laughing silently when a sudden wave of icy cold magic washed over the entire auditorium. Even Andromeda had gone silent, her pink eyes glowering at the two double wood doors. Zeidan immediately stepped in, his back to her and the students. His braided hair had been tied into a ponytail. He tossed his blazer to the red carpeted floor, quickly unbuttoned his shirt a few buttons, and moved to a fighting stance. His holy magic punched out at once, raising a golden barrier between him and the students, a holy shield with spinning runes swimming across its surface. No one moved, not even Andromeda who hadn’t stopped scowling at the doors. Faelar placed a hand on her shoulder, an evil smile crossing his lips.

“Your dog will protect us, you have nothing to worry about. We are safe.” Faelar said, clearly misunderstanding her scornful gaze.

“Remove your hand.” Andromeda said, her voice steeled with sharp anger. Faelar obeyed, only because he was in her school. Only because all of the magic there bowed to her will. 

“Zeidan Lovelace!” The students all turned their gazes back to Andromeda, quaking at her look of seething anger as it retracted slowly into something more…neutral. “Stand down.”

Zeidan obeyed with no hesitation, casting away his shield, retrieving his coat, and stepping backwards as the huge doors creaked open, a silvery mist of ice and wind bellowing into the auditorium. Faelar beamed in twisted delight, running his eyes over the slim legs clad in black and white plaid pants, at the glossy black high heels that made no noise as they stepped silently into the room, at the v-cut shirt that hugged small breasts from beneath a cerulean jacket, and at the pinkish scar that had forever stained a milky face.

Angelique Tourneau walked into the auditorium silently, her face a blank canvas, her magic aura an angry blizzard whipping through the room. Abel jumped to his feet, and for a moment their eyes met. He didn’t say anything as he gazed at the young lady who’d lain broken and bloodied in his arms not even a week ago. He opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing as she looked towards Andromeda, whose face had also gone blank. Abel watched Angelique the entire time she walked up the center aisle, seating herself in a vacant chair, causing the students around her to get up and stand as far away from her as they could. Something about her was different. She wasn’t concealing her magic like she once did, or, rather than keeping it under control like everyone had learned to do from a young age, she was letting it run wild; perhaps she was doing it on purpose for a reason unbeknownst to Abel.

“Pleasure of you to join us, Ms. Tourneau.” Andromeda said as plainly as she could. “We were just discussing the—” She paused as a wave of icy energy burst through the auditorium. “We were just discussing the sorting.” She continued, unaffected by Angelique’s vicious magical energy that had cast the room down to a sudden arctic temperature. 

Trial one: transcribing, dissecting, and reverse engineering magical circles. Magical circles are the geometric equations that are the backbone of modern magic. One magical circle consists of an inner circle with runes that give it power, and an outer circle that serves as protection of the former. The more complex and powerful the outer runes, the more effectively the inner runes can operate, which could be the difference of a weak magical circle versus one that operates like a fortress.

Abel was a part of the first group of students to stand before their peers. He squinted at the bold circle, analyzing what runes he could understand, and frowning at the many more that he didn’t understand. He glanced up and down the line of students next to him. Faces he didn’t recognize. A brown hand placed itself on his forearm, he turned to see who it belonged to. A full face with high cheekbones and deep brown eyes smiled up at him. “Nervous?” She whispered softly. Abel puffed his chest out.

“Never.”

Andromeda explained three rules briefly. One: Each student was to determine the usage of the magical circle. Was it an offensive type, a defensive type? Two: Determine what its main elements were? What runes made up the inner circle, the core? Three: use their own magic to deactivate the circle, destroying the circle completely would give them extra points.

Abel and the girl next to him began analyzing their circles immediately. A few of the others didn’t even bother trying, knowing that it was a hopeless feat. The remainder of the students sat in their seats silently, waiting for their turns. A few girls seated three rows behind Angelique laughed, watching Abel ruffle his hair. “Ten dollars says that idiot fails.” One of them whispered.

“Twenty!” Another one said. A blast of freezing cold air sent them into silent shivers. Faelar crept next to them, kneeling down and offering his hand. 

“How about a hundred dollars that he finishes first? And,” he paused, thinking to himself. “A picture with me?” He flashed a pearly white smile up at them, showing off his fangs. They all looked at him hesitantly, wondering why on earth he would be in Abel’s favor. That man wasn’t even a teacher at the school, he had no idea who Abel was.

“You’re out of your mind.” He shifted his predatory gaze toward a pudgy girl, the farthest one from him. Her bright blue eyes hawked him down, returning his gaze.

Faelar laughed as he got to his feet, moving up the row to sit next to her. The other girls shot her envious looks, but she only flipped her rust colored hair over her shoulder. “You are?”

The stout girl gazed at Faelar, never once breaking eye contact. “Karina. Karina Valencia. I’m—” She recoiled slightly as Faelar lowered his head next to hers, his warm breath blowing against her ear.

“The bastard daughter of Lucian Blake Valencia, of Valencia Pharmaceuticals.” Faelar whispered so softly that she almost didn’t hear him. Her heart skipped a beat as he leaned away, looking back toward the eight students gathered on stage. 

“And you’re a mangy mutt.” She hissed back, her attention suddenly drawing to Abel, who closed his eyes as his outstretched hands began to glow a warm orange, prismatic bands of magic streaming forth against the magic circle on his podium.

He could feel it. He could feel the flow of magic throughout the circle. Magic worked in ways similar to temperature, there were points of high density in the circle, clearly the higher tiered runes that he couldn’t possibly read and deactivate. His own magic continued to flow in waves against the circle, and his breathing grew heavier as he traced his way through the less dense spots of magic. The base for this circle was Rurmish, the rune for wall; Wun, the rune for storm; and at the very center of the circle, surrounded by lesser runes was Xasoh, the rune for break. “This is a magic circle of water, a wall of unpassable storms, meant to act as a shield,” he paused for a breath, not noticing that his entire body had begun to emit a full orange light. All eyes were on him as he spoke again. “If I break the minor runes of Wik, for action,” the circle flared suddenly, as if in pain. “Taigodil for guard, and Gabehec for hold; this circle will—” the circle burst suddenly, sending Abel back a few surprised steps as white light shimmered before his eyes in millions of tiny stars.

“Excellent.” Andromeda said under her breath from the back of the room. She’d moved to stand with Zeidan, explaining to him the situation with Angelique. Zeidan nodded his head, removing his braided locs from the ponytail, letting them hang around his head. His blue eyes steeled on the back of Angelique’s head as she rose from her seat, approaching the podium Abel was stepping away from. The freezing mist flowed in her wake, leaving a trail of ice as she stepped onto the stage and stopped at the podium. Abel took his seat back next to Soloman, getting heavy congratulatory pats on his back.

The trial continued, students had come and gone, some with bright smiles on their faces, and others with teary eyes and broken pride. But through rounds and rounds of students, Angelique had yet to step away from her podium. Even through her blank stare, it was clear that she was agitated. 

It was nearing lunch time, the students who’d already completed the trial had exited, and others were going in and out. Abel watched as her brow crinkled. Andromeda, leading Zeidan and Faelar, approached the stage quietly, eyeing the small remainder of students as they passed.

“Ms. Tourneau, I am afraid that your time is almost—” A sharp icy wind tore forth from the stage. Andromeda simply smiled as Zeidan placed a clear shield in front of them. “You know. No matter how cold you make it in here, it won’t stop you from failing.” Andromeda said. Abel could’ve swore he heard a hint of delight in the woman’s tone. Angelique didn’t say a word as she locked her focus onto the circle before her. “Your injuries were much more than just physical. The entire freshman class has been victim to your poor aura control.”

Abel winced as more icy wind sheers flashed about the room. Angelique was going to fail. Abel knew it then. She was going to fail the first trial. Everyone eyed Faelar as he jumped up onto the stage, stepping next to where Angelique stood, and somehow withstanding that freezing mist that oozed from every pore on her body. 

“Interesting. She can’t control her magical output.” He said with a straight face. “She knows which runes should be broken, but she can’t break them. She can’t push out the right amount of magic.” Abel watched as the three of them all stared up at Angelique who was still forcing beams and ribbons of blue and white energy from her palms, a futile attempt on her part.

“Well, I wonder what Donovan would think about this scene.” Andromeda pricked, a bright smile flashing across her face as Angelique’s flow of magic ceased. “Oh, did I strike a nerve?”

Abel watched Angelique as she left the stage silently, her white hair flowing like a river behind her.

It had taken all day to get five hundred something students through the first trial. The passing and failing rate was nowhere near even, with many more failing, including Angelique. Andromeda was seated back in her office, typing away on her computer while Faelar stood behind her, admiring the great view the window provided. As the typing slowed, he turned to face Andromeda who was facing him, sitting with one leg crossed over the other. He smiled down at her, licking his lips as if she were a piece of meat. “So, who are we looking at so far?” He asked, struggling to keep his hands in his pockets.

Andromeda simply glared at him, tucking clear reading glasses into her cloak. “Don’t speak to me while you’re in heat, you damn wolf.”

Faelar snarled angrily, moving faster than normal eyes could see. He bent over before Andromeda, pushing her and her chair back against her desk, pressing his forehead to hers, clawed hands gripping the arms of her chair. “I will not remind you of my race, but I will remind you to hold your tongue when you speak to me. I am a Scelrif, a king!” Faelar spat, his furry ears rising with anger. “You will respect me when I am in your presence. I was gracious enough to let your mouth slide during the trial, but now that we are alone, I—” Andromeda put a hand on Faelar’s chest, resting it between the bulging pectorals. 

“I do love the feel of your heart.” She said softly, before slowly squeezing her fingers together as if she were gripping a ball. “The way it pulsates, the way it quivers in anxiety inside my hand.” Faelar’s eyes hardened as he stifled a cough. She was gripping his heart with some kind of force. But how?! There was no way a mere headmaster was more powerful than he, a Scelrif. 

“You have some nerve you—”

“Aht aht aht!” Faelar coughed violently as Andromeda’s grip tightened inside his chest, strangling his heart. “I am already giving you my best students for this grand plan of yours. Do not push your luck, you horny mongrel. As long as you’re inside the barriers of my campus, you will hold your tongue when speaking to me. Do not make me repeat myself. I will claim your heart the next time you forget where you are.” She removed her hand from his chest, kicking him into the window where he dropped to one knee.

“The second trial.” Faelar said through labored coughs. “I will miss the second trial.” He staggered to his feet, refusing to apologize to the beastly woman whose beautiful pink eyes flared with a sudden interest. Before she could ask why, Faelar continued. “I believe our goddess has experienced something unexpected. I will be going to check on her. Be sure to let me know who passes the second trial. They will likely be the first ones to disappear during the third.”

Morgenstern only nodded her head, a clear sign of dismissal. The Valian man bowed at the waist, his ears drooping with his head, before disappearing into a golden burst of magic. Zeidan entered the room immediately, flushing it with a soothing wave of holy energy. Even Andromeda could not hold back a smile as the warm waves cleansed her office of any stench of that damned wolf.

“Oh, Zeidan,” she crooned. “I do hate politics.”

Zeidan said nothing, filling a cup and setting it before her on the mahogany desk. She cocked an eye at him.

“Do you know how late it is?”

Zeidan did not smile as Andromeda clasped the cup between her thin, pale hands, letting the sweet aroma waft to her nose before sipping slowly. Her eyes perked up. “This is—”

“Silverleaf tea.” He exclaimed as he walked to where she sat. “It’ll help you sleep tonight.”

He watched as her pink lips touched softly against the porcelain glass, sipping graciously. She pulled away, licking up a thin stream of saliva before meeting his deep blue eyes, his dark face, his swaying braids. 

“This tea may help, and it is deliciously soothing, but I had another idea in mind.” Zeidan got to his feet, offering a hand to Andromeda. She finished the tea, placing the glass gently back down onto a few papers she’d readied for the next morning. “Take us to the river first, I’d like to bathe in it.” She commanded softly. Zeidan only nodded in agreement, and the duo disappeared under the light of a glittering halo that eventually dimmed out, vanishing into nothingness, and taking with it all the light from her office.

The moonlight cast its bright smile over the empty room, illuminating a document with bold red lettering in its header. It was titled: Trial Two, King of the Hill.