Silvian’s gaze fell to the sky now which was starting to become streaked with purple. “It’s almost evening,” he said. “We should go now or we’re going to miss the opening ceremonies before the feast.” He started walking and I took off after him, my heart pounding in my chest. The reality starting to really hit me. I was about to actually see the school I had fantasized about my entire life.

We continued walking until we arrived at the edge of a large lake. Silvian stepped onto its surface, the water crystallizing the moment his feet touched it forming a path with the dark green waters still lapping at either side. I followed closely behind him, the crystallized path beginning to turn back into water the moment our feet left it.

When we finally reached the center of the lake Silvian lay down his hand and whispered softly, “riˈvēl.” There was a sound like ice cracking beneath our feet and then suddenly we were falling through the water which swirled around us like a whirlpool. Despite the fact that we were being dragged down towards the bottom of the lake I could see and breath normally as if the entire lake was made up of air. We continued downwards, past the bottom of the lake and into a tunnel, still being dragged deeper and deeper underground. Then all of a sudden the tunnel widened into a massive cavern. We landed gently, as if the force that had dragged us all the way here had just decided to gently set us down.

I looked around now, eyes wide. I couldn’t believe it, I was actually here. I was standing in Mageteria, the hidden underground city and capital of Britain's wizarding world.

Silvian and I found ourselves standing at the edge of a large bridge shaped like a serpent, it’s head and outstretched tongue acting as the base of the bridge. Already crossing it were numerous students all dressed in similar uniforms to Silvian’s. And there, at the other end of the bridge, was the gem of all of Mageteria. It was the pinnacle of the magical arts, the place where the brightest and strongest wizards were trained and the place I had fantasized about since I was a kid.

There towering before me at the other end of that drawbridge was Hemlock Academy.

I felt like I was going to faint. My heart was pounding so fast I could hardly think straight. Silvian had already stepped onto the drawbridge and looked to me now, arching a dark brow. “Are you just going to stand there gawking or are you going to come?”

I blinked, trying to shake myself out of my trance.

“Right,” I said quickly, “of course.” Slowly I stepped onto the drawbridge, my eyes still wide. Instead of a moat, beneath the drawbridge floated a sea of candles that all burned a green-blue flame casting the entire area in an eerie glow. I followed closely behind Silvian, taking in everything. I felt like if I blinked even once I would be back in reality.

My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my chest when I took my first step into the academy itself. Silvian and I joined the swarm of students who were making their way down the hallway into the great hall. Just like in the books and the movies, students were hugging each other and smiling, greeting the classmates they hadn’t seen all summer with open arms. I noticed Silvian was hanging back from them.

“Let’s go sit down,” he said curtly before making his way straight for an empty seat. I followed after him, having to practically jog to keep up with his long strides.

Once we had finally sat down I glanced to him, nodding my head towards the others. “Don’t you want to greet your friends?”

Silvian’s expression remained blank. “I don’t have friends, not anymore.” His voice was monotone. “They both got roasted to a crisp by a goddamn dragon.” His teeth sunk into his bottom lip. “And just so you’re fully aware, your little golden boy did absolutely nothing to save them.”

I could have given Silvian an earful on all the reasons Owen wasn’t able to stop that dragon attack but from the elf boy’s expression this probably wasn’t the right time. As much as I hated Silvian I had never thought about how painful going through his final opening feast without his two best friends must have been.

Silvian spoke again now without even looking at me. “Speaking of Owen Thorn, where the hell is he?” Silvian’s white eyes scanned the great hall. “It’s odd. He’s usually the first one here, he’s always so eager.” He glanced over to a girl sitting at the table behind us. The girl had short mint green hair and black lipstick. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw her. That was Morgana Wilds, Owen’s best friend. She was one of my favorite characters! She was brave and determined and came with Owen on all kinds of quests. She could be a straight up bitch when she wanted to and I LOVED that.

“He’s not sitting with his little human friend either,” Silvian said, still staring at Morgana and the empty seat beside her. “It makes no sense that he’s not here.”

I knew exactly where he was. In this point in the books Owen had been detained by elvish Dark One sympathizers who had tried to attack him on his way to the school. He would be arriving soon...just late.

I simply crossed my arms. “He’ll be there,” I said.

Silvian narrowed his eyes. “You seem so sure about that.”

I adjusted my glasses. “I already proved I’m a master of the mental arts, didn’t I? Why don’t you trust me? Just wait and you’ll see-”

I was cut off by the sudden sound of purple and blue sparks erupting from the floor. The students cheered as a crystal platform floated into the air, beneath which were thousands of candles.

On top of the platform was the Hemlock Academy staff.

My eyes widened, suddenly seeing all these characters I had grow up with standing before me. At the back was professor Drokav, he was the professor of alchemic magic at the school and the professor I also knew would be revealed later on in the book as secretly working for the Dark One. Standing at its front was the headmaster of the academy, the famous and charismatic sorcerer Mordred Banecliff. He was the youngest headmaster Hemlock Academy had ever had. He was quite handsome with an extremely feminine stature and light blond hair that fell in a braid to his waist. Attached to one pointed elvish ear was a pearl earring which had become a symbol associated with the headmaster. With grace he stepped forward and the cheering in the great hall turned thunderous.

Then he said it.

The very words I had dreamed about hearing my entire life.

“Welcome,” he said in a voice that sounded almost like bells, “to Hemlock Academy!”