By the time the carriage finally settles onto a landing platform near the Academy district, the sun is low enough to turn the glass towers into pillars of fire.
The platform itself is polished stone threaded with pale-blue runes. As soon as my boots touch it, the faint hum underfoot shifts, as if the ground acknowledges my weight and adjusts to it.
Ryn steps down behind me and freezes.
He stares at the platform, then at the descending stream of students, then up at the impossibly high terraces of Aetherion hanging above the city like a second sky.
"…Okay," he says quietly. "I take back everything I said. I've decided I hate this place."
I glance at him. "What?? Why?"
"Because it's too clean," he replies, still staring. "Like… aggressively clean. You wouldn't find a single area of the Basin like this. Heck, I don't think my own anu—"
"Ok, I get it," I say sharply to cut him off.
A robed attendant passes nearby, robes crisp, hair perfectly arranged, expression serene. They don't even look at us. They just glide by, like they were born already knowing where to stand.
Ryn watches them go with the same look someone gives an exotic animal behind glass.
"... And because they walk like that," he adds.
"Like what?"
"Like their feet have never stepped in mud."
I almost smile. "Well... That is statistically likely."
He turns toward me slowly, squinting. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Talking like a machine. Stop it."
I let the smile win. "No promises."
The first thing I notice is how many people pretend not to notice us.
It's subtle, but clear. Their glances that flick away too quickly, conversations that lower by half a volume when we pass by. No open hostility. At least not yet.
Just... awareness.
Caution.
We're dressed plainly. No crests. No attendants. No quiet confidence that is trained into posture since birth.
We look like someone misplaced two chess pieces on a board.
Ryn is acutely aware of it. I can see it in the way he tugs once at his sleeve, straightens his collar, then gives up and shoves his hands into his pockets like he's daring the world to comment.
A group of noble candidates descends a crystal stairway ahead of us. Their robes are layered and embroidered, fabrics shimmering faintly as sigils catch the light. One of them laughs, and the laugh sounds… practised. Social. The kind of laugh meant to be heard.
Ryn mutters, "Do you reckon they rehearse that?"
I murmur back, "Their parents probably hired someone to teach them."
He snorts, then looks momentarily delighted. "See? That. That was somewhat funny."
"... I'm capable of humour."
"That's Debatable."
"..."
We follow the stream toward the Academy's outer concourse. The closer we get, the more surreal it feels. The Academy isn't a single building. It's a network filled with terraces, towers, and suspended bridges; their training platforms float at staggered heights. You could see waterfalls with traces of Aether spill down from higher levels, not splashing like normal water, but flowing in shimmering ribbons that curve and loop into contained order.
People walk beneath it without flinching.
In the Basin, a floating ember would draw an audience. Here, students step around magic like it's furniture.
Ryn leans close. "Whoa. What do you think will happen if I put my hand through that waterfall?"
"It might dissolve your hand," I reply.
He pauses. "Wait, what? You being serious or messing with me?"
"Both."
He shudders dramatically, then releases a massive sigh. "Haaaaa. I'm going to survive the Academy and die to curiosity at the same time."
We pass beneath an archway where a thin veil of shimmering light hangs like a curtain. Students step through it, and their robes sparkle briefly as dust and grime dissolve instantly.
Ryn stops short.
"Wait," he says. "Did that just—"
"Yes," I say.
He stares at the veil as if it personally offended him. "They have a magic dirt-remover—"
"Yes."
He looks down at his boots. "Hehe. This place is going to judge my entire existence."
I step through the veil. My clothes feel lighter, cleaner, as if the air itself approved of me.
Ryn takes a breath, squares his shoulders, and walks through like he's going into battle. The veil shimmers.
He looks down at himself, startled.
"…Oh," he says softly. "That actually feels nice."
I can't help but laugh.
He points at me. "Don't."
We're directed toward a broad, open hall that overlooks Valoria. The view is staggering: city rings below, floating platforms drifting between spires, the canal shining like a blade of glass. Above, the Academy's upper terraces glow as the sun dips, making the whole structure look like it's lit from within.
Candidates gather in loose clusters. Nobles form circles effortlessly. Sponsored students hover near them like small moons. Commoners stick close to the walls, uncertain where to stand.
Ryn and I somehow end up in the middle by accident.
A robed student walks by and almost trips over Ryn's foot. He jerks back instantly, apologetic.
"Sorry," he says.
Ryn blinks, surprised by the politeness. "Uh. Yeah. No problem."
The student nods and moves on.
Ryn watches him go, then whispers, "Uh. Kael. Did you hear that?"
"Yes."
"He apologised."
"Yes."
Ryn looks genuinely shaken. "Are Nobles even capable of apologising?"
"He might not be a noble."
Ryn considers that. "Still. That was unsettling."
He exhales slowly and looks around again. And then, despite everything, a grin spreads across his face.
"Kael," he says quietly.
I look at him.
"We actually made it."
Under the grim tension, there's something bright in his eyes. A stubborn hope that refuses to be embarrassed.
"Yes," I say. "We did."
He bumps my shoulder lightly. "Finally. I'm at the start line."
"For you," I remind him.
"Yep. For me," he agrees. "The start to the way out."
Then he looks at me with that sharp, measuring gaze again.
"And for you… well... a way to get knowledge, I guess."
I nod. "A lot of it."
Ryn's grin widens. "You're ridiculous, you know that, right?"
"And you're loud."
"AND THAT'S HOW I'M GONNA SURVIVE," Ryn says, making a silly gesture, pointing to himself with his thumbs in a cartoon-like manner.
I don't argue. Not because I can't. But because I don't want to. It was nice seeing Ryn this way, full of hope and confidence.
We stand there together, watching candidates drift through the hall like currents. For a moment, it feels like we're standing at the edge of something huge, not yet stepping in, but finally close enough to see the shape of it.
The Academy isn't just a school.
It's a gate.
And for the first time, I feel something I haven't allowed myself since waking in Elyndra:
Excitement.
Not just curiosity. Not just survival instinct.
Real excitement.
And the Codex reflected that, as it flickered faintly.
[USER EMOTIONAL STATE: ELEVATED]
[RECOMMENDATION: STABILIZE BREATHING]
Note: optimal learning occurs under controlled excitement.
A bell rings. It's soft but clear, vibrating through the stone and into my bones. The candidates turn instinctively toward the central assembly hall.
We follow the crowd into a massive circular amphitheatre open to the sky. Tiered seating rises around a central dais carved from crystal. Above it, the Academy's sigil rotates slowly, refracting the last sunlight into shifting colours.
Ryn and I find seats near the middle.
"So...Is this the place where they tell us we're doomed?" Ryn whispers.
"Probably," I whisper back.
He snorts. "Comforting."
Then the air changes.
Pressure settles over the hall, not hostile, but absolute. Like gravity increasing by a fraction.
Faculty arrive.
They don't enter through doors. They step out of controlled Aether distortions along the upper ring, appearing one by one.
The Codex activates.
Multiple high-tier signatures detected.
[CLASSIFICATION: FACULTY]
[ENERGY DENSITY: EXTREME]
[THREAT LEVEL: NON-HOSTILE]
At the centre stands a tall man with ash-grey hair and calm, steady eyes. His presence isn't crushing. It's... stabilising. Like a structure settling into place.
He raises a hand.
Silence falls instantly.
"Welcome," he says, voice carrying without effort. "You stand within Aetherion Academy."
He gestures outward, encompassing the terraces, the floating bridges, the city beyond.
"For four years, this place will shape you. Some of you will rise. Some of you will fall. Most of you will learn exactly what you are capable of, but all will have the belief in your growth by the Academy ."
Ryn mutters, "I hate how nearly inspiring that is."
I almost laugh.
The man continues, unbothered.
"Your entrance evaluation consists of two components."
A holographic board flares above the centre, with two glaring columns:
THEORY
PRACTICAL
"Tomorrow," he says, "you will sit for the theory examination. History, fundamentals, leyline etiquette, and Aether law."
Ryn groans quietly. "Law???"
"And the day after that," the man continues, "you will undergo the practical evaluation."
A wave of excitement surged through the crowd.
"Your performance in both will determine your initial placement on the Year One Ranking Board."
Another projection flares, this time it's rows of names, each currently blank.
"This ranking is not fixed," the man says. "It can and will change. Daily, if needed. The top ten will receive certain privileges, these include but are not limited to: access to advanced training halls, reserved library tiers, and direct faculty guidance."
Ryn whispers, "Looks like the top ten get importance."
"Seems that way," I murmur.
The man pauses, gaze sharpening.
"Do not confuse ranking with worth. Ranking is just a tool. Use it. Climb it. Or ignore it and accept what comes of it."
His eyes sweep the crowd, then linger, just briefly, on me.
Not a stare. Not a judgment.
An assessment.
The Codex hums.
Faculty attentiondetected.
[SUBJECT: KAEL ARIN]
[PROBABILITY: ELEVATED]
Looks like I wasn't imagining things, but why take an interest in me?
Why now?
My thoughts were interrupted once I noticed the man beside him.
Another faculty member steps forward, a man in dark robes trimmed with blue. He was older, with a scar cutting through one eyebrow. His eyes are sharp, almost amused, as if he already knows the outcome of every duel he'll ever watch for the practical exam.
When he speaks, the air seems to tighten.
"Remember. Magic is not a performance," he says. "It is a discipline. A weapon, and for some, a language."
His gaze moves across the crowd and lands on me for a fraction of a second.
I feel it like a hook.
Ryn nudges me, whispering, "Good lord. That guy looked like he could kill someone with a single sentence..."
"Yeah... I noticed it too," I whisper back.
The older man continues, "Those who treat Aether like a toy will be removed."
He smiles faintly, but not with warmth. With certainty.
Something in my chest shifts.
I didn't know how, but I could tell. That man was powerful. Powerful enough for me to want to learn from him.
Someone who didn't care about status, but only results.
Someone who might... appreciate and understand my approach.
Or possibly... destroy it.
The central speaker raises his hand again.
"You will be assigned housing tonight. Rest and prepare."
A pause.
"Because tomorrow…"
The hall leans forward as one.
"…the heirs of the Ten Great Families arrive."
The words land like a spark in dry grass.
Whispers ignite instantly, names spoken in reverence, envy, excitement, and fear.
Ryn exhales slowly.
"Here we go," he murmurs.
I look up at the Academy's upper terraces, glowing faintly as night begins to fall.
Somewhere above, beyond the glass and crystal, the world's true elites are coming.
And I can already feel the shape of the storm it will bring.