Sameer woke up late again, missing the morning bell for his lecture. It was nothing new—his days often began in a rush. As usual, there was no time for breakfast. He quickly dressed in his royal-blue tunic, the color marking him as a first-year apprentice at the most prestigious academy on the continent: The Order of the Third Sun—a revered institution known for forging some of the greatest magi, warriors, alchemysts, and weaponmasters in recorded history.
He stepped out of his modest dormitory chamber, grabbing his dimensional pocket-satchel, enchanted to carry all the essentials he might need for the day's lessons. The corridor outside was far from grand, its stone walls cracked and plain—this was the wing for the lowest-ranked initiates, after all.
As he hurried toward his lecture hall, he noticed a section of the hallway cordoned off by runic barriers. Artificers and groundwardens were busy with repairs. It reminded him vaguely of the mysterious incident that had occurred during his arrival week. Try as he might, his memory remained hazy—Sameer had never been good at remembering details. With a shrug, he dismissed the thought and continued on.
Nearly a month had passed since his initiation, yet every time Sameer passed through the academy's soaring spires and gleaming halls, he couldn't help but be awestruck by the beauty and grandeur of the place. His thoughts drifted as he walked.
In the main training courtyard, he glimpsed Kael Ardentis, crown prince of the Kingdom of Virelion and the top-ranked student of their year. Kael was locked in a breathtaking display of weapon mastery, his blade dancing through the air like lightning.
At the same time, a voice echoed through the arcane announcement crystals: Alira Vaelwyn, another prodigy from their year, had just been declared the victor of a high-circle debate on elemental theory. Her name sparked admiration and envy across campus.
Sameer sighed to himself. "If only I could work even half as hard as they do... maybe I'd have a chance to rise, too."
Lost in thought and nursing that ever-present hope, he finally reached his classroom—barely on time.
His first lecture of the day was Magical Elements and Their Proper Channelling. Sameer wasn't particularly gifted, but he wasn't the worst either. Academically, he was firmly average. When it came to physical disciplines—like weapon training or warrior arts—he struggled even more, often placing below his peers. Despite having been at the academy for nearly a month, he hadn't managed to make a single friend. Even his roommates treated him as if he were invisible, going about their routines without acknowledging his presence.
After finishing his elemental theory class, he made his way to the training grounds for the next lecture. The professor there—a battle-hardened mentor clad in steel-threaded robes—taught them how to wield their chosen weapon or channel their own body's strength to its fullest. "If you cannot master your form," the professor warned grimly, "then you are meat for the beasts of the Fracture Lands."
Sameer gave his best effort during the drills, though his movements lacked the precision and force of others. By the time they were dismissed, he was drained. He trudged to the canteen hall, where the scent of stew and hearth bread revived him slightly. After eating in silence, as always, he left the hall and began walking back toward the dorms.
That's when he noticed it.
At the towering Gates of Entry, a figure stood cloaked in midnight black. The man's presence was unsettling—too still, too silent—but it wasn't Sameer's concern. He lowered his gaze and moved on, unwilling to attract attention.
He attended his final lecture of the day, and later, after the evening bells tolled, he returned to his dorm room. As he lay down, hoping for a dreamless rest, he felt it again—a faint pulse beneath his skin.
His Soul Mark had begun to stir.
It wasn't unusual. His mark had been incomplete since birth, flickering and unstable. A Soul Mark—a mystical sigil etched upon the body of every high-born race, including humans, elves, and dwarves—was said to define one's fate, affinity, and hidden potential. Sameer's, however, had never fully awakened. It pulsed with dull heat under his ribs, a faint reminder that something inside him remained... unfinished.
He sighed and turned over, eyes drifting shut as the mark flickered dimly in the dark.