The whispers followed me like a shadow I couldn't shake, growing louder and more suffocating with every step we took away from Ambassador Iren's class. The weight of the stares hadn't lifted; if anything, it pressed harder against me, making my skin prickle. And the bracelet— god weapon—felt heavier, its energy crackling faintly under my touch, like it was alive and feeding off my unease.
"Don't let it get to you," Elaeya murmured beside me. Her voice was calm but firm, as if she were anchoring me. "Just get through the next class. One thing at a time, Jay."
"Easier said than done," I muttered, fingers scratching against the cold, unyielding metal of the cuff. Its surface was smooth, deceptively soft under my fingertips, but the energy it radiated made my teeth clench. It felt like a warning—or maybe a promise.
"Just breathe," Elaeya pressed, giving me a pointed look. "Magic Control is next. I hear it's supposed to be a fun class.Maybe it'll be a good distraction."
I wasn't convinced, but when we finally reached Arcane Lab Room 3, the air shifted. The suffocating tension that had weighed on me since the ceremony gave way to something else—something equally potent but less oppressive.
The room itself buzzed with energy. Magic wasn't just present here; it was alive. It thrummed in the air, thick and tangible, wrapping itself around everything like an invisible web. The sensation made my skin tingle, and despite myself, I felt a spark of curiosity flare.
At the front of the room stood the instructor, a tall Fae woman with powder-blue hair that shimmered faintly, as if light itself adored her. Her silver eyes—sharp and discerning—found mine almost immediately, pinning me in place with a look that seemed to strip away every layer of pretense I had. It was unnerving, but it wasn't unkind.
"Take your seats," she said, her voice soft but commanding enough to cut through the low buzz of conversation. "My name is High Mage Anya. I will be guiding you in the art of recognizing and harnessing your innate magic, as well as the magic tied to your Court."
Elaeya nudged me toward Blue, who was already waving us over to two empty seats in the center of the room. I sank into the chair, finally relaxed enough to feel a flicker of genuine interest.
Anya began pacing, her movements fluid and deliberate, like water flowing over smooth stones. Her voice filled the room, each word laced with authority and a subtle undertone of challenge.
"The magic of the Fae is rooted in the elements: air, fire, earth, and water. Each Court draws its strength from one of these, shaping its magic accordingly. But beyond your Court's alignment, there are innate abilities that all Fae share—magic that transcends borders."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the room. "Who can tell me what one of these abilities is?"
A girl at the front raised her hand confidently. "Glamour," she said.
"Correct," Anya replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Her eyes flicked to me, sharp as ever. "Glamour is a foundational skill. But let me demonstrate."
With a snap of her fingers, I felt a sudden, unfamiliar sensation of her magic rippling over me. My scalp tingled, and in the next moment, the heavy, tangled mess of my hair transformed. I ran my fingers through it in disbelief—it was sleek, silky, and perfectly straight.
My mouth opened, but no words came out. They can do that?
Another snap of her fingers, and my hair returned to its usual state. Anya smirked, clearly amused by my reaction. "You really should do something about that hair," she said, winking.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Elaeya and Blue biting back their laughter. Traitors.
Anya moved on, her steps as graceful as her magic. "Glamour is not merely an illusion. It does not just change how something looks—it alters it on a molecular level."
To prove her point, she stopped beside a recruit and tapped his shoulder. In an instant, the Fae morphed into a small, scaly creature with wings—a scyph.
The room erupted into laughter as the creature perched awkwardly on the desk, its tiny claws scratching at the surface.
"Rikan here is no longer Rikan," Anya said, lifting the little creature with both hands and stroking its back. The scyph let out a contented purr. "He is now a very adorable example of a level two glamour."
Laughter rippled through the class again, though I couldn't help but marvel at the transformation.
"The stronger the Fae, the more intricate their glamour," Anya continued, still cradling the scyph. "There are three levels of glamour. Level one glamour is basic illusion—a surface-level change that can fool the eye but nothing more. Level two, as you've just seen, allows for physical transformation without retaining the original identity or awareness. And level three..." She paused for emphasis, her gaze sweeping the room. "Level three allows you to transform yourself or another while maintaining self-awareness and identity. It's as difficult as it sounds. Try turning into a toad and still thinking like a Fae—it's not as easy as you'd hope."
With another snap, the scyph turned back into Rikan, who blinked in confusion from his perch on the desk.
"What just happened?" he asked, his voice tinged with panic.
"You were very helpful in today's lecture," Anya said with a sly smile, patting his shoulder. "You can take your seat now."
Rikan slid off the desk, his face red as he shuffled back to his chair.
"We start small," Anya said, turning back to the class. "The most basic form of glamour: Imagination and manipulating energy. Pair off into groups of three, and create a single stem of any flower of your choice. Let's see what I'm working with."
The room filled with the sounds of chairs scraping and hushed murmurs as everyone began to partner up. The air buzzed with nervous energy, each person eager to demonstrate their control—or, in my case, their complete lack of it.
Elaeya nudged me with her elbow, her usual playful grin turning more encouraging. "Don't worry, Jay. You've got this. Just focus on the energy around you and use it."
"I would, if I knew how to do that." I said.
Blue, already bouncing on the balls of her feet, practically radiated excitement. She shot me a reassuring smile, her eyes gleaming with confidence. "We'll help you. We've been doing this our whole lives. Here, just close your eyes and picture the flower you want to create. Then gather energy around you and bend it to your will, your flower. Like this."
With that, Blue closed her eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. A quiet hum of her magic filled the air around me, and in an instant, a single stem of a blue rose materialized on her table. The delicate petals shimmered, glowing faintly in the ambient light. "Come on. Try it."
I nodded, my stomach churning in protest. I felt like a fish out of water, desperately trying to stay afloat. The idea of manipulating energy wasn't something I'd ever thought of. Sure, I could sense every inch of magic in the room, right down to its source and every minuscule movement, but shaping it? Controlling it? That felt as impossible as trying to grasp the wind itself—slippery, intangible, and maddeningly elusive.
Still, I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to try and steady the storm raging inside me. I focused on the hum of energy around me—the steady buzz of magic in the air, the subtle vibrations coming from my classmates' efforts. The energy was everywhere, just there, waiting.
But as I reached out for it, my fingers twitched, straining, trying to capture it. The energy slipped through my grasp like water, flowing away with every attempt. No matter how much I willed it, nothing responded. My frustration mounted, the silent scream of failure clawing at me from the inside.
Elaeya glanced at me, her voice soft but laced with understanding. "You're overthinking it. Just... feel it."
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my thoughts, to let go of the pressure. But it was hard. The others around me seemed to be breezing through it. Magic hummed and swirled in the air, the sounds of concentration mixing with the subtle crackle of energy. Some of my classmates were already shaping their flowers, their petals delicate and vibrant, curling and unfurling in the air as though they had always been there. Others conjured colors that danced in the air, light bending to their will, creating an almost dreamlike scene.
The stark contrast made my failure feel even more pronounced.
I kept trying. My fingers twitched again, but the energy slipped away from me like sand through my clenched fist. It didn't matter how much I willed it, how much I focused. The magic refused to obey me.
"You're pushing too hard," High Mage Anya's voice cut through my focus, her tone carrying both a hint of amusement and a subtle challenge. "You can't force glamour into existence, Jay. It isn't a matter of strength; it's about surrendering, not controlling."
I froze, eyes snapping open. She was standing right behind me now, her silver eyes watching me with an almost knowing intensity. "What do you mean?" I asked.
"Let go," she said simply. "You're too rigid in your approach. Glamour isn't about brute force. It's about understanding the energy, embracing it, letting it flow through you."
I bit my lip, the frustration from earlier rising up again. "But how do I do that?"
Anya straightened, her gaze sweeping over the room as she addressed the class, her voice now commanding. "The magic you are trying to summon isn't a tool. It is a living force. It flows through everything, including you. Your task is to understand that flow, to allow it to move through you, and only then will you be able to shape it. Now, let's take a step back."
I closed my eyes again, trying to quiet my mind this time, to push aside all the chaos and noise in my thoughts. The familiar tension in my chest loosened, and I took a slow, steady breath. For the first time, I wasn't trying to control it. Instead, I imagined myself standing in the middle of a stream, feeling the current wrap around me, pulling me with it—but not fighting it.
The energy in the room was still there, electric, alive—but it no longer felt like something I had to grasp at. It was something I could simply... move with.
When I finally opened my eyes, I saw Blue and Elaeya watching me quietly. My fingers tingled, as if something was awakening inside me. I wasn't sure if I had made any progress, but there was a shift in the air around me, a quiet hum that hadn't been there before.
Anya nodded approvingly from behind me, her voice almost soft, but still carrying that confident edge. "Better. You're not there yet, but you're on the right path."
I swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling in. "So, it's like... trusting the magic instead of fighting it?"
"Exactly," Anya replied, her gaze briefly softening. "Glamour is about harmony, Jay. You need to stop thinking of it as a fight to win. You're not a warrior. You're a conductor."
A conductor. The thought rolled around in my head as I tried to digest it. It wasn't just about the magic—it was about me, learning to let go, to trust in something outside of myself.
I closed my eyes again, focusing this time on the flow of energy, trying to follow the rhythm Anya had suggested. But as I reached out, all I felt was an overwhelming surge of power—nothing tangible, nothing I could shape. It was like trying to grab at mist, my fingers slipping through what should have been solid.
Anya's voice cut through the haze of frustration. "What flower did you have in mind, Jay?"
I blinked, confusion prickling at the back of my mind. "What?" I mumbled, momentarily distracted from my task.
"The flower," Anya repeated, her tone calm but firm. "What flower were you thinking of?"
I bit my lip, my brow furrowing. The truth was, I hadn't been thinking of a specific flower at all. I was too caught up in the magic itself, too focused on trying to bend energy to my will. I didn't have a clear picture of anything. "I… I don't know. I wasn't thinking of one. I just—"
"That's the problem," Anya interrupted gently, her eyes steady on mine. "You can't create something without imagining it first. Glamour doesn't just work with energy; it works with your imagination. You need a clear image in your mind before you can shape it."
I blinked, the realization dawning slowly. She was right. I had been so focused on manipulating energy that I never stopped to actually picture what I was trying to create. I needed to focus on the image—the form, the color, the details.
"Close your eyes," Anya instructed, her voice quieter this time. "Create a clear picture of the flower in your mind. Visualize it—every petal, every curve, every color. Then, and only then, will you be able to weave the energy into that vision."
I nodded, swallowing down the nerves that churned in my stomach. I closed my eyes once more, my mind racing as I tried to focus. I pictured the flower in my mind—a single stem of a deep red hibiscus, its petals wide and bold, the rich color almost glowing against the green leaves. The image was vivid this time, sharp, like I could almost reach out and touch it.
I took a steadying breath, my fingers twitching as I imagined the energy wrapping around the vision, molding it, shaping it into reality. Slowly, I reached out—not with force, but with the intent to guide.
The magic stirred in the air, and for the first time, I felt it obey, the energy folding around the flower in my mind like it was meant to be. I opened my eyes, unsure if anything would have changed, but there it was—a single stem of deep red hibiscus sitting on the desk in front of me.
I blinked, staring at it, completely dumbfounded. It was real. It was actually there.
Anya stepped closer, her gaze appraising but not without a hint of approval. "Well done, Jay. See what happens when you allow yourself to focus?" She paused, giving me a smile that was both encouraging and proud. "Your imagination is just as much a part of the magic as the energy you manipulate."
I felt a rush of relief flood through me, mixed with a surge of excitement. It wasn't perfect, but it was real. And that was enough.
Blue leaned over with a grin. "Told you, no pressure. You just needed to let go."
Elaeya shot me a knowing look, her smile soft but full of quiet pride. "You did it," she whispered, as if the words themselves held some kind of weight.
And for the first time that day, I actually believed I could.