The dream lingered like mist.
Even as morning light bled into the sky, I could still feel it—the mirrors, the voice, and Solviel's breath, soft and silent on that dais of golden light.
So… this is your new vessel?
The voice had no owner in the waking world.But it haunted the soul nonetheless.
I sat by the window.
The city had not yet stirred. The lanterns of Cindral still flickered in the distance, their glow like a constellation of grounded stars. Smoke from early bakeries drifted slowly into the chilled air.
I'd always imagined the last morning before a new chapter would feel… heavier. But it didn't.
Only quiet.Only stillness.
My eyes fell to the blank parchment on the desk beside me. A silver quill lay beside it, untouched since our arrival.
I reached for it. And began to write.
To my dearest mother, Lady Gadriel,
I do not know if I have the right words. Maybe I never did.
By the time you read this, I will be past the outer ward of Cindral and walking beneath the arches of Aetherfall Academy. It still feels distant—even though I've seen it from my balcony, even though I've felt its pull in my dreams.
The city is beautiful. Loud. Layered. It speaks in a language I haven't learned yet. But I promise I'm listening.
I remember the warmth of your hands guiding mine through the first hymns of the Celestial Order. I remember your voice—always gentle, always clear—when you told me I wasn't born for peace, but for something necessary.
I didn't understand it then.I think I'm beginning to now.
There is weight in the air here, Mother. The kind that comes before a storm.And I am no longer afraid of storms.
Thank you—for being my light, even when your own eyes could no longer see the world around you.
I will make you proud. But more than that…
I will be me.
With love,Luna
I folded the letter carefully, sealing it with the wax emblem of the House Gadriel—a crescent threaded with stars.
It would reach her by dusk, delivered through the city's spiritbound couriers.
One final piece of home—carried back to where my story began.
A knock tapped at the door.
"Ready, Luna?" Perephone's voice called through the wood.
I took a breath.
"Yes," I answered, rising from the desk.
My uniform for the academy was simple—lightweight ceremonial robes of pale ivory, trimmed in blue and silver. A mark of being both noble and chosen. I wore no sigils on my chest, no weapons at my side.
But I felt armed.
Armed with choices I had made. And ones yet to come.
Outside, Perephone waited in her half-armored cloak, leaning against the stair rail with a glint of something amused in her eyes.
"Didn't sleep, did you?" she asked.
"Not well," I admitted.
"Good. Keeps your instincts sharp."
She reached out, fixing a loose strand of my hair behind my ear like she always did before our spars.
"No one at the academy knows who you really are," she said. "Let them see what you become—not what they expect."
I nodded.
"One last walk before we arrive?" I asked.
"I thought you'd never ask."
And together, we stepped into the brightening city.
The academy gates awaited.
But so did a hundred eyes. A hundred paths.
And one step forward that would change everything.
Far from the capital, atop the marble steps of the Temple of Threads, Lady Gadriel sat beneath the morning light, her blind eyes turned to the sound of wind brushing through the silk canopies. A quiet footstep approached. The priestess placed a letter gently into her hands, warm from the sun.
Her fingers traced the wax seal before unfolding it.She read without seeing.
Word by word, sentence by sentence—her spirit absorbed the voice of her daughter.
By the time she reached the final line, her breath trembled. Her hands, though steady, clenched the parchment as though it were something living. Tears did not fall. Lady Gadriel had long since learned how to mourn without them.
Instead, she pressed the letter to her chest and whispered into the silence,
"May the threads of fate be kind to you, my bright one... Walk freely. And return with a soul unbroken."
The city grew more intricate the closer we walked toward its heart.
The wide merchant roads of outer Cindral gave way to elevated walkways, flanked by spiraling columns and prayer-braided bridges lined with spirit-bound lamps. The buildings here had no cracked stone or patched roofs—only glass towers, sigil-etched facades, and gardens suspended in mid-air like floating islands.
Even the cobblestone beneath our feet had woven threads of pale blue mana, softly glowing with the early light.
And through it all, the people moved like threads in a loom—students, scholars, nobles, priests, travelers. Some wore long robes of differing colors and emblems—markings of various arcane guilds or noble affiliations. Others wore armor in ceremonial style, clearly candidates or instructors already bound to Aetherfall.
Few looked at us.
But those who did… always stopped twice.
Their eyes drifted first to Perephone—recognition, awe, even fear. The Lightning Seer of the North, once said to turn a battlefield into a thunderstorm with only three incantations.
"They still remember you," I said.
"Legends rot slower than people," she muttered. "Ignore them."
"Easier said than done."
A procession passed by—new initiates in midnight-blue robes, led by a brass-masked acolyte holding a crystalline staff. They walked in silence toward a lesser gate on the academy's eastern side, their faces young, some uncertain, some proud.
They didn't notice me.
But I noticed them.
Soon, I'll be among them. But not like them.
We turned left at the Fountain of Feathers—an ancient monument carved in the likeness of a phoenix blooming from marble flames. Behind it, framed between two enormous moonlight trees, stood Aetherfall Academy's main gate.
It was a fortress of marble and auracite, with six towers rising like the ribs of a divine beast. A central gate arched high enough for a warship to pass through, marked by a sigil carved into golden stone:
"Where knowledge reigns, the soul shall awaken."
I stopped.
For a moment, I just… stared.
Not because of fear. Or wonder.
But because it felt unreal—a moment I thought would belong to someone else. Someone older. Stronger. More certain.
"You're quiet," Perephone said.
"I feel like the world is watching."
"It is," she replied. "But not for long. Once you step through, no one will see you unless you make them."
She gave me a final look, one hand on her hip, the other resting lightly near the hilt of her cane-lance.
"This place will test everything you believe in. It will try to shape you."
"And if I don't bend?"
"Then break the damn mold."
I took a breath.The gates began to open with a slow groan of stone and magic.And Aetherfall Academy revealed itself—spires, shadows, and the scent of a new fate.
As we stepped beyond the main gates, a different kind of silence welcomed us.
Not stillness—but contained expectation.
The inner courtyard of Aetherfall Academy was massive—a circular forum surrounded by tiered arcades of polished stone, lined with columns carved with names older than the kingdom itself. In the center, a statue stood tall, depicting an armored scholar with a scroll in one hand and a broken blade in the other.
Around the edges, students moved like streams in every direction—some older, already robed in rank-colored sashes; others just arriving, wide-eyed and shepherded by escorts. The air shimmered faintly with barrier runes, likely layered enchantments to keep the grounds calm and untouched by outside influence.
"This place is… different," I murmured.
"Built during the Age of Reclamation," Perephone said. "There's more beneath it than above."
"You've been here before?"
"Briefly. As a guest. I didn't wear these colors long."
We passed through a gate marked "Admittance and Ascension", and found ourselves in a smaller stone hall, lit by floating lanterns and tall stained glass windows.
A clerk in deep blue robes glanced up from his podium, his expression neutral until his eyes met Perephone's.
He blinked. Swallowed.
"L-Lady Perephone Hivashktik?"
"That's what the nameplate says," she said dryly. "Tell the Headmaster I'm here. Sponsoring an applicant."
The clerk scrambled from his post without another word.
We didn't wait long.
Minutes later, we were escorted through a carved double-door chamber, high-ceilinged and adorned with relics from all over the continent—old blades, broken spirit masks, celestial scrolls sealed in crystal. The air buzzed faintly with residual magic, thick like velvet.
And seated at the far end of a long marble table was a tall man in dusken robes, silver-framed spectacles perched low on his nose.
His eyes were sharp. Unblinking.
Headmaster Kael Solmira.
"So," he said, folding his hands. "The Lightning Seer returns to our halls. With a gift, no less."
"Not a gift," Perephone replied. "An applicant."
"Sponsored?"
"Personally."
The headmaster turned his gaze toward me.
It was like having a weight settle on my shoulders—not oppressive, but precise. Measured. As if every part of me was being dissected behind those cold, clever eyes.
"Name?"
"Luna Gadriel," I said, my voice steady.
He blinked once. Recognition passed through his expression—not surprise, but interest.
"Of the Gadriel line?"
"Yes."
"Hm. I recall your mother's name in the Temple registries. And I assume your spirit is active?"
"Yes."
"Name it."
"Solviel."
That earned a sharper look.Just for a second.
"Well," he said at last, rising from his seat. "It seems Lady Perephone brings not only thunder, but threads of prophecy."
"Keep your prophecies," Perephone muttered. "She's here to learn, not be paraded."
The headmaster waved a hand, and one of the assistants stepped forward with a small sigil-sealed scroll—the formal acceptance contract.
"This admits you into the Academy, sponsored by a recognized Guildmaster and distinguished war veteran. You will begin as a first-circle initiate. Housing will be assigned, but considering your backing, I suspect the Noble Wing will be prepared to receive you."
"Do I need to sign anything?" I asked.
"Only speak your full name into the scroll."
I did.
"Luna Gradriel of the Temple of Threads. Student of Perephone Hivashktik. Vessel of Solviel."
The scroll burned softly into ash, absorbed by the air.
Accepted.
"Welcome to Aetherfall," the Headmaster said.
He did not smile.
"Let us see if the threads of fate are as sharp as they are long."