Chapter 121: Phoenix Academy [1]
The shimmer deepened as they drew near the teleportation gate.
The massive stone arch towered above them, its surface carved with intricate runes that pulsed with ethereal blue light.
Alaric had read about teleportation gates, but standing before one was entirely different. The space between the arch seemed to fold in on itself, reality bending in ways that made his eyes water if he stared too long.
Elina went first, stepping through without hesitation. The shimmer swallowed her whole.
Alaric followed after her, and the moment he stepped through, the world collapsed.
Space twisted around him like a ribbon being pulled taut, then snapped.
His body felt simultaneously compressed into a pinpoint and stretched across infinite distance.
Colors that had no names flashed behind his eyelids. For one terrifying instant, he wasn’t sure if he still existed or had been scattered across the void between worlds.
Silence.
Then—
The sound roared back.
His boots hit solid stone, legs trembling from the disorientation.
The taste of copper filled his mouth, and his stomach lurched like he’d fallen from a great height.
Around him, guards emerged with practiced ease, clearly used to the disorientation.
Alaric straightened, though head still feeling buzzy.
He looked around, taking in their destination.
Velmont.
The capital of Vedgard rose before him, vast and resplendent.
Ivory towers clawed at the sky, their peaks glinting with banners of crimson and gold, the colors of the Royal Family.
Beyond the high outer walls, whole districts stretched like veins from the heart of the city.
They stood in Central Plaza, a vast expanse of polished marble that could have held three of Bramwell’s town squares.
Fountains carved from white stone sent crystalline arcs of water dancing in the afternoon sun, their spray catching light like scattered diamonds.
But it was the city beyond that stole his breath.
Buildings rose like mountains. Towers of pale limestone and dark granite reached toward the sky, some five or six stories tall. Gothic spires pierced the air.
The streets themselves were marvels, not rough cobblestone but well-laid paving of fitted stone, wide enough for multiple carriages to pass.
Wagons clattered over the perfect roads, some bearing noble crests while others carried goods from distant provinces.
People filled every visible space, hundreds upon hundreds of them.
Merchants draped in fine silks called out their wares from elaborate stalls. Nobles in flowing robes and jeweled accessories moved through the crowds like ships cutting through waves.
Common folk in sturdy wool and leather hurried along their work.
"Stop gaping." Elina’s voice cut through the silence, the first words she’d given him all morning.
Alaric blinked, glancing at her.
"First time in the capital?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yes."
"Then try not to gawk like a peasant." She said and turned to her hell.
And just like that, the silence fell back between them.
Alaric followed a step behind her.
Their guards had formed a protective circle around them.
"The carriages are this way, my lord and lady" one of the guards reported, pointing toward a section of the plaza where sleek vehicles bearing various house crests waited in organized lines.
They pushed through the crowd, Alaric’s head swiveling despite himself as he tried to take in everything at once.
Street performers juggled while musicians played complex melodies on lutes and pipes.
The air carried the scents of roasted meat, fresh bread, and exotic spices from markets that seemed to stretch endlessly through winding streets.
They choose a carriage, not much luxurious, but had cushioned seats and polished wood panels that spoke of quality craftsmanship.
As they rolled through Velmont’s winding streets, Alaric caught glimpses of the city’s true scope through the windows, market squares filled with hawkers darting between carriages with talismans and sweetmeats for sale. Guild halls where master craftsmen taught their trades, and towering cathedrals whose bells marked the hours.
"Keep your mouth closed," Elina muttered, not looking at him as she adjusted her gloves. "You’re looking like a farmer at market."
Alaric’s lips curved. "Can’t help it. The air here reeks of ambition."
She shot him a sidelong glance, golden eyes narrowing, but said nothing more.
The carriage turned onto a broad avenue lined with banners.
Crest after crest passed them, silver, gold, emerald, obsidian, each marking noble houses that had stood for centuries.
After twenty minutes of steady travel, the urban sprawl began to thin.
Residential districts gave way to manicured gardens and then to something that made Alaric’s breath catch.
The Phoenix Academy rose before them like a monument to human ambition.
It dominated the heart of Velmont, its stone walls enclosed grounds that seemed to stretch to the horizon, while towers of pale granite reached skyward like fingers grasping for the heavens.
The main complex spread out like a city within the city.
The central spire pierced the heavens, its pinnacle burning with a phantom flame that never dimmed, a symbol of rebirth and mastery.
The architecture was a masterwork of Gothic design—flying buttresses supported tall spires, while stained glass windows caught the afternoon light and threw rainbows across courtyards large enough to hold entire armies.
Even Alaric, who had once ruled a kingdom, let his smirk fade into something quieter.
A place like this could forge legends—or crush them.
But they weren’t approaching the main gates.
Instead, their carriage followed a road that curved around the academy’s perimeter toward what appeared to be an open field.
The field that came into view was vast—easily large enough to accommodate hundreds of examinees.
Temporary pavilions had been erected around its edges, their colorful banners snapping in the breeze while officials in academy robes moved between them with purposeful efficiency.
Their carriage came to a halt near a designated area.
The driver jumped down and opened the door.
Elina exited first, her movements precise, scarlet hair catching sunlight like strands of fire.
Alaric followed after her, stretching his shoulders.
Their guards saluted, then turned the carriage around, leaving both of them standing alone amid the gathering crowd.
Other carriages were arriving in steady streams, each bearing the crests of noble houses from across the kingdom and beyond.
Alaric recognized some of the heraldry—the golden eagle of House Ravencrest, the iron fist of House Blackmere, the silver wolf of House Ashworth.
But others were completely foreign, bearing symbols that spoke of distant lands and different traditions.
And not all were human.
Fom a carriage marked with an intricate tree symbol, three figures emerged that made him pause.
Elves.
Tall, graceful beings with pointed ears and features so perfectly symmetrical they seemed carved from marble.
Their hair caught sunlight like spun gold and silver, while their movements carried an otherworldly fluidity that made human motion seem clumsy by comparison.
Another vehicle bore the crest of the Northern Reaches—a crystalline snowflake on blue field.
From it stepped young people whose pale skin and white-blonde hair marked them as descendants of the different bloodlines that ruled the frozen kingdoms beyond Vedgard’s borders.
In the far corner, a slender girl with pale scales at her temples stood silently, her reptilian eyes scanning the field with detached calm.
The academy drew students from across the known world.
Vedgard may be one of the strongest human kingdom, but they’re not the only power that matters.
The Phoenix Academy’s reputation extended far beyond any single realm’s borders.
Located in the heart of Velmont, it benefited from Vedgard’s central position among the human kingdoms while remaining accessible to the other races that shared the continent.
For centuries, it had produced the diplomats, generals, and leaders who shaped the fate of nations.
And now it would test whether he belonged among them.
Elina folded her arms, pretending not to notice the weight of so many gazes.
"Try not to embarrass House Glimor before we even begin."
Alaric tilted his head, crimson eyes glinting.
"You wound me, sister. I have always been the picture of restraint?"
Her only answer was a scoff, drowned by the rising murmur of hundreds of candidates gathering in the field.
As the crowd continued to swell, another carriage rolled into view—this one bearing the silver raven of House Duskwood.
The vehicle came to a stop near the designated area.
The door opened, and two figures emerged.
The young woman stepped down first, moving with careful precision.
Her inky black hair was arranged in an elaborate style that spoke of hours spent in preparation, while her dress of midnight blue silk bore subtle silver embroidery that caught the light.
Yet something in her posture seemed different—more guarded, as if she carried invisible armor beneath the finery.
Behind her came a young man whose golden-brown hair hung in tousled waves.
His blue eyes, half-lidded but alert, like someone perpetually ready to doze off yet missing nothing around him.
Dark circles had shadowed the skin beneath them.
As they moved away from their carriage, he stayed close to his sister’s shoulder, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.
Elina observed quietly.
"Caleb, Livia."
Her tone softened a little.
"I hope she’s doing okay."
Alaric raised a brow at that and turned towards her. "What happened to her?"