The world around Owen was a blur of colors, light, and shadow. He felt himself floating—detached from his body—as the sound of murmured voices reached his ears. The deeper he fell into the void, the more distant those voices became. It was as though something within him was pulling him back, urging him to open his eyes... to wake up.
His eyelids fluttered, and a sharp pain shot through his head. He gasped, his vision blurring as he tried to make sense of where he was. The last thing he remembered was the surge of energy, the mysterious figure, and the overwhelming darkness that had surrounded him.
As his senses returned, Owen slowly realized he was lying on a soft bed, covered in cool blankets. His head throbbed and his chest felt tight, but he could move. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he tried to sit up. A strange sensation lingered in his mind—something he couldn't quite place.
"Easy there," a soft voice whispered.
Owen turned to find Victoria Draeven standing at the edge of his bed, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. The world around him slowly came into focus as he met her gaze.
"Miss Draeven... What happened?" His voice came out raspy, his throat dry.
"You fainted, Owen," she replied gently. "You pushed yourself too hard. You're lucky to be awake now. Do you remember anything from the atrium?"
Owen closed his eyes, trying to recall when everything had turned black. He remembered the strange feeling—the dark presence that filled him with unease. A shiver ran down his spine.
"I... I saw something. A figure. It spoke to me," Owen said, his voice trembling slightly.
Victoria's eyes narrowed, her expression thoughtful. "A figure?" she repeated, her voice low. "Did it speak to you directly? What did it say?"
Owen hesitated. "It... it said something about my power. About being its ve—" he choked on the word, something heavy stopping him mid-sentence, like an invisible force tightening around his throat.
Victoria's expression shifted. For a moment, her gaze darkened. She sat down beside him, taking a deep breath. "Owen, you must understand... what you're experiencing isn't just coincidence. There's something about you—something that connects to forces beyond even my understanding. The power you channeled in the atrium... it was more than any of us expected."
She stood slowly and walked to the window. "Your abilities might be tied to something far more dangerous than we can comprehend."
Owen's heart raced. "What do you mean? Is it something I should be afraid of?"
Victoria turned back to him, her expression laced with concern. "Not necessarily. But you have to be careful, Owen. There are forces at play that we cannot control—not even I can fully grasp the extent of your power. The figure you encountered…" She stopped. She wasn't sure what he had seen either.
Owen shook his head, the memory still vivid. The figure, its voice, its presence—it felt like it had marked him.
Victoria's gaze softened. "We must be cautious. You cannot let this power consume you."
Owen sat up straighter, his mind racing. "But how do I control it? How do I stop it from taking over?"
Victoria offered a reassuring smile. "That's why you're here. We'll train you. We'll help you learn how to harness it. But you must be patient—and trust those here to guide you."
Owen nodded. Despite the storm of thoughts within him, a small sense of relief washed over him. He wasn't alone. Not entirely. He had the Academy. He had Victoria.
For now... that was enough.
---
Later That Day
Back in his room, Owen couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. The presence... the mysterious figure... it lingered in his thoughts, always just out of reach. But one thing was clear: he couldn't ignore it.
His chain—the one he always wore around his neck—seemed to hum faintly, like it resonated with something deep inside. He held it gently, brushing his fingers against the cool metal.
"I have to understand," he whispered. "I need to know what this all means."
---
The Next Morning
Owen, now on his feet again, stepped into the courtyard. The morning air was crisp, and the Academy buzzed with students preparing for their next lesson. His mind still reeled from everything, but the lively atmosphere helped calm him.
Before long, Leon, Lucy, and Conner found him.
"Hey! How're you feeling?" Leon asked, patting his back.
"I'm alright," Owen said, his voice a little distant.
Lucy frowned. "You don't look alright. What happened? Miss Draeven didn't say much."
Conner, his usual curious self, leaned forward. "Yeah! And what was your summon? We didn't see anything—but that aura you let out... you're the talk of the Academy right now."
Owen hesitated. "I just… had an encounter. Nothing to worry about."
Leon raised an eyebrow but didn't push. "Well, it's good to see you walking again. We were worried."
Owen smiled faintly. "Thanks."
As they approached the main building, the air shifted—anticipation rippled through the crowd. Students gathered for their second class of the day.
Then came a sudden gust of wind. A shimmering green glow filtered in through the windows, and a strange floral scent filled the air.
Clack. Clack.
Oddly-shaped wooden sandals echoed from the hallway.
Then entered a curious figure—a tall elf with a childlike face framed by long leafy-green hair. Their oversized round glasses magnified eyes that sparkled like emeralds. They wore layered robes stitched with ancient runes, leaves, and threads of gold.
Victoria turned. "You're late, Professor Elowen."
The elf blinked slowly, then smiled. "Time is a suggestion, not a rule."
Some students giggled. Others stared in awe.
"My apologies, young sprouts," Elowen said, adjusting their glasses. "So many bright auras… such a lovely garden in the making."
They walked gracefully to the center of the room, each step leaving a trail of petals.
"I am Professor Elowen," they said. "Caretaker of Verdant Arcana—and teacher of elemental magics."
Without waiting, Elowen lifted a hand. A swirl of energy coiled around their fingers. With a whisper, vines bloomed from the ground beneath them, curling upward into glowing flowers.
"Elven magic was once raw and vast. We now shape it in simpler forms for mortal hands. Today… we go deeper."
Gasps filled the room.
"But before that," Elowen said, turning to the board, "we begin with the elemental threads: nature, wind, stone, and flame. Spirits surround us always. The question is will they listen to you?"
The class was entranced. With calm but captivating energy, Elowen continued—blending wisdom with wonder, harmony with mystery.
Hours passed like minutes.
Then the Academy bells rang not the usual chimes, but a deep, resounding toll.
A projection of the Headmaster shimmered into the room. His voice was stern.
"All selected senior and junior students," he began, "prepare yourselves. Tomorrow morning, we launch a coordinated raid into the Eastern Wilds. Details will be provided in the briefing by Aeron, A-ranked hunter."
Gasps echoed around the room.
Elowen sighed softly, brushing a vine from their shoulder.
The once-peaceful classroom now buzzed with tension and anticipation.
As Owen stood, he noticed the blonde-haired student and his lackeys pass by. They smirked as they walked past.
Owen exhaled quietly.
Then a girl with black hair and striking blue eyes stood up. A silver pin shaped like three interlocking triangle glinted in her hair.
"Sir," she called out, "some of us haven't mastered basic spells. Some haven't even awakened and they have only beasts. Won't this mission risk casualties?"
The Headmaster replied calmly with a faint smile, "Within every soul lies a dormant force, waiting to awaken—not by fate, but through effort. True power answers only those who rise to meet it."
And then, with a nod: "Class dismissed."
Students began to disperse, murmuring with unease and excitement.
Owen quietly walked to his dorm, mind heavy with thoughts. That night, sleep came quickly.