A hush deeper than silence settled over the Great Hall.
"I have instructed the teachers, along with our Head Boy and Head Girl, to conduct the House Division Ceremony in a simple manner," Headmaster Dreymark announced. "Once it is complete, you will have your dinner and retire directly to your dormitories."
His gaze sharpened, sweeping across the sea of students. His voice rang with unmistakable authority.
"And let this be absolutely clear—there will be no more gossip, speculation, or careless discussion about yesterday's events. Theron Ravencrest made his choices. What follows is for the Ministry to judge, not for students to debate."
A few uneasy murmurs stirred, only to die instantly beneath his piercing stare.
"You are here to study. To grow stronger. To prepare yourselves so that one day, when darkness rises before you, you will not tremble in fear," he continued. "That is your duty. Nothing else."
Then his tone softened, just slightly.
"Take care of yourselves. Take care of one another. That is how we honor those who were lost."
With that, he turned to the witch standing at his right.
She was tall, dignified, and sharp-eyed, her silver-gray hair braided neatly beneath a pointed hat. Age had etched discipline into her features, but her presence radiated power.
"Vice-Headmistress Seraphina Duskbane," Dreymark said firmly. "Begin the ceremony. Complete it swiftly. I must depart for the Ministry immediately afterward."
Seraphina inclined her head, her expression unreadable. With a single flick of her finger, the torches lining the hall flared brighter, their flames roaring to life.
"Attention," her voice echoed through the hall. "We will now begin this year's House Division Ceremony. First-years, listen carefully. When your name is called, step onto the stage and stand within the circle. The lamp will determine your House. Once chosen, join your House table."
Kalen's eyes drifted toward the banners hanging above the long tables.
Above the first, a blue flag bore the image of a black dragon with silver eyes—Drakemont.
The second table stood beneath a green banner, where a silver phoenix wreathed in golden flames spread its wings—Emberthorn.
The third shimmered red, marked by a crescent moon encircled by glowing stars—Moonveil.
Just as Kalen's gaze lingered, a sharp pinch snapped him back to reality.
"Kalen!" Eirene whispered urgently. "Professor Duskbane called your name!"
"Kalen Ravencrest," Seraphina announced again.
The hall erupted into murmurs.
Ravencrest?The king's son?The butcher of Calestra—his child?
Kalen ignored the whispers clawing at his ears. His heart thundered as he rose from his seat and walked toward the stage.
At its center stood the ancient lamp—tall, glass-veined, and alive with shifting light. It pulsed as he stepped into the circle, its glow enveloping him like a living gaze.
A voice echoed inside his mind.
You are destined for immense power… like your father. You belong to Drakemont.
Kalen's breath caught.
"No," he whispered urgently. "Please… not Drakemont. I don't want to be like him."
The lamp hesitated.
You reject your blood?
"Yes," Kalen said, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest. "I'm certain."
Silence stretched.
Very well, the lamp replied at last. Moonveil.
Relief flooded through him. "Thank you," he murmured.
But the lamp lingered—longer than it had for any other student. The hall stirred uneasily.
Then—
The light flared crimson.
No cheer erupted from the Moonveil table, no applause echoing through the hall as Kalen stepped away from the circle, his fate sealed.
"Eirene," Seraphina called next.
She ascended the stage with confidence. The lamp blinked green.
"Emberthorn."
Moments later, Lily followed—green once again.
Both girls joined the Emberthorn table, greeted warmly by their House. Their chatter was cut short when another name rang out.
"Marcus."
A tall boy stepped forward. The lamp shimmered blue.
"Drakemont."
Marcus smiled proudly, though Lily's expression faltered—she had hoped they'd be together.
With that, the ceremony concluded.
Headmaster Dreymark rose, his commanding presence silencing the hall once more.
"I wish you all success in the term ahead," he said. "The House Championship Trophy will be awarded at year's end. It is earned through discipline, performance, and honor. Support your House. Earn its glory."
Excitement sparked through the students.
"To our first-years," he added, a rare smile touching his lips, "this is where your legacy begins."
With a nod, the feast began. Platters appeared, goblets filled, and the hall slowly returned to life.
Before departing, Dreymark turned to the teachers, the Head Boy, and Head Girl.
"I leave the school in your care. If anything… unusual occurs, inform me immediately."
They bowed in unison.
Moments later, the Headmaster swept from the hall, his robes trailing behind him—leaving Grimswald under watchful eyes as destiny quietly tightened its grip.