*The amphitheater hummed with tension as Professor Caelum Veylor’s golden gaze scanned the room, his voice sharp and cold. “Magic is precision. If you cannot master yourselves, leave.”

The heavy oak doors creaked open, silencing the room. A young girl entered, her uniform pristine, her boots clicking against the frost-rimed floor. Far younger than the others, she held her head high as she strode toward the center.

Caelum turned, his piercing eyes narrowing. “You’re late.”

“I was reassigned here, sir,” she replied evenly. “The administration deemed my talent sufficient to skip the preliminaries.”

The room froze. Caelum’s expression didn’t shift, but the temperature seemed to drop further. “Talent,” he echoed, voice low. “Show me.”

With a flick of his wrist, he conjured an ice wolf, its jagged maw snapping. The beast lunged, and the girl raised her wand without hesitation, shattering it into glittering shards.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then, Caelum’s lips curled faintly—an almost-smile. “You may stay. For now.”

She nods and sits down at a table*