Chapter 3: The Academy's Veil

The skyship docked at CAM's eastern tower with a gentle shudder, crystalline sails folding like origami. I clutched Sarah's mirror in my pocket, trying to ignore how the pendant seemed to pulse in sync with the enormous celestial clock that dominated the Academy's central spire.

As we disembarked, I found myself in a sea of students wearing everything from simple travel clothes like mine to elaborate robes that shimmered with embedded spells. A girl with peacock-feather hair sneered as she pushed past me, her luggage floating obediently behind her.

"New students, gather here!" A tall woman with silver-streaked black hair stood at the base of the clock tower, her uniform bearing the insignia of a senior professor. "I am Professor Vale, Deputy Headmistress and your Theoretical Magic instructor."

We clustered around her—about thirty new students in total. I positioned myself near the back, already practicing the art of being forgettable.

"Welcome to the Celestial Academy of Magic," Professor Vale continued, her voice carrying effortlessly. "Before we begin orientation, you'll need to pass through the Veil."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Even I knew about the Veil—an ancient artifact that revealed a person's magical affinity. It was supposed to help place students in their appropriate specialization tracks.

My heart stopped. Would it expose my connection to the stars?

"Form a line," Professor Vale instructed. "When you pass through, you'll see a color. Remember it."

I watched as students walked through the shimmering barrier one by one. Most emerged surrounded by common auras—red for combat magic, blue for healing, green for nature manipulation. The peacock-haired girl strutted through and emerged wrapped in purple light—illusion magic, rare and respected.

Too soon, it was my turn.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward. The pendant burned against my skin as I approached the Veil. I tried to suppress my power, to appear as normal as possible.

The moment I touched the barrier, everything went wrong.

Instead of passing through smoothly like the others, I felt the Veil's magic grip me like a physical force. The stars above, though invisible in daylight, screamed in my blood. My aura didn't just appear—it exploded.

Silver light erupted around me, shot through with streams of cosmic purple and flecks of light that looked disturbingly like actual stars. The pendant at my chest grew scorching hot.

And then, just as quickly, it all vanished.

I stumbled through, gasping, expecting chaos—but everyone was just staring at me with mild interest. Professor Vale made a note on her clipboard.

"Gray," she announced. "Generalist magic. Not uncommon for scholarship students."

Wait—what?

Looking down at my hands, I saw the faintest shimmer of ordinary gray light. Somehow, the pendant had hidden my true aura. Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by suspicion. Just what was this necklace?

"Now then," Professor Vale continued, "you'll be sorted into your houses. We have four: Solaris, Lunara, Nova, and Umbra."

As she spoke, I noticed someone watching from a balcony above—a young man about my age, with stark white hair and eyes that seemed to shift color like oil on water. He wasn't wearing student robes or professor's garb, but something else entirely: a uniform I didn't recognize, marked with symbols that made my eyes hurt to look at.

He was staring directly at me.

When our eyes met, a jolt of recognition shot through me, though I'd never seen him before. The pendant grew warm again, and for a split second, I could have sworn I saw a crown of starlight hovering above his head.

He smiled—not kindly—and vanished.

"Lyra Nightshade," Professor Vale called, snapping my attention back. "Umbra House."

Of course. The house of shadows and secrets. How fitting.

As we were led to our respective dormitories, I fought the urge to look back at the balcony. Questions swirled in my mind: Who was that boy? Why had the pendant hidden my true aura? And why did Professor Vale act like she hadn't seen the celestial display?

A piece of paper slipped from someone's bag ahead of me. I picked it up automatically, then froze when I saw what was written on it:

"The crown chooses its bearer, Star-touched. Welcome to the game."

When I looked up, the note had vanished from my hands as if it had never existed. But the weight of the pendant remained, along with the certainty that I'd just stepped into something far more dangerous than simply hiding my powers.

The Academy's spires loomed overhead, and somewhere in their shadows, a boy with starlight in his crown was watching.

Classes hadn't even started, and I was already failing at being normal.