Aurélle and Dahlia stood outside of the bookshop, the sun gilding the cobblestones of Erindor with a warm, golden light. Aurélle carefully unfolded the supply list, smoothing it with tender fingers. She had studied it countless times, treasuring every item as a symbol of her future at Aurélith Academy. Each line whispered of possibility, of freedom, of a life she had barely dared to imagine.
"Where to next?" Dahlia asked, her voice bright with excitement, though tempered by the careful awareness she had learned in her mother's presence. "We need quills… a Conduit… but which shop has all of those things?"
Aurélle traced her finger down the list, scanning each item slowly. "The Aetherium," she said softly, as if speaking the name aloud made it more real. "It's the place for magical artifacts. That has to be where we start."
They began walking, the bustling streets of Erindor opening before them like a tapestry of life and color. Winding alleys and cobbled thoroughfares led past ivy-clad stone buildings, their windows gleaming in the sunlight. Hanging lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, and the scent of fresh bread and roasted nuts drifted from open-air stalls. Merchants called out their wares—jewelry that sparkled in the sun, enchanted trinkets that whispered softly, and small magical curiosities that floated lazily above counters.
Everywhere, students bustled about, carrying satchels and bags, consulting lists, and pointing at artifacts with gleeful anticipation. Nobles strolled with air of quiet authority, their embroidered attire brushing the streets, while tradespeople balanced baskets of goods, calling greetings to familiar faces. For Aurélle and Dahlia, this was unlike anything they had ever known. Every corner of the city hummed with energy and life, but unlike before, they felt it in a new way. This was no longer a world where they ran errands for their stepmother; it was a world where they could step forward for themselves.
The Aetherium soon came into view, a singular, breathtaking structure amidst the elegant cityscape. Its pale stone walls seemed to shimmer faintly, catching the sunlight in a way that suggested an inner light. Arched windows glittered like polished crystal, and intricate magical sigils were etched along the doorframe, glowing softly as if sensing those who approached. Aurélle felt her pulse quicken, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine. The very air around the building vibrated with unseen energy, as if the walls themselves were alive with latent magic.
Pushing the doors open, they entered a cathedral of enchantments. The Aetherium's interior was vast, filled with floating objects of every imaginable kind. Small orbs drifted in lazy spirals, gemstones rotated gently on pedestals, and vials filled with iridescent liquids shimmered like captured sunlight. Quills hovered over velvet cushions, their nibs glinting with faint energy. Every corner seemed to hum with magic—from tiny trinkets that whispered faint melodies to massive crystalline structures that pulsed with the energy of the realm.
Other students moved among the shelves, discussing their needs, comparing items, and testing magical curiosities. Aurélle felt a thrill of recognition: this was a place not only for them but for every student preparing to embark on the Academy's rigorous path. The excitement was almost tangible, a shared current of possibility that wrapped around the room.
Behind a counter of polished dark wood stood the shopkeeper, Marcellus, a figure as remarkable as the Aetherium itself. His robes shimmered like woven starlight, shifting between silver and deep blue with every subtle movement. Sparks traced the seams of his garments, flickering like tiny fireflies that never extinguished. His hair flowed like liquid silver, and his eyes held a calm luminescence, reflecting the magic of the room. He moved with effortless grace, as if gliding rather than walking, each gesture leaving behind faint ripples of arcane energy.
"Welcome to the Aetherium," Marcellus said, his voice melodic yet commanding. "I am Marcellus, curator of magical implements. How may I assist you today?"
Aurélle stepped forward, holding the list carefully in both hands. "We… we need Inkweave Quills, and a Conduit," she said, her voice a mixture of nerves and determination.
Marcellus's gaze flickered briefly to Aurélle, noting something he did not comment on, then he inclined his head. "Very well. Follow me."
He led them past shelves lined with glittering artifacts and softly glowing stones, through aisles where enchanted orbs hovered midair, reflecting the golden light streaming in from above. They approached a section where quills floated gently, each poised delicately above a velvet cushion.
Aurélle lifted several quills, testing them one by one. Some were too eager, scribbling before she could guide them; others resisted, their tips stiff against the page. Finally, her fingers brushed against one with a faint silver hue. The moment she lifted it, a quiet hum ran through her fingertips, and it settled in her hand as though it had been waiting for her all along.
She placed the nib to the supplied parchment. The quill moved with her intentions effortlessly, capturing her words, and then something more—faint echoes of thoughts she had never voiced even to herself appeared across the page. Hopes, fears, and secret dreams flowed onto the parchment in delicate ink, tracing a path of her inner life.
Dahlia, meanwhile, selected three quills in deep indigo with flecks of gold. One danced across the page obediently, another wavered and resisted her control, but the third responded immediately to her touch. Her quill flowed smoothly, translating the rhythm of her heart into ink, leaving her entirely captivated. She was so absorbed she barely noticed the silver quill capturing Aurélle's unspoken thoughts.
Marcellus's eyes lingered on Aurélle, taking in the unusual resonance between the girl and her quill. He gave her a small, knowing look, acknowledging the depth of what the quill had captured, but he said nothing, letting her experience it privately.
"This one," Dahlia murmured, a delighted smile tugging at her lips. "This is the one for me."
"Excellent," Marcellus said. "The Inkweave Quill will always resonate with your intentions and thoughts, sometimes even those you have not fully voiced. Treat it with care."
Aurélle nodded, her pulse still quickened from the quill's revelations.
"Shall we proceed to the Conduits?" Marcellus asked, turning toward an arched doorway at the back of the shop.