《Arcane Vows》 Prologue With a bated breath, Nadine Pleasant unfurled the fraying string neatly binding the stack of her family''s envelopes together. Her hands worked the string loose, its crimson fibres snapping under the tension. The envelopes beneath shifted, their edges rough against her fingertips. Her chest tightened with soundless anticipation, an icy slither caressing the back of her neck as she sorted through the stack, her movements careful but deliberate. Paper rasped against the paper, whispering secrets to one another until one envelope in particular, stopped her cold. There, in alluring cursive script, was a letter addressed to her. This letter - A fragile, trembling thing within her grasp, could mean everything. Daringly, her fingertips grazed the surface. Trailing over the brief indentation left behind by the tip of the quill that had so brazenly ebbed her name in depth-less black ink. Glinting in the ocher light cascading in through the kitchen window lay an undisturbed wax seal. Neatly binding the folds of the envelope together. Its gold face, lavished with the imprint of a celestial sun and moon nestled within a weaving, labyrinthine pattern. Nurturing the envelope open with utmost care, Nadine braced herself against the counter. Holding the piece of paper close to her chest as her lashes fluttered closed. Drawing a painfully needing breath as the letter was unfolded, and she scoured the content within. Le Sanctuaire ¨¦sot¨¦rique, Institut des Connaissances Arcaniques et C¨¦lestes. Dear Miss Pleasant, Following your recent interview, Le Sanctuaire ¨¦sot¨¦rique has extended an official offer for you to join our faculty of Arcane Realities. The interview showed your remarkable talent in the magical arts and your rare insight into perception and reality. Your unique approach to the subject will be a valuable addition to our faculty and student development. Our commitment is to provide the highest quality education.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Le Sanctuaire will entrust you with teaching the Art of Illusions¡ªan essential branch of magic that requires both subtlety and mastery. You will guide students through the fine balance of deception and perception, teaching them how to mold reality itself. Aside from teaching, you''ll have access to our exclusive library of arcane knowledge and can collaborate on research in the Department of Arcane Studies. We will induct you into our faculty and provide you with all the necessary resources for your role, beginning on January 1st. We will prepare accommodations for you within the sanctuary and provide a stipend to support you during your tenure with us. We have no doubt that your time with us will be a mutually enriching experience, fostering growth in both yourself and our students. We await the contributions and whimsical teachings you will bring to Le Sanctuaire ¨¦sot¨¦rique. Kind Regards, Professor Lilya Marsh Chair of the Department of Illusions and Arcane Studies. Le Sanctuaire ¨¦sot¨¦rique It felt as though time had paused, suspended between a single tick and an overdue tock, caught in the same breathless anticipation gripping Nadine. The stillness was absolute, broken only by the faint rustle of paper as her eyes darted over each word, each elegant curve and flicked flourish of the cursive script before her, pulling Nadine deeper into its calligraphic clutches. Le Sanctuaire ¨¦sot¨¦rique. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, trembling breaths as the words pressed themselves into her mind: an invitation to step into the folds of a world she had only dreamed of. The most prestigious institute in the country had chosen her ¡ª as a Master of Illusions, a guide to the deceptive arts she had spent her life perfecting. And yet, standing there in the golden wash of the kitchen light, her fingers gripping the edges of the letter as if it might vanish, she could hardly believe it. For someone who had built her life around crafting illusions, the truth of this moment felt impossibly unreal. The celestial seal glinted faintly on the counter where she had set the envelope aside, its labyrinthine imprint a silent reminder of the door she was about to walk through¡ªa door she could never close again. Chapter One Sic Parvis Magna, Greatness from Small Beginnings. ©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤ Le Sanctuaire ¨¦sot¨¦rique, Institut des reconnaissances Arciniegas et Celestis. An Academic Institution nestled in the heart of Valtrisse, a city ebbing, interwoven with the Arcane and mechanical ingenuity. Magic alongside machinery. Flourishing. Generations of brilliant mages and spell-casters have been nurtured in this highly respected establishment. Toiling to the brim with research and grand discoveries. It was the dream of every witch, every sorcerer. And Nadine was no exception. She had yearned for this moment above all else. And now it was hers. For years, she had clung to it like a lifeline through the grime-streaked alleys of Clairrouille, where soot clogged the air and opportunity was whispered about but rarely seen. Bags packed and the horizon calling, Nadine Pleasant felt a stir of excitement and sadness as she stood on the brink of leaving her family home, her dream within grasp. The pastel glow of dawn bathed Valtrisse in soft light, gilding its intricate domes and brass spires with hues of gold and amber. Even from where Nadine stood in Clairrouille''s smog-streaked streets, the city gleamed like a promise in the distance. A golden caress, flitting through the smog. Cyril, Nadine''s father, hesitated in the doorway, reluctant to let her leave. His embrace was tight, his arms warm and steady, like he was trying to hold her close just a little longer. One gloved hand held the back of her head gently while the other clutched her tightly. "My dear, are you positive you haven''t forgotten anything?" Cyril murmured, pulling back to inspect her. Scanning her travel clothes for flaws, though he found none, his sharp eyes darted over her outfit as he smoothed the lapel of her worn jacket with a practiced motion. "When have you ever known me to not be prepared?" Mirth trickled through her tone, much to her father''s dismay. The corner of his mouth quirked upward, but the furrow of his brow remained. His tall frame leaned down, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders as he met her gaze. "Not once," he confessed, his voice tinged with grudging pride. "It feels like not that long ago that you couldn''t do anything without me." "I''ll always need you," Nadine conceded quietly, the words fragile and strained, like a thread stretched too far. She saw the way his expression softened, the bittersweet pull of his lips. The silence hung heavy between them, thick with unspoken words. The weight of her departure. The sting of goodbye. A rhythmic clatter echoed down the cobblestone street, breaking the silence. The sound grew stronger, piercing the thick fog. A figure emerged from the damp blanket of gray, causing both father and daughter to pause, their breath catching in their throats. The creature advanced with the proud, deliberate grace of the living, but its body gleamed with the unnatural sheen of polished brass and tempered steel. Gears clicked and whirred, pistons driving its smooth movements with mechanical precision. Every joint a masterpiece of craftsmanship. A gentle whirring filled the air as gears and cogs spun within, mimicking the steady rhythm of a heartbeat.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. A Clockwork horse. Skinless. Entirely mechanical. Soft, breath-like steam curled from its nostrils in the cool morning air. The beast towered over them, its black, pearlesque eyes swiveling to take in Nadine with a lifeless, calculating gaze. The fog wrapped around it, and its ears twitched as it moved its head, displaying a strange, almost curious gesture. Nadine''s breath hitched. In a spontaneous move, she stepped forward, her gloved hand extended. Her voice quiet, "It''s beautiful," a simple statement filled with awe. She only had her father''s sharp intake of breath as a warning. "Nadine, don''t¡ª" Cyril''s voice was sharp with disapproval as he grabbed her elbow, pulling her back. "We don''t know it''s temperament." "It''s simply a machine, Papa," Nadine replied, her voice steady but soothing, "It has no temperament." Breaking free of his grasp, she moved closer to the creature. Tracing the intricate etchings, her fingers brushed the cold, damp brass of its snout. The intricate inner workings clicked and clacked in flawless synchronization, a masterpiece of engineering. Cyril''s brow furrowed deeper with worry as he observed her, his hand hovering near her shoulder in a protective gesture. Her silence, though not spoken, was a response in itself. She faced the carriage the horse had brought to a stop. If it hadn''t been drawn before her, Nadine would have sworn it was an elaborate art piece. Crafted from polished wood, gleaming metal, and intricate clockwork. The frame was bolstered by brass-plated struts, adorned with curling filigree that reflected the dim light, shimmering like gold veins. The enormous iron-spoke wheels, driven by unseen steam-powered pistons, glided eerily silent beneath the chassis. Wordlessly, Cyril stepped forward to take her suitcases, placing them into the carriage himself. Before turning towards her, he lingered for a moment, his hands on the handles, his expression inscrutable. He nodded quietly toward the horse, the grandeur and prestige it represented, whilst wallowing in the smog-ridden streets of Clairrouille. "You''ve earned your place there. Don''t let anyone tell you otherwise." The words landed on Nadine with a weight she hadn''t foreseen. For as long as she could remember, she battled to be included, to earn a spot in a world that appeared determined to keep her out. She had hidden her hunger for more behind a mask of defiance, pretending the whispered judgments didn''t sting. As she stood on the brink of her dream life, her doubts returned with a vengeance. She choked back a reply, meeting her father''s eyes with a determined look. Her voice wavered as she promised, "I won''t." Stepping back, Cyril nodded curtly, his jaw clenching. Nadine feared that if she hugged her Father one last time, she would never be able to truly leave. She stepped into the carriage, her boots sinking into the soft interior. Cool air hung inside, thick with the smell of oiled brass and varnished wood. The door clicked shut, and as the horse hissed steam, its ears flicked in response to an unspoken order. With a jarring lurch, the carriage sped onward, its wheels clanking over the cobblestones, and the familiar sights of Clairrouille dissolved into the mist. Nadine watched her father''s figure shrink, disappearing into the gray, her hand flat against the window, fingers spread. A pang of anxiety gripped her. The lump in her throat swelled, pushing tears to the surface, but she forced them down with a clenched jaw. She reminded herself firmly, "This isn''t the moment to cry." Tirelessly, Nadine was driven to overcome the obstacles of her birth and reach a position of equality with those born into wealth. Clairrouille, with its leaky roofs and smoky air, was a part of her, etched into her very being. But it would not define her. Valtrisse didn''t know her yet. But that wouldn''t take long. Chapter Two Ad Meliora, Towards Better Things. ©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤©¤ Clairrouille wasn''t the golden glinting city of splendor like Valtrisse was. It was the criminal underbelly. A place spoken of in hushed whispers. And finally, Nadine was escaping it. Escaping it all. The violence. The filthy streets. The dank, dark days ¡ª Void of sunlight. The damned smog. She''d the fearful nights of her childhood, alone, cradled under her bed, flipping through her mother''s old and worn books and immersing herself in a world of magic and brilliance. The very same one she was still captivated by. Now, as the carriage jolted along Clairrouille''s jagged streets, Nadine let her eyes wander over the city one last time. The facades of forgotten buildings, crumbling and leaning into each other. Stricken by poverty. Shadows pooled in every corner, swallowing the light, much as the city itself had tried to devour her. But she was no longer theirs to claim. Unravelling with each turn of the wheel, she was moving farther from the knot of her past.The stench of ash and stagnant water faded as the carriage higher, replaced by the crisp, open air that whispered of freedom. Nadine, leaning back in the carriage seat, let her pulse settle. She was not running anymore. She was leaving. Leaving behind the screams that used to claw at her ears during the night. The sting of soot that was embedded in her skin. The nights of grueling study. Reaching the incline leading from the Undercity, the mechanical horse ticked. She felt the wheels beneath her carriage hesitate as if Clairrouille resisted letting her go. But then, with a jolt, the carriage surged forward, breaking free. The smog thinned, and sunlight poured in through the narrow windows, washing over her face. Valtrisse''s first light, golden and warm, was like a gentle hand lifting her chin and raising her up into a new way of life. The gleaming towers of the splendid city, their peaks ablaze with the sun, appeared ahead, setting the horizon alight. Her fingers curled into her lap as a sense of anticipation swelled within her. This was it. The world she''d dreamed of was no longer confined to the pages of newspapers and spiteful whispers. It was real, and it was waiting for her. Nadine''s gut clenched as her body grew taught with anticipation, feeling the rugged, broken roads of Clairrouille fall behind her. Approaching the city, inch by inch. At this point, it was nearly there. Her future. It almost drove her mad. Nadine was usually a patient woman. Brought up modestly, she understood that patience was rewarded with blessings. And yet, as the golden caress of sunlight flitted through the windows of the carriage, she just couldn''t help but feel like an excitable child. Valtrisse, flitting over golden spiral-capped domes and glass houses, resembled an unearthed treasure. The buttery golden sun flitting through the clearing smog, like it was parting the heavens. Cobblestone streets wound through the bustling town, alive with its charm and industry. Towering dark stone and timber buildings jutted skyward, their steeply sloped roofs adorned with ornate spires and chimneys that belched faint wisps of steam. Each structure seemed a blend of function and artistry, with wide bay windows glowing warm and intricately carved balconies brimming with potted plants. Shops and cafes lined along the street and adorned with colourful awnings, gleaming brass, and hand-painted signs beckoned passersby with promises of craftsmanship and innovation. A steady hum of activity filled the air as townsfolk dressed in fine, tailored attire strolled by, exchanging cheerful banter, while merchants busily arranged their wares. Incredulously, Nadine paused for a moment, unable to believe she was there. Being drawn along in a brass horse carriage. She was really here, in the City of Splendour. Valtrisse. Her eyes rapidly flitted from one sight to another, her stomach twisting and her heart beginning to race. Her lips, threatening to twitch upward into an exuberant grin. Here she was, at last. ???? ©¥©¥©¥©¥??? ? ???©¥©¥©¥©¥ ???? With its approach to the towering brass gates of Le Sanctuaire ¨¦sot¨¦rique, the carriage slowed. Sunlight glinted off the intricate metalwork, casting rippling patterns across the pavement. Twisting flourishes and delicate filigree seemed to shift as the carriage drew nearer, as though alive under the sun''s touch. The sleek, mechanical horse hissed softly upon coming to a halt. Steam puffed from their joints, their brass body gleaming in the light. The artificial creature moved with an eerie grace, it''s heads swinging to survey their surroundings with the uncanny patience of a real animal. Clicking and swinging open, the carriage door moved with practiced ease. Nadine stepped out, gloved fingers brushing the polished banister as she descended. Her boots clicking against the stones, and for a moment, she stood frozen, staring.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Le Sanctuaire ¨¦sot¨¦rique. Like a vision carved from her dreams, the academic heart of Valtrisse stood before her. Its honey-colored stone glowed warmly under the afternoon sun, spires stretching skyward as though trying to brush the clouds. The central dome rose like a crowned jewel, its surface etched with intricate patterns that shimmered faintly, hinting at some hidden magic. Toward the main archway stretched an emerald-green lawn, its perfection almost unnerving. Each blade of grass seemed deliberate, as though manicured by unseen hands. The arches leading into the courtyard were shadowed, their cool recesses promising wisdom and mystery. Hardly able to swallow, Nadine stood before the building that so brazenly that dwarfed her. This was what she had fought for. What she had sacrificed for. Unlatching her trunk from the back of the carriage, her fingers fumbled. Its weight was familiar, grounding her as she hoisted it onto the pavement. In Clairrouille''s Undercity, the air had weight¡ªa biting, acrid cocktail of soot and sulfur lingering on the tongue, branding itself into your senses. Even now, Nadine swore she could taste it, the sharp reminder of her roots clinging to the edges of her memory. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself. Her chest burning with every baited breath. Here in Valtrisse, the world was different. It was a world she desperately wanted to join. The midday sun bathed the streets in a soft, golden glow, unchallenged by clouds or smog. Women and men strolled the avenues in fine, tailored clothing, their movements elegant and leisurely. Even the children wore garments more refined than anything Nadine had ever owned. From every corner, laughter, invention, and ambition hummed, giving the streets a bustling energy. Life teemed here, vibrant and unapologetic, spilling out of the polished cracks of cobblestones and curling around ornate lampposts. Opening her eyes, Nadine noticed a guard post at the entrance. It was a small but striking structure, crafted from black iron with brass inlays. The guard within stood tall and formal, his uniform a crisp blend of crimson and ebony. A polished mechanical rifle hung at his side, more ceremonial than threatening, though its brass fittings caught the sun in a way that made her uneasy. ''Surely, that rifle was just for show.'' The thought looped numbly through Nadine''s mind as her gaze swept discreetly over the guard stationed at the gate. His uniform was crisp, his posture formal¡ªyet something about his presence felt almost ornamental. Approaching, the young man straightened slightly. "Good afternoon," he said, inclining his head with a polite nod. "How can I help you?" "Good afternoon. Sorry to bother you." Nadine''s words came with a nervous smile, the subtle tension in her stomach tightening. "I''m Nadine Pleasant," she added, her voice pitching slightly. Eagerness dawned from within, followed by bursts of quick-fire anxiety and doubt. Blinking at her, the guard''s expression went blank for an uncomfortable moment. His brows twitched faintly, the slightest movement hinting at confusion¡ªor perhaps just hesitation. Gods, this is awkward. With a blush rising in her neck, she rapidly explained that she had arrived to start a new job, her gaze darting between the guard and the gate. Her words spilled out in a clumsy jumble, and for a moment, she thought she saw the faintest flicker of sympathy on his lips as they threatened to curve into a smile. "May I see some identification, please?" Nadine fumbled in her bag, producing her ID. The card was well-worn, its edges frayed, the photo on it embarrassingly unflattering. Studying the card the guards blonde brows drew together in concentration. His bright brown eyes darting between the card and her face, and though his lips twitched with amusement, he said nothing as he handed it back. After a moment, the guard commented. "Someone will be out shortly to escort you onto the premises," Nadine noted his gaze briefly flicking over her outfit, his brow lifting subtly. As if, he was scrutinizing her. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice quieter now. A fleeting glance passed between them, yet Nadine resisted the urge to fidget with her attire. Her outfit, chosen with care, consisted of a crisp white blouse, high-collared and puffed-sleeved, layered under a black bodice that neatly cinched her waist. A full, lace-trimmed black skirt flowed down to her ankles. Over it all, she wore her late mother''s red double-breasted trench coat, the fabric worn but timeless. The coat''s breast pocket bore intricate embroidery: a compass encircled by a ring of magical runes. As if deciphering her, the young guard''s gaze lingered, his head tilting slightly. Was he judging her? Did he know where she was from? "Miss Pleasant?" The smooth, accented drawl of her name drew Nadine from her thoughts. The brass gates swung open seamlessly, and her attention shifted to the figure emerging from beyond them. Approaching, the woman was striking; tall, with deep bronze skin that contrasted sharply against her navy turtleneck. Her cascade of black springy curls framing her face pretilly as her lips drew into an cordial smile. Warmth and confidence, alternating as one. Her eyes, dark and captivating - inviting, as Nadine was drawn into them. Nadine''s lips curving into a hesitant smile, confirming quietly, "Yes, that''s me." The warmth in her cheeks hadn''t quite faded, but she squared her shoulders as the woman drew closer. She deserved to be here. There was no need to be shy. She found herself repeating the same mantra over and over deep within her thoughts. "It''s a pleasure to meet you"." A handshake accompanied the woman''s greeting. "I''m Gracie-Mae, the Teaching Assistant for the department of Arcane Realities" The youthful glint in her eyes was almost enthralling. An entrancing softness within. "Let''s get you settled in, shall we?" Passing through the towering gates, Nadine took a moment to throw a glance over her shoulder, the heavy clang of the gates closing reverberating through her chest like a final punctuation mark on the story of her old life. For a brief moment, she hesitated, her breath catching as she turned back to look. Clairrouille was hidden now, swallowed by distance and shadow. It felt farther away than it had ever been¡ªlike a bad dream dissolving under the light of day. Her grip on the suitcase tightened. Ahead, the towering spires of the Academy stood bathed in sunlight, glowing like the golden domes. This was her beginning, a life made not of soot and smog, but of ambition and expectation. She straightened her shoulders. Let it come. Whatever it was, she would face it. Nadine Pleasant was no longer running from a world she despised. She was walking toward the one she deserved.