On a quiet forest clearing sat a small boy and stared fixedly at the stars. His appearance did not remotely resemble a human; his skin was tinted an unnatural yellow with a faint golden sheen and his face was lit by completely white, empty eyes.

With those strange eyes he hypnotized the endless night sky studded with glittering constellations. Fresh tears gleamed on the edges of his eyelids and his small face betrayed that he had been sobbing only a short while before.

From the dense undergrowth behind him a tall male figure suddenly emerged. He looked almost exactly like the boy, but carried the coarseness and hardness of adulthood. As soon as the boy sensed his presence, panic seized him. His legs trembled uncontrollably and tears of terror welled up in his eyes again.

The man approached him with heavy steps. In his clenched hand he held something oddly golden, but because of the drifting night mist it was impossible to make out exactly what it was.

“Noth, why did you run away?!” he thundered into the silence of the forest.

Little Noth tremulously raised his eyes to him. “S-sorry, f-father... but I... I can’t eat it,” he stammered, his voice breaking with fear.

The man loomed over him like a dark shadow and his white eyes dilated maniacally. “You must eat it! You must use that talent of yours!” he hissed at him. “You have a chance to elevate our kind to an entirely higher sphere. Do you understand?!”

With no further mercy he gripped that golden piece of something raw in his hands and began, with crude force—almost violently—to force it down the sobbing boy’s throat.

--

The Great Hall of the Aethelgarde Academy is astonishing in its vastness. Its ceiling faithfully resembles the night starry sky. Thousands of beings from every possible sphere bustle loudly in the sickly yellow light of levitating lanterns. The scent of ancient parchment mixed with the smell of herbs and acrid sulfur completes the unmistakable atmosphere of the place.

Noth, one of the new students, stands before an admissions desk carved from polished black oak. Behind it sits a translucent Spectral Librarian, from whom radiates a cold, pale-blue light. She pushes her glasses down on her nose, measures Noth with a look and snaps her fingers.

Immediately a sheet of parchment and a quill fly to him. The quill dips itself into an inkwell of purple ink and remains hovering expectantly in the air.

“Welcome to Aethelgarde, newcomer. Don’t keep me—the line behind you is endless. Step closer, sign, and take the key to your room and the class schedule.” the spectral voice thunders with an echo.

The Spectral Librarian raises an eyebrow at Noth’s terse reply, but only silently nods and waves her hand. The parchment before him glows with an otherworldly light and begins to fill itself with elegant calligraphy.

“A golden elf, hm? How... fascinating,” she mutters, and barely concealed contempt drips from her voice. “I suppose your kind needs education too, although I doubt you’ll get very far here.”

The glowing parchment flutters back to the librarian. She quickly scans it with her eyes and tosses a heavy iron key at Noth. It lands with a loud clink on the polished floor at his feet.

“Your room is in the West Wing, third door on the left. Try not to get lost or killed.”

With a dismissive wave of her hand the librarian sends Noth away. “Next! Move along, there are plenty more of your sort out there.”

Noth lifts the heavy iron key and feels it in his palm. He steps out of the Great Hall into a long, dimly lit corridor. The air here is heavy with the smell of old books and old stones.

As he walks, Noth’s steps echo off the high ceilings and blend with a distant dark chorale and strange, otherworldly sounds. The walls are lined with portraits of former headmasters and notable alumni. It seems as if their cold eyes watch his every movement.

After turning a corner, Noth unexpectedly finds himself face to face with a group of students.

He sizes them up. They are beings of various races—among them, for example, a man with bull horns and a girl with completely black eyes. Noth sees other species besides golden elves for the first time in his life.

He approaches them. Normally he wouldn’t even glance at them, because their existence does not interest him at all. But he has to find out where the West Wing is, because he knows almost nothing about the academy. He only knows that magic is taught here exclusively.

“Do you know where the West Wing is? I should have a room there,” he asks.

The group of students scrutinizes the approaching Noth warily. The man with the bull’s head steps forward, his muscles rippling beneath his dark robe. “Well now, what do we have here? Another lost lamb wandering the corridors?”

The girl with black eyes sneers cruelly. “That’s a golden elf, Krag. Without a map he probably couldn’t find his own ass.” Her laugh is sharp and practically cuts the ears.

Krag chuckles, a sound like a deep rumble somewhere in his chest. “West Wing, huh? A polished den for such a pretty little boy like you. It’s straight ahead, by the Tapestry of Falling Stars—turn left and then go up two flights of stairs. You can’t miss it... probably.”

Noth says nothing and continues on his way.

He walks on, ignoring the taunts and laughter of the students. As he follows Krag’s directions the corridor twists and winds. Its walls are lined with intricate carvings and glowing runes that emit a ghostly light.

Finally, after passing several intersections and under vaults decorated with skulls and bones, Noth arrives at the entrance to the West Wing. The doors are massive slabs of polished obsidian, carved with swirling patterns that seem to shift and rearrange right before his eyes.

Noth exerts some effort to push the heavy doors and enters. The West Wing is only dimly lit; the air is heavy with the scent of incense and something metallic. Tapestries depicting dark rituals and ancient horrors hang on the walls, casting long shadows in the flickering candlelight.

Noth looks at the number on his key—234. He walks down long corridors and passes many students who quietly talk among themselves or nervously hurry to their rooms. Noth turns left onto a red carpet and stops in front of a trio of doors.

But something unexpected blocks his path. Access to them is barred by a statue of a muscular king clutching a large gem.

As Noth approaches the statue, he notices that the gem the king holds seems to glow with an inner light and cast strange shadows down the corridor. The statue itself appears to be made of a dark, almost black metal that absorbs the weak light rather than reflecting it.

Suddenly the statue’s eyes snap open, glowing with an intense, otherworldly light. It speaks, its voice a deep rumble that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Halt, interloper. State the reason for your visit and prove you are worthy to pass.”

The statue’s free hand moves to the hilt of a massive sword that materializes beside it as if from thin air. Its blade crackles with magical energy. The other students in the corridor quickly scatter, leaving Noth to face this guardian alone.

Noth does not hesitate and takes a slight step back. “Why are you blocking the doors to my room?” he asks.

The statue’s eyes narrow and the gem in its hand glows even brighter. “You are either very brave or very foolish, mortal, to question me so boldly.” Its gaze bores into Noth as if trying to peer to the very bottom of his soul. “I am the Eternal Guard, protector of the sacred knowledge within. No one will pass without first proving their worth and the purity of their intentions.”

The statue moves and muscles ripple beneath its dark metallic skin. “If you claim this chamber as yours, you must first demonstrate your mastery of magic. Show me power worthy of one who would inhabit the sacred halls of Aethelgard.”

A faint energy begins to emanate from the gem, gaining strength with each passing second.

“So you block the door to the room that was rightfully assigned to me for no reason? In that case you shouldn’t mind if I harm you,” Noth mutters.

He thrusts his hand forward and concentrates fully. “Blood Cloud,” he whispers.

Suddenly a small sphere of red mist forms in his palm and rises directly above the statue. The cloud expands rapidly until it completely swallows even the energy radiating from the guardian’s gem.

The energy abruptly stops dispersing and condenses into a large, glowing blue sphere that hurtles straight at Noth. He watches it with a cold expression and only barely sidesteps, narrowly avoiding a direct hit to the head. The sphere slams into the wall behind him with a deafening crash, sending dust swirling through the corridor.

Meanwhile, huge toxic drops begin to fall from the red cloud above the statue. They strike its massive body and eat deep hollows into it.

The statue reels backward under the onslaught of the toxic rain. Hissing steam rises from the deep grooves etched into its once-flawless surface. Its gem now pulses erratically, its glow flickering and gradually fading.

“I... underestimated you, golden elf.” The statue’s voice sounds strained, tinged with pain and reluctant respect. “Such interesting magic, wielded with such casual indifference... you truly are a force to be reckoned with.”

With a torturous screech of metal the statue slowly lowers its sword and steps aside, clearing the way to the doors. “Very well. You have proven your power, though not necessarily your wisdom. This chamber is now yours, until someone else comes who can prove themselves more worthy.”

The doors fling themselves wide open and reveal a spacious room furnished in rich, dark tones.

Noth gives the statue one last look. “See? You shouldn’t have caused trouble,” he says, and walks in.

As soon as Noth crosses the threshold the doors slam shut behind him with a thunderous bang. The room is luxuriously furnished: heavy velvet drapes hang, the ornamental furniture is carved from dark wood, and the shelves literally groan under the weight of ancient volumes bound in leather and other strange materials.

One wall is dominated by a huge canopy bed draped in silk the color of spilled blood. On the opposite side, an emerald fire crackles in a massive hearth, casting dancing shadows across the room. Perched on the mantle above the hearth is a grotesque sculpture of writhing figures with faces twisted in agony and ecstasy.

In the center of the room stands a lectern, upon which rests a single, thick book with covers of glittering obsidian.

Noth pulls a piece of raw golden meat from his pocket and tosses it into his mouth.

“This is what I needed,” he mumbles.

What he is chewing is the flesh of golden elves. To be able to use his magic, he must consume the raw meat of intelligent species. And since until now he had lived in a world where only golden elves existed, he had no choice and resorted to cannibalism.

Noth’s father and mother, however, never regarded the innate magic he possessed from birth as a curse, but as a gift. That is why they forced him to train it and enrolled him in the magic academy as soon as it was possible.

When Noth finishes his macabre meal, a sudden gust of wind tears through the room. It extinguishes the emerald flames and plunges everything into absolute darkness. When the lights flicker back to life, they reveal a figure standing directly in the middle of the chamber—a tall, gaunt man clad in a robe the color of moonless night.

“No, no...” His voice is a sibilant whisper, like the rustle of dead leaves. “What do we have here? A young mage with... unorthodox appetites?” His eyes, deep abysses of swirling darkness, bore into Noth with predatory intensity.

“I am Malakai, dean of this esteemed institution. And you, my dear, are an extraordinarily fascinating addition to our student ranks.” He glides toward him, his movements languid and unsettling.

Noth measures him with a look. “What do you want? Shouldn’t students have at least some privacy, instead of strangers suddenly appearing in their rooms?” he asks bluntly.

Malakai’s lips curl into a smile that does not reach his eyes, revealing teeth that seem far too sharp. “Privacy? Oh, you naive child. In a place like this, there is no such thing as real privacy. And certainly not for someone with... your particular gift.”

He slowly circles Noth like a shark sensing blood in the water. “I am here because I sensed the power that radiates from you. That raw, untamed potential. It is almost intoxicating.” His voice drops to a hoarse whisper. “And I always make a point of welcoming such promising students personally.”

Malakai stops directly in front of Noth and leans in so close that Noth feels the dean’s icy breath on his face. “Tell me, my dear, what brings a young mage like you to our humble academy?”

Noth fixes him with his cold white eyes. “My parents sent me here by force. I would never have come of my own accord,” he snaps.

Malakai throws back his head and laughs—a sound like shattering glass. “Forced? Oh, how wonderfully ironic!” His eyes gleam with malicious amusement as he sizes up Noth. “They have no idea that fate brought you here. Destiny has a habit of forcing us to walk paths we would never choose ourselves.”

He reaches out and traces a bony finger along the line of Noth’s jaw. His touch lingers a fraction longer than is comfortable. “Perhaps in time you will understand the wisdom of your parents’ decision. Aethelgard has so much to offer someone with your... unique gifts.”

Malakai steps back, his robe swirling around him like smoke. “I place great hopes in you, Noth. Truly great hopes.” His smile widens further, revealing far too many teeth.

“That’s really great, but could you leave my room now?” Noth replies coldly.

Malakai’s smile falters for a moment and a flash of irritation crosses his drawn face. It vanishes as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a mask of polished charm. “Of course, of course. It would never occur to me to abuse our hospitality.”

He moves toward the door, his steps smooth and unnaturally graceful. “Get a good rest tonight, Noth. Tomorrow brings the beginning of your academic journey here at Aethelgarde. I expect great things from you.”

With one last long look over his shoulder, Malakai leaves the room. The doors close behind him with an almost sacred silence. It seems as if the very air in the room trembled under the weight of his departure.

Alone once more, Noth surveys his lavish yet unsettling chamber.

Good start? (1chap)