Chapter 5: Arcanium
Orion POV
Imperial Year 155 AU, First Moon
The capital of the Veyrath Dominion stretched across the horizon like something from a dream.
Massive white towers climbed into the sky, their peaks wrapped in glowing runes and floating crystals. Bridges of glass and enchanted ice connected the highest spires. Below them, the city spread endlessly—five great districts surrounding the center, each belonging to one of the Five Great Bloodlines.
At the very heart of the city stood Arcanium.
The academy was larger than many castles. It was where the children of nobles, generals, governors, and the great bloodlines were sent. Non-mages studied combat, stewardship, and command.
Mages were taught to become weapons.
Orion sat near the back of the classroom, silent as always.
The elderly instructor paced slowly before them, her dark robes brushing across the stone floor.
"Magic, in its essence, is creativity," she said.
With a flick of her hand, glowing words appeared in the air behind her.
Novice. Adept. Skilled. Master.
"There are four ranks by which we judge magicians," she continued. "Novice, Adept, Skilled, and Master. Yet rank is not determined only by the power of your core."
The glowing words shifted.
"A Core One mage may still be judged an Adept if his practical use of magic is equal to that level. Magic is not simply about destruction. It is about control, precision, and imagination."
The room was quiet.
Everyone knew why she was reminding them.
"Tomorrow," the teacher continued, "you will learn where you are being sent for the Trial of Ash."
Several students shifted uneasily.
"The Trial of Ash is simple. You will spend one year on the front lines. Some of you will return stronger. Some of you will not return at all."
Silence.
"That is all for today. You are dismissed."
The room erupted into noise.
Orion closed his book, stood, and walked toward the doors.
"Hey, Orion!"
He glanced over his shoulder.
Vamar was hurrying after him, wearing the crimson and gold colors of House Veyrra, the Fire Bloodline. He had the same grin he always wore, as if nothing in the world could touch him.
"I hope we get stationed together," Vamar said. "Fire and ice. We'd never lose."
"War is not a game, Vamar," Orion replied in a cold tone. "Stop treating it as one."
Vamar rolled his eyes.
"Just because your family uses ice doesn't mean you have to be so damn cold all the time. Smile once in your life."
"There is no need."
Vamar laughed.
"Sure. Whatever you say."
For a moment, they walked in silence through the academy courtyard.
Their friendship was... strange.
Vamar considered Orion his closest friend.
Orion did not think of Vamar as a friend.
He tolerated him.
That was more than Orion could say for anyone else.
"Well, I have to go," Vamar said at last. "Later, friend."
Orion gave a small nod and continued toward the academy gates.
Before he could leave, a slave in the blue-and-white colors of House Glacien hurried toward him and bowed.
"Young master, your father requests your presence in his office."
Orion stepped into the carriage without a word.
Twenty minutes later, he arrived at the mansion of House Glacien.
It rose above the surrounding estates like a palace carved from winter itself. White stone walls, blue banners, frozen fountains, and towering windows of crystal ice made it seem more fortress than home.
He walked through long silent halls lined with statues of former lords of House Glacien.
His father waited in the solar.
Though Orion's elder brother now ruled the house, his father still held more influence than most men in the Dominion.
The room was dim and cold.
His father sat behind a dark wooden desk, his pale eyes fixed on Orion.
"You are going to the Trial of Ash," he said flatly.
"Yes, Father."
"Good."
His father leaned back in his chair.
"War is not a story sung by bards. It is not glory. It is blood, hunger, exhaustion, and death. Many will die around you. Some will scream. Some will beg. Some will freeze in fear."
His voice remained calm.
"You will not."
Orion stood silently.
"Remember this: do not panic. No matter what stands before you, remain calm. Think. Calculate. Decide what must be done to survive."
A long silence followed.
"Emotions are for children and for those fortunate enough to afford them. You do not have that luxury. Not in life. Certainly not in war."
His father rose and walked toward the tall window overlooking the city.
Arcanium glittered beneath the evening sky.
"A greater war is coming," he said quietly. "Not with the border kingdoms. Not with the tribes in the mountains."
He stared west, toward the distant sea.
"Across that sea, the Draknia Empire grows stronger with every passing year. Their dragons grow larger. Their fleets grow greater. Their armies grow more disciplined."
He turned back toward Orion.
"And the fools in the Grandclave wish to attack now, before the threat becomes unstoppable."
His expression hardened.
"They speak of glory. Of conquest. Of striking first before the dragons come to our shores."
The Grandclave—the council of the Five Great Bloodlines—had been divided for years. Some wished to wait and strengthen the Dominion.
Others wanted war.
A war across the sea.
A war against the empire of dragons.
"The wolves fear being hunted," his father said. "So they wish to become hunters first."
Orion understood.
Many in the Dominion believed war with the Draknians was inevitable. Better to invade now than wait for the dragons to arrive.
"I understand, Father," Orion said.
For the briefest moment, a faint smile touched his father's face.
"You are learning," he said quietly. "Now leave. Go train."
"Yes, sir."
Orion bowed and left the room.
The rest of the day passed quickly.
Training.
Study.
Sleep.
The next morning, the academy courtyard was packed.
Students crowded around a massive board covered in names and assignments.
Some smiled.
Some looked terrified.
Orion stepped through the crowd until he found his name.
Orion Glacien.
Northern Frontier.
He stared at the words.
The northern frontier was the harshest region in the Dominion. Endless snow, dark forests, mountain passes, and constant border raids.
Only the strongest soldiers were sent there.
"Looks like we won't be together after all."
Orion turned.
Vamar stood beside him. His usual grin was gone.
"Seems not," Orion replied.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then Vamar let out a breath.
"Don't die."
Orion looked back at the board.
"Same to you," he said quietly.
Then, after a pause: Old Friend