Aster stopped at the foot of the staircase and just. . . stared.
“Absolutely not,” Aster whispered.
A student brushed past them and Aster just watched them go, eyes narrowing.
'I guess someone clearly made peace with their fate.' they thought to themselves.
They placed one foot on the first step and creaked under their weight.
Another step.
Then another.
By the fifth, their legs already ached in protest. By the tenth, they were convinced the staircase had grown longer out of spite.
"It's 2025," they said flatly. "Two thousand and twenty-five."
"We have portraits that can talk. Spells that fix bones in an instant. We can travel places using fireplace of all things." They paused, glaring up the staircase.
"And yet. . . Stairs!"
"There should be alternatives," they continued, "Where’s the magical elevator? The floating platform? A nice, civilized levitation charm installed for public use?"
They sighed dramatically before forcing themselves upward again.
By the time Aster reached the top, they weren’t walking anymore.
They were just surviving.
". . . I made it," they breathed.
Then, with all the energy they had left, they stumbled into the classroom, and dropping into their seat before slumping forward, cheek against the desk.
Aster was still half-sprawled across their desk, fully committed to never moving again when they felt something shifted.
The magic in the room felt. . .
Infinite.
Not just large, not just open, but endless in a way that made Aster feel small without being afraid of it.
They looked up the and saw stars scattered across the night sky, constellations shimmered. They look so close yet they're so far.
Aster just sat there, staring upward at the vast universe above their head.
They exhaled slowly, sinking a little deeper into their seat.
". . .okay," they admitted under their breath.
"I get why this class is up here."
A beat.
". . . still should’ve installed a magical elevator though."
