"Aria, if you keep being rude to Meira, I will not talk to you again!" Cedric's voice was sharp with warning, cutting through the ambient noise of the dining hall. His fork clattered against his plate with a harsh metallic sound that made several nearby students turn to look.

Aria's perfectly arched brow twitched, the only sign of her irritation, her gray eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "Honey, why do you care about her?" Her voice softened deliberately, but there was a sharp edge beneath the sweetness, like a blade hidden in silk, unmistakable to anyone really listening.

Cedric's jaw clenched, the muscles jumping beneath his skin. "Because she is a member of my clan. That means something."

Aria scoffed, a sound of pure derision, tossing her dark raven hair over her shoulder with a theatrical flick that caught the morning light. "Why don't you let the other members deal with her? You're not responsible for every stray that wanders in."

"Because my father is the chief, so it is my duty." Cedric's tone was firm, unwavering, leaving no room for argument. "I don't abandon my responsibilities just because they're inconvenient."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight and dry, acutely aware of the invisible weight pressing against me, as though every gaze in the hall had settled on my shoulders like physical things, heavy and judging. The other students watched with varying degrees of interest, their conversations dying down as they turned their attention to our table. Some merely curious, leaning closer to their companions to whisper. Others quietly entertained, smirking behind their hands. And a few clearly reveling in the spectacle, their eyes bright with the kind of excitement people get from watching someone else's humiliation. Whatever hunger I'd felt moments ago dissolved completely beneath the rising tide of discomfort, replaced by nausea that churned in my stomach.

I shoveled the last few bites of my breakfast down quickly, barely tasting the food, forcing myself to eat despite the knot twisting tighter in my stomach with each swallow. This was not the kind of attention I wanted. Not today. Not ever. Especially not with him watching.

I dared a glance across the room, unable to stop myself.

And there he was. Prince Henry Darkmere.

His piercing hazel eyes remained fixed on me, unwavering and impossible to ignore, locked onto my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle. Though his sharply defined features revealed nothing, remaining carefully neutral and unreadable, there was a shadow of something in his gaze, an undercurrent I couldn't quite name but felt all the same, pressing against my awareness like a hand on glass.

My face burned hot, the heat spreading from my cheeks down my neck. Great. Just perfect.

"See you later, guys," I muttered quickly, rising from my seat with jerky movements before Aria or Cedric could pull me deeper into their argument, before this could get any worse.

"Where are you going?" Cedric called after me, his voice concerned beneath the irritation.

"To the Grand Hall. My assessment." My voice came out clipped and tight as I turned and strode away, my boots clicking against the stone floor, feeling their stares burning into my back like brands, feeling dozens of eyes following my retreat.

Once I was in the hallway, safely out of sight, I exhaled sharply, the breath leaving me in a rush. That was embarrassing. Mortifying, actually.

I followed the twisting corridors of the Academy, my boots tapping softly against the polished stone floors as I tried to calm my racing heart. The walls were adorned with intricate carvings of ancient spells, their symbols seeming to shift and breathe in my peripheral vision. Moving constellations stretched across the ceiling, their patterns changing and reforming whenever I passed beneath them, stars wheeling in impossible directions.

I reached an intersection and hesitated, stopping in my tracks.

The Academy was enormous, sprawling and labyrinthine, and despite my best attempts to memorize the route from the manual, I still managed to get turned around more often than I liked to admit. Every corridor looked the same, endless stone and flickering torchlight.

Just as I was about to give up and wander aimlessly, hoping to stumble upon the right place, a girl with curly auburn hair and freckles scattered across her nose passed by, her arms full of books.

"Excuse me," I said quickly, catching her attention before she could disappear around the corner. "Do you know where the assessment hall is?"

She blinked, pausing mid-step, studying me for a second with bright green eyes before nodding. "Yeah, just down this corridor. Keep going straight, then last door on the right. You'll see the open garden through the archway. Can't miss it."

"Thanks," I said, offering her a grateful smile that felt more genuine than anything I'd managed all morning.

Following her directions carefully, counting my steps to make sure I didn't take a wrong turn, I found myself stepping through a tall archway into an unexpectedly breathtaking space that stole the breath from my lungs.

The hall opened into a vast, open-air garden, the ceiling gone entirely to reveal the sky above. Towering willow trees filled the space, their long branches swaying gently even though there was no wind, moving to some invisible rhythm. Vibrant flowers bloomed everywhere in perfect spirals, their petals shifting colors under the sunlight, cycling through shades I didn't have names for. A koi pond stretched across the eastern side, the water so still and glass-like that it mirrored the sky above perfectly, reflecting clouds that drifted lazily overhead. Butterflies with wings made of pure light, translucent and shimmering, fluttered between the flowers, their bodies glowing like tiny captured stars.

And then there was it, impossible to miss.

At the very heart of the garden stood a life-sized mirror, taller than any person, its frame gilded in gold that had aged with time into something deeper, richer. Cracks lined the edges of the glass. The metal curled into intricate vine-like patterns, organic and flowing, embedded with glowing runes that pulsed like a living heartbeat, their light soft and rhythmic. The sight of it sent a chill down my spine, cold and electric, making the hair on my arms stand on end.

Chairs were arranged neatly around the garden in careful rows, filled with about twenty other students, some looking just as nervous as I felt, their legs bouncing, their fingers fidgeting. Others appeared bored, leaning back with feigned confidence. A few whispered to each other in hushed, anxious tones.

I took a seat near the back, trying to make myself small and unnoticeable, my fingers tightening around the hem of my sleeves, twisting the fabric nervously.

A hush fell over the garden as a group of teachers arrived, their footsteps silent on the grass, each wearing flowing robes embroidered with symbols I couldn't yet decipher, complex patterns that seemed to shift when I tried to focus on them. Then, he stepped forward from among them.

A man, tall and imposing, with an air of command that silenced the murmuring students without him having to speak a single word. His silver-streaked black hair was neatly tied back at the nape of his neck, severe and controlled, and his high-collared black robe was embroidered with silver sigils that shimmered and moved when he walked, catching the light like liquid metal.

But it was his eyes that stood out the most, that captured and held attention.

Dark blue, so piercing and unyielding that they seemed to strip away any falsehoods and pretense, to look straight through flesh and bone into the soul beneath.

"Elana," he murmured, his voice low and controlled. The record keeper stepped forward immediately, handing him a rolled parchment with a small bow of respect.

He unrolled it with precise movements, scanning the names briefly before lifting his gaze to us. He cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the garden's quiet. His voice was calm yet carried an undeniable authority that demanded attention, that made every word feel weighted with importance.

"I am Aldric Ravenshade. I am the Headmaster of this Academy." His gaze swept over us like a blade, sharp and assessing, ensuring that we all understood the gravity of this moment, that we felt the weight of where we were and what was about to happen.

"Each of you will step forward when your name is called. You will enter the Mirror of Selection. It will judge you, assess your nature, your potential, your path."

Judge us?

A ripple of unease moved through the students like wind through grass. Shoulders tensed. Breathing quickened. Someone behind me shifted nervously in their chair.

The first name was called, echoing clearly across the garden.

A girl, pale-skinned with wide, anxious brown eyes and trembling hands, rose hesitantly from her seat and stepped toward the mirror with small, reluctant steps. Aldric gave her a curt nod, his expression unchanged.

"Go inside the mirror, child."

She swallowed hard, her throat working visibly, then stepped through with her eyes squeezed shut.

The surface of the mirror rippled as if made of liquid silver, of water caught in moonlight, swallowing her whole, her form disappearing into the glass like she'd never existed.

For a moment, silence. Heavy and suffocating. Then, breaking the quiet like thunder, a deep, ancient voice echoed from the mirror's depths, resonating through the garden and into our bones.

"Arcanist."

The girl stumbled back out of the mirror, nearly falling, looking dazed and disoriented but unharmed, her eyes unfocused. She was swiftly directed by one of the teachers toward a section on the left where other Arcanist students were gathered, watching her with welcoming expressions.

One by one, the names were called. One by one, students entered and exited, some walking confidently, others practically dragged by fear. Their fates spoken by the mirror in that same ancient, inhuman voice.

Some were placed in Arcanist, their robes glowing briefly with arcane symbols. Some in Moonborn, marked by silver light. And others in Eldritch, their eyes momentarily turning black as pitch before returning to normal.

The pattern continued, predictable and terrifying.

Then, Aldric's gaze flicked down to the parchment in his hands, and his expression shifted almost imperceptibly, something flickering across his features too quickly to identify.

"Meira Mauve."

My breath hitched in my throat, my lungs seizing.

My fingers curled into tight fists, nails digging into my palms hard enough to hurt as I rose on unsteady legs that felt like they might give out beneath me at any moment. The garden suddenly felt much smaller, the air pressing in around me from all sides, thick and heavy. My vision narrowed until all I could see was the mirror ahead, pulsing with that rhythmic light.

I forced myself forward, one foot in front of the other. Each step felt heavier than the last, like walking through water, like the ground was pulling at my boots.

I paused before the mirror, stopping just at the edge of its reach, confronted by my own reflection staring back at me. Wide, anxious violet eyes and slightly trembling lips revealed more than I wanted to admit, more than I wanted anyone to see. My face was pale, almost ghostly. I looked terrified.

Beside me, Aldric met my gaze, and for the first time since I'd seen him, his stern expression seemed to soften slightly, something almost like sympathy crossing his features.

"It will not harm you," he said, his voice steady and firm, though it did little to ease the tension coiled tight in my chest, the fear thrumming through my veins. Still, doubt lingered in the back of my mind, quiet and persistent, whispering that he might be wrong.

I swallowed the tight lump rising in my throat, forcing it down, and drew in a slow, careful breath that trembled on the exhale. Then I stepped forward, one foot crossing the threshold into the unknown, into whatever waited beyond.

The light vanished instantly. The air thickened around me, becoming almost solid, pressing against my skin. And behind me, I heard the mirror seal with a sound like a breath held too long, like a door closing on everything I'd ever known.