Page 4

Each step toward the dais made my pulse drum louder, echoing in places I wished it wouldn’t.

When I reached the front, I extended my hand with deliberate slowness, palm turned to the ceiling. My other curled into a fist at my side, fingernails digging crescent moons into my skin until pain steadied the tremble.

“Eligite fata,” Headmistress Grimrose commanded, her voice reverberating through the hall like the toll of an ancient bell.

The air grew still, heavy with anticipation. I felt a curious warmth blooming in my chest as the ravens stirred, their obsidian feathers catching the light in iridescent flashes.

One by one, they fixed their gleaming eyes upon me—four sets of gemstone gazes that seemed to pierce through flesh and bone to examine what lay beneath.

The Sapphire raven tilted its head, studying me with a sentience far beyond carved stone.

Its eyes—deep blue and endless—blinked once, slow and deliberate, like the tide considering its pull.

Whatever passed between us in that moment felt ancient—older than my twenty-five years, older, perhaps, than the stones that held this academy together.

Unlike with the other students, the raven did not immediately take flight. It hopped along the table, cocking its head from side to side while making short croaking sounds, as if it was talking to me.

The bird finally spread its wings and leaped off the table in a burst of speed, hurtling itself toward me in an onyx blur. It circled me twice and then landed on my outstretched hand, eyeing me closely before delicately placing the sapphire gemstone in my palm.

The stone was rugged and cold to the touch. I let out a breath that I did not even realize I was holding as the raven continued to hold my gaze.

Its sapphire eyes bored into mine with an intensity that made the room around us seem to fade away. The whispers that had begun to ripple through the hall grew louder, and I caught fragments of confusion.

"Why isn't it returning?"

"Has this happened before?"

"Look at the professors' faces..."

Indeed, the faculty table had erupted into hushed, urgent conversations. The frail grey-haired professor had risen halfway from his seat, his features twisted with something that looked remarkably like alarm.

The Headmistress herself had gone still, her eyes narrowed as she watched the interaction between me and the raven.

“Redi,” Grimrose commanded, her voice carrying a note of indignation. The raven immediately returned to its perch on the table as Grimrose took two measured steps towards me.

“Interesting. Interesting indeed. It has been many years since a Vale has made such an immediate impact at this academy.” She looked down at me over the length of her nose and laid her hand in mine for a moment before releasing the key.

“Welcome to Sapphire House, Miss Vale.”

The key was cold in my palm, its weight substantial despite its small size. I closed my fingers around it, feeling the intricate sapphire engravings press against my skin.

As I turned to return to my seat, I caught Professor Blackwood studying me with an unsettling intensity, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. Her lips moved in soundless words, as though she were reciting something to herself.

When our eyes met, she didn't look away as the others had. Instead, her gaze seemed to sharpen, and the faintest smile curved her lips—not warm, but knowing. Acknowledging.

"What was that about?" Bethany whispered as I slid back into my seat. "The ravens didn’t react that way to any of the other students—it landed on you!"

I shook my head slightly. "I don't know," I murmured, running my thumb over the notches of the key. "It felt like... like it recognized me."

"Your mother was Sapphire too, wasn't she?" Leander asked, leaning across the table. "Perhaps there's something in your bloodline that resonates with the magic here."

"Perhaps," I said, though the word felt inadequate against the weight of what had just occurred. My fingers traced the sapphire engravings on my key, feeling each ridge and valley, as though they might contain answers. "My mother never mentioned anything like this happening during her sorting."

“The ravens are old magic,” Leander said, lowering his voice like he was letting me in on a secret.

“Been part of the ceremony since Drakestone was carved out of shadow and stone. Some say they remember every student they’ve ever sorted—like walking archives of magical bloodlines.

Creepy, right? But also, kind of impressive. ”

Bethany’s eyes went wide. “Wait—so the raven might’ve recognized you? Like… your mother, or someone even further back?”

“It’s possible,” Leander said, his gaze steady as it flicked to me. “The Vale name runs deep in magical history, doesn’t it?” He tilted his head. “I remember reading about one of your ancestors in Mystral’s Arcane Lineages . Imogen Vale? Court mage to Queen Nightlock during the Shadow Wars?”

My breath caught. “Yes. Though in our family, she’s remembered more as an advisor than a mage.”

The name settled like a stone in my chest, dragging the weight of a legacy I still didn’t fully understand.

The professors all rose from their seats once more as the final student returned to their table.

“Fourth-year students will lead you to your houses.

The keys you receive will grant you access to your dorms through the courtyard," Grimrose announced, her voice echoing through the grand hall.

"But first," she continued, raising her goblet high, "let us enjoy our first feast of the year.

May this be a year for the history texts! "

With those words, the hall erupted into applause.

Silverware clinked against plates as platters of food materialized across the round wooden tables—roasted meats steaming beside golden loaves of bread, delicate pastries dusted with sugar, and goblets brimming with spiced cider and jewel-toned juices.

The mouthwatering aromas wrapped around the room like a warm, familiar spell, momentarily easing the tension that lingered in the air.

Laughter returned in cautious waves, mingling with the low hum of conversation as students leaned in to share whispered theories, nervous jokes, and wide-eyed speculation. For a little while, it almost felt like things were normal again.

But beneath the surface, something restless stirred.

As I looked around the candlelit hall, the shadows flickering across ancient stone walls and the moon casting its pale light through the high arched windows, I couldn't shake the feeling that this calm was only temporary.

That what had begun in whispers and warnings would soon rise to something far greater.

This was just the beginning.

A beginning steeped in promise and shadow, in the hush of unspoken secrets and the thrill of the unknown. Whatever lay ahead, one thing was certain—it would not be forgotten.