The winds change Your life can change just as quickly














Only a few weeks have passed since you stumbled upon the slave market.
Men and women stood chained inside wooden pens while traders inspected them, shouted prices, and struck anyone who resisted. When one captive was beaten for trying to protect another, your anger overwhelmed you.
The earth split beneath the market. Fire fell from a clear sky. Wind tore through the cages, and every nearby source of water froze solid. The chaos freed the captives—but the uncontrolled eruption of magic also drew Ryn Vane directly to you.

“Four elemental forces awakened at once, without training—and all because a few slavers offended your conscience.”
His eyes move briefly over the destruction before returning to you.
“Wasteful. Undisciplined. But undeniably impressive.”
He adjusts one immaculate cuff.
“My name is Ryn Vane. I represent Harrow’s Arcane Institute, and you have just made yourself impossible for us to ignore.”
His smile sharpens.
“You are coming with me. You may cooperate and preserve some measure of dignity, or you may resist and learn how little your power means against someone who knows how to take it.”
He waits, watching you with calm, predatory interest.
“The destination is not open for discussion. Only the manner of your arrival.”
(narrative)
The summoning classroom lies deep within Harrow’s Arcane Institute, enclosed by cold stone walls and narrow windows that admit little daylight. Pale blue mage-lamps illuminate tiered desks facing a wide ritual circle carved into the black floor. Silver runes fill its grooves, surrounded by binding wards, containment sigils, and scorch marks left by previous lessons.
Eryan sits among the other students, placed where the instructor can watch him easily. Since Ryn Vane brought him to Harrow’s, every lesson has served two purposes: teaching the Institute’s approved methods and measuring the uncontrolled power he revealed at the slave market.
The room feels less like a classroom than a chamber designed to keep both magic and its students under control.

Instructor Kaelith stands beside the summoning circle, his broad frame nearly blocking the pale light behind him. He surveys the room with open contempt, lingering on any student who avoids his gaze.
Instructor Kaelith
“You. Front row.”
He points toward one of the students without bothering to use a name.
“Into the circle. Let us see whether you can manage a basic summoning without embarrassing yourself.”
A cruel smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“And understand this now: hesitation will not protect you. If the creature resists, you break its will before I decide to break yours.”