The dawn light spilled across the courtyard like molten gold. After last night's celebration, the courtyard felt more like a garden than an academy—beds of frost lilies bloomed in the gentle warmth of new enchantments, and laughter drifted from classrooms as students greeted the day. I walked among them, cloaked in the new crown of thin ice and crimson light, feeling its weight settle comfortably on my head. Even Valmira's stones of the Codex seemed to pulse with anticipation as I passed. Everything felt alive, as though the world had exhaled a long-held breath.
Our five professors, my partners in forging this new era, gathered by the central fountain. Each of them had written a letter to the future—words meant to guide generations yet unborn, in case the treaties failed or the magic faltered. Today was the day we would place those letters into the Archive Vault, sealing our hopes, warnings, and laughter beneath the Academy's foundations.
