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eyes.
    The grim specter raised its arm, pointing a long finger tipped with a jagged nail at him. Dorian felt his knees begin to buckle. His hand fell to the metal wand at his belt, but he didn’t know what to do with it.
    Lowadar stepped forward and waved a hand at the ghost. The headmaster whispered a word that instantly dispelled the entity.
    The archmage turned and nodded at the assembled faculty, who returned his gesture and dispersed, hurrying off to their own tasks and responsibilities.
    Lowadar looked down at Dorian and smiled kindly.
    The effect was not as reassuring as the powerful wizard probably hoped because he was so imposing.
    “Do not be overly alarmed, Dorian,” Lowadar said, his voice low and gravelly. “The haunts of Aldwyns are mostly nothing to fear, though they can be … disconcerting at times.”
    Beside them Helene wore an odd expression.
    “Maverick told me to beware the ghosts,” Dorian offered, not sure why he was admitting talking to the eladrin.
    Lowadar smiled.
    “Yes, well, Maverick and I often disagree on what items and information are appropriate for my students. Fortunately, it is I and not Maverick who is headmaster at Aldwyns.”
    Dorian, accustomed to political double-talk from his time at his mother’s side in court, realized instantly that Lowadar had not exactly refuted Maverick’s declaration.
    He knew better than to point that out.
    Lowadar turned to the academy and placed his hands behind his back. “Walk with me, young Ravensmith,” he said. “Helene, would you join us?”
    The headmaster strolled down the cobbled entrance of Aldwyns, leaving the village behind. Before Dorian, the walls of the academy rose up, granite and basalt blocks running vertically in seamless rows.
    On either side of the entrance, sheer cliffs fell away, revealing how the school was built into the plateau separating it from the village.
    Up countless stone steps and through twenty-foot high doors of heavy wood and ornate brass, the trio progressed until Dorian entered the grounds proper. There, a dragon statue of richest brown symbolically guarded the portals to the academy.
    “Is that dragon made of …” Dorian let his question run off.
    “Chocolate?” Lowadar provided. “Yes. A prank concocted by some of your fellow Aldwyns students.”
    “Juvenile,” Helene added.
    Her voice dripped with disapproval.
    “A bit of high spirits I’ve chosen to overlook,” Lowadar corrected her gently. “We’ve experienced a bit of stress here lately. Well, correction. Students
always
find Aldwyns stressful. We are a premier institution of academics and eldritch learning. But as of late, things have been especially stressful.”
    “Dire wolves and ghosts?” Dorian asked.
    Lowadar ignored him. His eyes were still locked on the form of the dragon placed upon the pedestal.
    “Meet Daelicasus,” he said, “Aldwyns’ mascot and servant of the first headmaster. A most important dragon to our school’s history.”
    “Though not the first dragon to ever call this plateau home,” Helene said softly.
    Lowadar arched an eyebrow at the girl.
    “True enough,” the headmaster agreed. Dorian opened his mouth to question further, and the older wizard cut his query off neatly. “But that’s a story for another day. Come, let us see the grand ballroom.”
    The little group moved deeper into the building. Despite himself and the stress and wonder of all he had faced that day, Dorian was still overwhelmed as he beheld the grand ballroom of Aldwyns Academy.
    Filled with glittering magical lights and tiled in polished moonstone, the shimmering chamber was vast and ornate without being ostentatious. He saw a curvy, stylized A set into the floor and gasped when he realized that the letter was formed from rare dragonsbreath rubies.
    “A gift from the crystal dragons at the laying of the foundation of this school,” Helene informed him.
    He was immediately irked.
    He knew Helene’s type well—she always had