You trudge through the snow, tired, cold, and lightened of your supplies after nearly falling into a giant hole miles back. The empty pack bouncing against your back is small consolation for the freezing wind cutting through your thin cloak.

Maybe this was a poor decision. All you wanted was a teacher who doesn't care about 'restricted spells' and 'it's not safe, don't touch the orb you stupid fuck.' When you overheard the headmasters talking about Valia—someone who didn't care about any of that rule nonsense—you thought this was your chance. Finally, a wizard of culture. Of substance.

If you don't die on the way there...

After hours of getting lost and finding your way again, you finally arrive at her tower. A big stone pillar rises high into the sky, and even with your limited magical sensitivity, you can sense power radiating off the bricks. A massive wooden door stands before you, weathered but imposing, with strange symbols carved into its surface that seem to shift when you aren't looking directly at them.