The warm and noisy atmosphere in the Red Friends' common room slowly died down as the members retreated one by one to their own rooms. Karnah disappeared behind his massive door with a warm smile, bidding Robert goodnight. Tersan entered his room without a single word, just a nod, and the sound of the metal door closing was as final and clear as a castle gate being lowered. Vingyu leaped down from his perch, ruffled Robert's hair one last time, chirped, "See you tomorrow, Dreamer!" and then hopped away toward his room. Uhura and Sinf, one like a shadow, the other like a whisper, glided into their own private spaces almost without a sound. Bellero had taken off from Robert's shoulder and followed Normah, bidding Robert a final mechanical "Gu-hoo-good-night" before entering the leader's room.
The lounge was suddenly enveloped in silence and dim light. Robert remained slumped on the sofa, the Tu device still warming and humming slightly in his hand. This silence was a feeling he had been seeking for days, but now that he found it, it felt strange. Loneliness, which had been a friend in his laboratory at Oakhaven, had taken on a bone-aching weight here, billions of kilometers and perhaps countless dimensions away.
To distract himself, he turned his attention to the Tu. The holographic interface came to life under his fingers. He re-entered the Nexus menu and began to examine the team members' profiles. Next to each name was the Academy's official classification and a brief biographical note.
"Normah - Class: Sorcerer (Energy Manipulation). Origin: Xylos System. Note: Leader of Team 406. Disciplinary record... complex."
"Tersan - Class: Warrior (Bio-Mechanical Integration). Origin: Unknown. Note: Left arm is made of an unknown alloy called 'Soul Reaver'. One of the Academy's best in close combat."
"Karnah - Class: Warrior (Giant'Type). Origin: Freljord Prime. Note: Exceptional physical strength and endurance. Considered the moral center of the team."
As Robert read each profile, he thought about how inadequately this brief, sterile information described the vibrant, complex personalities he had just met. These labels were merely their outer shells. The real people were much deeper than these lines. His gaze fell on the last name on the list.
"Tina - Class: Elementalist (Fire). Origin: Planet Pyralia. Note: Does not communicate vocally. Energy levels exceed a standard fusion reactor even when under control. Potential danger level: High."
Robert swallowed when he read the phrase 'High Potential Danger'. The petite, silent girl who had smiled at him just moments ago was no different from a walking nuclear bomb. The fact that everyone in this Academy was a being far beyond normal standards hit him in the face once again.
He browsed the Codex section of the Tu for a while longer, getting lost among articles on the Academy's history, maps of different sectors, and how the fundamental laws of physics operated differently in this dimension. He hadn't realized how much time had passed. His mind was so full of information that it was throbbing with fatigue. He closed the Tu, put it in his pocket, and stood up, yawning. He thought everyone had long since fallen asleep.
But he was wrong.
When he stood up, he noticed a figure standing in the shadows of the kitchen area at the other end of the lounge. It was Tina. She hadn't gone to her room like the others. She was just standing there, not with her back to Robert, but waiting motionlessly, as if she had sensed him stand up. The tips of her fiery red hair glowed faintly in the dim light.
Robert hesitated for a moment. Maybe she wanted to be alone. But something, perhaps the curiosity sparked by the 'high danger' note he had just read, pushed him to take a step toward the girl.
"Tina?" he whispered.
The girl slowly turned to him. Her face, even in the shadows, was not expressionless. Her golden eyes, like a cat's, glowed in the dark and looked directly into Robert's. Robert sensed an expectation in that gaze.
He moved a little closer. "Is something wrong? Why aren't you asleep?"
Tina didn't answer. She just tilted her head up slightly to maintain eye contact due to their height difference. Then, she raised her delicate hands and began to make a series of complex, fluid motions in the air. It was like sign language, but it didn't resemble any language Robert knew. Her fingers danced, her wrists twisted, as if she were drawing something in the air with invisible threads.
Robert furrowed his brows helplessly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I can't understand."
Tina stopped. She lowered her hands, and a fleeting expression of frustration crossed her face. Robert felt bad. This girl, despite all her incredible power, was struggling with the most basic need: communication. For a moment, he thought about taking the Tu out of his pocket.
"I wonder..." he began. "Can we interact with the Tu? Maybe you can write on there?"
An expression Robert had never seen before appeared on Tina's face. It was a mixture of mockery and intelligence. Her golden eyes sparkled, and she shook her head as if to say, "No."
Then, she did something Robert would never forget for the rest of his life.
She slowly raised her right hand, palm facing Robert. On the tip of her index finger, a tiny, bright point of flame appeared, like a firefly. Then this flame detached from her fingertip and hung in the air. Tina, using her finger like a pen, made the tiny flame follow its path. The flame began to move rapidly through the air, leaving a bright, orange-red trail of light behind it.
And letters appeared. Perfect, handwritten letters made of fire, hanging in the air.
NO NEED.
Robert's jaw dropped. His eyes darted between the fiery words and Tina's face. This... was impossible. It defied the laws of thermodynamics. This wasn't simple "different communication" as Sinf had called it. This was absolute control over matter and energy.
Tina's finger moved again, and new words ignited:
DON'T TELL ANYONE.
The fiery words shimmered in the air for a moment, then silently popped and vanished, like soap bubbles. Robert stared at Tina, dumbfounded. Why? Why was she hiding such an ability? Did the others not know? Did Normah know about this?
"But... that's incredible," he finally managed to whisper. "Why... why are you hiding it?"
A sad shadow crossed Tina's face. Her finger danced again, this time more slowly, more hesitantly.
POWER SCARES THEM. THEY WANT TO CONTROL IT. I DON'T WANT A CAGE.
Robert understood. It wasn't for nothing that Tina was labeled 'high danger'. The Academy would likely want to restrict, study, perhaps even suppress, an uncontrollable power like hers. But she just wanted to be free. This silent, fiery girl was one of the most powerful beings in the universe, but all she wanted was to be left alone.
"Your secret is safe with me," Robert said, his voice filled with absolute sincerity. "I promise."
Tina's face lit up at this simple promise. A genuine, warm smile spread across her features. And for the first time, Robert realized she was not only powerful but also lonely. One last time, she wrote a single word in the air with her finger.
THANKS.
Then she turned and walked silently toward her room. Before her door closed, she looked back at Robert one last time, her golden eyes shining with gratitude in the dim light.
Robert stood alone in the middle of the lounge for a long time, the phantoms of fiery words still dancing before his eyes. This team held far more secrets and depth than he had imagined. Finally, he headed for his own door. It opened when he touched it with his palm. The inside was simple like the lounge, but comfortable; a bed built into the wall, a small desk, and a few compartments for personal belongings. Robert threw himself onto the bed and felt the fatigue of the past few days crash down on him. When he closed his eyes, neither Oakhaven nor the storm was on his mind. Only words written in fire and the weight of a secret...
A sharp, melodic chime abruptly pulled Robert from a deep sleep. When he blinked his eyes open, he couldn't understand where he was for a moment. He expected to see the ceiling of his lab in Oakhaven, but instead, he found a smooth, metallic ceiling. The sound was coming from the Tu device on the desk. An alarm.
Robert sat up and picked up the Tu. The holographic screen read, "ALARM: First Dream Weaving Lesson. Location: Sector 7, Weaving Machine Entrance Hall. Start: 20 minutes."
His heart suddenly began to race. The time had come.
He quickly got ready and left his room, finding the lounge empty. The others had already started their days. He opened the map in the Tu's Codex section, found the shortest route to Sector 7, and plunged into the corridors. The Academy was even more bustling in the morning hours. As Robert looked at the countless different species passing by him, he realized that the astonishment of the previous night was slowly giving way to familiarity.
While crossing a wide junction, he saw Karnah in the distance at the entrance to the corridor leading to the Arena. He was walking with Tersan, his giant battle-ax slung over his shoulder. They were probably heading to their morning training. Karnah noticed Robert, raised his hand, and smiled. Robert waved back.
A few corridors later, he saw a blue-and-white blur whizzing past overhead. It was Vingyu. "I'm late for class! Good luck to you, Dreamer!" he shouted before vanishing from sight.
Finally, he arrived at the location indicated on the map. The corridors of Sector 7 were different from the others. They were more sterile, quieter, and the walls were made of a translucent crystal material through which a pale blue light flowed. The smell of technology in the air was stronger. He stood in front of a simple, jointless, smooth metal door that read, "Weaving Machine Entrance Lesson."
Standing next to the door, with its back to him, was a figure wearing a long, dark gray robe. As Robert approached, the figure slowly turned toward him.
It was one of the oldest beings Robert had ever seen. It resembled a Malken, but its skin was like a dried-up riverbed, covered with thousands of wrinkles. Its bioluminescent patterns had almost completely faded, only occasionally flickering a pale silver when it took a deep breath. And its eyes... its eyes were not like the bright indigos of the young Malkens, but like deep, velvety voids in which tiny, white lights slowly spun. Its presence carried the silence and wisdom of an ancient library.
"Robert," said the old being. His voice was like a whisper, yet it echoed in every corner of the corridor. "I was waiting. I am Kefius Arateon. I will be your first instructor."
"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Robert said, instinctively moving into a respectful stance.
"Pleasure will not be part of this lesson," Kefius said with an expressionless face. "What you will learn here is different from all other disciplines in the Academy. This is not a science, but an art. Not a power, but an understanding. And above all, it is a secret."
Kefius brought out a thin, bony hand from under his robe. "Before you enter this door, you must prove you can carry this secret. You must swear that you will never share what you learn with anyone, including your teammates, without your leader's and my permission."
"I swear," Robert said without hesitation.
"Words are carried away by the wind," Kefius whispered. "We need something more permanent." The old Malken extended his other hand toward Robert. "Open your palm."
Robert, with some hesitation, opened his left palm. Kefius pressed his index finger into the very center of Robert's palm. The place his finger touched was ice-cold. It was so cold that Robert wanted to pull his hand back in pain, but Kefius's seemingly weak finger was as strong as a steel clamp.
"This is the Weaving Seal," Kefius explained. "It keeps the knowledge inside, with its owner. If the seal is broken, if the secret is revealed..."
The coldness suddenly gave way to a burning heat. A bright silver light burst from the center of Robert's palm, spreading into his veins. It felt as if molten metal was being poured under his skin. He gritted his teeth in pain but did not scream. The light drew a complex, spiral pattern in his palm, flared for a moment, and then suddenly vanished as it had come.
Robert was left breathless. When he looked at his palm, he could see nothing. His skin was completely normal. Not a mark, not a burn...
"...the owner of the seal also perishes with the secret," Kefius completed his sentence, pulling his finger away from Robert's palm. "You are ready now. The seal will remain invisibly on your palm. A protector. A guardian. And an executioner."
Kefius turned and walked toward the massive metal door. "Now, let us begin your first lesson. I will show you the heart of it all, a Dream Weaver's canvas, and their most dangerous toy."
The old instructor placed his hand on the smooth surface of the door. Robert waited to take the step, his heart pounding against his ribcage. The phantom pain of the Weaving Seal still throbbed in his palm. What was behind this door? What was this thing called the Weaving Machine?
"Come in, Robert," Kefius said. "And see how reality is woven."
When he stepped past Kefius Arateon through that massive, smooth metal door, the first thing Robert felt was the change in the air. The sterile, neutral atmosphere of the corridor was gone, replaced by the scent of a sealed-off sanctuary, carrying the weight of centuries. In the air, there was the sharpness of ozone, a dry dust smell reminiscent of old parchments, and a deep hum vibrating inside his bones, just below the threshold of hearing. This wasn't just a room; it was a history, a secret, and a massive, controlled center of power.
The room was much larger than he had expected. The ceiling was lost in darkness at a height difficult to discern, and the walls, unlike the crystal structure in the corridor, were covered with a matte, black, light-absorbing material. But it was neither the size of the room nor the walls that caught Robert's attention.
His eyes were locked on the structure that occupied the entire left half of the room.
This was not a machine; it was a monument. It was a massive apparatus, at least twenty meters long, stretching from one end to the other, made of an unknown metal, and coiled like a sleeping dragon. Its surface was not smooth; it was covered in places with thin, luminous channels resembling circuit patterns, and in others with panels engraved with symbols he did not understand. The hum seemed to come directly from the heart of this enormous entity.
The phantom ache of the Weaving Seal in his palm intensified as he got closer to the machine, throbbing as if there were an invisible bond between the seal and the machine. Frozen in astonishment, he scanned the structure from end to end. The parts the user had specified were now standing more clearly before him, each like a piece of a puzzle.
On the far right, closest to Robert, was a dark glass screen, about two meters wide and slightly sloped. The screen was off, but Robert could sense countless points of light waiting in slumber beneath its surface. Just below the screen was a series of indented keys and-scroll surfaces, designed to fit fingers comfortably. Next to the screen, set in a special cradle, was that black piece resembling a crown, made of polished obsidian and adorned with intricate silvery circuits.
From the crown's cradle, a thin, shimmering cord, almost as delicate as a nerve fiber, emerged and extended toward the machine's center. In the center was the widest and most complex-looking part of the machine: the production line. This was a line about five meters long, covered with a domed, dark, translucent lid. Beneath the lid, the shadows of complex mechanisms and crystal channels were visible even in the dim light. A thicker, armored cord, like a main artery, ran over this line and connected to the structure on the far left.
On the far left, there was a massive storage unit, vertical and resembling a tall refrigerator, but its surface was completely covered with gauges, illuminated tubes indicating levels, and small circular screens. A slight vibration and the faint sounds of liquids flowing through pipes could be heard coming from this unit.
Robert felt like an ant in front of this technological marvel. The most advanced supercomputers in his own world would be mere abacuses next to this machine.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Kefius's voice whispered, pulling Robert from his thoughts. The old Malken stood beside the machine like a priest, regarding it with both reverence and deep familiarity. "I get the same reaction every time. Amazement, awe, and a little bit of fear."
Kefius walked slowly toward the center of the machine. "Only twelve people have entered this room before you, Robert. Twelve Dream Weavers. And all of them looked upon the mystery of this machine, just as you are looking now. Because this machine is both the cradle of our department and its darkest secret."
As if answering Robert's astonishment, Kefius began to explain. His voice, echoing in the acoustics of the large room, took on the tone of a sage recounting a legend.
"In the first ages of the Academy's founding," he began, "there was no such thing as the Dream Weaving department. Beings were classified according to their powers and abilities. Those who adhered to the logic of cosmic science, those who ruled the chaos of magic, those who formed psychic and telepathic bonds... Everyone had a box, a label. Until she arrived."
Kefius paused for a moment, as if reliving the memory. "Her name was Lilya Ordon. Like you, she came from another reality, as an 'anomaly'. But her abilities didn't fit any template we knew. She could affect small objects around her with her thoughts, but it wasn't telekinesis. She could make people hear sounds that weren't there, but it wasn't a telepathic illusion. Sometimes, just by looking, she could make a flower grow faster. But it wasn't life magic. She was a piece of everything, and at the same time, she was nothing. The Old Council didn't know where to place her. So, for the first time in history, they accepted a student as 'department-less' and placed her under special observation."
Robert saw a reflection of his own loneliness in Lilya's story. To be misunderstood, to not fit into a category...
"They observed her for years," Kefius continued. "But they couldn't reach a conclusion. Lilya's power was raw, uncontrolled, and undefined. Finally, one of the eldest Malken sages made a suggestion. He offered to take her to the living mountain, Malazar, which our kind considers a god."
"Malazar?" Robert whispered.
"Yes. Malazar is not just a mountain. It is the heart of this planet. We Malkens believe it is a living, conscious entity, and that the source of the precious 'magic dust' used by the sorcerers in the Academy is nothing other than the mountain's breath. It was a dangerous journey, but the Council was desperate. They sent Lilya to Malazar with a group of sages."
Kefius gently touched the lid over the machine's production line. "When she returned, Lilya was a completely different person. She never fully explained what she saw or experienced on the mountain. She only said, 'The mountain spoke to me, and I understood it.' After that day, that raw and uncontrolled power transformed into a focused, purposeful creativity. Lilya locked herself in workshops and began to invent strange things. First, she made a device that projected her thoughts onto a screen as simple geometric shapes. Then she managed to add color to these shapes. As the years passed, this simple visualization device became more and more complex. Over the decades, for the rest of Lilya's life, that small device evolved into the massive structure you see before you."
Robert now looked at the machine with different eyes. This was not just a heap of metal and circuits. This was a life's work. It was the legacy left to the universe by a woman, a misunderstood anomaly.
"All the weavers who have ever lived have seen and used this machine," said Kefius. "Each one added their own small piece to Lilya's legacy, improving the machine a little more. But it wasn't easy to get to this point. The old records are not very clear, as they were heavily damaged in a fire."
Kefius's voice suddenly hardened, the tone of wisdom replaced by that of a soldier recalling a painful memory. "There is a dark period in the Academy's history. The power of the Weaving Machine corrupted some. They used it for their own personal gain, in secret from the Council, to produce whatever they desired. And one night... the betrayal of one weaver almost destroyed the Academy."
Robert's hair stood on end.
"Using this machine, in secret, he produced weapons and armored units capable of bypassing the Academy's defense systems. He created his own small army. And one night, he unleashed that army on the heart of the Academy. The Old Council took heavy losses before they could suppress this unexpected and 'impossible' attack. Our most important archives, hundreds of years of knowledge, and countless valuable beings turned to ash that night."
Kefius turned to Robert. In his old eyes, the pain of that night was still fresh. "It was after that betrayal that the Council of that time made a decision to ensure such a thing would never happen again. They brought together the most powerful sorcerers and rune masters to develop an unbreakable curse they called the Weaving Seal. That seal in your palm is a legacy of that dark night, Robert. It is the guarantee that this power will never again be used against the Academy."
Robert involuntarily clenched his palm. The seal was no longer just a security measure; it was a symbol of history written in blood.
Kefius took a deep breath, composed himself, and turned back to the machine. "Fortunately, those days are behind us. Now, it is time to learn how to use this legacy."