Dawn's pale light bathed the Terrace of Runes in silver as Otoku prepared the stone dais for the first public lesson in controlled loop magic. Around him, the academy courtyard thronged with every walk of life:
Noble Couples, dressed in silk and embroidered cloaks, stood arm-in-arm on raised balconies. They murmured polite curiosities, sipping spiced tea and casting proud glances at the Council's new leader.
Scholars and Apprentices, robes dusted with chalk and ink, clustered near the lecturer's platform, their faces alight with anticipation—and a bit of jealousy.
Merchants and Artisans, summoned by the academy's open invitation, hawked scroll-cases, rune-etched jewelry, and loop-magic trinkets from wooden stalls set beneath the arches. Children darted between their legs, laughter echoing over the hum of conversation.
Common Families, farmers and craftsmen in simple tunics, had been granted special benches. Fathers whispered instructions to curious toddlers; mothers held protective hands over wide eyes.
Foreign Envoys, still tents of the Veilthorn Dominion and neighboring realms, observed from curtained pavilions—silent, watchful, studying every gesture for hidden meaning.
Noctis wound around Otoku's ankles, drawing admiring gasps from the crowd at his faintly glowing scales and shadow-tendrils.
---
Otoku stood, robes shifting between formal drape and rune-etched readiness. He raised his hand, and the courtyard fell hushed. At his side, Gravy—now a lithe, cat-dragon hybrid—stood poised, wings folded.
"Welcome," Otoku began, voice carrying over the marble. "Today, we bind our past to our future. Controlled loop magic—once feared—will now be taught openly, but with discipline and care."
As he spoke, couples in the front row exchanged nervous smiles. One pair—a young noblewoman in rose-pink silk and her husband in midnight blue—clasped hands, as if steeling each other against what was to come.
---
Otoku traced a rune in the air. A circle of ethereal light formed on the courtyard floor, inscribed with the Companion's new verse:
> "By choice we claim the loop, by will we shape its scope."
He invited his first volunteers: two apprentices, a farmer's son, and the rose-pink noblewoman. Each stepped into the circle, trembling but resolute.
Otoku guided them through the incantation. For a heartbeat, nothing happened—then:
The farmer's son glimpsed a memory of planting fields in endless rain, then felt the cycle break, soil warm and dry. He wept with relief.
The noblewoman saw a vision of court intrigue run endless—then watched the web unravel under her own command. Her husband caught her arm, pride and wonder in his eyes.
The two apprentices shared a fearful glance as they controlled a spilled ink-rune, drawing it back into the parchment with newfound ease.
---
But at the height of the ceremony, the Companion flared with unexpected intensity. The rune-circle glowed too bright, and time itself rippled:
Ducks in the reflecting pool repeated their quacks in rapid loops.
A pair of serving girls, carrying trays of tea, froze mid-step, then caught themselves a second later with startled giggles.
A noble child toddled backward before stumbling forward again.
A wave of unease rippled through the crowd. Otoku's silver eyes narrowed. Even Noctis's fur bristled with shadow.
"Hold," Otoku commanded, voice steady despite the tremor in his chest. He raised both hands, drawing upon the Codex to stabilize the surge. Void and flame wove a second, gentler circle that overlaid the first, calming the ripples of time.
The courtyard exhaled as one. The ducks resumed normal quacks. The serving girls blushed and curtsied. The child giggled, oblivious to his momentary reversal.
---
Afterward, Otoku descended from the dais. Noble couples applauded politely; farmers cheered with genuine gratitude. Apprentices crowded around, buzzing with excitement. Even the foreign envoys gave approving nods.
Arthelia met him at the steps, concern in her silver eyes. "You kept it from spiraling. But that surge—what did it mean?"
Otoku tucked the Companion close. "It's teaching us our limits. Even controlled, the loop's power can echo beyond intent. We'll learn—and master—each tremor."
A noble couple approached, their hands still entwined. The husband bowed. "Councilor Otoku, my wife and I—thank you. You've given us hope. May the loop's light guide us."
As they spoke, Otoku realized that every citizen, every couple, every farmer's child who witnessed today had taken a step into a new future—one shaped by choice, unity, and the very loop he once feared.
He stood tall beneath the rising sun, resolve burning bright. The Academy—and the world—would learn to live with the loop's echo, not be haunted by it.