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The central courtyard looks different after the announcement. Nothing has physically changed. Students still cross between classes. Professors still carry books. A group of dragon riders still argues beside the western fountain. Yet every first-year now notices the same things. The high walls. The locked gates. The pathways leading away from the Academy. The distant forests. The cliffs. Every part of Varethia has become a possible threat. An upper-year wolf leans against a pillar, watching us with open amusement.

Rowan points toward him. "You know something."

He grins. "I know many things."

Rowan's eyes squint. "What is the First Trial?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

"Probably."

She steps closer. "What happens if we fail?"

His smile fades. Only slightly. "You learn why."

Then he walks away. Rowan watches him disappear into the crowd.

"I hate upper-years."

Aricia glances toward the third-year banners hanging above the courtyard. "You wanted to be one yesterday."

"I've grown."

Our next class is Magical Ethics. The title alone sounds exhausting. Professor Neris stands before a wall of mirrored glass while students settle into rows. She does not mention the Trial. No one else can think about anything but the Trial.

A wolf raises his hand before she begins. Professor Neris stares at him. He slowly lowers it. "Good decision," she says.

She touches the mirrored wall. A dozen reflections appear. Each shows the same student using magic differently. A siren calming a crowd. The same siren silencing one. A vampire identifying poisoned blood. The same vampire controlling its movement. A fae healing damaged roots. The same fae binding someone in vines.

"Power," Professor Neris says, "does not become ethical because its intention feels noble." The room quiets. "Today, you will examine the difference between influence, coercion and consent."

That earns several uneasy looks from the siren students. Professor Neris notices. "This is not a siren lesson."

She turns toward the vampires. "Blood magic can coerce."

Toward the fae. "Living magic can imprison."

Toward the wolves. "Pack synchronization can overwhelm individual instinct."

The Medusae. "Magical sight can violate privacy."

Then the dragon-blooded. "And shared consciousness can become invasion."

The mirrors go dark. "Every inheritance contains the potential to protect." A pause. "And the potential to take."

No one asks about the Trial after that. For nearly an hour, we debate whether magical intervention can be justified when someone cannot consent.

There are no simple answers. Professor Neris rejects every one that sounds too certain.

By the end, I have filled six pages with arguments and crossed out almost half of them. The Academy does not seem interested in teaching us what to think. It insists we understand the cost of thinking badly.

At lunch, Nyra and I find our usual terrace. It has been our usual terrace for exactly two days. That feels sufficient.

Rowan joins us without asking. Aricia follows because Rowan has taken half her food. Selena arrives last and sits at the far end of the stone bench. For several minutes, we eat in exhausted silence.

Then Rowan says— "I think the Trial involves drowning."