RISE OF THE SWARM

The first night was rough on Liam, although he slept on grandeur, it didn't matter he couldn't believe he was here. The Imperial Academy, the word kept replaying in his mind. This was unbelievable, he a commoner had been admitted into the academy, a dream from almost everyone in the empire. His mind began wandering towards the interactions from the headmistress to the students, from a glance, he could tell they were all much more powerful than himself and of much higher lineage than that of himself. Eventually, he managed to sleep, thanks to a crystal chandelier high above him, that glittered with the light of stars themselves.

Dawn arrived, with a loud bell that woke him up with a jump. He rubbed his eyes, scratching his head. He slowly got of the bed, walking into the bathroom. The mirror wasn't made of glass, but instead a large slab of crystal. How lavish, he thought to himself. He turned a tap, pristine water flowing. He splashed some on his face, getting rid of his drowsiness and clear his mind. He turned to his reflection, and his black hair was a mess, probably from the poor sleep he had gotten. He turned on the shower, the cold water biting into his skin.

He walked back into his room, walking into a large mahogany wardrobe. Tons of clothes of all shapes and sizes could be found there. He raised an eyebrow he was sure they weren't there the previous night, but he shrugged it off, attributing it to magic, who knew what methods the people here had. He took a plain white shirt, pairing it with some grey pants and finished of with a robe. The clothes were immensely comfortable; he had never worn something like this. It felt as if he would just melt into them.

With a smile he walked out of his room, a large corridor stretching out before him, he had no idea where he should go but decided just to wing it. He followed the corridor as it eventually turned into a flight of stairs. He followed it down, watching it lead into a large open hall. The common room. A myriad of spells and students flew about, he had to duck to avoid a chakram flying at him at impressive speeds.

Boys in blue and silver robes walked around, the colours of House Skycrest, he would later learn, milled about, grabbing books and chatting. The moment Liam descended the stairs, a pocket of silence formed around him. Conversations died as he passed, replaced by stares and whispered asides. He kept his eyes fixed on the far archway, following the general flow of bodies, trying to mimic their purposeful stride.

The Great Refectory was another huge space, kind of like a church but made for breakfast. Sunlight came through the tall colored glass windows showing old mages and monsters, throwing red blue green light over the long tables. Each table had a flag for its house, a soaring falcon for Skycrest, a coiled serpent for Vipera, a roaring bear for Ursus and lastly a majestic lion for Lyvein. The smells were strong and heavy—warm bread rolls, oatmeal with spice, bacon frying, sweet chocolate, all mixing with the noise of a hundred voices talking at once. Liam stood near the door, feeling like nobody could see him, and at the same time like everyone was staring. He didn't know where to go, he didn't belong to any table, just wearing his plain grey.

"Over here"

The voice was soft almost lost in the crowd. Liam looked and saw a boy sitting alone at the end of a bench at the Skycrest table. He was small, curly brown hair, round glasses a bit too big for his face. A giant book sat in front of him, almost covering his plate, a spoon of porridge still half raised. He moved his head to show the empty spot.

Liam quickly sat down, thankful for any chance not to stand alone. "Thanks"

The boy didn't look up, his eyes on the heavy book Intermediate Alchemical Principles & Praxis. "Don't thank me. Really. If Alistair see's you sitting here with me, he'll just make it worse. For both. I'm Leo, von Varaxis."

"Liam.""I know." Leo finally looked up, pushing glasses back on his nose. "Everyone knows. The Headmaster's special project. They already got names for you. Alistair's even taking bets how long you'll last. A week is the favourite."

Liam's stomach turned into a knot. "Oh."

Leo sighed, closing the book with a thump. "It's not about you really. It's about them. Their parents pay so much gold to make sure this school stays elite. You don't fit, so you make them nervous." He glanced sideways at Liam, curiosity winning over his caution. "So its true? No core at all? Null?"

Liam nodded, poking at the bowl of oatmeal the silent servant had put infront of him. It had nuts and berries.

"Fascinating" Leo whispered, eyes bright like he had found a new puzzle. "Nulls are rarer then top archmages. There's usually traces, sparks. The normal quartz test isn't even good with anomalies. We should do another scan maybe a resonance test or—"

He stopped when a shadow fell over the table. A boy with pale blond hair and cold eyes stood there. His robes were fancier than the rest, dark crimson and black, with a Wolf. House Krazian.

"A null" the boy said, his accent sharp like broken glass. He didn't sneer like Alistair, he just looked like he was studying a bug under a jar. "I heard but didn't believe. The great Aurelian Academy taking trash to fill numbers." He tilted his lip, just a bit. "In my homeland, we wouldn't waste food keeping you alive. We know how to use emptiness."

Leo ducked down into his robes, staring at his porridge.

"What use?" Liam asked before he could stop himself. The words came out hard, pushed by anger and fear.

The cold eyes blinked, then a small amused smile spread. "Vessels. Empty cups filled by the will of the strong. My name is Kaelen. Remember it. You may carry it for me one day." He gave a short mocking bow then walked off, his crimson robes like blood moving through water.

Leo breathed out. "You shouldn't have talked back. The Krazians do blood magic and spirit binding. Banned here but everyone says they still practice. They're not like us, not at all."

The rest of the morning blurred. First class was History of the Arcane, a giant hall with echo's and high seats. The professor, so old his beard brushed the desk, spoke on and on about Elves and wars and dates Liam couldn't hold. Around him, students wrote quick and neat, quills scratching. Liam sat lost, the words sliding right off him, leaving nothing but the ache of being behind.

Then came Mana Channeling, which was worse. A round chamber, silver symbols on the floor glowing soft. Pairs of students lifted water, made sparks, floated fire petals. The air buzzed with power. Liam stood alone, empty, silent.

The strict magister finally walked to him. "You. Show a kinetic pulse. Core to heart, then out the palm. The simplest spell."

Liam stared at his hand, his head throbbing. He pushed and pushed, searching for the wild power that had broken the village gate. He begged for just one spark. Nothing.

The magister's frown turned sharp. "Null" she wrote on her board. "Waste of time. Watch only, maybe you learn something."

The other students didn't laugh loud but he felt it, whispers curling like knives. His face burned hot as he stood still, watching magic swirl all around, a party he would never join.

At lunch he sat again with Leo, who mostly hid in his book, muttering about "mana bypasses" and "strange core placements," like Liam was a puzzle to solve.

The afternoon gave him one good thing. Botanical Principles & Herbology, inside the bright warm greenhouse. The air smelled like dirt and leaves, wet earth, alive. Strange plants grew everywhere, some glowing, some twitching, one humming soft.

The teacher, Magister Briar, round faced, robes dirty with soil, hands strong, spoke cheerfully. "We will replant Moon-Silver Basil. Careful plants, they need gentle hands."

Students paired off quickly. Liam waited, thinking he'd be left alone again. But Magister Briar called, "Liam, help me. These old hands don't bend."

He joined her at the bench. She showed how to touch roots soft without tearing, how to pat the soil right.

"You have a calm touch" she smiled. "Plants know when you're scared. They like a quiet hand."

For the first time that day Liam felt good. He told her about herbs from his home garden, about thyme near the stone wall where sun warmed it. She listened like it mattered. "Yes, that makes sense! You think like a true grower."

For that hour he wasn't the null, wasn't the outsider. Just a boy with soil on his hands.

But stepping back into the cold stone halls broke the peace. Walking to the library, he heard the call.

"You, Oakhaven!"

Alistair and two boys blocked his way. "We missed you in Channeling" Alistair smirked. "Watching won't help. You're a stone staring at birds."

Liam tried to slip past but one boy blocked him. "Just going to the library" he said, voice shaking.

"The library? Can you even read? You don't belong here, mud rat. Every day you stay is an insult." Alistair lit a spark of lightning on his fingers, tiny but enough. "Do us a favor, leave. Go back to your mud."

The big boy shoved Liam hard. He fell against the wall, air knocked out. They laughed and walked away.

Liam sat there on the cold stone, chest tight. He looked at his hands, still dirty with earth. Gardener's hands, not mage hands.

He thought of Kaelen's smile, Alistair's spark, the testing stone that showed nothing. His eyes stung with tears but he held them back. They wanted him to break.

But he remembered the other power, the raw violent energy that had exploded from him. Not controlled, not pretty, but real. His. He would not break.