White-gold light unraveled around them like smoke, parting the veil between worlds. When the glow faded and the spell ended, Argolaith stood on firm ground—but what lay before him made his breath catch.
The Grand Magic Academy.
The outer gates rose before him—towering spires of obsidian-touched ivory, inlaid with ancient runes that shimmered like stars. The massive arch above them bore no words, only a singular crest: a ring of open eyes surrounding a flame burning upside down.
But when he turned to look behind him—
He froze.
There was no ground.
No road.
No mountains.
Just sky. Infinite and pale. The horizon curved, as though the very realm were folded inward upon itself. He couldn't even see the world of Morgoth anymore.
Only the floating academy, hanging in space like a divine thought.
"Where… are we?"
Veylan stepped up beside him, hands clasped behind his back.
