The Academy was alive.
That was Yuna's first coherent thought after stumbling through the gates.
Not metaphorically alive. Actually, physically, impossibly alive.
The walls pulsed with light that moved like breath. The cobblestones hummed beneath her feet. The air tasted like electricity and something sweeter, something that made her chest ache with a homesickness she couldn't name.
Magic.
Real magic.
Not the theoretical Resonance that Earth's academies measured and dismissed. This was power you could feel, pressing against your skin like standing too close to a subway train.
"This way." Mara's voice cut through Yuna's daze.
The captain was already twenty feet ahead, moving through the Academy courtyard with the ease of someone who'd walked this path a hundred times.
Yuna followed.
Legs trembling. Vision blurring at the edges. Three days without real sleep. Just ash and echoes and walking through graveyards.
Her foot caught on nothing. She stumbled.
Strong hands caught her elbow.
"Steady." A new voice. Female. Older. Warm despite the command in it.
Yuna blinked. Looked up.
The woman was tall. Maybe fifty, maybe seventy, the age hard to determine when her eyes looked simultaneously ancient and sharp.
Dark skin, silver-threaded black hair pulled back in a severe bun, wearing robes that seemed to shift colors in the strange Academy light. Indigo to violet to something that wasn't quite either.
And her hands, the ones steadying Yuna, glowed faintly gold.
"I'm fine," Yuna said automatically. "I can walk."
"You can barely stand." The woman's grip tightened fractionally. Not painful. Just firm. "Mara, you couldn't have carried her the last mile?"
"She insisted on walking." Mara's voice held something that might have been respect. "Stubborn one."
"Stubborn or stupid. Hard to tell the difference in new summons."
The woman studied Yuna with eyes that seemed to see through skin straight to bone.
"What's your name, girl?"
"Yuna. Yuna Veylan."
"Korean?"
The question caught Yuna off-guard. "You know about Earth?"
"I know many things. It's tiresome." The woman released Yuna's arm but stayed close, ready to catch her if she fell again. "I'm Professor Thess Kael'rin. Seventh Mark Chord Attunement. I run this Academy."
She paused.
"And you, Yuna Veylan, are late."
"Late?" Yuna's exhausted brain struggled with the word. "Late for what?"
"The others arrived three days ago. Standard summoning window." Thess turned, started walking toward the largest building in the courtyard. A massive stone structure that looked half fortress, half cathedral.
"You're either unlucky or the Veil really didn't want to let you go. Either way, you've missed orientation. We'll have to catch you up."
Yuna hurried to keep pace. "Others? There are other summons?"
"Six others. Seven total now with you." Thess's robes swirled as she walked, leaving afterimages. "This is the largest group in forty years. The Veil must be thinning faster than we thought."
Seven summons. Seven people ripped from Earth like she was.
The thought should have been comforting. She wasn't alone in this. Others had survived the portal, the crossing, the Reach.
But something in Thess's tone suggested survival wasn't guaranteed beyond arrival.
"How many usually come?" Yuna asked quietly.
Thess stopped at the building's entrance.
Massive doors, covered in carvings that hurt to look at directly. Symbols that moved when Yuna wasn't focusing on them.
"In a good year? Three." Thess's hand rested on the door. "In a bad year? None. The Veil takes most. The Reach kills the rest."
She met Yuna's eyes.
"Seven arrivals means seven desperate enough or strong enough to cross. Or seven the Veil spat out because it's dying and can't digest anymore."
"Which am I?"
Thess looked at her. Really looked, with those ancient-young eyes.
"You crossed three days behind schedule. Survived the Reach with Mara, which means you saw the echoes and didn't follow them. You're standing here instead of collapsed in the courtyard."
She pushed open the doors.
"You're either remarkably resilient or too stupid to realize you should have died. I'll figure out which in the next hundred and twenty days."
The doors swung wide.
"Wait." Yuna's hand shot out. "You said hundred and twenty days. Why that number? What happens after?"
Thess smiled.
It wasn't a kind smile.
"The world ends," she said simply. "Or you save it. One or the other."
She walked inside.
Yuna stood in the doorway. Three days of ash and death and impossible horror behind her. An unknown building ahead. And a woman who'd just mentioned the end of the world like it was a weather forecast.
What have I gotten into?
But her feet moved forward anyway.
Because where else was there to go?
The building's interior was vast.
Vaulted ceilings that disappeared into shadow. Walls lined with what looked like windows but showed scenes that couldn't be real. Forests made of crystal. Oceans on fire. Cities floating in violet sky.
Not paintings.
Portals. Small ones. Glimpses into other places, other worlds.
"Don't touch the viewing panes," Thess said without looking back. "Some of them bite."
Yuna pulled her hand away from a window showing a desert made entirely of glass.
She hadn't even realized she'd been reaching for it.
They walked down a long corridor. Their footsteps echoed despite the floor being carpeted in something soft that looked like moss but felt like silk.
More impossibilities. More magic that broke physics just by existing.
Thess stopped at a door.
Ordinary door. Wooden. Simple. Almost aggressively normal compared to everything else.
"Inside," Thess said. "Quickly. Before they start the evening combat drills and you get trampled by overconfident idiots."
Yuna stepped through.
The room was small. Personal.
A desk covered in papers, books, strange instruments that might have been scientific equipment or torture devices. A window showing the Academy courtyard below. Actual view, not portal.
Thess closed the door. The sounds of the corridor vanished instantly.
"Sit." She gestured to a chair.
Yuna sat.
Her legs thanked her by immediately threatening to never move again.
Thess remained standing. Studying Yuna like she was a particularly interesting specimen.
"Tell me what you know about Resonance."
"I have a baseline of 2.1." Yuna's throat was dry. "Earth's academies said that was insufficient for training. Threshold is 7.5 minimum."
"Earth's academies are run by cowards who wouldn't recognize real potential if it manifested wings in front of them."
Thess's voice was sharp. Clinical.
"What else?"
Manifested wings.
The phrase hung in the air.
"You know about the wings," Yuna said slowly.
"Of course I know. The silver light saved you twice now. Portal crossing and Reach landing. Instinctive manifestation under extreme duress."
Thess leaned against her desk.
"That's not 2.1 Resonance, Yuna. That's something different. An Attunement."
"A what?"
"Specialization. A way power expresses through you specifically." Thess's hand glowed faint gold again. "Earth measures Resonance. Basic magical potential, raw energy. But Attunements? Those are how individuals actually use that potential."
She gestured at Yuna.
"Your silver wings. That's Chord Attunement. Emotional connection to the Weave, the fabric holding reality together. Rare. Powerful. And completely unmeasurable by Earth's primitive scanning methods."
Yuna's vision swam. She gripped the chair arm to stay upright.
"The rejection letters told me nothing useful."
"Exactly. They measured your raw Resonance. Basic magic. But they had no idea you carried an Attunement."
You are enough.
Her mother's voice echoed.
"So I'm not insufficient?"
"Oh, you're absolutely insufficient by conventional standards." Thess's honesty was brutal. "2.1 Resonance is genuinely low. But the Attunement changes things."
She crossed her arms.
"Tell me. Have you heard of Resonance Marks?"
Yuna shook her head.
Thess sighed. "Of course not. Earth doesn't teach past basics because they don't have anyone powerful enough to demonstrate."
She held up fingers as she counted.
"Seven Marks. Seven levels of power."
"First Mark: Dormant. Power awakens. You can manifest your ability briefly under extreme stress. That's where you are now."
Yuna thought of the wings. Flickering. Unstable. Gone as soon as the danger passed.
"Second Mark: Flickering. Basic control. You can summon your power consciously, hold it for thirty seconds to a minute. Still exhausting."
"Third Mark: Kindled. Stable manifestation. Your power becomes reliable. Most trained mages stop here."
Thess paused.
"Fourth Mark: Resonant. Advanced techniques. You start bending your Attunement in creative ways. Rare."
"Fifth Mark: Symphonic. Master-level. Reality starts responding to your will. Very rare."
"Sixth Mark: Cataclysmic. Reality-bending. You reshape the world around you. Continent-wide effects. Extremely rare."
Her hand glowed brighter. Gold light filled the small office.
"Seventh Mark: Transcendent." Thess's voice was quiet. "I'm the only one on this continent. Possibly the only one left in Valdris."
The light faded.
"You're barely First Mark, Yuna. Your wings manifest for a few seconds when you're dying. That's it."
The words landed like stones.
"How long does it take to reach Second Mark?" Yuna asked.
"Depends on natural talent and training intensity. A student with 7.5 Resonance? Four to six weeks."
"And someone like me?"
Thess's expression was unreadable.
"Normally? Years. If ever. Your 2.1 Resonance means you'll likely cap at Third Mark, maybe Fourth if you're exceptionally lucky and don't die first."
Silence.
"Then how am I supposed to save anything?"
"There's a way," Thess interrupted. "An option. We'll discuss it tomorrow. With the others."
Yuna blinked hard. Focus. You need to understand this.
But the words blurred together. Marks. Attunements. Resonance caps. Too much information. Too fast.
Thess stopped mid-sentence. Studied Yuna's glazed expression.
"You're not processing any of this."
"I'm trying," Yuna managed.
"You're exhausted. This conversation can wait." Thess crossed to a cabinet, opened it, pulled out a small vial of something that glowed faint blue. "Drink this. Stamina restoration. Then sleep. Tomorrow we begin proper assessment."
Yuna took the vial. The glass was warm.
"And the hundred and twenty days?"
"Tomorrow," Thess repeated. "One crisis at a time, Yuna. You've survived the Reach. That's enough for today."
But Yuna didn't move. Couldn't.
Because the question burned too hot to ignore.
"Why?" The word came out desperate. "Why was I summoned? Why any of us? What makes us worth pulling across dimensions?"
Thess was quiet for a long moment.
When she spoke, her voice carried a weight that made the room feel smaller.
"Because the Weave is dying. Reality is unraveling. And when the previous generation of heroes tried to stop it, all of them powerful, trained, sufficient by every measure, they failed."
She met Yuna's eyes.
"Every single one died."
The words hit like a physical blow.
"So we tried something different. We summoned the insufficient. The rejected. The ones Earth said weren't good enough."
A grim smile.
"Because sometimes, desperation is the only innovation that matters."
Yuna thought of the fifteen rejection letters. The 2.1 Resonance score that had defined her entire adult life.
Her mother's voice: You are enough.
"How many of the insufficient survive?" Yuna asked quietly.
Thess didn't lie.
Yuna appreciated that, later. Appreciated that this woman, at least, didn't sugar-coat horror.
"In the last summoning, forty years ago? Three arrived. None survived past ninety days."
Thess turned away, stared out the window at the Academy grounds below.
"You're Group Seven. That's what we're calling you. Seven summons. Seven desperate chances. Seven people Earth said weren't enough."
"And you think we can succeed where trained heroes failed?"
"No." Thess's reflection in the window glass looked impossibly old. "But I think you'll try anyway."
She turned back.
"And sometimes that's enough."
Yuna drank the stamina potion.
It tasted like lightning and honey.
Energy flooded through her body. Not natural energy, not rest, but chemical brightness that pushed exhaustion back without actually healing anything.
Her hands stopped shaking. Her vision cleared.
Temporary. But enough.
Thess led her through corridors. Down stairs. Into a wing of the building that felt different. Lived in, personal.
Doors lined both sides of the hallway. Most were closed.
"Your room." Thess stopped at the third door on the left. Pushed it open.
The room was small but clean.
A bed with actual sheets. Not ash-covered ground, not stone ruins. Real fabric. Real softness.
A desk with an oil lamp. A chair. A window showing something that shifted every few seconds. Forest, then ocean, then mountains, like the glass couldn't decide what to display.
Yuna stepped inside.
The floor was solid. Not ash. The air smelled like soap and old books and safety.
For the first time in three days, she could close a door between herself and the world.
"You'll meet the others tomorrow morning. Training begins at dawn. Don't be late."
Thess paused in the doorway.
"And Yuna? Welcome to the Last Academy. Try not to die before you get interesting."
She left.
Yuna stood alone in the small room.
She made it to the bed. Collapsed on it fully clothed, ash still in her hair, rejection letter still in her pocket.
One hundred twenty days to become enough. Or die trying.
Her eyes closed.
Insufficient.
Her mother's voice: You are enough.
Thess's voice: Sometimes desperation is the only innovation that matters.
Sleep took her like drowning.
Somewhere in the Academy, in another room:
A boy with massive hands sat on his bed, staring at those hands like they were weapons he couldn't put down.
In another room:
A girl in a wheelchair studied tactical maps with eyes that saw patterns invisible to everyone else.
In another room:
A silent figure pressed palms against the window and watched timelines fracture and reform.
In another room:
A person whose gender seemed to shift with the light painted colors that hurt to look at directly.
Seven summons.
Seven insufficient.
One hundred twenty days.
The clock had started ticking three days ago.
Yuna had just arrived late to the countdown.
[END CHAPTER 4]