Mira stepped into her new room, the door clicking shut behind her. For the first time since she arrived at Artemis, she was alone.
The space was simple yet held an air of mysticism—delicate patterns etched into the wooden walls pulsed faintly, as if breathing with magic. A soft glow bathed the room, not from any visible source, but from the very energy thrumming in the air. It was overwhelming, unlike the outer court where nature was steady and familiar. Here, magic was alive, weaving through the air like an unseen current, testing her, pressing against her skin.
As Mira stepped into her new room in the Inner Court, she caught sight of herself in the polished bronze mirror near the bed. Her face was small, framed by midnight-black hair that tumbled down her back, slightly disheveled from the long day.
Her dark eyebrows gave her an intense expression, even when she wasn't trying, and the pink flush on her cheeks—whether from exhaustion or the cold—stood out against her pale-golden skin. Her lips pressed into a firm line, trying to mask the storm of emotions inside. On the outside, she looked composed. Inside? She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up the act
She walked toward the window, hands gripping the frame as she took in the backyard of the inner court. This wasn't the world she had known. Vibrant flowers shimmered unnaturally in the moonlight, the water in the garden pools rippling despite the absence of wind. It was as if the very land had been crafted from pure magic.
Yet, despite the intensity, Mira found herself exhaling in relief. She had her own space. No shared quarters. No prying eyes. Just her.
A small smile played on her lips. I will do my very best here.
But the stillness didn't last. Restlessness itched beneath her skin. Tomorrow, her real training would begin—but why wait?
She grabbed her coat and made her way to the library.
The moment she stepped inside, Mira felt it.
Ancient. Powerful. Alive.
The towering shelves stretched endlessly above her, filled with volumes crackling with faint magical energy everything felt ancient and alive. A section marked 'Academy Laws & History' caught her eye, and she pulled out a heavy tome titled 'The Rulebook of Artemis Academy.'
Settling into a secluded reading corner, she flipped through its pages, skimming past the formal introductions until a chapter heading caught her attention: 'The Eight Gates and Their Guardians.'
The Artemis Academy was built upon the principles set by the first Grandmaster, Lucian Voltaris, a mage of unparalleled knowledge and power. He established the Eight Gates to separate mages based on their strengths and magical affinities, each gate led by a chosen Elder, known as the Guardians of the Gates.
Mira's eyes widened. Voltaris? That name was familiar—wasn't Orion Voltaris the Elder of the Abyss Gate? Was he a direct descendant of the founder?
She continued reading:
Ripe Gate (Gate of Masters) – Overseen by Elder Veena Dawnblade. The path of discipline and combat mastery. Only elite warriors enter.
Titan Gate (Gate of Strength) – Led by Elder Ragnor Shadowcrest. Reserved for those with immense raw power.
Void Gate (Gate of Shadows) – Elder Seraphis Voltaris commands this domain, where stealth and deception are taught.
Celestial Gate (Gate of Scholars) – Under Elder Aria Aerovault, home to researchers and scholars.
Evergreen Gate (Gate of Life) – Guarded by Elder Magnus Brightflare, dedicated to nature and healing magic.
Tempest Gate (Gate of Wind & water) – Led by Elder Kael Aquaelis, where water and wind magic is honed.
Infernal Gate (Gate of Flames) – Ruled by Elder Liora Voidwalker, the forge of fire mages.
Abyss Gate (Gate of Forbidden Knowledge) – Controlled by Elder Orion Voltaris. Only those willing to walk the line between power and destruction are accepted.
Mira shut the book slowly, her fingers resting on the worn leather cover. This academy was more than just a school—it was a legacy. The Elders weren't just teachers; they were the keepers of something ancient, something greater than she had realized.
And now, somehow, she was caught in the middle of it all.
She exhaled, tucking the book under her arm. She needed to learn more. And fast.
Towering bookshelves stretched toward the high-arched ceilings, packed with leather-bound tomes that whispered knowledge she wasn't sure she was ready for. The air carried the scent of parchment and something faintly metallic, as if the ink itself held traces of magic.
She wandered between the shelves, fingertips grazing the spines of books, eyes flickering over titles she barely understood. Finally, she reached the section on fire magic. The books here seemed to hum under her touch, their letters shifting slightly, as if testing her worth before allowing her to read them.
She grabbed a few—Inferno's Embrace, The Dance of Flames, The Forgotten Fire Arts—stacking them in her arms. This is what she needed. If the inner court was a battlefield, then she had to be prepared.
Just as she turned to leave—
A presence.
Mira barely had time to react before she nearly collided with two figures emerging from the shadows of the shelves.
"Whoa! Easy there!"
She looked up, startled, her books nearly slipping from her grasp. Rhyshe. Celvia.
Her confusion must have been obvious, because Celvia smirked. "Surprised?"
Mira's grip on her books tightened. "What are you two doing here? You're from the outer court."
Rhyshe chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Well… technically, yeah."
Celvia shot him a look before turning back to Mira. "We're originally from the inner court."
Mira blinked. "What?"
Rhyshe sighed, leaning against the shelf. "We were sent to the outer court for a reason. We had to investigate something."
That caught her attention. "Investigate?"
Celvia's expression darkened slightly. "We can't talk about it."
Mira frowned, frustration bubbling. More secrets. Always secrets.
"So, all this time…?"
Rhyshe gave a half-smile. "We wanted to see how you'd handle things on your own first."
Mira felt a strange mix of emotions—betrayal, curiosity, and something else she couldn't quite name. Before she could press them for more answers, Rhyshe glanced at a nearby clock.
"Damn, we're late."
Celvia nodded. "We have to go. But we'll catch up soon."
They turned, leaving her standing in the dim glow of the library, heart pounding.
She had come looking for knowledge, but all she had found were more questions.
Back in her room, Mira sat at her desk, books stacked beside her, their pages promising answers. She opened Inferno's Embrace, but the words blurred, twisting away from her comprehension.
This shouldn't be so hard.
She tried another book. Same result. The knowledge was there, but it refused to let her in.
Her fingers clenched the pages. Why couldn't she understand?
Taking a deep breath, she decided to try something practical. A simple fire spell.
She straightened, placing her hands out.
"Liticum Berua."
Nothing.
Her frustration grew. She felt the magic inside her—it was there, lingering beneath her skin, a warmth waiting to be unleashed.
She tried again. "Liticum Berua!"
Nothing. Not even a flicker.
The frustration boiled over. Her fists slammed against the desk. What was wrong with her?
Was she a fraud? Had the Grandmaster made a mistake?
The room suddenly felt suffocating, the walls pressing in, the magic of the inner court whispering doubts in her ear.
No.
Mira shut her eyes. Focus.
She wasn't failing. She was learning.
She exhaled slowly, remembering the Grandmaster's words. "Your fire is special."
Special. Not easy.
Mira took another breath, this time feeling the magic—not forcing it, not demanding it—but understanding it.
Her hands warmed. A flicker. Small, barely there. But real.
Her eyes flew open, and for the first time since arriving, she believed.
She wasn't powerless. She wasn't failing.
She was growing.
Mira let the flame dance on her fingertips for a few seconds before extinguishing it, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Tomorrow, she would try again.
And the next day.
And the next.
Because this was only the beginning.