The imposing stone building of the Anthion Academy examination hall hummed with a low thrum of magical energy. You and Lyra register your names, the air thick with the anticipation of other hopeful students. The examiner, a stern-faced woman with eyes that seemed to pierce through your very soul, nods curtly, stamping your forms. Relief washes over you; the first hurdle is cleared. The exam itself is scheduled for tomorrow – the quota has been filled.
Lyra suggests a celebratory meal, but you feel a pull towards exploration. The city's grandeur beckons. Stepping outside, the capital city of the High Empire unfolds before you in all its breathtaking glory – towering spires of obsidian and gold glinting under the afternoon sun, vibrant marketplaces overflowing with exotic goods, and the constant murmur of a million conversations weaving through the air.
Lost in the spectacle, you meander through cobbled streets, the scent of spiced meats and sweet pastries mingling with the sharp tang of magically-infused perfumes. Your gaze sweeps across magnificent structures – temples carved from living stone, shimmering fountains powered by arcane energies, and elegant bridges arching over rushing rivers that seem to pulse with inner light.
As you round a corner, you see him. A young man, cloaked in a deep purple cape, walks hurriedly with a companion whose face is obscured by a wide-brimmed hat. There's something undeniably regal about his posture, even hidden by the cloak. He jerks to a sudden stop, his hand instinctively flying to his chest as if to contain something powerful and volatile. A wave of potent magic, barely suppressed, ripples outward, causing nearby flowers to wilt momentarily before springing back to life. His companion murmurs something soothing in a low voice you can´t quite understand. The young man turns, looking over his shoulder, his eyes searching the crowd. But the only figure he sees is your own. Then, just as quickly, he turns away, his pace accelerating, melting into the throng of people. The intensity of the encounter leaves you breathless, a prickling sensation crawling up your spine. You feel a surge of power from his suppressed magical energies - very similar to your own innate power, but much stronger, darker, and far less controlled. You can almost feel the weight of his emotions, of the struggle to keep that power in check. The dream, the enigma of Prince Segird, feels less like a dream and more like an omen now.