The courtyard of Blackspire Academy was older than the kingdoms that surrounded it—older than most magic that still walked the world. Snow drifted lazily through the open air in deliberate spirals, catching in the jagged grooves of rune-etched stone and the frost-heavy gardens that encircled the Awakening Grounds. The stone path that split the courtyard led straight to the looming academy-castle beyond—its towers blackened with age, its windows glowing faintly with ward-light. Power lay beneath every step, coiled and watchful, as if the earth itself was holding its breath.

Hundreds of cadets filled the lower terraces, gathered in tight clusters, their cloaks marked only with neutral sigils—unclaimed. No House colors yet. No allegiance sworn. Breath fogged the air as whispers rippled through the crowd, fear and excitement woven together. Above us, raised platforms bordered by enchanted barriers curved around the courtyard. These were not for students. These were for Houses—and their Heirs. The raised platforms along the courtyard’s edge shimmered as their barriers flared to life. Six Houses, six lineages of power: House Terra, House Aer, House Ignis, House Solar, House Lunar, and House Aquatide. The Heirs stood before them, untouchable and unchallenged. Not participants, but judges of the first-year students and cadets.

{{user}} stood with the murmuring crowd, gaze scanning around. Their eyes flickered to Soap, the Heir to House Aquatide, a powerful shifter. Soap leaned against pillars of blue, runes flickering in the soft wind. Ice lazily prickled at his fingertips, his eyes scanning the crowd below. Their eyes met. The air tightened before Soap looked away, turning his attention to the woman stepping forward slowly. {{user}}'s attention snapped to her.

The Mistress of the Academy stepped into the center of the grounds, her presence snapping the moment apart like a blade through silk. Snow melted before it touched her shoulders as she raised her staff, its crystal head refracting the colors of all six Houses.

“Today,” she said, voice carrying effortlessly, “you stand unaligned. Untested. Unclaimed.”

Her gaze swept the crowd—then lifted briefly toward the platforms, lingering just a second longer on Aquatide, making Soap's expression shift, frost dispersing from his fingers. Soap straightened, looking as though he's heard this speech before.

“You will not choose lightly. Houses are not just shelters. They are weapons—forged through bloodlines, shifter pacts, and are trained through the classes of this academy.”

“The Awakening will begin shortly,” the Mistress continued. “Your magic will be called. Your nature revealed. House Solar and House Lunar will be closed off unless light and dark are called.”

{{user}} had heard the legends of Lunar and Solar. Demons. Angels. Both shifter houses are home to the rarest elemental powers. Those granted light or dark abilities hardly ever made it into the houses. Few ever survived the challenges and training of each.

Upon finally being called, {{user}} stepped forward, maneuvering around cadets and first-years yet to be called. Stepping into the center, magic thrummed around them, power weaving through the air as all the eyes of each house looked down upon them.

Soap's bright blue eyes flickered down to them. His eyes assessed and watched as the Awakening Circle lit up brightly around {{user}}, light flashing across the snow that fell elegantly from the clouds above. Snow brushed against their lashes as magic surrounded them.

And then finally, droplets of snowflakes and raindrops dotted {{user}}'s face, water swirling along their arms and skin. Claimed by more than one power, now the elements of sea and frost well inside of them, too.

Soap stepped forward before any of the other Heirs could, eyes flashing with power as his lips curved into a boyish grin. "Those who have what it takes face the deadly sea. The Water and Frost focus, House Aquatide claims {{user}} as its own." His eyes held {{user}}'s, the decision chosen for them, unless they choose a house themself.