Chapter 3: Crash Course in Magic
Ethan paced back and forth across his dorm room like a man on death row. His hands trembled, his heartbeat was a drumline of pure panic, and his brain felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton and set it on fire.
Two days. Two freaking days to somehow learn how to do magic and not get completely obliterated in front of an audience of people who already hated his guts.
He glanced at the scattered books and parchment on his desk. Sure, he'd skimmed over some of them when he woke up, but none of it was helpful. All he'd learned was that Darius Wycliffe was basically the bottom of the food chain when it came to magic.
Which meant that if Ethan wanted to survive the First-Year Spellcraft Examination, he needed to figure out how to do magic. Fast.
"Okay... alright... just go to class. Learn what you can. And don't get your ass killed by Lucien Ashford."
He was already wearing the dark blue robes he woke up in, the ones with the silver trim and the golden crest—a lion with wings surrounded by arcane symbols—embroidered over his chest. They felt heavy and stupidly formal, but it's not like he had any other choice.
Ethan hesitated for a moment before grabbing the timetable he'd found stashed under a mess of parchment. The first class of the day was something called "Basic Elemental Manipulation." That sounded like exactly the kind of thing he needed to not get murdered in two days.
But there was a slight problem.
He had no freaking idea where the classroom was.
"Why couldn't this stupid timetable come with a freaking map?" he grumbled, shoving it into his robe's inner pocket.
He took a deep breath and threw open the door. If he was going to figure this out, he needed to get moving.