River didn’t remember how he got there—one second, darkness filled his vision; the next, there was nothing but light. He found himself seated at a long wooden table in a massive hall, even larger than the auditorium from earlier. The room buzzed with life, filled with students eating in groups scattered across the space. The same school banners from the auditorium hung proudly from the walls, swaying gently in the breeze of unseen ventilation. At the back of the hall, instead of a platform, a sprawling buffet stretched across the wall, lined with roasted meats, glowing fruits, bubbling stews, and fresh bread that seemed to never run out. The air around it seemed almost alive with smells. “Are you okay?” a voice asked, soft and hesitant. River blinked and turned, but the words had come through a fog, muffled and distant. It was like hearing through water. He looked around and realized something was wrong—despite the room being packed and alive with conversation. Silence pressed against his skull—then sound slammed back into him. His mind reeled from the new stimulus. The clatter of utensils. The drone of voices. The scrape of chairs. Laughter. The world snapped into place, and it was deafening in contrast. River flinched, grabbing the edge of the table. “Whoa,” the same voice said again, clearer this time. “Relax—I won’t punch you if you don’t ask.” River turned to see Callum seated beside him, a half-eaten roll in one hand and concern etched across his face. Next to him sat Albert, his expression heavy with shame. He didn’t look up from his plate. “Sorry for getting you involved in that,” Albert muttered. “It’s not your fault,” River replied, though every part of his face throbbed. He hadn’t known he had pride. That stung too. He lifted a hand and gently touched his cheek. “Ouch,” he hissed, pulling back quickly. The right side of his face was already swelling with a nasty bruise. River scrambled to his feet, eyes scanning the room. “They broke,” Albert said, glancing up guiltily. “Sorry. I’ll get you new ones.” River’s stomach sank. So much for keeping his eyes hidden. “It’s fine,” he said quickly. “They were just to cover my eyes. I didn’t want to scare anyone.” Callum and Albert exchanged a glance. Callum opened his mouth, but Albert beat him to it. “That might be hard now. Word’s already spreading. Everyone’s heard about you.”

  Damn it. River glanced around—people were staring, whispering behind cupped hands, eyes darting away the moment he met them. His skin crawled. For years, being unseen, unheard—that’s how he’d survived. This kind of attention? It felt wrong. Unnatural. With every whisper, something inside him flinched—like they were throwing stones, not words.

  But if he wanted to make progress at the school, he’d have to learn to live with it. Callum and Albert stood. “We should get going,” Callum said. “Classes start in fifteen minutes. And I’d rather not get spanked—unless it’s by Kidrin.” He grinned and stood.

  “Already?” River asked, startled. Callum nodded. “Yeah. We peeked at your schedule while you were passed out. You and Albert have soul training first.” Albert gave a faint smile. “My father brought me here a few times when my sister was a student. I even got to sit in on soul training once.” River frowned inwardly. Albert really had been given a head start over people like him. Connections and access—that was everything in this world. But there wasn’t much he could do about it. He would just have to work harder. He had other advantages.

  Before long, they arrived outside the classroom door. A group of novices stood nearby, chatting and waiting. “Why don’t we just go in?” River asked, frowning at the closed door. Albert leaned against the wall with a grunt. “They keep the classrooms locked until the bell rings. Something about preventing... ‘unauthorized extracurriculars.’ The runes will open once class officially starts.” River nodded, glancing at Albert. It was clear that standing was causing him discomfort, though the larger boy didn’t say a word. His heavy frame shifted as he tried to find a position that gave even a little relief. Then the bell rang. A soft chime echoed through the corridor, followed by the faint hum of magic as the runes on the door shimmered and faded. The doors swung open on their own, and students flooded into the classroom, rushing to claim seats as far from the front as possible. River and Albert stood for a moment longer, letting the crowd settle before entering. When they finally stepped inside, only two seats remained. Front and Center.

  Of course. They sat down without a word. River glanced around the room, taking in the space. It was larger than he expected, with wide rows of brown desks, each worn smooth by time and countless students. Directly ahead stood a raised platform, small and simple. A space for demonstrations, he guessed. He looked down at the desk in front of him. A book rested neatly atop it, its deep brown leather cover stamped with silver lettering: Basics of the Soul. At the center was a white emblem etched into the cover—a simple, swirling mark with the word Novice beneath it. River ran his fingers over the design, a strange sense of anticipation building in his chest.

  This was it. Finally, maybe he’d get some answers. It wasn’t long after that complete silence fell over the room. The sudden hush was so sharp it echoed off the stone walls. Footsteps approached from outside the door—slow, deliberate. An old man entered, small in stature, walking with a cane in one hand and a thick book in the other. He looked like he had once been tall, but age had bent his back and worn down his body. His beard was full, and his long, unruly hair was the color of storm clouds on a cold winter morning. He stepped onto the platform, and something shifted. He stood a little taller. Straighter. The weariness seemed to slip off him as he surveyed the room. He turned to the whiteboard and wrote something down, but his body blocked River’s view. Then he turned back, and with a calm, steady voice said, “Welcome to Basics of the Soul. I’m Archibald—one of the Twelve on the school’s council. I’ve taught this introductory course for the last sixty-five years.” Damn he was old. River blinked. The Twelve? He didn’t know what that meant, but judging by the tone of the room, it was important. He felt a pang of unease. There was still so much he didn’t know. “Today,” Archibald continued, “I will begin teaching you the techniques necessary to strengthen your soul. “He scanned the room slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “You may be wondering why. The answer is simple. This is the most important class you will take during your time at this academy.” He paused, then went on. “First and foremost, a strong soul diminishes the risk of magical accidents, especially soul corruption.”

  River swallowed hard. Lud had mentioned that term before. “And second, though perhaps less pleasant to consider: in the unlikely event you find yourself fighting another mage, your soul strength is everything.” His gaze moved deliberately across the students. “Soul strength determines your bond to your magic. If a mage has a stronger connection to the affinity you’re wielding, they can overpower you. Worse, they can wrestle control away from you entirely. And once that happens, you are no longer a threat. “If you have an affinity,” Archibald continued, “you already have an advantage over others who do not share that same connection with your element.” Then it clicked for River—that’s what had happened earlier. The boy who had stopped him from helping Albert, Callum had mentioned that they were Tier Two mages. He’d already used earth magic to trap Albert. River’s own connection to the element hadn’t been strong enough to resist him. Professor Archibald turned on his heel and began writing numbers across the board, each followed by a blank space. He spoke as he wrote, “First, each student will tell me their affinity. Once that is done, you will soul duel with someone who shares your element. Competition breeds improvement.”

  River looked down at his hands. He had been practicing. He should have the edge over most of the other first-year students — many of them probably hadn’t even started soul strengthening yet. At the front of the room, Archibald continued his lecture, addressing the murmurs spreading among the class. “Soul duels,” he explained, “are designed to reduce the risk of injury. Your essence is contained within a crystalized medium, so even if you manifest too much essence it won’t physically harm your opponent. What matters here is control. Precision. The goal is to deepen your connection to your affinity — and to understand how it responds under pressure.” River listened, his mind already turning. He’d fought before. Practiced with Lud. Pushed his limits. He could do this. Archibald began calling on students from the back row, slowly working his way forward and jotting each name and affinity on the board. When he reached River, however, he didn’t even pause. He skipped over him — straight to Albert. River stiffened. River raised an eyebrow. “Sir, I think you forgot me.” The professor chuckled. “No, I didn’t. Everyone already knows who you are. And your eyes aren’t exactly subtle.” River gave a small, dry laugh. No, they weren’t. One by one, Archibald added each student’s affinity to the board. Most fell into neat categories—four to six students per element. Only one name stood out, marked with more than one affinity: River. Once the list was complete, Archibald turned to face them. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s begin pairing you with your first opponent.” He walked between the rows of desks, pointing and directing students to swap seats until each one was beside their assigned partner. River was among the last to be paired. His partner was a small boy, a few years younger, with a mop of bright red hair. River guessed he had a fire affinity. Taking the seat beside him, River offered his hand. “Name’s River.”

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  The boy barely looked at him. “I know who you are,” he mumbled. Not exactly friendly. A small crystal ball, similar to the one Lud had used, was placed between each pair. “You will now channel a sliver of power into the crystal,” Archibald announced. “Your goal is to take control of your partner’s essence without losing your own. This is an excellent way to practice both offensive and defensive soul battling.” River had already lost any chance of staying unnoticed—he couldn’t afford to start losing now, too. Pride, if nothing else, refused to let him.

  Essence flickered across the room as pairs began channeling their energy into the crystals. Archibald raised his cane and struck the platform sharply.

  “Begin.”

  Silence fell. River focused. He reached for the essence in the crystal, feeling it pulse — faint but eager — with fire. For a second, it rushed through him too fast, too strong. The flame flared white-hot, no longer red but something purer, more dangerous. Then, with effort, he reeled it back in. The brightness dimmed, settling into a steady crimson glow. Familiar. Contained. But the white still danced behind his eyes. Scared that someone had seen it. He sensed his opponent’s soul connection—it was faint, barely attached to the magic. Without hesitation, River severed the link. The boy recoiled slightly, sweating and pale. River, by contrast, felt perfectly fine. Archibald walked over, glancing between them. “Already finished? Who won?”

  River didn’t speak, but his expression said everything. “I see.” Archibald returned to the board and made a mark beside River’s name—a small ‘1’ in the win column. It looked like a scoreboard. A way to track performance. River stared at the mark. So, this is how we’re measured, he thought. The rest of the class continued in the same fashion—new pairings, fresh opponents. River hadn’t lost once. By the fifth match, he noticed Professor Archibald observing him more closely than the others, muttering under his breath and jotting something in a leather-bound notebook. Eventually, the professor approached his desk. “This will be your last pairing for today,” he said, voice low but firm. “You’ve demonstrated proficiency with fire and earth. Now I want to see how you fare against another affinity—water. You’ll be paired with that girl over there. Her name is Amalia.” River followed the direction of his gaze. Amalia stood tall and composed, her posture radiating a quiet confidence that set her apart from the others.

  She wore the same white robes as everyone else, but just beneath her collar, River saw a glint of gold—a delicate necklace, likely something personal.

  And yet, it wasn’t just the jewelry. There was something else about her. The air around her measured, refined… almost royal.

  He couldn’t explain it, but he could feel it. Maybe she would be the one to finally put him in his place. He made his way over and slumped into the seat opposite her, repeating the gesture he’d used with all his previous opponents. He extended his hand.

  “My name’s River.”

  She took it without hesitation. “It’s nice to meet you, River. I’m Amalia. Don’t be disappointed if you lose. I have an affinity for water, and unless you share it, I’ll have a considerable advantage.” Her voice wasn’t mocking, it was honest. Sincere. But even if he didn’t want to share his true affinities. He didn’t like losing. But more than that, he hated wasting a chance to grow. This was the best kind of practice he could get—real stakes, real pressure. Throwing the match on purpose? That would be a waste. He hadn’t come here to play it safe. “Thanks,” River replied with a smirk, though he knew something she didn’t: he did share her affinity, Maybe he hadn’t practiced water as much as earth or fire, but the connection was still there. They both began channeling. The crystal between them shifted as blue essence bloomed inside, forming two mirrored droplets.

  River focused, reaching toward the strand of water linking them. Her connection was strong, stronger than anyone he’d faced so far. It wasn’t just a link; it was like a part of her soul lived within the element. She wasn’t bending it to her will, she was part of it. As he examined her essence, a sharp surge of cold swept over him. Her soul struck first. This time, he didn’t collapse or lose focus. He had been prepared for this. Sweat dotted his brow as he held firm. The pressure was immense, but he held the connection steady, anchoring himself against the flood. Then he felt it, her focus wavered—if only for a moment. That was all he needed. River visualized a towering wave, pushing her influence back with a crash of force. The bond between her and the crystal faltered. He seized the opening and drove his own essence forward, striking like a blade through water. At first, the link resisted. But then, with a final burst of effort, it shattered. This time, River could feel it—the same strain he had seen on his earlier opponents. His head throbbed. His shirt clung to him, soaked in sweat. His vision blurred. The moment he opened his eyes, he rubbed at them. As his vision cleared, he realized students had gathered around to watch the match. Their stares were fixed on him. Across the table, Amalia looked stunned, her mouth slightly open. “He won,” she said aloud. Then, barely above a whisper, “How?” “Well done, lad. Well done,” said Professor Archibald, nodding with a rare smile. Around them, stunned whispers erupted. “She must’ve gone easy on him.” “That can’t be right.” “Who is he?”

  The voices swirled, tightening around him. River’s chest constricted. Suddenly, it was if every gaze in the room had pinned him in place. The pressure was suffocating—like the walls themselves were closing in. It was hard to breathe. Hard to focus. “All right!” the professor barked. “Everyone back to your original seats.”

  The room snapped to attention. Whispering ceased. Students shuffled back to their desks, and River returned to his seat beside Albert. “Well done,” Albert said, clapping him on the shoulder with a proud grin. Professor Archibald turned to the whiteboard. “Final standings for today,” he announced, reading them aloud. “River: six wins, zero losses.

  Amalia: six wins, one loss.

  Cayden: five and one.

  Albert: five and two...”

  The list continued for each of the 24 students. “That will be all for today. You’re dismissed. Head back to your dorms and rest before dinner is served.” As the room stirred, the professor pointed to River. “Stay.” River’s nerves tensed. The other students filed out, casting curious looks his way. When the door closed behind the last one, Professor Archibald walked over and murmured something under his breath. A soft click echoed as the door locked. “You did well today,” Archibald said, folding his hands behind his back. “Alerus has already spoken to me about you.” River swallowed. He wasn’t sure what that meant — or how much Alerus had told him.

  “Your two affinities are quite powerful,” Archibald said, eyes narrowing slightly. “With more soul training, you’ll become quite the force.” River waited in silence, his heart thudding. Did the man know more than he was letting on? “Your magic is... unique,” Archibald added, his tone now more speculative than complimentary. “It may scare some people away.” He stroked his chin, clearly weighing something unspoken. But he didn’t say anything more. River exhaled slowly, relieved. So — the professor didn’t know everything. Just enough. Archibald reached into his coat and pulled out a small card. “This is a library pass. Alerus thought you might need access sooner than the others. Your... unique situation warrants it.” River accepted the card with a grateful nod. “Thank you.” This was perfect. He had questions, so many of them. Maybe now he could finally get answers. He remembered spotting the directions to the library etched on the corridor walls earlier with Callum. As River lingered in thought, he noticed the professor had already left, the door now hanging open behind him. He stepped into the corridor and made his way toward the dorms, his mind racing with possibilities, ideas... and problems yet to come.

  He just knew this wasn’t going to end well. Not because he planned to do something reckless—but because answers always came with a price.