Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to whomever really owns it. Though I am too lazy to point out who those people are, they know who they are.

A/N: In case you wonder, I am going with school terms used in Canada.

Chapter 1

Start of a Long Year

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… And believe me, you won't find better grounds anywhere else in the realms for your magical education. The sphere was kindly donated to the school during its founding year by the very generous Corthala family. Now I know you've probably heard certain folktales so I would like to clarify that all rumours concerning the Planar Sphere being sanctified by blood and that its creator still stalks its halls in murderous frenzy, are all undeniably… not provable.

Er, just as a precaution, should you encounter any questionable or dangerous looking necromantic individuals at night, could you please, please inform the nearest faculty member?

Ahem, the Planar Sphere, as I said before, is home to most of the classes of the Faculty of Arcane Arts and I assure you that though it doesn't look it, there's more than ample enough room. Running with the theme of its housed subject, the sphere is in reality its own magical pocket universe. The rules of time and space are altered and at present there are over two hundred and forty-three known rooms, and ninety-seven of them have been deemed by health authorities to be usable. Plus it has provided the economical boons of being self-sustainable… all supplies within are magically replenished every night.

Not only is it one of the many buildings that makes SCU so unique but within its walls lays an elaborate history of remarkable discoveries and momentous events. Invaluable breakthroughs have been made here, such as the first dedicated school to Wild Magic, the manifestation of the Bylaws of Construct Enchanting and the theories of sub-vocal casting, to name a few.

The intricacies of the Planar Sphere are of continuing interest and study, even amongst some of our senior staff. There are always surprises and intriguing rooms that oft draw the attention of many a grad writing their thesis paper. In fact students are encouraged to participate at the annual year-end writing contest where you can submit your theories about any subject involving the sphere.

Speaking of annual traditions, as an added treat I'd like to inform you, that yes, the Planar Sphere is still operational. Students of magical studies are lucky enough to get to go on specially planned field trips held every two years. For one week, students get to travel within the sphere to various otherworldly planes for hands on educational experience.

… On that note I would like to dissuade your fears if you've heard of about the time the sphere popped through several layers of the Abyss… the professor who was piloting at the time has been appropriately discharged and the school has given assurances that it will never happen again…

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"Imoen! Imoen!"

The pink-haired young woman stopped along the cobbled path, turning to see who had been frantically calling her name. An impish grin grew as she took in the flurry of flowing yellow and orange robes dashing along the path to catch up with her. The pretty elf running was unmindful of the few students she shoved aside in her haste to reach her.

Imoen began prancing up and down in mockery of her over excited roommate, "Aerie! Aerie! Aerie!"

The young avariel paused before her, confusion etched on her delicate features at the wild movements that had suddenly overtaken the human girl, "Imoen, are you all right? Why are you jumping up and down like that? Do… do you have to pee?"

Imoen stopped, her mouth open in mild shock, "What!? No! I mean what about you? What's got ya so excited that you've gotta scream my name clear across campus?" scolding her with a slight slap to the shoulder.

Immediately Aerie's eyes began to tear up behind a few locks of ribbon-braided blonde hair. Despite both being second-year students, the avariel looked as young as a teenager and sometimes twice as naïve and emotional. In contrast, despite her petite form, Imoen looked like the typical sort of girl who 'corrupted' girls like Aerie, with her strange hair colouring and leather tunic and skirt. However those who met the human know her to be just as caring of her friends… as she is likely to bring them trouble.

Concerned that perhaps she upset her friend on one of those 'days,' Imoen took both Aerie's hands trying to placate the girl from crying, "Aww, I didn't mean to Aerie, I thought it was just a light slap. C'mon, go ahead and scream all you want."

The avariel sniffled, shaking her head at Imoen's presumption, "N-no, it's not that! I-I just heard!"

"Heard what?"

"It's… it's so horrible! It's about Pr-professor Rayic!"

The way the blonde elf seemed to shrink into herself alarmed Imoen further, a cold feeling washing over her, "Aerie… did something happen?"

She saw the fear that poured from the avariel's crystal blue eyes and she in turn felt the dread seep into her.

"Aerie, tell me what happened!"

Her voice trembled, as if barely able to believe itself, "I-I heard th-that, Professor Rayic..."

"Yes?" Imoen impatiently urged.

"I he-heard that… that he failed every s-single student in his classes last yeeeeeaaarrr!" the clearly distraught girl bawled in tears.

Imoen tried very hard not to laugh in front of the avariel… so she turned away from her friend, clasping her hands over her mouth unable to stop from shaking in mirth.

Aerie, unable to see the look on her friend's face, misinterpreted Imoen's quivering shoulders as distress, "Sniff. I know and now we've got him this year... we don't stand a chance. He's going to fail us and our GPAs won't be good enough and we're going to get kicked out of school and I have to go back to the circus and Uncle Quayle will be so disappointed and I'll have to start trimming Anna's beard every tenday…"

This time Imoen could not hold back her laughter.

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"This… this is the first class, right?" a clearly panicky voice whispered next to him.

Anomen could only briefly glance bewilderedly at the person who spoke, a glossy wide-eyed gnome whose jaw hung open.

Offering a weak smile he quickly returned his attention back to the lecture, totally sympathetic with the gnome's stupefied state of mind. Not only was the professor speaking at incredible rate… but from whatever he could make out, still did not make sense.

"… empirical studies prove that the circumstance revolving around the formula for cube is not related to the theological undertones of Flamerule but that the astrologist Enrik Ticktass stated a pretence of pious beliefs involving the Pantheon of Disgruntled Demigods and Dockworkers which reduced the faith of the Church of Talos in Waterdeep forcing the Stormlord to switch his tactics of physical brutality to mathematical catering of radial entomology that eventually leads to our topic of discussion, 'Why Does Everything Taste Like Chicken?: Divine Destiny or Cosmic Joke?' However, before we get into that, I'd like for you to take note of an alternate theory that starts off not with the chaos but with an order of take-out…"

Anomen began to feel the same state of panic as the gnome, madly scribbling what he could make out and still falling drastically behind while quickly running out of parchment. He had always prided himself on his exceptional quillmanship, a fact that Moira often teased that he wrote better than most women of nobility, yet his alarm at trying to take down notes for the lecture and that the professor showed no signs of pausing reduced his usual flawless script into something resembling chicken scratches and polka dots.

He glanced enviously at some of the other students in the lecture hall who were not in the same state of panic as the other half. They were mostly lounging lazily in their seats, some writing brief notes while others looked to be sleeping peacefully. Anomen sighed heavily, wishing that he never took for granted the years when he could have relaxed as easily as they could.

Verily, if there be one thing I shall learn this year… it's that maintaining a scholarship 'tis hard work.

He gritted his teeth at his current situation, shame and embarrassment glowing on his cheeks. There were things he regretted… and things he would die before he ever took them back.

"… stating that the gravitational laws apply when the magical counterweights activate in circumstances concerning the attention of at least one deity who commands some aspect of the physical plane regardless of the demands of the Material Plane itself involving the decrees of Mulhorandi godkings which alters the philosophical deliberation of methodology entertaining of the tribunal of mediocre and quasi powers of sprite etymology throwing off balance the borders between faithful intervention and unintelligent fortune…"

Anomen sighed again. He was not going to get much out of this it seemed and deciding that since this was only the first lecture he could always finish his notes off from somebody else. Looking around, he realized the chances of finding a completed set of notes were pretty slim.

Throwing down his quill, he instead tried helping to relax the gnome who began to hyperventilate in his seat next to him, gently patting his back while figuring that it would probably be a bad idea to finally tell distressed fellow that, yes, this was only the first lecture.

However, he could not help but be amused at the gnome's quiet semi-delirious whimpering, "Tiax… Tiax's world… getting dizzier…"

"Oh, and before I forget and completely lose my manners," the professor spoke up with a sinister grin, "Welcome to Theological Theory 303… and now let's have a small little quiz to see how many of you have been paying attention…"

Anomen groaned.

It is going to be a long year.

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"Ahhh, an excellent crop this year, neh?"

Valygar raised an eyebrow, his tone wry, "I had no idea you're so interested in agriculture, Yoshimo. Tell me, did you find the breakfast this morning particularly fresh?"

The Kara-Turan grinned cheekily, "Heh heh, of course your sense of humour is as ripe as ever, my friend. I am, of course, speaking in regards to the many beautiful creatures we see walking around us."

He strengthened his statement by flashing a charming smile at a pair of passing elves who giggled coyly, smiling back as they continued on their way.

Yoshimo beamed broadly, "Yes… a very excellent crop."

Valygar rolled his eyes at his friend's antics, the two walking down the hallway towards a tutorial class they shared together. Ever since their first year at Sword Coast University the unlikely pair became good friends and yet even now he still could not figure out why. Not only are their personalities as different as night and day, they were not even in the same disciplines, he studying for his Stalker's Major while Yoshimo had been accepted into the Bounty Hunter department.

"I don't think your parents had this in mind when they sent you here as part of the students exchange program."

Yoshimo put on a face of mock offence, "My friend, I'll have you know that my study of Faerûnian females is exactly in accordance with my parents wishes that I experience life in another culture."

"Of course, why didn't I see it that way before."

"Because unlike you, I actually have the decency to grace women with my presence."

"… Yeah, you're a dog."

Yoshimo grinned cheekily, "Yes, but a very cute, adorable dog that ladies find irresistible."

Valygar ignored the self-praise of his friend, "I don't know how many times we have to go through this conversation. Women are at the very bottom list of my priorities right now."

"So are they on mine, my friend. It just so happens that my list is very short so I don't have a lot to go through."

The ranger student replied in his monotone grave voice, "Excuse me while I bury my jealousy deep within my soul."

"Oh you mustn't, not on my account. Do not look so down on yourself, I'm sure there are many things you are that I am not," Yoshimo patting him companionably on his shoulder.

This time Valygar managed a slight curve of his lips, shaking his head.

"Room CC1201, here we are. My friend, are you ready to impress our classmates with our otherworldly skill in basic katana combat?" Yoshimo joked before stepping into the classroom.

A few of their fellow female students who were already there regarded the entering pair with very interested smiles.

Valygar walked by ignoring their gazes, muttering to the Kara-Turan who was grinning like he found an unguarded chest full of gold, "I know you are."

Yoshimo just smirked, winking at some women while speaking aloud, "Do not worry about your katana so much, my friend. I'm sure there are some very willing and helpful people here who could help you polish it."

Valygar groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose amidst the loud giggling and some very attracted staring.

It's going to be a long year.

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"Aerie don't worry, that's just a rumour!" Imoen repeated for the umpteenth time.

"But what if it's true?" the impressionable avariel persisted, "I heard that Professor Rayic is incredibly tough and unfair and bigoted and… and just a big meanie!"

Imoen barked a short laugh, "So just because he's a… a big meanie he's gonna fail everybody an' anybody who takes a class of his?"

"Uh huh."

"… Sweetie, y'know that he can't do that unless people actually fail his exams."

"He-he probably makes it so that no one gets anything right."

Imoen shook her head in amusement, "Well, we'll find out later for ourselves, 'kay? 'Cuz right now, we don't got no meanie Rayic but good ol' prof Jermien."

"He's not that much better," Aerie mumbled.

After assuring the avariel that she was not laughing about the concept of her going back to the circus, the two made their way together to where they had a class in the Planar Sphere. They passed through the grand doorway to the sphere, a two-story high circular entryway bordered with stylized carvings. Even though they have classes within on a daily basis, they still felt a semblance of awe at its beautiful and intricate details. The entrance was magical in its own right for it never exactly looked the same to any two people as they each see slight and nearly imperceptible differences in the carvings.

When they entered the sphere they found themselves travelling through a massive high-arched hallway that curved and twisted and was patterned with long white columns and brightly lit by the gold sheen of the walls. The mirrored ceiling was so immaculately clear that students who stared upwards long enough often wondered if perhaps they were the reflection and not the other way around. It was decorated with many fanciful antiques and contraptions and portraits of famous alumni that could be conversed with. A few domesticated will o' wisps floated gently above illuminating parts of the floor with a spotlight of green, blue or red.

The two were lucky that the class they were heading to was nearer the entrance. The hallway connects into smaller, less grand passageways leading to other classrooms and for some it would take nearly a half-hour's walk to get to. Aerie once likened it to the veins of a leaf.

The auditorium where their lecture was being held was divided in half by the walkway separating the lower seats closer to the lecturer and the further upper collection for those who hoped to get some sleep without getting caught. Already the room was quickly filling up and there were students already seated or milling about talking to old classmates.

As they entered Imoen felt a slight chill spread through her body.

Aerie saw the discomfort on her friend's face and asked worriedly, "Im, are you all right? You look… kind of scared."

The pink-haired human shook her head, "It's… it's nothin', don't worry about it," though a small frown was still on her lips, "It's probably jus' the first day willies, y'know how it is, it'll pass into second week despair, no problem."

The avariel did not look convinced though she knew from the look on her friend's face that further prying would be useless.

"If-if you say so."

"Aww, you're so cute when you're all concerned! Careful, or else some guy might jus' snatch ya up before class starts!"

"Imoen!" the blonde elf scolded, blushing furiously.

However, when Aerie looked at her friend she saw her glaring ahead, trembling slightly. Imoen's skin had paled. When she turned to see what she was looking at she figured out the reason for her friend's sudden discomfort.

From a distance it would be hard to tell that the person approaching them was an elf. Even up close it was difficult to tell also. His delicately handsome features beneath wavy black hair and long pointy ears were the only indication that he was indeed an elf. Unlike the rest of his kind, this one was taller than most humans, practically towering over the two girls. His muscular form was dressed in fine dark robes from which underneath peeked a heavily studded leather armour.

Yet it was not his intimidating size that bothered the two but the coldness of his blue eyes that were not regarding… but examining Imoen.

"Hello, god-child."

"I told ya ta stop callin' me that, Jon!" Imoen spat angrily though slightly unnerved by the lack of emotion in his voice.

Joneleth continued as if she did not say anything, "Did you have a pleasant summer holiday?"

"It was jus' dandy 'till now."

"A pity. I had hoped that the holidays would temper you yet I see that you're still as… uncooperative as ever."

"Yeah, well excuse me for being creeped out by you."

Joneleth did not appear to be offended, "Interesting… I would comment on such irrational behaviour yet I see that lecture is about to start. I bid you farewell for now, god-child… we shall speak again," and then he walked away, grace in each step as he walked down to the lower left of the auditorium.

"C'mon, Aerie, I wanna sit far away from that guy," Imoen growled, dragging Aerie to the upper right corner seats.

The avariel let herself be directed, concerned and slightly confused at what just happened, "Um, wh-why does he keep calling you that?"

Plunking herself down on seat, Imoen huffed, "How should I know?" glaring hard at a certain person seated near the front, as if hoping she could set him ablaze.

Aerie was about to say something when a green robed man walked briskly to the front, his voice echoing throughout the room, "All right, all right, settle down the lot o' you! This is Magicking Projectiles 214 and if you're not supposed to be here, beat it!"

A few people got up from their seats and quickly left the room.

Professor Jermien immediately began the class and Aerie was caught up in taking notes. However she began to notice that Imoen could not seem to concentrate on the lecture, often fidgeting and tapping her quill, staring blankly at the professor. The avariel knew the reason for her friend's mood and hated feeling so helpless.

Throughout the entire class Imoen could feel in the back of her mind a pair of ice-cold eyes boring into her.

It's gonna be a long year.