The next morning dawned with a violet sky and soft frost on the windows. Bells chimed in the distance as Liara hurried to the Grand Hall, robes barely fastened and hair still damp from a rushed wash.
Tamsin waited at the entrance, juggling two steaming mugs of something that smelled like cinnamon and lightning.
"First day," she said, handing one over. "Don't die. Or do. Some professors are still undecided about student mortality."
Liara gave a weak laugh as the doors opened before them, revealing a cathedral-sized chamber filled with students. Floating orbs of light drifted overhead, illuminating long wooden tables and a raised platform where the professors sat.
At the front of the hall stood Headmistress Myrien.
"Welcome to Velmora Academy," she announced, her voice amplified by magic. "Before you may begin your training, each of you must undergo the Bloodline Assessment."
A low murmur ran through the room.
Myrien continued, "Your magical lineage determines the affinity you hold and the disciplines you may access. Step forward when called. The crystal will read you."
One by one, students approached a pedestal holding a tall, glass-like crystal that shimmered with color when touched.
"Cassian Blackthorn," the professor called.
A golden-haired boy walked up—calm, confident, with a smile that made several girls whisper.
He placed his hand on the crystal. It flared brilliant gold.
"Lineage: House of Light. Affinity: Radiance. Rank: Noble."
Cassian bowed gracefully and returned to his seat. When he passed Liara, their eyes met for a heartbeat—and he smiled at her. Something about it felt... warm. Familiar.
Then—
"Liara Winters."
The hall fell oddly quiet.
She approached slowly, heart hammering. The crystal seemed to pulse as she got closer.
She placed her hand on it.
Nothing happened.
Then suddenly—
A blast of blue light erupted from the crystal. Runes spiraled into the air. Wind rushed through the hall, pages fluttered, candles flared.
The light shifted—gold, silver, black, violet—before fading to pure white.
Gasps echoed.
"Lineage: Unknown. Affinity: Anomaly. Status: Unclassified."
The hall broke into whispers.
"Is that even possible?"
"An anomaly?"
"Only one other... but she vanished centuries ago!"
Liara stepped back, dizzy.
Before she could retreat, a voice cut through the noise like ice.
"Or she's a mistake."
Everyone turned.
Aeron Vale stood at the edge of the hall, arms crossed, gray eyes locked on her.
"She triggered a summoning sigil without training. That's not power—it's recklessness."
Liara felt heat rise to her face. "You don't know anything about me."
He raised an eyebrow. "I know enough. Magic doesn't choose lightly. If it picked you… it wants something."
Before anyone could respond, the crystal let out a final pulse—and cracked down the middle.
Later, in her room, Tamsin threw herself onto the bed dramatically.
"Girl, what even are you? I mean that in the best way. Do you know how rare anomalies are? Never mind the exploding prophecy crystal."
Liara sat quietly, holding the silver key. It no longer glowed—but she felt it vibrate softly against her palm.
That night, she didn't dream.
But someone else did.
In the Forbidden Tower, Aeron stood before an ancient mirror. His reflection shimmered—then shifted.
In it, he saw her.
Liara.
And the fire behind her… rising fast.
"It's starting again," he murmured. "And this time, I won't lose her."