Arden Falk
The Oyxia Chronicles: Shadow of Lorian

Chapter 1. Arrival in Lorian

No one came to Lorian by accident. Those who crossed its gates either mastered fire — or were broken by it. Elissa knew this long before the carriage jolted on the mountain road and the scarlet towers of the Castle of Fire rose before her.

The carriage jolted suddenly as the wheels struck a large stone with a dull thud.

Elissa lurched forward and instinctively grabbed the edge of the seat.

“Damn it—” slipped from her lips, but she cut herself short.

A mage was sitting opposite her.

Elissa cast him a quick glance and immediately turned toward the window, biting her tongue. The court wizard looked as though the shaking, the road, and the journey itself had nothing to do with him. He sat perfectly still, back straight, fingers clasped on his knees, staring straight ahead.

I hate this journey, Elissa thought. This road. This winding path. This waiting. When will we finally reach the Castle…

The carriage creaked again as it climbed higher, and at last the view outside stole Elissa’s breath.

A scarlet sun rose above the horizon, bathing the walls of Castle Lorian in burning hues. Its towers, as if grown from frozen lava, glimmered with an inner light, as though living fire flowed within the stone. The castle stood atop a volcano—grim, majestic, terrifyingly beautiful.

A mix of awe and unease tightened Elissa’s chest.

She had always known Lorian was vast. Since childhood, she had seen it from Pyrenholm—distant, almost unreal. But now, so close, its sheer scale was overwhelming.

“We’re almost there,” the mage said quietly.

Elissa didn’t answer. She gripped the edge of her cloak, trying not to betray her anxiety.

Will I be enough? What if my magic isn’t strong enough? What if I fail their expectations…

She stole a glance at her companion. Tall and gaunt, with sharp, almost carved features. His gray hair was tied back in a short tail, and his black robe was adorned with dark crimson accents.

A high-ranking mage, Elissa thought. Father said only the strongest wear such mantles.

She had known his name for a long time.

Malker Airon.

The thought of him brought memories flooding back, sudden and vivid.

The room had been lined with black basalt slabs that held warmth even at night. Malker Airon stood in the center, motionless as a statue.

“You are a sorceress,” he had said then. “A Fire mage.”

He slowly opened his palm, and dark crimson flame flared between his fingers.

Elissa noticed, just for a moment, the thin white lines on his wrists—old burn scars.

“Power is not responsibility,” he continued. “That’s what the weak like to say. Power is a right.”

Fire reflected in his eyes, turning his pupils into tiny sparks.

“The right to reshape the world as you see fit.”

The flame condensed into a glowing sphere, lighting his face.

“And if you have the courage to claim that right… Lorian will give you everything. Everything you dare not dream of. And everything you will fear.”

He clenched his fist, extinguishing the fire. The air filled with the scent of ozone.

“The sweetest and the most dangerous thing in our craft,” he added, turning toward the window where the castle’s peaks burned.

The carriage swayed again, pulling Elissa back into the present.

Outside, the volcano loomed. Its slopes were covered in hardened lava, but here and there living streams of fire glowed red, like the pulsing blood of the land. The wind carried the smell of sulfur and heated stone.

Below, at the foot of the mountain, lay Pyrenholm. Forges glimmered in the dusk like scattered stars, and the echoes of hammer blows reached even this height. The city felt distant—like a fragment of a former life.

Ahead lay Lorian.

The carriage continued up the winding road. The heat grew more noticeable, as if the volcano itself were testing the travelers’ resolve.

That was when Elissa noticed two figures by the roadside.

One was clearly a mage—something in his stride and posture gave him away. The other looked younger, slightly hunched. His fiery red hair was unkempt, his travel cloak dusty, and his fingers stained with ink or traces of spellwork. Despite his unsteady steps, determination burned in his bright green eyes.

Just like me, Elissa thought.

“Students come to Lorian from every corner of the world,” Malker said, as if reading her thoughts. “And each must walk this path alone.”

The carriage left the travelers behind.

The gates appeared ahead.

Massive doors of dark metal, adorned with patterns of living flame, towered over the road. Arcane runes traced their surface, glowing with a warm crimson light.

The carriage slowed and came to a halt.

“We’ve arrived,” Malker said.

Elissa’s heart began to race. She had imagined this moment countless times, yet now that it was real, she felt an odd blend of exhilaration and fear.

The gates slowly parted. Waves of hot air rushed outward, tugging at her cloak.

Malker stepped out first and turned back toward her.

“Welcome to Lorian.”

Elissa took a deep breath and stepped forward.

When the gates opened fully, the castle revealed itself in all its power. Black obsidian walls shimmered with inner light, towers pierced the burning sky, and somewhere deep within the fortress ancient fire rumbled.

The heat here was stronger than in Pyrenholm. The air trembled, and the scent of sulfur stung her nose.

“You seem frozen,” Malker remarked.

Elissa exhaled slowly.

“I’m just… adjusting.”

He nodded and moved ahead.

Elissa followed, crossing the threshold.

At last, the day had come.

Chapter Two. Leonard

The fire surged too fast.

Dry straw ignited as if it had been waiting for that very moment—the flames leapt upward, greedy and crackling, devouring everything in their path. People screamed. Some ran toward the well, others froze, unsure what to do.

“Water!” someone shouted. “Put it out! Put it out!”

Leonard stood a few steps from the shed, feeling heat build in his chest. Not fear—something else. Hot, crushing, as if the fire was not only outside, but inside him as well.

He didn’t understand what he was doing.

He simply stepped forward.

His arm extended on its own, fingers tightening—and the flames faltered, as though they had struck an invisible wall. In the next instant, the fire collapsed in on itself, vanishing, leaving only smoke and the stench of char.

Silence fell.

Leonard stood motionless, a heavy sensation lingering in his hand—as if he had been holding something vast and unseen.

What did I just do…?

Someone crossed themselves. Others whispered.

His father grabbed his shoulder sharply.

“Home. Now.”

Leonard felt a wave of dizziness and, without quite realizing how, found himself back in the house.

That night, Leonard was forbidden to speak of what had happened. But rumors do not ask permission.

Tirgald was a small village, and secrets did not survive long there.

Life was simple: livestock, fields, hearth. The villagers disliked change and distrusted those who thought too much. Leonard had known this since childhood. His books, his experiments, his attempts to understand the nature of fire had always unsettled his neighbors.

“What use is learning when you have a shovel and a flock of sheep?” the village elder used to grumble.

Leonard was thin, slightly hunched—a consequence of long hours bent over books. His red hair was perpetually unkempt, as if he forgot about it entirely, and his hands were almost always marked with burns or ink stains.

He was used to being strange.

Now, he was dangerous.

Several weeks passed before a stranger arrived in Tirgald.

Tall, with a mane of gray hair, wearing a dark cloak embroidered with crimson patterns. He introduced himself as Valkerian.

Leonard sensed him before he saw him. The heat within stirred again—uneasy, alert.

On the square, the mage spoke with the village elder. Later, Valkerian sat at a roughly hewn table in the elder’s house.

“Tell me about the boy,” he said calmly. “The one who commands fire.”

The elder hesitated.

“We don’t like such talk. Magic… it brings trouble. Leonard is a good lad. Just… strange.”

“Power frightens those who cannot control it,” Valkerian replied. “He must learn.”

The elder sighed.

“And will that be a blessing for him? And for us?”

But the mage already knew the answer.

When Valkerian announced that Leonard was to go with him, the house filled with heavy silence.

His mother sat by the hearth, clutching an embroidered handkerchief. His father stood with arms crossed.

“You mean to take our son?” his mother asked, her voice trembling.

“His gift cannot be ignored.”

“A gift—or a curse?” his father shot back.

“Without training, it will become a curse,” the mage said. “You saw the fire. Next time, it may not go out.”

“I’m not a child,” Leonard said, surprised by the steadiness of his own voice. “I need to know who I am.”

His father studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded.

“Go. But remember where you come from.”

His mother embraced him—tight, desperate.

His sister came last. In her hands she held an old wooden figurine of a rider.

“Take it,” she said quietly. “So you won’t forget us.”

Leonard slipped the figurine into his bag.

“I’ll remember.”

She turned away quickly, so he wouldn’t see her tears.

The next morning, Leonard left Tirgald.

His mother wept. His father stood motionless.

Leonard did not look back.

He knew there was no road back anymore.

Chapter Three. Elissa’s First Trial

“Are you Elissa Firell?”

The voice came without warning—dry, sharp, intolerant of delay.

Elissa flinched and looked up.

A mage stood before the gates of Lorian, clad in a dark robe threaded with crimson veins, as if the fabric itself had absorbed fire. His face was hidden beneath a hood, yet she felt his gaze—heavy, appraising.

“The Council has spoken of you,” he continued. “Show that you are worthy to enter.”

Something tightened in her chest. Not fear—more like the emptiness before a leap.

Elissa stepped forward.

The mage raised his hand.

A sphere of fire flared to life between his fingers—bright, dense, unnaturally alive. He cast it aside, and the flame froze in midair, shimmering like a captured heart of the volcano.

“Extinguish it.”

No gesture. No guidance. Only an order.

Heat struck her face at once. The air trembled, her palms grew slick with sweat. Elissa heard her own breathing—uneven, too loud.

Put out the fire.

She had done this before. At home. Alone. When no one was watching.

Now they were watching.

She extended her hand, trying to recall the sensation—not resistance, but compression, as if the flame should not be pushed away, but drawn inward.

The fire wavered.

For a heartbeat, she thought she had succeeded.

Then something slipped.

The flame flared brighter—and exploded, bursting into a thousand sparks. A wave of heat slammed into her, and Elissa staggered back, shielding her face. Her ears rang.

Silence fell abruptly.

She lowered her hand. Her heart hammered as if trying to tear its way out of her chest.

The mage watched her in silence.

Then he gave a slight nod.

“Interesting,” he said at last. “But insufficient.”

His words were even. Without anger. Without praise.

That made it worse.

He turned away, signaling the end of the exchange.

Elissa stood there, her face burning—not from heat, but from shame. Only then did she realize there were others nearby. Students. Mages. Those who had witnessed her mistake.

The stone beneath her feet was warm—obsidian held heat like the skin of a furnace. Thin cracks ran between the slabs, breathing out the volcano’s warmth. Lorian was alive. Watching.

“Don’t stand there like a statue.”

The voice came from beside her—calm, assured.

Elissa turned.

A woman approached, dressed in a scarlet robe embroidered with gold. She moved lightly, almost soundlessly, with no haste or doubt in her stride. Amber eyes swept over Elissa—quick, sharp.

“You’re Elissa Firell?” she asked.

Elissa nodded.

“I’m Ella Wiltsir. Your mentor.”

The words were spoken plainly, as a statement of fact.

Elissa blinked, not immediately trusting what she’d heard.

“I… failed,” she breathed.

Ella glanced toward the spot where the fire had hovered moments before, then back at Elissa.

“You didn’t fail,” she said. “You lost control. Those are different things.”

She stepped closer. Elissa noticed an old burn scar on her wrist—pale, uneven, the mark of pain long endured.

“Fire doesn’t tolerate hesitation,” Ella continued. “But it respects those who remain standing after a mistake.”

Elissa exhaled slowly. Her heart still raced, but its rhythm was steadier now.

“What should I do?” she asked.

Ella tilted her head slightly.

“For now—follow me. A room. Food. Sleep. Tomorrow you’ll face the flame again.”

She paused briefly.

“And next time, it will listen.”

She turned and walked away without looking back.

Elissa lingered for a moment—casting one last glance at Lorian’s gates, at the burning sky above the towers, at the warm stone beneath her feet.

Then she stepped after her mentor.

The trial had only just begun.

Chapter Four. The Great Hall of Lorian

As Elissa stepped inside, she was immediately wrapped in a sense of living warmth — not scorching, but enveloping, like the breath of ancient flame.

The hall was enormous, its sheer size overwhelming the imagination. A high, domed ceiling was supported by massive columns carved with scenes from the history of the Castle of Fire: battles between mages, the taming of dragons, the creation of the first great spells. Every pattern, every symbol was more than decoration — it was a fragment of magical heritage.

At the very center of the ceiling hung a magical chandelier — the flaming heart of the hall. It was no ordinary source of light, but living magic bound into dancing tongues of fire. By day, it shone with a soft golden glow, like sunlight breaking through clouds; by night, its light deepened to a rich crimson, casting flickering shadows across the walls.

The walls themselves were adorned with ancient runes carved into black stone. Most of the time they were barely visible, but the moment someone spoke an incantation or began a ritual, the runes flared bright red, sending thin lines of fire racing through the hall, weaving into intricate patterns.

The floor was smooth volcanic glass, like cooled lava that still held a trace of heat. Thin golden veins ran across its surface, forming mysterious symbols that faded and reappeared as if breathing with the hall.

At the far end of the hall, upon a raised dais, stood a throne — the symbol of the Castle of Fire’s authority. Massive and imposing, it was forged from melted metal and obsidian, black as night, laced with veins of glowing copper. Even from a distance, Elissa could feel the warmth radiating from it, as though true flame was sealed within.

Behind the throne towered a gigantic ring of fire — the sigil of Lorian. It burned endlessly, never dimming, its flames shifting through every shade of fire: from sun-gold to deep carmine. In it, the essence of the castle was reflected — greatness, passion, destruction, and creation.

When Elissa took a few steps forward, her own reflection flashed in the glassy surface at her feet, while above her the light of the magical fire trembled. She felt very small in this place of history, power, and secret knowledge.

The crowd of students slowly spread out across the hall, but Elissa still lingered at the edge, as if hoping to blend into the stone wall. The fiery runes pulsed softly, bathing her face in warm light. She studied the hall carefully, trying not to look too lost.

“Are you new?” a voice asked suddenly beside her.

Elissa flinched and turned. In front of her stood a tall young man with chestnut hair threaded with golden reflections from the torches, as if flame itself had tangled there. He smiled openly and kindly, his amber eyes alight with curiosity.

“My name is Kaylen. Welcome to Lorian.” He held out a hand, waiting for her response.

Elissa hesitated for a moment, then took his hand. Warmth. He radiated a cozy, soothing heat — like a hearth on a winter night.

“Thank you. I’m Elissa.”

“Elissa,” he repeated, tilting his head slightly, as though tasting the name. “Nice name. Have you had a chance to look around yet?”

“I… haven’t really,” she admitted, feeling a tight knot of uncertainty in her chest.

“Then come on!” Kaylen waved, inviting her to follow. “I’ve been here a week already, so I know where the most interesting corners are hidden.”

Elissa took a hesitant step forward, then stopped, suddenly unsure.

“Are new students even allowed to wander around the castle freely?” she asked cautiously.

“Well…” Kaylen’s mouth curved into a sly grin. “Formally — no. But if no one sees us, then why not?”

He winked, and Elissa realized he was far from the most obedient student in Lorian.

“And by the way,” he added, fishing something out of his pocket, “have you heard about the Song of Flame?”

“The Song of… what?”

“Oh, then you definitely need to know! It’s our school of magic. There’s so much to learn there!” He opened his palm, revealing a copper amulet covered in mesmerizing patterns. “This is my latest work. It can store magical energy. Want me to show you how it works?”

Elissa hesitated. All around her were new faces, strict instructors, unfamiliar rules… But there was such lively, genuine enthusiasm in Kaylen’s voice that she suddenly wanted to forget everything for a moment and just see what he would do.

She nodded. “Sure.”

Kaylen smiled with satisfaction and raised the amulet toward the blazing runes on the wall.

The amulet flared with violet fire; tongues of flame licked the stone — and nothing happened. The castle’s magical defenses held firm.

Kaylen narrowed his eyes in displeasure, turning the amulet over in his hands.

“Hm… I was hoping for something a bit more dramatic,” he muttered, holding it up to the runes again.

The violet flame flashed once more, but as soon as it brushed the wall, it simply vanished, dissolving into the air. The castle’s wards did not so much as flicker.

“Not bad,” Elissa said thoughtfully, watching. “But you didn’t really think you could affect Lorian’s spellwork, did you?”

Kaylen smirked, slipping the amulet back into his pocket.

“Of course not. I was just testing how strong the defenses are. Besides, you don’t actually want me to show you all my tricks right away, do you?”

Elissa’s lips curved in the faintest smile. She was now certain of one thing — life with this boy around would not be dull.

“So, how about that tour?” he asked, stepping away from the wall. “I promise it gets more interesting from here.”

Elissa hesitated for just a moment, but when she met his confident gaze, she finally stepped forward.

“All right. Lead the way.”

Kaylen nodded, pleased, and headed toward the exit of the hall, guiding her deeper into the castle.

“Then let’s go!” he called, motioning for her to follow.

She lingered for a heartbeat, glancing around. The Great Hall of Lorian was magnificent, almost overwhelming in its scale. The blazing ring behind the throne cast uneven reflections of fire across the walls, and the runes in the stonework shimmered as if alive.

“Where are we going?” Elissa asked, catching up with him.

“First I’ll show you the Ritual Amphitheater. That’s where the most spectacular duels take place!” Excitement flashed in his eyes. “Anyway, it’s one of the main places for mages of Lorian. At least, that’s what the senior students told me.”

They passed through the massive doors of the Great Hall and entered a wide corridor leading toward the Ritual Amphitheater. The air here was hotter than in the hall, as though the breath of the earth seeped through the walls. The floor trembled faintly underfoot with the distant roar of flames.

When they reached the amphitheater, an impressive sight opened before Elissa. It was a vast open-air arena, surrounded by a ring of solidified lava. It seemed to flow slowly, pulsing with inner light, amplifying the magic worked there. In the center of the arena, she saw marks of scorched patterns — ritual sigils left by past duelists.

“This is where mages face their trials and train for battle,” Kaylen explained. “The fire here isn’t just scenery, it’s… alive. Feel it.”

Elissa knelt and touched the ground with her fingertips. A vibration ran up her hand, and for a moment it felt as though a spark flashed beneath her skin.

She jerked her hand back. “Wow…” she breathed.

Kaylen chuckled. “Get used to it. Lorian is full of surprises.”

He glanced at the soaring magical towers and then back at her.

“Want to see the ‘Flame of Destruction’? That’s the battle magic tower. I think you’ll like it!” he suggested.

Elissa hesitated for only a heartbeat and then nodded, feeling her heart quicken again. She was about to discover Lorian — and her path was only beginning.

She had just opened her mouth to answer when a stern voice cut in beside them:

“You two — new students?”

They turned. A tall mage was approaching, clad in dark red robes embroidered with golden runes. His sharp gaze slid over them both, lingering on Kaylen, who scratched the back of his head in guilty reflex.

“Why are you wandering the castle?” the mage continued. “The Trial of Fire is about to begin. Get back to the Great Hall, now.”

Kaylen tensed at once. “The trial… already? But we were told it would be in three days!”

“It begins now. And if you wish to remain in Lorian, you would be wise not to be late.” The mage fixed them with a piercing stare and folded his arms. “Besides, the amphitheater is no longer in use — it was closed by order of Lord Helion, the Lord of the Castle. After seven mages died during a training duel. An unacceptable loss.”

Elissa felt her throat go dry. Her fingers clenched into a fist. She had just arrived at the castle — and they were already throwing her into a trial?

Kaylen cast her a quick glance, then looked back at the mage.

“All right, we’re going!”

They broke into a run, racing back through Lorian’s corridors. The heat of the walls, the pulsing magic, the glow of lanterns — all of it blurred into a single whirl around them.

When they burst back into the Great Hall, dozens of students had already gathered. Voices murmured throughout the hall as everyone waited for the trial to begin. On the dais before Lord Helion’s throne stood several instructor-mages. One of them stepped forward, raised his hand, and his voice rolled through the hall like thunder:

“Newcomers! Welcome to the Trial of Fire. Today, you will prove whether you are worthy of becoming part of Lorian!”

Elissa felt a strange, conflicting emotion flare within her — fear… and excitement.

The trial had begun.

Chapter Five. Leonard — Arrival at the Castle of Fire

Leonard and Valkerian walked along a narrow path leading up to Lorian Castle. Below them stretched sun-scorched plains, broken only by rare patches of dry grass, and in the distance rose the massive fortress walls etched with symbols of fire. The air here felt different — thick with heat and the pulse of magic. Leonard could feel his own power responding to this place, stirring deeper than ever before. His hands trembled slightly, but he tried to remain composed. He knew this was his chance to learn control — but also that the road ahead would be far from easy. In his ears echoed his father’s words: “Don’t forget where you come from.”

Those words steadied him, if only for a moment.

A carriage thundered past them, kicking up pillars of dust. Through its window Leonard caught a glimpse of a girl with bright, fiery hair.

Just like mine, Leonard thought. Beautiful — and riding in a carriage. She must be from a noble family.

Beside her sat a man in a cloak very much like Valkerian’s.

Another mage, probably. Escorting his student to the castle. Meanwhile, we still have a good half hour to walk, Leonard thought with a twinge of jealousy.

“Everyone reaches the Castle by their own path,” Valkerian remarked, as if reading his thoughts. “We’ll be there soon enough.”

Talking made the time slip by unnoticed, and before long the castle gates loomed before them.

The gates towered above them — colossal, menacing, studded with symbols glowing red-hot.

Armored guards stood at the entrance, their faces hidden behind smooth helmets. Only their eyes were visible: cold, assessing.

I really don’t like this, Leonard thought.

One of the guards stepped forward, blocking their way. “Names and purpose?” His voice was level, but a quiet threat lurked beneath it.

“Valkerian, Seeker of Flame,” Valkerian replied calmly. “And this is Leonard of Tirgold. He has come to study in Lorian.”

The guard turned his gaze on Leonard, as if weighing him from the inside out. Then he nodded and glanced at his partner.

“Wait. You’ll be summoned.”

After a few moments, the gates opened with a harsh scrape, and a mage stepped outside — dark cloak, crimson patterns along the fabric. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his voice was sharp and cold:

“You are Leonard of Tirgold? Valkerian has spoken of you. Show that you are worthy of entering these walls.”

Leonard felt his heart clench. His palms were damp, but he refused to let fear take hold. He knew the moment had come.

The mage extended his hand, and a sphere of fire flared to life in his palm. He lifted it into the air, and it hung there, pulsing with heat.

“Extinguish it,” the mage ordered calmly. “If you can.”

Leonard stared at the blazing sphere, feeling something tighten inside him. He raised his hand, focusing on the fire. The sphere trembled, but did not go out.

Oh no. What if I fail? I can’t fail now! Leonard thought in a panic.

Suddenly fear crashed over him, and his magic, following instinct rather than will, slipped out of control. Instead of snuffing out the flame, he fed it. The fire exploded, surging upward into a towering column of flame that lit up the entire space before the gates.

The mage jerked back, eyes widening. “What was that…?” There was both surprise and a shade of fear in his voice.

The guards grabbed for their weapons on reflex, but Valkerian raised a hand, stopping them.

“He hasn’t learned to control his power yet. But the potential is obvious,” he said, his voice still steady.

Leonard stood there, breathing hard. Inside him everything churned — fear, relief, shock. He had no idea what this would mean for him. Memories surfaced — his mother’s voice: “You’re special, Leonard. Don’t be afraid of your power.”

But didn’t “special” also mean dangerous?

The mage in the cloak turned to the guards and gave a slow nod. “He’ll enter. But he will be watched.”

Leonard heard this and felt his heart skip a beat. He understood that he had passed the first test — but the words left a cold weight in his chest.

What does “will be watched” mean? He didn’t want to be a prisoner of his own magic. But he had no choice.

Leonard stopped before the massive gates, carved with swirling flames. The stone doors were so enormous they seemed immovable — yet a deep grinding echoed out, and they began to part. Heat rolled out from within, wrapping around him like invisible fire. It clung to him, welcoming and testing all at once. For the first time, he truly felt the power hidden behind the walls of Lorian Castle.

“I’ll be leaving you for a time — you’re not the only one who needs an escort to the Castle,” Valkerian said in farewell. “But I’ll be watching your progress. We will meet again.”

Leonard stepped forward.

The guards, clad in armor and crimson cloaks, watched him closely. Their faces remained unreadable, but their eyes showed the vigilance of those long used to danger. Leonard drew a deep breath and moved on. Sand, carried in from distant roads, crunched faintly beneath his boots. His heart beat faster, but he forced himself to keep his expression calm.

Now he was alone.

He clenched his fists, feeling tension coil through his body. He knew hard training awaited him, trials he could not yet imagine. But fear slowly gave way to resolve. He was ready. He had to prove his strength.

Lifting his head, he crossed the threshold.

The castle’s inner courtyard was vast, paved with sun-warmed stone. Along the edges stood columns bearing torches whose flames burned without visible fuel. The air carried the scent of ash and herbs — a strange combination, at once unusual and oddly soothing.

Leonard looked around and noticed something — a tall statue of a hooded mage holding a sphere of fire in his hands. A faint glow pulsed around it, as if the stone itself breathed with heat. Leonard wondered if it was merely a sculpture or something more.

While he pondered, a man in red-and-gold robes approached. Something important was clearly beginning.

“Good day. You’re new here, yes? Come along — the Trial of Fire will begin soon,” the mage said.

Leonard nodded, not trusting his voice at first. The mage’s tone was even, but there was a firmness to it, as if every word had been chosen with care. With a gesture, he invited Leonard to follow. Leonard cast one last glance at the statue, then hurried after him.

They left the courtyard and climbed a broad staircase leading deeper into the castle. The farther they went, the stronger the heat grew, as though the very walls held the memory of millennia of flame. Leonard felt sweat bead on his forehead but refused to wipe it away — he had to look composed.

Soon they entered a vast hall whose vaults disappeared into shadow. Tall columns rose like tongues of fire, supporting the arched ceiling.

The hall was immense. A high domed ceiling was borne by massive columns carved with scenes from Lorian’s history: magical battles, the taming of dragons, the forging of the first great spells. Leonard let his gaze trace the patterns, understanding that they were more than mere ornament — they were fragments of an ancient legacy he was only beginning to touch.

At the center of the ceiling hung a magical chandelier — the blazing heart of the hall. Its tongues of fire danced in the air, casting warm light over the walls. The glow was soft and golden, like sunlight filtered through smoke. Leonard wondered whether it was truly just a light — or a bound fragment of the fire’s very essence.

Along the walls ran ancient runes carved into black stone. For now they were barely visible, but Leonard had no doubt: the moment someone invoked a spell, they would flare to life in fiery red, awakened by magic.

He looked down. The floor — smooth as cooled lava — reflected his silhouette. The volcanic glass seemed alive, golden veins smoldering in its depths, forming faint patterns. Sometimes they faded, only to reappear — as if whispering secrets.

At the far end of the hall, his gaze was drawn to a massive throne rising on a pedestal. Forged from melted metal and obsidian, black as night and streaked with copper fire, it commanded the space. Even from this distance, Leonard could feel warmth radiating from it — not simple heat, but contained power, restrained yet ready to flare at any moment.

But what truly held his attention was the gigantic ring of flame behind the throne. It burned eternally, shifting from sun-gold to deep carmine, embodying the essence of Lorian itself — destruction and creation, passion and grandeur.

Already, other newcomers were gathering in the hall, their faces mirroring his own emotions — anxiety, fear, anticipation. Among them Leonard spotted a girl with bright orange hair and a sharp, focused gaze. She, too, was studying the hall, eyes moving attentively over every detail.

Her hair burns like sunset… the girl from the carriage. But her eyes are cold now, Leonard thought.

He drew a deep breath. The Trial of Fire was beginning.

Silence fell over the hall. The flame of the magical chandelier flickered, as if sensing the approach of something great. The air seemed to grow denser, richer, as though the hall itself was holding its breath.

On the dais before the flaming ring, a tall figure appeared.

He stepped forward — majestic, like fire bound into human form. His cloak, woven from fabric that shimmered like heated metal, gleamed in the light. His eyes were twin embers of amber, burning with inner flame, holding age-old wisdom and power. His face was stern but not cruel — the face of a ruler bearing the weight of authority.

The mage raised his hand, and the flames around them surged higher at his command, flooding the hall with golden light. His voice rang out like thunder in summer heat — deep and commanding:

“Welcome, newcomers. Those who have stepped for the first time within the walls of the Castle of Fire. You have all come here hoping to gain strength, to learn the secrets of flame, to enter a world of magic that does not forgive weakness. My name is Lord Helion, and I am the master of this castle.”

He slowly let his gaze pass over the gathered students.

“Fire is not just an element. It is the living breath of the world — its pulse, its fury, and its warmth. It can destroy and create, burn to ash and grant light. You will have to learn to understand it, to command and direct it — but above all, to respect it.”

Leonard felt the Lord’s words reach into the very core of him, stirring something deep in his chest.

“The Trial of Fire is not merely a test of your power,” Helion continued. “It will show what your spirit is worth. Those who fear fire, who cannot accept its nature, are not worthy of this strength. There are no accidental people here. Each of you has been called by fate itself — and each of you will either leave this place stronger, or not leave it at all.”

Once more, the hall fell silent — even the fire seemed to listen.

“Face the trial with honor and dignity,” Lord Helion said, inclining his head slightly. “Prove that the flame in your hearts is not a spark that will fade, but a fire capable of burning forever.”

He lowered his hand, and the flames in the lamps settled again. The silence in the hall felt almost deafening.

“Let us begin.”

Chapter Six. Elissa and Leonard — The Trial

The Great Hall of the Castle of Fire was spacious, but not endless. Tall columns adorned with flame patterns supported the vaulted ceiling, from which a soft reddish glow of magical crystals streamed down. The air was warm, saturated with magic.

At the center of the hall turned the Circle of Fire Control — a magical spiral composed of four testing sectors. Here, under the watchful eyes of mentors and students, the future mages were to undergo their first serious trial. Among them stood Elissa Fayrell and Leonard of Tirgold.

They did not know each other yet — but today their paths would cross.

“Next: Elissa Fayrell,” the mentor’s voice rang out.

Leonard, standing among the other students, raised his head. Until then he had paid little attention to the others — his thoughts were fixed on his own trial. But when he saw the girl step forward, his gaze lingered.

She entered the Sector of Calm.

The fire flared softly, swaying slowly around her like a drowsy beast. But… something was wrong. Leonard had seen other students find their balance in this sector — their breathing slowed, their movements became smooth. Elissa, however, tensed. Her gaze darted, her fingers curled into fists.

She can’t relax.

The flames around her suddenly wavered, mirroring her inner anxiety. The fire began to rise higher, the space around her seemed to tighten, the pressure growing.

“Easy, Elissa,” Leonard whispered under his breath.

She clenched her teeth. How was she supposed to be calm when magic raged all around her? She could feel the fire inside herself — boiling, alive, craving motion. How could she just stand still?

Suddenly, the fire shot upward — she was losing control.

But at the last moment Elissa exhaled sharply, closed her eyes and… stepped forward. Not slowly and evenly, but with a natural, confident movement. Her breathing did not become perfectly steady — but she accepted that. She couldn’t be motionless. But she could keep walking.

And then the fire around her settled.

She passed.

Sector of Passion

As soon as Elissa entered this sector, the fire awakened. It surged up around her, tongues of flame flaring and swirling as if inviting her into a dance.

She paused for a moment… and smiled.

Here it was easier. She felt this fire. She understood it. It was not an enemy, not just a trial — it was alive, just like her own magic.

Elissa took a step, and the fire moved with her. She did not try to dominate it — she moved with it, in the same rhythm.

Leonard noticed the spark in her eyes, the faint smile at the corner of her lips.

There it is. Here she’s at home.

The fire flared one last time, as if in delight, then scattered and cleared the way for her.

She completed the trial.

Leonard gave the slightest nod. Interesting…

Sector of Illusions

The moment Elissa stepped forward, the world around her changed.

The fire vanished, giving way to shadows. They thickened and twisted, curling around her on all sides. Before her, her hometown appeared — Pyrenholm.

The houses burst into flame, as if answering her very breath. People ran, screaming. Heat slammed into her face; streets, rooftops, trees — all burned. She heard familiar voices filled with terror, heard children crying.

“No…” her voice shook. “This… isn’t real.”

But the shadows tightened, rising upward in dense tongues of fire. Before her eyes, the city was consumed. And then she saw them.

Her parents.

They stood in the distance, surrounded by flames, unmoving. Her father looked straight at her. He did not call, did not shout. He only watched.

“No!” Elissa took a step forward, but the fire struck back, hurling her away. “It’s not me! I didn’t—”

She squeezed her eyes shut, clutching at her temples, but the sounds would not fade. The stench of smoke, the crackle of burning roofs, desperate voices. She was losing control.

This isn’t real. It’s an illusion. It’s a trial.

Her breathing grew ragged. Every part of her screamed to fight, to rush in, to save them, to act.

But… this was not a place for fighting.

The trial was not about destroying the shadows. Not about winning the battle.

It was about acceptance.

She stood amidst the roaring fire and forced herself to draw a breath.

Fire was part of her. Her strength. Her fate.

“I didn’t burn Pyrenholm,” she whispered. “I am not the fire. I am Elissa.”

She straightened. Looked ahead. Steady. Accepted.

The shadows crackled, flickered, and then broke apart, scattering like ash on the wind.

She took the final step. The illusions vanished.

Light returned.

The mentor nodded. “You have succeeded.”

Elissa answered with a silent nod. The flames of her past still reflected in her eyes, but now… they no longer owned her. They were a part of her — but not who she was.

Sector of Control

The moment Elissa stepped into the last sector, the fire changed. It no longer circled her playfully or danced; it lunged to cut her off. Bursts of flame shot up in front of her, forming walls in her path, and further ahead rings of molten fire took shape — passage was possible only if she found the right path through them.

She tensed.

Control.

She knew she couldn’t just merge with the fire here as before. She had to lead it, not follow.

Elissa threw up her hand, directing her power — and one of the tongues of flame obediently scattered.

It’s working!

She moved on, confident and precise, slipping past the rising bursts of fire. Sometimes she redirected them with a motion of her hand, sometimes she simply sensed the right moment to pass.

The fire no longer stood against her as a barrier. It moved with her.

When the trial ended, the mentor studied her carefully and nodded.

“Well done, Elissa. But remember — sometimes fire demands not only mind, but passion.”

She pressed her lips together, but said nothing, and walked back to the others.

Leonard watched her go. She’s going to be a powerful mage.

Leonard’s Trial

“Now: Leonard of Tirgold.”

Elissa looked at him for the first time. Until now he had been just another student in the crowd. But as he stepped into the circle, she noticed his easy, unhurried movements.

Sector of Calm

Leonard entered the circle with a kind of quiet certainty, as if this were exactly where he belonged. Elissa watched him move through the Sector of Calm without hesitation. He didn’t second-guess himself; his body seemed to move on its own, while his mind remained clear and focused.

Doesn’t look like he’s nervous at all.

His confidence showed not only in his stride. Leonard might have lacked subtle spellwork yet, but his strength lay elsewhere — in his ability to remain focused and coolheaded, no matter the situation.

He passed the Sector of Calm without a single misstep. Without slowing, he stepped forward into the next.

Sector of Passion

Now came the part Leonard found hardest — his emotions. The Sector of Passion was the trial where he had to confront not only external fire, but the flames within.

When he entered the sector, a storm of fire whirled up around him — and in the center of that storm an image appeared: his little sister. She stood there clutching a toy in her hands, her face full of fear.

“You left,” she said. “You’re not coming back. We’ll never see each other again.”

The words struck straight at his heart. Leonard felt his emotional tension spike. The memory pushed deep into his soul, stirring a fierce struggle. He’d always been so focused on magic itself that he had never dared to fully admit the weight of his feelings. Now, in this moment, those feelings flared outward through his magic — the fire around him began to jerk and flicker as he started to lose control.

He gritted his teeth. One hand pressed against his head, he tried to steady himself, but the emotions held him back. This was the hardest trial yet. His desire to retreat from fear, from the pain of loss, kept him from fully controlling the flame.

Elissa stood not far away, watching. She could interfere — but she knew this was something he had to do himself.

Leonard closed his eyes one last time and focused on his breathing. He felt the fire inside him. It wasn’t just flame. It was his passion. His strength. He had to accept that emotion, not flee from it.

With effort, he exhaled and let go of his pain — and the fire around him began to calm.

He passed the Trial of Passion, but not without an inner scar. He realized that while his mind and logic had carried him far, his feelings were part of his power too. Now he had to learn to master them as well.

Sector of Illusions

And here the real trouble began.

When the flames opened the next vision, he saw his sister again. She was alone, frightened, holding the very toy he had taken with him. Once more she spoke:

“Leonard… don’t go.”

Leonard froze. The inner conflict was brutal. He knew he had to recognize this as an illusion — but his heart was already reaching for her. He had always felt responsible for his sister, and here that feeling intensified until it became almost unbearable.

The question pulsed inside him: What if this isn’t an illusion?

This… can’t be real. But what if it is?

He felt the fire’s heat, heard its crackling, and found himself unable to move.

Then he heard Elissa’s voice. She was beside him.

“It’s an illusion, village boy.”

Leonard spun around and saw her calm face. Elissa watched him with the faintest hint of reproach.

“So, are you really going to let it trick you?”

“You’re giving me hints now?” he muttered.

“I just don’t want to have to drag you out of here later.”

Leonard flinched. The illusion was so convincing that even she didn’t want to resist it. But her words jolted his mind awake. He forced himself to remember why he was here — and stepped forward, letting go of his doubt.

The illusion dissolved.

Elissa gave a small nod, and he felt that something inside him had shifted. Perhaps this struggle with the illusion truly had revealed something more.

Sector of Control

As they approached the final trial, Leonard felt the fire around him shift and take form. Here, in the Sector of Control, his magic fell fully in line with his thoughts. The flames flowed around him, listening, responding to his every gesture. He didn’t rush. He managed the situation carefully — his magic like a precise, well-calculated formula.

With a faint smile, he passed through the sector.

Elissa remarked:

“All you really need is a little more confidence in yourself — not just to control the fire, but your emotions too.”

Leonard shook his head, but her words struck him as a challenge. He was a master of analysis, but he all too often forgot that control over fire required control over himself.

The mentor watched as Leonard emerged from the trials, a little weary, but with a new look in his eyes.

“You have a strong connection with fire, and you know how to command it. But don’t forget — magic does not always obey logic. Sometimes, to be a powerful mage, you must be willing to accept your emotions and let them lead you.”

Fire does not forgive weakness. But it remembers those who dare to burn.

Leonard nodded. He understood now that the trial had exposed his weaknesses — but it had also opened a new path toward self-knowledge. Elissa, watching him, found herself thinking:

He’s starting to look less like someone who merely controls fire… and more like someone who could become part of it.

In that moment, something subtle formed between them — not rivalry, but an understanding that one day they would meet again, perhaps no longer as students, but as mages capable of changing this world.

Chapter Seven. The Initiation

The Great Hall of Lorian was once again filled with students, but this time they stood not before the trial circle, but before the dais where the senior mages — the heads of the Five Schools of Fire — had gathered. The atmosphere in the hall was solemn, laced with a soft murmur of whispers.

The trials were over, but something no less important lay ahead — the choosing of a path.

A mentor in scarlet robes stepped forward and called for silence with a single gesture. In his hands burned a small bowl of fire, its light seeming to pulse in rhythm with the hall’s breathing.

“Today you have completed the first step on the path of understanding Fire,” he said. “You have touched its power. You have felt its nature. But Fire is not merely might. It is a path. It demands understanding, discipline, and above all — choice.”

He lifted the bowl higher, and the flame leapt up, bathing the gathered students in light.

“Each of you will become part of our brotherhood. Fire has now acknowledged you. Accept it — and let it lead you.”

The fire flared in the mentor’s hands and split into five small tongues of flame, each of which floated into the air. They were all different shades: crimson, golden, silver, deep red, and almost black.

“These flames represent five paths, five schools. You are not required to choose immediately. You will have time to understand where your heart calls you. You are not bound to a single discipline of magic — the greatest mages know and wield all of them. But remember: your path determines more than the magic you use. It shapes the very core of who you are.”

With those final words, he lowered his hands, and the little flames slowly dissolved into the air.

When the last student completed their trial, silence fell over the hall. Then, at its center, five figures appeared — the heads of the Five Schools of Fire. Their robes were adorned with the symbols of their schools, and around each of them burned a distinct flame, different in color and character.

The first to step forward was a mage in heavy battle armor, broad-shouldered, his eyes glowing like embers. His voice was loud and sure.

“I am Dreim Kordan, head of the Flame of Battle. We do not hide behind words and books. Our fire is strong and direct — it shields us and burns our enemies to ash. We temper body, spirit, and magic, turning ourselves into living weapons. If you seek combat, if fire is strength to you, step onto my path.”

He raised his hand, and flames surged up around him, forming a burning suit of armor.

Next came a woman in an elegant black-and-crimson gown. Her movements were soft, but her gaze pierced straight into the soul.

“I am Leyris Virra, mistress of the Smoldering Embers. Fire is not only crude force. It warms, lures, awakens desire. We study the subtle edges of flame — its power to sway emotion, alter perception, slip unseen into hearts and minds. Whoever understands the hidden fire, understands the true nature of passion and power.”

She swept her hand through the air, and the hall filled with a sense of warmth, a strange stirring, an almost imperceptible pressure on consciousness.

After her, a tall man with long silver hair stepped forward. In his hand he held a small brazier in which a steady blue flame burned.

“I am Morian Falx, keeper of the Song of Flame. Fire is not only destruction — it is also creation. We forge enchanted blades, brew alchemical elixirs, weave fire into metal, glass, cloth. If you feel that fire is, above all, a tool of craft and making, not only of war, then come to us.”

He scattered a handful of metallic dust into the brazier, and it instantly fused into a small dagger, sparkling with magical energy.

The next to appear was a girl who looked almost young, yet her fiery golden eyes betrayed an ancient power. Around her floated tongues of flame that kept changing shape — turning into animals, then dissolving back into sparks.

“I am Arien Tark, mistress of the Living Flame. Fire can live, feel, exist. We give it form, call it into this world, turn it into an ally. If you want to speak to flame, to create fire spirits and gift fire with life — our school awaits you.”

She flicked her hand, and an enormous wolf of fire appeared before her, casting a quiet growl across the hall as it looked over the students.

Last came a mage in a black cloak whose edges smoldered like coal. He did not speak at once. Instead, he brushed his hand through the air, and the fire before him went out, leaving behind only bitter black smoke.

“Black Ash is not chosen,” he said at last. “We are those who look into the heart of fire and see its dark side. We know that flame does not only warm — it takes. When the time comes, the strongest among you will understand on their own whether they have the strength to walk this path.”

He turned and stepped back into the shadows, leaving behind only a fading trail of smoke.

When all the heads had finished speaking, the mentor surveyed the students.

“Choose your school. Remember — you are not chained to only one. Fire does not limit growth.”

The students glanced at one another, whispering. Some already knew where they would go, others hesitated. Elissa and Leonard stood among them, each lost in thought. They had not yet exchanged a single word — but something told them their paths would cross again…

The ceremony was over. But for the students, everything was only beginning.

When the trial ritual was fully concluded, silence settled over the hall. Only the magical flames continued to flicker softly in the hearths, filling the space with warm light. The young mages stood there, still feeling the lingering pulse of magic that had left its mark on their souls.

Then, as if answering that feeling, something else claimed their attention — a sudden sting.

On the wrists of Elissa and Leonard, a faint glow appeared. At first it was warm and almost unnoticeable, but gradually it intensified, turning into a slight burning sensation. The magic they had been granted now seemed to be branding its mark into their flesh. The pain was mild but distinct, like invisible needles piercing the skin and leaving a trace behind.

Elissa flinched and gripped her wrist, trying to understand what was happening. Leonard, though accustomed to fire, also felt unease. Instinctively, he pressed his hand to his chest. It burns…

But within moments the burning began to subside, then faded altogether, leaving behind a barely visible mark on their skin — a circular sign of fire, seeming almost alive, yet unchanged. Only its faint glow hinted that they were now bearers of the Fire’s magic.

At that moment Lord Helion appeared in the hall, his eyes grave. He stepped into the center, studying the new students’ reactions. Once he was certain the ritual had gone as intended and that the mark caused no further harm, he spoke. His voice was deep, filled with magic.

“From this moment on, you are mages of Fire,” he said, his words sounding both like a sentence and a blessing. “Each of you now bears this mark as a sign that the magic of Fire has become part of you. This symbol will remain with you to the end of your path. It is not ornament. It is a link — to the castle, and to its ancient power.”

His gaze swept over them, almost as a warning.

“You will be protected from many dangers — but remember that the responsibility for this flame rests on your shoulders. There is no washing yourself clean of what you have become. The magic of Fire does not forgive carelessness.”

Elissa and Leonard exchanged a look, understanding that this day had become a turning point in their lives. What once seemed unimaginable had now become reality. They were part of something far greater than “just students.”

Lord Helion glanced at their marks one last time, nodded, and turned away, disappearing into the shadows.

“Now your path of magic begins. And with this fire, you will go wherever it leads you,” his words echoed in their thoughts.

They remained standing in the hall, quietly turning over everything that had happened. Each of them now felt both the weight and the strength of Fire in their body. And yet, despite it all, both were filled with resolve to go on, knowing that the mark on their wrists was not only a sign of power, but a reminder that they now belonged to the Lorian brotherhood of Fire Mages.

When the initiation ceremony ended, the students began to drift away in small groups, excitedly discussing the trial and the training to come.

Elissa felt emotions still raging inside her. Her hands trembled slightly; her heart refused to slow. The trial was behind her, but its shadow still lingered in her mind, refusing to let go.

Beside her walked a boy who looked just as shaken. Tall, with dark, slightly tousled hair, he let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his face with his palm.

“You’re shaking too?” Elissa exhaled, casting him a quick glance.

“Still can’t believe it’s over,” he admitted, looking around. “At one point I was sure… that was it. That I wasn’t getting out.”

“So was I. But we made it,” she said, offering a small smile, as though trying to convince herself as much as him.

“Leonard,” the boy said, introducing himself.

“Elissa. I’m from Pyrenholm.”

“Tirgold,” he replied.

“A village?” Elissa raised her brows.

Leonard nodded, anticipating her question.

“Yeah. They never found mages in our parts… I didn’t know I could do any of this either.”

“But you’re here now. That means fate chose you,” she said thoughtfully.

“That I’m not so sure about,” Leonard muttered with a crooked smile that didn’t quite chase away his doubts.

“Hey, you two — newcomers!” a cheerful voice called.

They turned. A boy was walking toward them, bright as the sun. His movements were light, and there was unmistakable fire in his eyes.

“I’m Kaylen Emberhart! From the Valley of Ignia. And welcome!”

“You’re new too?” Elissa asked, surprised.

“Of course! But I passed my trial a week ago. So you’re not shaking as badly as I was back then, believe me!”

Leonard snorted softly. “Not sure about that.”

“All right, come on — tell me. How was it?”

Elissa and Leonard exchanged a look, momentarily slipping back into the nightmare of the trial.

“The fire…” Elissa murmured. “At one point it filled everything. I thought I was going to burn.”

“It felt alive,” Leonard added. “It moved, probed, tested.”

Kaylen nodded knowingly.

“That’s the Trial of Fire for you. It tests not just your power, but your soul. But you did great! Now the fun part starts — choosing a school.”

Elissa drew a deep breath. “Have you already chosen?”

“Of course! Song of Flame!”

He broke into a proud grin.

“Artifacts, enchantment, alchemy! Can you imagine? Creating swords that never dull, cloaks that shield from the cold…”

Elissa gave a small skeptical sound.

“You’re sure about that?”

“Absolutely!” Kaylen declared. “What about you?”

Elissa fell silent for a moment.

“I don’t know yet… I like the Smoldering Embers.”

“Interesting,” Kaylen said thoughtfully. “Magic of emotion and suggestion? Dangerous path.”

Elissa nodded.

“But it feels like what I need. I want to learn to control not only fire, but what hides inside people.”

Leonard smiled faintly.

“And I’m leaning toward the Song of Flame too… I like creating fire, weaving spells. Not just using it as a tool, but treating it as something living, something you can communicate with, interact with. That sounds much more fascinating than just working with artifacts.”

Kaylen studied him with new interest.

“So you want to be a master of fire itself, not just a master of objects. I get that. Good choice.”

Elissa smiled, looking at them both.

“We have all the time in the world to decide.”

“And for now,” Kaylen spread his arms wide, “let’s just enjoy this moment! We’re part of something great now!”

Leonard and Elissa exchanged a glance.

Today they had not only survived the trial. They had found friends.

Chapter 8. The Chambers of the Castle of Fire

Elissa and Leonard, still feeling a slight dizziness after the recently performed initiation ritual, were walking along the grand yet dim corridors of the Castle of Fire.

Their guide, an experienced Fire mage, continued politely leading Elissa and Leonard through the dark, majestic hallways of the castle. His footsteps echoed through the empty halls, and fiery runes carved into the stone walls glowed softly, lighting their way. When he turned to make sure the students were not falling behind, his gaze was firm yet benevolent. He was someone who could become their mentor, but for now he was only telling them what awaited them in this new world.

“Here in Lorian,” he began, “students and mentors live as one big family. Fire magic does not divide; it unites. We are all one element, and our power must serve the common good.”

Elissa glanced at his face with admiration, the light of the flame reflected in his features. She felt how the magic of this place not only filled the walls, but seeped into her very soul.

“It’s like in our home settlement… everyone helps each other,” she couldn’t help but say.

The guide gave a barely noticeable smile and nodded.

“Exactly. But here the power of magic binds us together not only in helping each other, but in life itself. We serve this element, and it becomes part of us, just as we become an inseparable part of it. You’ll feel it when you begin to practice magic.”

Leonard, walking a little behind, tensed slightly when he heard these words. It was hard for him to imagine how some element could unite people. The thought that he would now become part of something far greater than himself still didn’t fit in his head.

“Do we all study the same program?” he asked, stepping uncertainly on the cold stone floor.

The guide turned, and, sensing his anxiety, answered with a smile:

“Everyone starts with the basics, even those who come here with great ambitions. But each path will be your own. Some may master the power of fire more quickly, others more slowly. What matters is that you don’t lose faith in yourselves.

There are no failures in Lorian. Here, everyone has their own road to great power.”

Elissa brightened at these words. Hope flared in her eyes.

“So everyone has a chance to become a true Fire mage?” she asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

The guide nodded, and his gaze grew more distant, as if he had recalled something important he could have shared.

“Yes. But you must remember that Lorian is not just a place of study. It is a place of transformation. The castle’s history is full of passions, destruction, wars. The castle was built by the great mage Lorian seven thousand years ago, when a magical source was discovered here, at the top of the volcano. This source grants the power of Fire, thanks to which our castle still exists and flourishes.”

Leonard listened with interest, while Elissa fell into thought.

“The great mage Lorian…” she repeated pensively. “Is that somehow tied to Fire magic?”

“Yes,” the guide replied. “His teaching became the foundation for all Fire magic. In his time the castle was the symbol of that power, and many sought the source to gain control over this mighty energy. However, Fire magic does not tolerate control. It demands freedom and endless change.”

He fell silent, and for a moment their footsteps became the only sound in the dark corridor.

“But the castle was not always like this,” the guide continued. “Since the day it was built, Lorian has been through much. Wars, destruction, rebirth. We rebuilt it and restored it, but sometimes even its walls were brought down by the flames of battle.”

Elissa sighed, imagining how this majestic castle could have fallen in the fires of war.

“And now the castle is safe?” she asked, unable to hide her anxiety.

The guide looked at her and, seeing her worry, answered confidently:

“Now it appears a time of peace has come. Wars between the castles almost never flare up. Of course, no one can predict what will happen in a hundred years, or even in a few decades, but at this moment we live in relative peace. Mages live long, and for us wars are part of history—something to be learned and understood.

However, in your lifetime there will be enough wars.”

Leonard, feeling his anxiety gradually easing, turned to the guide again:

“And who rules the castle now?” he asked, trying to learn more about the one who would be their leader in the coming years.

The guide straightened with pride.

“The head of the castle is Lord Helion. He is wise and strong, and under his rule Castle Lorian has become even more powerful. I am certain you have nothing to fear for your safety while he leads us.”

Elissa and Leonard exchanged glances. Hearing Lord Helion’s name, they felt slightly calmer. For a moment they even forgot their doubts, carried away by the grandeur of the castle and the might of Fire magic, which seemed to fill everything around them.

“We really will be safe now,” Elissa said, smiling at Leonard. “That’s good news.”

The guide nodded and, slowing his pace a little, waited for them to digest the information before continuing forward.

“In truth,” he added quietly, “with Lord Helion the castle has become not only a place of power, but a symbol of order. He sincerely believes that the future of Fire magic lies in the hands of young mages like you.”

Elissa, not taking her eyes off the rune patterns on the walls, felt everything around her drawing her deeper into this ancient castle. Every line, every rune carved into the stone seemed alive, pulsing as a part of the castle itself. Here in Lorian, magic was not just the environment in which the students existed — it was its very essence. Elissa felt it enveloping her; with every step, the reality she knew, familiar and understandable, began to dissolve, giving way to something greater, deeper, utterly unusual. This place was not meant for ordinary people.

It had been created by mages, and the magic of its walls seemed to coil around her, filling everything with a special energy.

They continued on through a vast hall where light from magical flames brightly illuminated the stone columns and ceiling. The fire in the rune lanterns reached upward like something alive, burning with a force only a true mage could hold.

Elissa watched in awe as the flickering light played on the walls and reflected off the polished stone.

There is so much Power here. No wonder the castle was built exactly in this place — it would be impossible to keep so many lanterns and magical lights burning otherwise, she thought with admiration. A few strands of her hair fluttered in a passing draft.

The halls were divided by long, narrow passageways, and each corridor seemed completely unique. Some halls blazed with fire, lighting the space so brightly one could discern every corner, every ornament. In other halls the flame burned dimmer, casting barely any light, and there reigned a silence that felt like a cold seeping right into the bones.

One of them let out an exclamation when they passed another corridor that suddenly began to shimmer, as if the magic itself here was wavering, becoming a little brighter and then dimmer. Elissa stopped, feeling how this instability in the magic truly hooked her.

“Why are these corridors flickering?” she asked, turning to the mage walking beside them.

The mage hesitated slightly, glanced at the walls where the magic really did pulse unevenly, and answered with a thoughtful note:

“We don’t know for sure,” he said. “Lately such disruptions in magic have been happening more often. It’s connected to changes in the source of magic. It has long been in an unstable state, and sometimes such fluctuations occur. But there is no need to worry. I don’t think it’s anything serious.”

Elissa wanted to ask something else, but the mage went on, as if trying partly to calm her:

“This happens when something in the castle changes, or when there are minor malfunctions in the magical equipment. They aren’t dangerous, but if it continues, we’ll of course keep an eye on it.”

Leonard, walking behind, studied the castle walls closely. Here, along their path, he could see not only runes, but also frescoes painted by ancient masters. Some of them were in excellent condition: bright colors and elegant details had survived even after thousands of years. Others were badly damaged, as if the magic that had once preserved them was fading, and time was taking the last traces of these artworks.

Someone once painted all this so carefully, Leonard noted to himself.

“These frescoes,” the mage said proudly, “are restored by mages and craftsmen. They are part of our history. Every element of the castle is tied to magic and to the people who have lived here. Some frescoes are very old, and it’s difficult to preserve them in their original form, but we work constantly on restoration. The ones that remain in good condition impress everyone who comes here.”

Elissa stopped, touching one of the frescoes, feeling in it not only magic, but also some ancient memories. The image on the wall was indistinct, but in its distorted outlines she sensed the strength and wisdom of centuries.

“Whom do these frescoes depict?” she asked, without taking her hand from the wall.

“These are images of the great Fire mages,” the mage replied. “They show moments from the castle’s history. For example, here is the great mage Lorian, the founder of the castle. Since his time, his wisdom has been passed down from generation to generation.”

As they moved on, Kaylen, who was walking near Elissa and Leonard, suddenly slowed his pace and looked at them intently.

“Listen,” he said, tilting his head. “They… radiate magic.”

Elissa and Leonard exchanged surprised glances, stunned that someone had noticed something unusual about them. They themselves couldn’t fathom how it could be visible — they had only just begun their training.

“Yes,” the mage confirmed, stopping and smiling. “They carry magic and protective spells within them… usually protective,” he added with a faint ironic smile. “With these spells, Fire mages shield themselves from external threats. Here in Lorian, magic is not only a weapon, but also a shield.”

For Elissa all of this was thrilling, yet wonderful. In that moment she felt that her place was here, in this world of fire and magic, where she could become someone significant — part of a great force. She looked at Leonard and noticed something different in his eyes — anxiety, doubt, as if he still couldn’t grasp what had happened or what awaited him.

Leonard walked beside Elissa, but his thoughts seemed far, far from this majestic castle, its corridors, and the magic that increasingly filled the air around them. He heard every word of the guide and felt how those words sank into his mind, but they left neither warmth nor joy in him. Everything the mage said sounded as if it were meant for someone else, not for him.

The world of magic was so vast and alien that he felt small and lonely within these walls, filled with power and knowledge he could barely comprehend. Every word, every step of the guide seemed part of a reality where he did not belong.

He was a young man from a small village, and until now all he had known about magic came from the stories of old men by the fire, echoes of legends and tales that seemed distant and unreachable.

Now a world was opening before him where magic was not something mystical, but everyday — a part of life.

But in this world there seemed to be no place for simple people like him. He wasn’t ready, not strong enough to stand as an equal to those who were born into this world of magic, who had lived amidst its currents from the very beginning.

Fear rolled over him in waves, and with every step he took down the castle corridors, that fear became more real.

What if I can’t master this power? What if I never become like them? Leonard worried.

His gaze slid along the walls covered with fiery runes, but his thoughts wouldn’t let him go. Fear for the future, self-doubt — all of it gripped his mind, and he began to think of his family.

Of his native village, of how his mother and father might still be sitting by the home hearth, waiting for his return.

Of his sister, little Lilian, whom he had always promised to come back to once he became strong. Mira, as he called her, was so bright and carefree, and he, as the older brother, had always considered it his duty to protect her.

And now, standing on the threshold of a new world, he thought of her again. He dreamed how one day he would return home — but no longer as just a village boy, but as a mage, possessing power, able to protect himself and those he loved.

He felt a warm spark of hope burning in his chest, and that spark grew with every step, with each passing moment as he sank deeper into thoughts of magic. In his mind, images began to form — images of the spells he would be able to cast, of how he would wield the Fire element, using its power to help others. Threads of magic would lie in his hands, as alive and restless as fire itself.

He was not sure exactly how it would happen, but this was his new and important path in life. He could sense that road opening before him, and that gave him the strength to move on.

He would study magic, become stronger, and one day, perhaps no longer as a village boy but as a mage, he would return home. Return to show his family that he hadn’t just run away to some castle, but had gone to seek his destiny — to become who he had always dreamed of being: strong and protective.

In his mind arose images of spells he might create — spells of protection, spells to help others. Leonard didn’t know how, but he believed that everything was possible. And that would be his goal: to use magic for good.

“Are we… here forever?” he asked, unable to bear the silence any longer and, despite all his worries, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice.

Elissa turned to him, trying to find at least a hint of the confidence she herself felt in his eyes. But she only gave him a gentle smile, as if trying to support him.

“We’re here to study,” she replied, not entirely sure of her own answer.

The guide, paying no attention to their conversation, continued leading them through the endless corridors until they reached massive doors adorned with intricate fiery runes. The castle seemed to greet them with its ancient walls, which held the knowledge of many generations of Fire mages. Here, the fabric of time itself felt almost tangible.

“These are your quarters,” the guide said, opening one of the doors.

Elissa stepped inside and froze, overwhelmed by mixed feelings. The room was spacious, its air saturated with magic, just like the rest of the castle. In the center stood several beds covered with simple yet neat blankets. Around them were tables, benches, and chairs, as if designed specifically for students. Everything here was simple, yet at the same time majestic, like the place they had found themselves in. A sense of coziness and mystery filled the space, creating an atmosphere that was both calming and exciting. There was something special here, something that spoke of the strength and antiquity permeating everything around.

I’m going to live here! It’s modest, sure, but tasteful, Elissa thought, feeling a slight disappointment. Life in her family’s house had been much more comfortable.

But at least no parents — you’re on your own now! a mischievous thought flashed through her mind.

The mages’ quarters were on the second floor of the fortress, from where one could see the vast inner courtyards. Training sessions often took place there; the ringing of smiths’ hammers could be heard, and the walls, seemingly saturated with ancient magic, recalled the time when this fortress had been built. A few steps led into spacious rooms, yet there was no sense of “home” here — it was rather a place for study and focused work. The walls were adorned with magical runes that came alive at night, glowing softly and lighting the way.

A quiet fire in the hearth warmed the room, creating a cozy atmosphere. The flame was no ordinary fire — it pulsed like a living creature, responding to the presence of people. The fire in the fireplace didn’t just heat the air, it granted strength, as if guarding its guests. Elissa felt its warmth gently drawing her in, filling the space with gentle light, and her inner turmoil began to subside under its influence.

Everything in this space was harmonious: stone fireplaces with magical fire stood in the corners, gently heating the room, and the walls were decorated with runes that glowed in the dark. Personal magical lights, responsive to emotions, changed their brightness and color, giving the room a special mood depending on the time of day or the state of its inhabitants. In the corners stood small magical “umbrellas” that created an aura of calm and shielded from external magical influences. Everything was infused with magic; every element had been carefully designed to provide comfort and protection in this magical place.

The room was full of life.

Students sat in the corners, absorbed in their activities. Some laughed, animatedly discussing something, swapping jokes and stories about their first successes in magic.

Nearby, several students sat at a table, intently turning the pages of ancient books, their eyes burning with the desire to learn more about their craft. A few boys and girls stood by the window trying to create sparks of fire, shouting spells and watching magic crackle in their hands.

One boy, a concentrated expression on his face, tried to release flame from his palms, but so far his efforts produced only thin streams of fire that quickly vanished in the air.

Wow! So many kids here and they’re all studying magic! Soon I will be too! Leonard thought joyfully, looking around the hall.

A group of students walked up to another wall, and one of them, cupping his hands, slowly brought them toward a kettle standing on the table. His hands radiated a soft flame, and he easily heated the water, using his magic. His friends watched the process with interest, as the fire flowed effortlessly from his palms.

In the corner of the room near the fireplace, a small group of students sat together. They drank warm mulled wine, which gave off a pleasant aroma of cinnamon and oranges, warming them after a long day. Their laughter and conversation sounded cheerful and confident, creating an atmosphere of belonging.

Elissa, watching them, felt a twinge of envy. It seemed they had already found their place here, had already become part of something she did not yet fully understand. Confidence shone in their eyes, and their voices carried that same magical energy that filled the castle.

Yet despite this outward atmosphere of joy and freedom, Elissa felt a faint unease. There was still something uncertain in her soul. This place gave her a sense of strength, knowledge, and assurance, but she still couldn’t shake the thought that she wasn’t prepared enough for this world. The fear of the unknown continued to haunt her, though she tried not to show it. Here, among these people, she was supposed to become part of something great.

Leonard, on the other hand, felt more detached. All of this was something enormous and incomprehensible to him. He watched the other students, the ease with which they used their magic, how simply they created sparks or manipulated fire, and knew that he would have to work long and hard to reach their level. A feeling of insecurity grew in his heart. Here he was an outsider, and that thought wouldn’t leave him.

He did feel a slight sense of calm, however, at Elissa’s side. Her confidence and composure were like a solid support, allowing him not to get lost in this universe of magic and power. His eyes unconsciously returned to her, and he felt her calm slowly spreading to him. It was a small spark, but in that moment it warmed him.

When the guide pointed out the free spots prepared for them and said goodbye, they were left alone, as if beginning a new stage of their lives.

Elissa quietly sat down on one of the beds, feeling a slight fatigue, and at the same time the thrill of knowing this was not just a new stage in their travels, but a new step in their lives as mages. She looked at the bed, tested the softness of the blanket, and relaxed a little, settling down and sinking into thought.

Leonard, unable to find a place for himself, went to the window. He tugged on the heavy curtain, and a breathtaking and at the same time frightening view of Lorian opened before him. He stood in the window’s shadow and squinted, peering into the landscape.

Castle Lorian truly was majestic, rising at the very peak of an ancient volcano like a crown upon the fiery lands. Its walls, black as the night sky, seemed alive, as if sculpted from flame itself, holding heat and power within. The inner light emanating from the castle walls flowed smoothly, casting soft fiery reflections across the surroundings. These walls seemed both eternal and fragile, like the magic that fed Lorian.

The slopes of the volcano, like the castle itself, were alive. Rivers of lava spread across the searing ground, carving new channels only to plunge back with a bright glow into the depths of the dark earth. Smoke rose into the sky, merging with heated clouds and painting them in golden-red shades. Everything around was filled with pulsing heat that permeated the air — it felt as if the castle and the land merged into a single untamed force.

On the distant horizon, where the earth met the sky, Lorian resembled a mighty dragon, forever hungry for fire. The castle towers seemed to reach into the flames, as if they were part of the volcano itself. In the very heart of the castle lay an ancient source of magic, a flame that never went out, not even in the dead of night, sustaining the flow of magical energy streaming through the veins of the land.

Leonard stood at the window, feeling the full greatness and might of this place. It was terrifying and mesmerizing at the same time. He sighed, and his gaze couldn’t help but latch onto the lights of a distant city.

Far away, against the bright fiery glow, he could barely make out small lights. He knew that city. It was Pyrenholm, Elissa’s home city. His heart gave a jolt, and for a moment it seemed to him that in that light was hidden an entire life he did not know, a life he could not understand.

Pyrenholm really is a big city, Leonard thought, his gaze still lingering on the flickering lights in the distance. He didn’t know what to feel. On the one hand, he knew this place was full of opportunity and strength; on the other, he couldn’t shake the sense of alienation and separation from his own home.

Pyrenholm was an old and powerful city, spreading at the foot of an even older volcano that formed the foundation of the castle. Its breath could be felt everywhere — in the hot caves, the warm springs, in the heated wind that wandered the streets. The city was alive, breathing, and in that breath one could feel not only the energy of magic, but also the skill of the people who lived there.

Pyrenholm was renowned for its blacksmiths, for its ability to create magical artifacts that were then tempered in fire, transforming into something more than mere objects. Houses were built of stone, and their walls were decorated with patterns burned directly into the rock. This city was full of life, traditions, and strength. Everything there felt almost eternal.

But Lorian — that was something else entirely. In his mind Leonard compared these two places and felt two worlds merging inside him. The Fire magic that connected and filled them both remained a mystery to him.

“This is where we’ll live,” he said quietly, almost to himself, “with the other students. But what if they… are better than us?”

Elissa, sitting on the bed, listened to his words, and her heart tightened slightly. She couldn’t give a clear answer to that question. On the other hand, she knew that this castle was a place where anyone could find their destiny — if only they accepted it.

The land outside the window was now bathed in golden rays of sunlight, and Elissa rose and came to stand beside Leonard. Together they looked at the ancient towers and the softly glowing runes surrounding them.

In that moment there was something magical in how everything around them was beginning to become part of their new reality. But they still did not know what awaited them ahead.

Chapter 9. The First Lesson with Ella Vilstir

Elissa slowly opened her eyes, feeling the cool morning air slip in through the slightly open window. The thin light of dawn lay softly on the wooden walls of their shared dormitory. Something twisted inside her — a strange mixture of excitement and anticipation. Today would be their first real magic lesson.

Muted voices were already drifting across the room. Someone yawned, someone rustled with clothes. Behind the thin partition that separated their room from the boys’ section of the dorm, footsteps sounded and Leonard’s quiet voice followed: “Elissa, are you up?”

She stretched, shaking off the last remnants of sleep, and sat up in bed. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, and her cheek tingled slightly from the hard pillow. “Yes,” she answered, brushing away her drowsiness.

Leonard peeked around the doorframe and smirked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «Литрес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на Литрес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.