Inside the academy, the monitor room glowed with pale screens, their shifting lights casting restless shadows across the walls. The air was thick with the weight of decision, as if even the hum of the machines dared not interrupt.
The headmaster had gathered his most trusted circle. Instructors stood at his side: Drosh, his broad frame hunched with folded arms; Ms. Zerra, sharp-eyed and unreadable; Ms. Seraphyne, her fingers tapping lightly against her sleeve; and Haldris, the quiet assistant whose every movement seemed calculated.
Seated slightly apart were Varrell and Oshira, the headmaster's daughter and granddaughter, their presence unspoken yet heavy. Beside them sat Grandma Elunara, her gaze calm but piercing.
And then there was the guest Haldris had brought in, Ms. Vyamranshi, the Obliva. Draped in deep indigo robes, she seemed less like a guest and more like an omen, her presence dimming the room's warmth as though shadows bent toward her.
The meeting was already at its midpoint, tension coiling like invisible threads. When Ms. Vyamranshi finally spoke, her voice was low but carried a finality that hushed the rest.
"So, that's why we can't get the spirits inside. There are three more barriers beyond the Calamines barrier – the Lamis barriers – each layer denser than the last. The outer shell, the Calamines barrier, is sealing any passage past it unless touched by the Shinkari who programmed it or until three dawns like you saind, and today marked the first dawn. Any other Shinkari won't work, the programming is difficult to read or even break."
Her eyes narrowed, and the monitors flickered as if her words carried weight. But some already knew this part of the Calamines barrier too well.
"There, beyond the Lamis barriers lies the Phantom Hall Domain, a shifting reality hole. A place where walls breathe, where the floor is never the same twice. Step inside, and even your memories may not follow you back."
The room went silent. Even the faint buzzing of the lights seemed swallowed by the thought of it.
"So in total, there are four barriers including the Calamines, and a Phantom Hall Domain that is shifting the reality of whoever is inside it." Ms. Seraphyne's voice cut through the air, steady, heavy, and unhurried, as if every word carried iron.
A faint ripple of unease ran across the room. Varrell's brows drew together, while Drosh shifted his stance, arms tightening across his chest.
"Yes," Ms. Vyamranshi confirmed, her tone grave. The light of the monitors shimmered against the folds of her robe as she leaned forward.
"Everything in those woods is an illusion… but not a simple one. An illusion that hardens into reality, and reality that dissolves back into illusion. Step wrong, and even the ground beneath you may betray you."
The room seemed to grow colder with her words.
"The only way to get the spirits inside," Vyamranshi continued, "is through transference. Teleportation has already failed. But know this, transference is dangerous, some spirits may not survive the passage. And worse…" her voice thinned, like smoke slipping through cracks, "...the process will demand a vast amount of essence."
The weight of her statement lingered, pressing down on everyone present.
From the side, the headmaster's granddaughter, Oshira, finally spoke. Her voice was clipped, betraying both confusion and a hint of defiance.
"I… really don't understand any of this shifting reality stuff."
Her words hung awkwardly in the room, a fragile break in the solemnity.
Ms. Vyamranshi fell quiet, her sharp gaze softening as she considered how best to explain. A thin crease formed between her brows.
"Well," she murmured, almost to herself, "how do I explain this clearly?"
She straightened, folding her hands neatly before her as the glow of the monitors painted her face in blue light.
"Imagine this, Oshira. You're seated in that chair right now, perfectly still. You don't move, you don't rise. But then suddenly you're pulled under a void, the shifting reality hole."
Her voice lowered, "In that void, you begin to see visions or hallucinations. A figure appears, fighting you. Every punch, every cut you feel in that illusion… also tears into your real body. To us, you remain seated, unmoving. But the injuries appear. And if that figure kills you in the hallucination…"
She let the words drag into silence, her eyes glinting.
"…then your real body dies too, seated exactly as you are now."
Oshira's lips parted, but no words came. Her knuckles tightened around her skirt.
Vyamranshi went on, her tone hardening.
"Now, in another form, shifting reality drags your body into its illusions. Your limbs move, you fight. Every action feels real, every wound bleeds for real. Yet… it's all smoke, all lies. An illusion so powerful it becomes reality, then folds reality into illusion."
The room chilled as if her words had teeth. Drosh shifted uneasily, and Ms. Seraphyne's eyes narrowed, considering the weight of what this meant.
The explanation left the room in silence. Even the instructors, seasoned as they were, looked unsettled. And for the first time, Grandma Elunara's calm expression faltered. Her brows knitted faintly, the smallest sign of confusion.
She wouldn't know for sure if what Ms. Vyamranshi said was true; after all, she had only just arrived, after the barrier inspection was already concluded. She hadn't seen the evidence herself.
She let her thoughts settle, then slowly turned her head toward the headmaster. His face, carved in quiet stone, gave away nothing. Grandma Elunara searched his eyes, almost hoping he had understood what she had not.
Then, from the other side of the table, Ms. Vyamranshi shifted. Her lips curled into a thin, dry laugh. A sound that seemed rehearsed and empty. She already knew what to say, but in the act of explaining, the cracks showed. It wasn't knowledge she possessed, but knowledge she was borrowing.
For in truth, Ms. Vyamranshi was no Obliva at all. She was an impostor sent by Thirty-Five. A puppet cloaked in borrowed authority.
Her gaze slid toward Grandma Elunara, sharp and mocking beneath the veil of courtesy. "How about you help me, Lady Elunara?" she asked, her voice dipped in politeness, each word carefully measured. Yet her eyes betrayed her, holding a quiet challenge one only Grandma Elunara would recognize.
Grandma's fingers tapped once against the table as she held the impostor's gaze, unbothered, her silence the calmest defiance. She did not mind the weight in Ms. Vyamranshi's stare. She had seen worse, and survived worse.
What no one else in the room knew was that this wasn't their first encounter. Grandma Elunara and Ms. Vyamranshi had already crossed paths the day before, though not in the academy's halls.
It was in the black market, a place of hushed deals and watchful eyes. Grandma Elunara had gone there to retrieve Van and to also find anything on Thirty-Five quietly.
At the far corner, she'd found a bartender draped in shadows, pouring drinks with a practiced ease. Her voice had been smooth, disarming and too ordinary.
That bartender was Vyamranshi in disguise.
Grandma had leaned against the counter, her golden eyes sharp beneath her silver hair and placed a piece of paper on the counter with '35' scraped on it.
The woman behind the counter had given it a simple push away, feigning ignorance, her lips barely twitching. "I don't know him."
But the truth was far colder. Thirty-Five wasn't a stranger to her. He was her Master, and here as she sat she was on a mission fulfilling his orders
Now, seated side by side in the monitor room, their eyes met once more. Vyamranshi's dry laugh carried a hidden barb as she addressed her, "How about you help me, Lady Elunara?"
Polite words and a respectful tone. But the memory of that bar exchange twisted between them, sour and undeniable.