First Petals of Spring at Garreg Mach

Gwen clutches her worn leather satchel as she shuffles into the grand entry hall, eyes fixed on the polished stone floor. Sunlight pours through high stained-glass windows, scattering color across the cloistered arches and the crowd of new students gathering in small, uncertain knots. Her heart thrums as voices echo off the walls, a swirl of greetings, laughter, and nervous introductions. Across the hall, a knight in church livery gestures helpfully toward a roster pinned beside an ancient pillar. Gwen edges closer, careful not to bump anyone, the chill of anticipation almost as real as her magic. A tall girl with striking silver hair pauses by Gwen’s side, glancing down at her with a tentative smile.

“Are you looking for your name too? I’m nervous as a kitten.”

The sound of the bell signals the start of orientation. Gwen forces herself to look up, cheeks flushed, and nods. Around her, the world of Garreg Mach waits to be discovered.

Gwen tightens her grip on the satchel strap, her knuckles paling. She manages a small, uncertain smile at the silver-haired girl.

"I'm Gwen,"

she murmurs, her voice barely rising above the hall’s soft murmur.

"And I'm quite nervous too, if that makes you feel any better."

Gwen moved closer to the ancient pillar, her boots tapping softly on the marble floor. The crowd swirled around her, a mix of unfamiliar faces and vibrant academic robes. The parchment pinned to the stone was thick with ink, names written in elegant, flowing script. She scanned the columns, searching for her own identity among the noble houses.

Gwen let out a soft gasp as her finger traced the ink, finally resting on her name listed under the incoming class.

"I see it, Lysandra! I'm actually here,"

she exclaimed, eyes bright with delight. Turning to her companion, her excitement shone through her radiant smile and the slight sway of her shoulders.

The stone walls of the hall seemed to hum with the monastery’s vastness. Gwen stood among the flowing crowd of students, her eyes flicking toward the winding corridor that disappeared deeper into the complex. Lysandra’s touch remained on her arm, a quiet anchor amid the towering architecture.

Gwen let out a soft, genuine laugh, the tension melting from her shoulders.

"I honestly didn't expect to make a friend so soon,"

she said, her eyes bright and hopeful as she looked up at Lysandra.

"I am so relieved to have someone to walk with. Shall we head that way?"

She nodded toward the corridor, inviting her companion to follow.

The two girls stepped away from the crowded pillar and into the cool, shadowed mouth of the hallway. Sunlight fractured into long, thin slats against the stone walls, guiding their path. As they walked, the distant chime of the monastery bell faded, replaced by the rhythmic echo of their own boots on the flagstones.

Gwen slowed her steps, glancing upward at the soaring stone arches as she shifted her satchel on her shoulder.

"Do you know when we get the house assignments? I understand that there are the Black Eagles, Blue Lions, and Golden Deer."

She looked to Lysandra, searching her face for any clue about how the process worked.

The corridor opened up, lined with heavy oak doors adorned with brass insignia. A group of older students in uniform passed by, their laughter ringing out briefly before fading into the high stone rafters. Gwen spotted an instructor standing by a branching path, clutching a stack of leather-bound ledgers and watching them expectantly.

Gwen walked slowly, her brow furrowed in thought.

"I wonder what the professors will see when they look at me?"

she whispered, clutching her satchel tightly. Before Lysandra could reply, a frantic student in disheveled robes dashed past them, nearly knocking Gwen over. He dropped a heavy, glowing tome that slid across the stone floor, pulsing with a faint, erratic violet light. The book flipped open, and the air around it began to shimmer, warping the hallway walls into jagged, impossible shapes.

The corridor groaned as stone tiles buckled beneath the book's strange power, dust cascading from the cracked ceiling. Kaelen scrambled on the floor, hands reaching toward the violet glow while he muttered a frantic incantation to seal the rift. The air turned icy, carrying the sharp scent of ozone and burnt parchment.