An aura of nervous anticipation hung in the air as Finis presented himself to the academy gatekeeper, an elderly man with a hunched back and eyes as sharp as a hawk. He was taken aback when the gatekeeper peered at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.
"An aged man wishing to be a teacher, yet looks like he couldn't even lift a feather?" the old man cackled. Finis felt the corners of his mouth twitch with irritation, but he maintained his composed exterior.
Just as Finis was about to retort, another figure appeared from behind the gatekeeper. Clad in emerald robes and a staff with a floating orb at its apex, the stranger's aura was anything but ordinary. A high-ranking mage, that much was clear.
"Gatekeeper, cease your unnecessary prodding," said the figure with a tone that brooked no argument. "Every being has their potential. It's not for us to judge prematurely."
The gatekeeper grumbled but stayed quiet, his curiosity piqued. This stranger, seemingly high in the academy's order, was standing up for Finis, a complete outsider. Finis himself was intrigued, the slightest hint of suspicion flickering in his eyes.
"Follow me," said the robed figure, beckoning Finis toward the academy grounds, leaving the grumbling gatekeeper behind.
As they walked through the grand corridors filled with students of various ages and races, Finis could feel the eyes on him. Whispers followed him like an annoying breeze, but he ignored them. He was not here to win a popularity contest; he had a mission to complete.
"I have been observing you, Finis," said the stranger after a long stretch of silence. "Or should I say, *we* have been observing you."
Surprise flickered briefly across Finis's face, quickly masked by his practiced stoic expression. He had been cautious, making sure to operate under a veil of obscurity. How then did this stranger know his name? The realization that his steps were being traced all along was unsettling.
"I don't remember offering my name," Finis replied, his gaze firmly fixed on the figure beside him.
The stranger chuckled, the sound echoing softly through the academy's marble halls. "Indeed, you haven't. But shadows have a way of whispering secrets."
Finis's mind was racing, connecting the dots. It was unlikely this stranger was connected to the Shadows, his newly found allies, but he couldn't ignore the implication. His caution grew, each word from the mysterious figure inviting further scrutiny. The academy was proving more layered than he'd anticipated.
In the midst of their conversation, they reached a large courtyard. A group of students was already gathered there, their attention divided between practicing spells and observing their interaction. In the center, a robust magical circle was engraved on the floor, illuminating the entire place with a faint glow.
"Before you can begin as a teacher, you must prove your worth," the figure spoke, gesturing to the magical circle. "A duel. But remember, you are to demonstrate your aptitude, not overpower your opponent."
Finis was now standing at the edge of a precipice. He needed to tread carefully. He was yet to understand his mysterious benefactor's intentions and the extent of their knowledge about him. But he also saw this as an opportunity - a chance to assert his presence in this new world and to assert his authority. And if the academy indeed held the secrets he sought, then the first door was right in front of him.
As Finis moved into the circle, a cold draft of anticipation swept over the spectators. His figure, previously obscure, now stood at the center of a myriad of curious gazes. An outsider, yet a teacher, an enigma wrapped within the folds of obscurity - the news had spread like wildfire within the academy.
His opponent, a slender woman with streaks of silver in her hair, was one of the academy's highest ranking instructors. She entered the circle with an air of dignified grace, her eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and determination. A practiced duelist and a revered mentor, her reputation preceded her.
The stranger, who had guided Finis, now stepped back, melting into the crowd of onlookers. "Fight with wisdom, not strength," were his parting words.
The air thickened with anticipation. The arcane circle pulsed underfoot, reacting to the concentration of magical energy, casting long, distorted shadows that danced in the twilight. Yet, with all his might sealed, Finis stood unarmed in the eye of the storm. But he was not disheartened.
The duel began. The woman was quick, her spells aimed with precision and executed with grace. Each wave of magic was a testament to her years of experience, each defensive ward evidence of her adept control.
Finis, however, chose to maneuver strategically, avoiding direct confrontation. Each spell hurled at him was met with deft evasion or strategic positioning that turned the magical energy against itself. He played on the fundamental laws, twisting the magical energy with physical logic.
The duel turned into a dance, an intricate ballet of strategy versus raw power. The crowd watched with bated breath, the spectacle unfolding before them unlike any they had seen. Within the ivory towers, shadowed under the dimming twilight, a new tale was being spun, a tale whispered in hushed undertones and observed under fascinated gazes.
The air hung heavy with unspoken secrets and veiled truths. But amid the mystery and the tension, one thing was clear - Finis, even unarmed, was not a force to be underestimated.
On the grand stage of the academy, a peculiar duel was unfolding. It wasn't a magnificent display of magical prowess, nor was it an awe-inspiring exhibition of destructive spells. Rather, it was a spectacle of deft dodges and uncanny strategy.
As the instructor hurled spells after spells, Finis didn't fight back with magic, for he had none. Instead, he moved like a shadow, avoiding and redirecting her attacks with calculated precision. His unconventional strategy was bewildering, almost seen as an act of cowardice by the spectators who were more accustomed to raw power than guile.
The instructor finally ceased her onslaught, acknowledging his evasive tactics as a sign of victory. However, instead of applause, a wave of disbelief swept through the audience. Students and instructors alike exchanged skeptical glances, some even laughing dismissively.
"Running away from magic does not make one a teacher of it," someone heckled from the crowd, earning a ripple of laughter. Others echoed the sentiment, considering Finis's victory a fluke rather than a testament of his strategic prowess.
Despite the lingering disbelief and veiled mockery, Finis maintained his composed demeanor. The eyes that watched him were riddled with doubt and suspicion, but he was not deterred.
As the dust from the duel settled, Finis walked away from the platform under the scornful eyes of the watching students. The undercurrents of disbelief and skepticism swirled around him, yet they merely skimmed his cold exterior. His mind was occupied by a more pressing matter.
Who was the stranger that had vouched for him, the one who seemed to be familiar with his ancient name? And what did they want?
He found himself standing before an elaborate door, at the heart of which lay a magical glyph, glimmering with an ethereal luminescence.
"This is the Headmaster's office. He's been anticipating your arrival," The mysterious figure said, a cryptic smile playing on his lips. He rapped on the door thrice, producing a sonorous echo that seemed to vibrate through the very air.
The room was shrouded in semi-darkness, filled with a sense of ancient knowledge. Books lined the walls, while artifacts of unknown origins rested on wooden tables. At the far end of the room sat an elderly man, his eyes filled with wisdom and power. He was the Headmaster, the one who held the reins of the academy.
The Headmaster peered at Finis with a scrutinizing gaze. He, too, seemed to hold a secret, a shadow of understanding flickering in his eyes. "You did well in the duel, instructor," he said, his voice a rumbling echo.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Finis replied evenly.
A heavy silence filled the room, standing before the Headmaster. "I trust you have come prepared for the responsibilities of your role," the Headmaster spoke.
"Yes, Headmaster," Finis replied, maintaining his stoic demeanor.
"Good," the Headmaster murmured, "But understand this, mastery over magic is not the only prerequisite for a role within these hallowed halls. There is a trial you must face, one of knowledge, strategy, and wit."
Finis felt a prickle of intrigue. "A trial?"
The Headmaster nodded. "You will be given a task related to the academy's history, one that has puzzled our scholars for generations. It is a riddle, unsolved, inscribed within a cryptic relic discovered in the academy's earliest foundations. Vernoss give him the artifact"
The mysterious figure, which name was revealed to be Vernoss, revealed a small, ancient artifact, its surface etched with cryptic runes. "This is the Heartstone, a relic predating the academy. It has a story to tell, one lost to time. Decipher it, and you will truly belong here."
The stone was handed to Finis. It felt heavy, not in weight but in the responsibility it held. As he gazed upon the age-old runes, he could feel their hidden whispers tickling at the edges of his mind, the secrets they harbored, as arcane as the Shadows themselves.
With that, the air in the room grew colder, the mystery of the Heartstone now resting in Finis' hands. The true test had begun.