Extend the Story - Add a Room

Warmth comes first, not light. A steady rhythm surrounds you, deeper and older than memory, like a drum echoing through water. When you open your eyes, the world is too bright, too large, painted in colors sharper than any you remember—sky-blue walls, glowing runes drifting like fireflies, faces framed by soft halos of magic. You try to speak, but your voice arrives as a cry. Tiny hands clench. You are small. You are new. They call you a miracle. A woman with yellow hair holds you close, her tears falling like blessings. A man in a dark cloak laughs in disbelief, lightning sigils fading from his fingertips. Outside the window, floating islands drift through lavender clouds, and a dragon’s shadow passes lazily across the sun. Somewhere distant, bells ring—not metal, but magic itself, welcoming another soul into the weave of the world.

You do not remember everything, not clearly. Your past life exists only as feelings: rain, music, motion, a sudden end. But even those blur, softened by this body, this beginning. What remains is curiosity. Wonder. A strange comfort, as if you were meant to be here all along.
As days pass, you learn without trying. Mana hums in your veins when you cry. Flowers bloom when you laugh. The elders whisper about destiny, about ancient prophecies and reborn spirits, but none of that matters yet. You are rocked to sleep beneath constellations that shift and rearrange themselves, telling stories in the sky.

This world is dangerous, they say—full of monsters, wars, and heroes who burn bright and die young. But for now, wrapped in enchanted blankets, you feel only safety. You have been given another start, not as punishment or reward, but as possibility. A second life begins quietly, with a heartbeat, a breath, and magic waiting patiently for you to grow into it.

By ten, your world has become routine magic. You learn about life in this new world, secretly learning spells, practicing fire spells daily. Your parents think you are special, “silver hair is a symbol of power”, they say. All mages born with silver hair have reached tremendous feats; many work for numerous kingdoms, others are S tier guild members. Arclight Magic Academy seems to be the most obvious path; everyone says it. You now stand between childhood and destiny, unaware of how large your shadow already is, or how closely the world will begin to watch you.

On your eleventh birthday, a special opportunity unfolds. A choice between Arclight Magic Academy or the practice of the Ironhand’s Sword Academy; both excellent choices.

Attend Arclight Magic Academy