Open Doors

A shimmering gateway tore through the air within the college hall, releasing Noidron and the rest of the staff as they stepped through. Fingal followed closely behind, sealing the portal with a flick of his hand, the arcane energy dissipating in a ripple of light.

 Inside the chamber, the professor stood amidst the applicants – now newly-minted acolytes – calling out the final names on his list. Noidron cleared his throat to interrupt, but the professor waved him off with an impatient gesture, intent on finishing his task.

 'Lorean Zerosh!'

 A young man emerged from the crowd, moving with the practiced ease of someone who had prepared for this moment. He handed over his wand and token, offered his gathered materials for inspection, and graciously accepted his reward before slipping back into the crowd.

 The professor glanced at the parchment, a smile of satisfaction playing on his face as he called the final name on the list.

 'Odrean Zigo! Step forward!' His voice carried a note of relief, eager to conclude the ceremony.

 But no one came forward. The hall grew heavy with silence, the atmosphere tense as the professor's gaze swept the crowd.

 'Odrean Zigo?' he repeated, lowering his spectacles and peering over them at the assembled youths.

 Urael and his cronies exchanged puzzled looks. With the staff's return, they had expected Odrean to be amongst them, the only applicant unaccounted for earlier.

 'Odrean Zigo?' the professor called a third time, his voice firmer but tinged with confusion.

 From the corner of the room, Noidron stepped forward and spoke in a quiet tone, his words intended only for the professor. 'Professor…'

 Unfortunately, his attempt at discretion failed. The chamber's attention shifted to him, every acolyte and staff member now hanging on his words.

 'About the applicant…' Noidron began, his expression darkening as he hesitated.

 Eyes in the hall shifted to the object Noidron held, its odd shape wrapped in a white cloth stained with unsettling smears of red.

 The professor turned to him, his jovial expression slipping into one of concern. 'What about the applicant?' he asked, his brows knitting as his spectacles slid to the tip of his nose. He studied Noidron's sombre expression with a piercing gaze. 'Well, out with it,' he pressed, his tone impatient.

 Noidron hesitated, carefully choosing his words. 'During the trials, the applicant, Odrean Zigo, encountered… misfortune,' he said slowly, each word laced with caution. 'We recovered his remains in the glades.'

 The professor leaned back in his chair, stroking his hairless chin as the news sank in. 'The cause?'

 'A great lidthrag,' Noidron replied swiftly.

 Jorian's jaw tightened as he glanced at Noidron, clearly weighing whether to voice his doubts. At the same time, Riniock's eyes widened with surprise.

 The revelation sent a ripple through the hall. Gasps broke the silence, some acolytes stepping back in shock, whilst others whispered nervously amongst themselves. Urael and his entourage exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado dimmed by the grim news.

 The professor's response, however, was calm and measured. 'If that's all, there's no need for such apprehension.'

 'Pardon?' Noidron's voice cracked slightly. 'An applicant died under my watch, professor.'

 'And that applicant was warned of the dangers, just like everyone else here,' the professor said sharply, gesturing towards the gathered acolytes. His voice carried an edge of stern authority. 'Let this be a lesson to you all. In Gorlea, unless you become maegi of exceptional skill and worth, your death holds no significance to us.'

 The hall fell into an uneasy silence. The weight of Odrean's death loomed heavily over the newly minted acolytes, a chilling reminder of the dangers they faced. Disheartened expressions were visible on nearly every face.

 But amidst the tension, one person remained unshaken – Riniock. Outwardly calm, he stood still, but his heart thudded with an uncontrolled relief.

 They don't suspect anything, he thought, almost giddy with the knowledge. They truly believed it was the lidthrag who did it.

 Whilst he found solace in escaping suspicion this time, a nagging awareness crept in. He had been careless, leaving room for doubt. It was a lesson he would not forget: next time, there could be no room for error.

 'Glad we're finally done with this,' the old man muttered as he slumped back in his chair, seemingly oblivious to the heavy atmosphere still lingering in the hall.

 The room remained awkwardly still. Both the new acolytes and the staff exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of what to do next.

 'Professor,' Noidron ventured with a polite cough.

 The old man raised his head lazily, finally noticing the cluster of expectant faces. 'What is it now?'

 'The acolytes, professor,' Noidron prompted.

 The professor blinked, then waved a dismissive hand. 'Oh, right. Take them to their dormitories. They've got classes to attend tomorrow.'

 With that, the acolytes began to disperse, following their designated chaperones out of the hall. Some walked in silence, still shaken, whilst others whispered quietly about the events that had just unfolded.

 As the last of them exited, Noidron remained behind, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

 'What are you still doing here, Noidron?' the professor asked, glancing at him with mild irritation.

 Noidron hesitated before responding. 'What should I do about...about him?'

 'The Zigo boy?' The professor adjusted his spectacles, his tone casual and unbothered. 'Contact his family, what else?'

 Noidron swallowed hard, nodding stiffly before turning to leave. The weight of his responsibility bore down heavily on him, but the professor seemed unfazed, already reaching for a ledger to scribble notes about the day's proceedings.

 Outside the grand hall, the towering doors of the inner college finally creaked open, revealing a sight that many of the acolytes had only dared to dream of. For most, this moment was the culmination of their aspirations – a tangible step into a world of opportunity.

 Eager and weary in equal measure, the acolytes poured through the threshold, bustling to locate their assigned dormitories. After a gruelling day in the glades, the thought of rest seemed almost too good to be true.

 The dormitories, however, quickly tempered their enthusiasm. The accommodations were rudimentary at best: vast, shared quarters divided strictly by gender. Rows of simple wooden bunks stretched wall to wall, and the amenities provided were meagre, if not outright cruel.

 It was a jarring contrast to the grandeur of the college's outer halls, but the design was intentional. Freshly admitted acolytes were given the least favourable living conditions – a deliberate policy of both discouragement and motivation. Those who wished to escape the crowded rooms and limited resources would need to excel, climbing the ranks to earn better privileges and personal quarters.

 For now, though, exhaustion trumped discomfort. The acolytes begrudgingly settled in, some unpacking hastily whilst others slumped onto their bunks, too tired to care. Whispers floated through the room – conversations about their trials in the glades, the rewards they'd earned, and the shadow of Odrean's death that still loomed over their arrival.

 Riniock, however, silently took his place on one of the corner bunks, his mind elsewhere. Whilst the others saw the dorms as a stepping stone, he saw them as a temporary refuge – one he intended to use to its fullest advantage.

 Unlike many of the posh, privileged youths now grumbling about the cramped quarters and minimal comforts, Riniock was no stranger to such conditions. Despite hailing from a respected household, he had once experienced a period of similar austerity – an event that had taught him resilience and adaptability amongst many other qualities.

 'This will be easier to cope with than I thought,' he mused, reclining atop the thin sheets of his assigned bunk. His gaze drifted to the dim, flickering lanterns that barely illuminated the dormitory, their soft glow casting long shadows across the room.

 Now that he was here, there was no room for complacency. Resting his hands behind his head, Riniock stared at the wooden ceiling above, his mind already formulating plans. 'From tomorrow onwards, I cannot allow myself respite. I'll work myself to the bone if I must.'

 He knew the path forward would be gruelling – filled with challenges, competition, and danger. But this was a step closer to his true goals, and he was determined to seize every opportunity the college had to offer.