A soft, rhythmic chime rang somewhere far away, pulling Luca from sleep.
For a moment, he thought it was his alarm clock. He reached out instinctively, expecting his hand to land on smooth plastic, but his fingers brushed against something rough instead. His eyelids fluttered open, the blurred edges of his vision gradually sharpening as he turned his head toward the faint light streaming nearby.
What he saw made him freeze.
Tall stone walls rose around him, stretching up to a ceiling supported by thick wooden beams. The texture of the stone was uneven, worn with age, and cracks ran through the mortar like tiny rivers. Hanging high above, a stained-glass window cast fragmented patches of red, blue, and green light across the room.
Where am I?
The thought rang loudly in his head, but there were no answers.
Luca sat up slowly, every movement stiff and sluggish. The quilt covering him was thick and heavy, but the fabric was coarse against his skin. It smelled faintly of dust, like it had been stored away for years before being pulled out for use. Beneath him, the mattress dipped unevenly, too soft in some places and too firm in others.
This wasn't his room.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet touching the cold, uneven stone floor. The sudden chill made him flinch, and he hissed softly as the reality of the situation began to sink in.
"What… is this?" he whispered.
His voice sounded strange in the quiet room—smaller, thinner, like it didn't belong to him.
He stood hesitantly, his legs shaky as he took in the rest of the room. There was a heavy wooden wardrobe pushed against one wall, its doors slightly ajar. Inside, he could see folded clothes in muted tones of gray and brown. A small wooden stand held a basin of water, its surface rippling faintly in the light from the window. Above it, a cracked mirror hung crookedly on the wall.
Luca's gaze lingered on the mirror, a sense of dread curling in his chest. He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he could delay whatever answer it might give him.
When he finally stood before it, he gripped the edge of the basin tightly, leaning forward.
The face staring back at him wasn't his own.
He froze, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The boy in the mirror had messy brown hair that hung over his forehead and dull, tired eyes that didn't shine the way Luca's usually did. His nose was slightly crooked, his jaw softer, and his skin pale like someone who had been sick for weeks. The boy looked ordinary, unremarkable, and utterly unfamiliar.
Slowly, Luca raised a hand to his face. The reflection mimicked the movement perfectly.
No, he thought, stumbling back. No, no, no. This can't be real.
But it was. The icy chill of the stone floor beneath his feet, the scratchy fabric of the tunic against his skin, the faint ache in his legs from standing too quickly—it was all too vivid, too solid to be a dream.
He looked down at his clothes: a simple tunic tied at the waist with a frayed belt and loose trousers that hung awkwardly on his frame. His hands trembled as he ran them over the fabric, the rough texture grounding him in a way he didn't want.
This isn't possible.
And yet, as he stared at the boy in the mirror, something clicked.
The face was familiar—not from reality, but from countless illustrations and fan art he'd seen online. It was a face he knew almost as well as his own.
"Edric," he whispered.
The name came unbidden, and with it came a flood of memories. The Luminary Chronicles. The novel he'd read obsessively, pouring over every chapter and analyzing every twist. It was a world he loved to escape into, a story that had felt so alive in his mind.
But Edric…
Luca's chest tightened as the realization took hold. Edric wasn't a hero. He wasn't even a sidekick. He was a background character, an extra whose only purpose was to fill space in the story until his inevitable death—a minor casualty in a tournament meant to highlight the danger of the academy.
Why him? Luca thought, gripping the edge of the basin so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Why me?
His breathing grew uneven, the questions piling up in his mind. How was this happening? Why was this happening? And most importantly, how was he supposed to survive?
A sharp knock at the door made Luca jump.
"Edric! Assembly starts in fifteen minutes!"
The voice was loud and impatient, cutting through the stillness like a knife.
"Get moving, or you'll get detention!"
Luca froze, his heart racing. Whoever was outside expected him to act like Edric. If he didn't, they might notice something was wrong—and the last thing he needed was attention.
"Uh… coming!" he called out, his voice cracking slightly.
The footsteps retreated, leaving him alone again.
Luca turned back to the cracked mirror, staring at the unfamiliar reflection. His own fear was plain in the boy's wide eyes and trembling lips.
Lay low, he thought, pulling on the heavy cloak hanging by the door. His fingers fumbled with the clasp as he fastened it. Don't stand out. Don't get noticed. Don't die.
The assembly hall was breathtaking.
Massive columns stretched toward a vaulted ceiling, where chandeliers floated gently in midair, their lights glowing soft and warm. Rows of benches filled the hall, and at the far end was a raised platform with a podium at its center.
Banners hung along the walls, each representing one of the six Essences: fiery red for Ignis, cool blue for Aqua, earthy green for Terra, silvery gray for Ventus, golden white for Lumen, and shadowy black for Umbra.
Luca's gaze lingered on the Umbra banner. Its dark, swirling design seemed to absorb the light around it, sending a shiver down his spine.
Umbra, he thought uneasily. Shadow magic.
That was his Affinity now. Rare and mysterious, Umbra was both revered and feared in the novel for its association with manipulation, illusions, and secrets.
The crowd began to settle as a tall man stepped onto the stage. His robe shimmered faintly with silver thread, and a heavy medallion hung from his neck, bearing the academy's crest.
The room fell silent as the man's piercing gray eyes swept across the students.
"I am Headmaster Callidor Greystone," he said, his deep voice resonating through the hall. "It is my honor to welcome you to Astralis Academy."
Luca's breath caught as he looked at the man. Greystone carried an aura that was impossible to ignore. His sharp gaze seemed to pierce through the crowd, his presence commanding without needing to raise his voice.
So, this is the headmaster, Luca thought. No wonder everyone's so quiet. He doesn't just demand respect—he pulls it out of you, like gravity.
Greystone continued, his words slow and deliberate, each one weighted with meaning.
"Here at Astralis, you will hone your abilities, discover your potential, and prepare for the challenges that lie ahead. This academy is not just a place of learning. It is a crucible—one that shapes the strong and shatters the weak."
The word crucible sent a chill down Luca's spine. This isn't a school. It's a pressure cooker, he thought. A place that turns the strong into diamonds and grinds the rest into dust.
"Every student here has the potential for greatness," Greystone continued, his gaze unwavering. "But potential alone is not enough. It must be forged through effort, discipline, and determination. Only those who rise above their fears and weaknesses will thrive here. And remember this: the world does not wait for the weak."
A heavy silence followed his words, broken only by the faint rustle of the banners overhead.
As Greystone stepped back, another figure approached the podium.
She was tall, with long, silver-blonde hair that shimmered under the light. Her sharp blue eyes swept across the crowd with a calm confidence that bordered on arrogance. She wore the academy uniform with an ease that made it look like it was tailored specifically for her.
"Aurelia Valcrest," someone whispered nearby.
Luca's stomach twisted. Of course, it was her.
Aurelia was the protagonist of The Luminary Chronicles. She was everything Edric wasn't—strong, talented, destined for greatness.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Aurelia said, her voice smooth and steady. She addressed the crowd with the poise of someone far older than a first-year student.
Her voice carried across the hall, even and sure. "To my fellow students, welcome to Astralis Academy. This is a place where challenges will test your strength, your resolve, and your character. Together, we will rise to meet them."
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the crowd like a queen surveying her court.
"This academy is not just a place to learn magic. It is a place to forge bonds that will last a lifetime and to prove that we are worthy of the gifts we've been given. Let us strive to honor that responsibility."
The room erupted in applause as Aurelia stepped back, her expression calm and unshaken.
Luca clapped weakly, his palms clammy. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched her return to her seat.
Stay away from her, he thought. Stay away from all of them.
Another figure took the stage—a young man with fiery red hair that stood out even in the dim light of the chandeliers. His amber eyes gleamed with a sharp intensity, and the way he carried himself exuded raw confidence.
"We're here to win," Kael Dristan said bluntly, his voice ringing out across the hall.
Luca flinched at the bluntness of his tone.
"That's what Astralis is about," Kael continued, his expression hard and unrelenting. "Victory. You either rise to the top, or you get left behind. There's no room for excuses, and there's no room for the weak."
His words hung in the air, heavy and challenging.
The crowd erupted into cheers, louder and more raucous this time. Kael smirked slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he stepped back from the podium.
Luca's hands trembled in his lap. What have I gotten myself into?
As the assembly concluded and students began to file out of the hall, Luca stayed seated, his thoughts racing.
This isn't going to be easy, he thought. If this is anything like the novel, people like me don't survive here.
But then another thought struck him, one that made his stomach turn.
Edric didn't survive, he realized. But I don't have to follow his path.
The thought was small, fragile, but it rooted itself in the back of his mind. Maybe, just maybe, he could change things.