The smell of the burnt metal clung to his skin long after the machines stopped working.
It was the kind of scent that never left. The scent of oil, rust and desperation. The smell of his own life.
"Castiglione! You gonna fix that hover engine or just stare at it till it fixes itself?"
His boss's voice rang, cutting through the crisp air of the workshop. He gulped down his irritation and wiped the sweat forming on his brow.
"On it," he muttered back, tightening the last bolt. His hand ached, his back screamed. But at least it was work, something most Ravens like him didn't get anymore.
Ravens were supposed to be gifted. Supernatural.
Some could read minds, others controlled lightning. Others could summon fire and wind but, him? He could only smell lies.
From miles away.
A power so useless it was practically a curse. To Ravens and even non-Ravens. Employers didn't want "the guy who could only sniff." Non-Ravens wouldn't hire a Raven who could only make use of his nose as a guardian to protect them from the unsafety outside the border.
Even other Ravens sneered when they heard his name.
Once, he had a family who made the world bearable. But that was before the accident. Before he lost them to the cruelty of an accident. Now it was just him, a leaky roof, and a sense of smell that was stubborn and would never shut off. He couldn't even escape the world's stench, even if he tried.
He finished fixing the hover engine and waited for his pay. A pay barely enough to buy a meal. His boss, a thick-necked man who smelled like cheap tobacco and greed, tossed him a coin.
"That's all?" He asked quietly, frowning at the slowly-fading coin.
He shrugged. "You're lucky I even let a scent-sniffer in my workshop. Don't push it."
Arman bit back his words and pocketed the coin. Talking back wouldn't change a thing.
The streets outside were cold and gray, filled with people who didn't look twice at him. Ravens with better gifts rode skyboards above the city, glowing symbols marking them as Ravens and qualified Celestians—protectors of the Empyrean Cities. The kind he'd never be, he thought.
He was about to leave when someone brushed past him for a fleeting second. A tall figure cloaked in black.
For a moment, the air shifted to a clean, sharp and strange atmosphere.
Not the smell of the city, not even human.
Before he could react and catch who it was, something slipped between his fingers. A card. Smooth and cold.
By the time he turned, the stranger was gone—vanished into the crowd.
He looked down.
A black card, edged in silver, his name etched in light.
ARMAN CASTIGLIONE — YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN.
His pulse quickened. He quickly flipped the card over. On the back, a symbol glowed faintly, not enough for the passerbys to see but enough for it to almost blind him. The crest of the Celestial Order, long thought destroyed.
He laughed under his breath and murmured, "Yeah, right. Must be a joke."
He stayed up all night, staring at the invitation card. The silver-etched crest of the Celestial Institution glittering under the flickering bulb above his head.
It made no sense. Admission into the Celestial Institution had closed a long time ago. They had stopped accepting recruits altogether. And even when they did, invitations were reserved for high-ranking Ravens, those born with extra powerful supernatural abilities.
Arman was neither. In fact, he was probably the weakest Raven alive. His ability which is an unusually sharp sense of smell was more of mockery than a gift. A joke spoken od in the alleys of the lower provinces.
So why him?
All night, questions clawed through his thoughts. By dawn, he had convinced himself that even if he accepted the invitation, he wouldn't survive a week in that place. The Institution trained Ravens with immense power to protect the Five Empyrean Cities. He'd be devoured before the first test.
With a bitter exhale, he rose from the creaking bed as sunlight slipped through the cracks of his broken window. He picked up the invitation one last time, stared at it, then tossed it into the dustbin.
Almost immediately, someone banged on his metal door so hard it rattled on its hinges. The noise echoed through the tiny room. The door had been threatening to collapse for months, this might be the day it finally did.
Arman groaned and pulled it open. "Break my door, and I'll knock your teeth out with what's left of it," he muttered.
Akio stood there, grinning like always. "Good morning to you too."
"Get in," Arman sighed, stepping aside.
Akio strolled in and dropped his worn-out bag on the floor, heading straight for the mini fridge. "Have you seen the news?" he asked, already twisting open one of the last bottles of water Arman owned.
"What news?"
Akio gulped down half the bottle before answering. "You really should watch the news, man."
"I have a job," Arman said flatly. "Some of us actually work."
Akio ignored the sarcasm. "Anyway," he continued, wiping his mouth, "the Celestials just announced they're admitting students again."
Arman frowned, lowering himself onto the couch. "What?"
"Yeah. Only this time, they're not doing open admissions. They're handpicking candidates—sending invitations to the strongest Ravens in each province. Remember Theo? The guy who can fight invisible forces? He got one."
Arman's chest tightened. Theo was the most powerful Raven in their province, a legend even among elites. To be mentioned in the same breath as him felt absurd.
"Who else?" Arman asked, trying to sound casual.
Akio blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Who else got invited from here?"
"Only Theo."
"What?" Arman echoed sharply, he made Akio jump.
Akio frowned. "Yeah, I figured it'd just be him. Makes sense if they're choosing only the strongest from each province."
Arman fell silent, thoughts racing.
"Rumor has it," Akio went on, lowering his voice, "that the Celestials are recruiting again because the threats near the borders are multiplying. Some say the Five Empyrean Cities might get another attack—"
"Do you think there are fake invitations going around?" Arman interrupted.
"What? Fake Celestial invites?" Akio chuckled. "Why would anyone bother? Though…" He paused, thinking. "Kael once said he got invited last year, but he never went. Maybe his was fake. Or maybe he was just bluffing."
Arman's gaze drifted to the dustbin. "Right." He stood, brushing past Akio. "Never mind. I'll figure it out myself."
He reached into the bin and retrieved the invitation card, shaking off a few specks of dust. The golden emblem brightened faintly again as he slipped it into his pocket, making sure Akio didn't see.