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The door opens to reveal my father. While I wear the most luxurious gown I can find—a dress made from pearlescent silk—he wears his usual Grandmage’s robes.
He leans on his crystalline staff and beams at me with pride. “Look at you—all grown up and already a Mage of Nolderan.”
I pull a smile and hope it looks more enthusiastic than it feels.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asks. “It’s seven o’clock.”
I take one last glance at my reflection, scanning across the delicate aether crystals hanging from my ears and then down to the pale skirts which flutter with my every move. I may not feel it, but I am a victor.
I turn back to my father and give him a nod. “Ready.”
We head downstairs and through the hallway. When we pass my mother’s favorite painting, he comes to a stop and stares up at it. He is quiet for a moment, contemplating the lull of the dark waves and the twinkle of the glistening stars.
“She would be so very proud of you,” he finally murmurs and gives my shoulder a quick squeeze.
The painting blurs with my unshed tears, but I bite them back. I must wear a mask. If I let myself cry, all my powder and illusions will crumble apart.
I freeze my emotions into cold, hard ice and force myself to reply, “I hope so.”
We continue through the hallway, and my father holds the grand doors open for me. I step outside, and the frosty evening breeze ripples through my flowing skirts. Shadows darken the blooming flowers, and water trickles from the fountain, preventing our gardens from being blanketed with silence.
My father closes the doors behind us, and we follow the narrow stone path to the enchanted gates. They swing open, allowing us both through, and clang shut once we’re on the other side.
My father holds out his arm, and I take it. He draws aether into his crystalline staff, using it as a focus for his magic, and closes his eyes as he concentrates on his spell.
“Laxus!”
At his command, we fade away. Our forms dematerialize, and we float through the darkness until solid ground finally returns beneath my feet.
An archway is sculpted from purple light, and translucent spires rise behind it. The details grow sharper, and color fills the Arcanium’s outline as it becomes real.
I let go of my father’s arm and trail behind him as he strides through the archway. Many magi, adepts, and nobles flock toward the Arcanium, but all step aside to let the Grandmage of Nolderan pass.
We reach the statue of the city’s founder and ascend the winding stairs. The stone walls are decorated with celebratory banners. Thousands of tiny triangular flags dance in the breeze. They are of alternating cerulean and violet hues, representing the transition from adept to mage. The transition that I myself will undergo this night.
We step through the portico, passing the many pillars which stand sentry at the entrance, and into the Arcanium’s atrium.
The aether crystals which form its ceiling look even more dazzling tonight, as though they have been painstakingly polished in preparation for the Ball. There are so many people gathered inside, and everyone streams through the circular chamber. My father marches across to the entrance opposite us, and the crowd parts for him. Every head bows in reverence.
All the chairs and tables are cleared from the hall. Only four finely carved oak ones remain on the dais. Archmage Gidston and Archmage Lanord are already seated on the outer two chairs. They look up as my father strides through the wide-open double doors. His heeled boots clatter across the pristine herringbone tiles.
Three enormous chandeliers hang from the ceilings, radiating brilliant purple light through the hall. Heavy plum curtains are tucked beside each of the large windows, revealing the grassy fields at the back of the Arcanium’s grounds. The arena’s impressive silhouette sits in the distance.
Everyone is dressed in their finery, and the blinding aether crystals make them appear even more magnificent. Silk looks glossier; leather looks sleeker.
My father comes to a halt at the center of the hall. “We will begin when Archmage Calton arrives,” he says to me. “For now, I will take my seat with the other Archmagi.”
“I’ll look for Eliya.”
He leaves me and makes his way to the dais where Archmage Gidston and Archmage Lanord sit.
I begin my search for Eliya and carefully examine the lavishly dressed crowds. She manages to find me first.
“Rey-rey!” she exclaims, bounding over to me. “You look so pretty tonight!”
“And you look like a princess,” I reply, glancing over the yellow dress that she wears. It’s as though the petals of a hundred buttercups are stitched together to form her bright skirts.
“Of course I do,” she replies with a grin. “But so do you.”
