On her way out of the Shrine of the Eight Phlthartic, Catalina scratches her scalp, her hair styled in two French braids. The mountain looms behind Lightless Institute, casting shadows along the borders of the campus compound.
She strolls down a spiraling stone pathway leading towards the building to the left of the one with the classrooms.
A rose garden is in the front right, with a pond of transparent blue water rippling on the left side, trailing down a dragon statue; one rumored to be frozen in decay, awaiting the return of its master.
The smell of sweet flowers wafts into her senses, easing the sweaty smell oozing from her ruffled clothes.
"Do you want to stop by the cafeteria first? I'm starving."
"I want to check out the rooms first then get a good grasp on the campus before classes start tomorrow."
"Alright. Let's split up."
Hearing familiar voices coming closer, Catalina looks back, eyes dropping to the burnt arm cradle against a seeker's chest, remembering him falling into a pit of lava. Seconds away from dying, he was saved by Drystan Sagan.
'A heroic moment.' She turns away, picking up her pace.
Advancing the sidewalk, she glances briefly at the scattered students dressed in different color academy uniforms. After noting the number of people around her, a habit she picked up after witnessing her first bloodbath; she approaches a black gleaming door with glass edges.
The triangle structure of the villa dormitory is made of red stone like the rest of the Lightless Institute, stretching high into the starless sky and with a tall roof lined up in the shape of stars and celestial planets, shrouded in teal fog.
Catalina stops in her tracks. A pleasant, husky voice enters her ears, tingling her heart.
"Fallen moon, Of old and new, Echoes softly amidst the velvet light, a present shine of the skies eye."
"The world's voice like a wandering shadow, Whispering of silence, where beneath our hearts recall forgotten lore."
"Fingers weave the golden string, Beyond the world, Her destiny woven from dreams, For when we reunite, the gods of yore conspire to crown you the gentle fate of doom."
The owner of the alluring voice leans on the door, standing over six feet tall, possessing brown flawless skin, long wavy golden hair, deep set stern lips, a slightly hooked nose, and a gray blindfold.
He holds an obsidian, dark blue lyre, wearing a white large ankle length coat with countless pockets, paired with a high neck thick shirt and cotton trousers of the same shade, exuding a dignified aura.
The unshakable confidence he harbors seems to possess a life of its own, sending restless flutters in her belly. She narrows her eyes at his scars visible on his throat, a dying mythical glow to them.
Instantly, Catalina wonders if there is a back door she can take and starts to move to search for it when he speaks to her.
"You're Catalina Melpomene." A statement, not a question.
Halfway turned, she shifts to face him fully. "Yes, I am."
"I was friends with your brother."
"I doubt that."
"Why?"
She parts her lips to respond but then pauses as she remembers that anything involving Ziven is to be unvoiced.
'That was stupid.' She sighs lightly, her eyes brightening in embarrassment. 'Who am I to assume he isn't friends with him?'
"Nothing." Catalina clears her throat and steps forward. "Excuse me."
He does not move. "What happened to him was a tragedy." The lyre disappears into a pocket void, and he crosses his arms, his expression stoic.
He says in a distant tone, "People will always believe what they can understand first than the genuine truth. I pray you follow your heart rather than your mind."
Catalina stays silent, unsure of how to respond. Either way, he does not wait for one. The handsome man's hands covered in white leather gloves grasp the silver handle and push the door open. "After you, Lady Melpomene."
She notices he keeps a five-pace distance as she enters the dormitory and searches for her room without a word, disregarding those nearby.
However, his pleasant voice murmurs into her mind before she can get far, "Perfection defined by society will never be the perfection we cultivate for it. You're a snowflake in a melting world. One day, you'll make the sky safe, and no one will fear melting anymore."
'What a bold statement.' She refuses to look back to check his location, not that interested enough to show her curiosity of his identity.
'I thought seers died out in the fallen world. This dude was saying some cryptic shit and if I could, I would offer him a job as a seer just because.' She internally mocks him to ease her discomfort.
Instead of finding her room and belongings, she rushes to the bathroom. She ignores the ringing in her head, her limbs stiffening to a taut.
Her eyes a deep blue and looking down as she tries to control her breathing, hearing it become ragged. She isn't unfamiliar with these moments. It's like a switch stirring in her soul and a numbing aching feeling paralyzes.
Bumps of life; she calls the episodes. They happen all the time, and she is hardly bothered by them, but as she slips into a bathroom stall, she feels like she is falling apart.
'I'm always depressed but they have seasons, growth and downfalls. I will be okay. I know I will. But I don't feel okay now and I hate that.'
"Don't fear," she mutters numbly to herself. "You're only breathing."
****
Ishaan Iniko, Heir to Sun Clan, and strongest wielder of divine power at Lightless, senses the girl's presence disappearing down the left hall.
In the center of the dormitory is a spiraling staircase with a golden-brown railing. The main floor consists of a large cafeteria, a study room with advanced computers and printers, a locker room that contains shower stalls and storage boxes for academy uniforms in various sizes given from the higher ups to the students.
The main floor is used by all grades. The upperclassmen rooms are on the higher floors, while the lower levels are for underclassmen.
All rooms have rows of medium size beds planted neatly down a line, a white storage box for personal belongings and clothes in front of it.
People part out of his path; his polished shoes tap on the shining wooden floor as he strides over to his space. A royal blue fox rug runs down the middle of the fourth year's boy's room. Cream candles with red wax dangle on the two windows covered with a thin green curtain, emitting a soft vanilla scent.
"Eyeing someone already?" A teasing gruff voice comes from behind Ishaan.
"It's strange," he says, sitting on the edge of his bed. "She doesn't know who I am."
"She's from the north. They all got a stick up their asses," Akira muses. "What if she just doesn't care who you are?"
Ishaan shrugs, leaving the words unanswered. "Why are you watching me through your snakes again?"
"To protect you."
"From what danger, my friend? I'm stronger than you."
"But I am not weak, therefore my aid is a miracle whenever you need it. Helios would agree with me."
"Helios doesn't have a real brain. He thinks whatever I feel."
Akira snickers. "If you truly believe that then you're more perverted inside than I give you credit for. That little fellow be verbalizing some wild shit." His head goes back, laughter filling the atmosphere, and Ishaan is grateful for the lack of students on the eighth floor.
"You must be so touched deprived because of your Odious. You could always—
"Shut the hell up." Ishaan shakes his head at his friend's dramatic amusement. He and Akira have known each other since their first year and have dueled many times. They share the same space, his bed across from Ishaan and are a part of the same league.
The academy lasts for five years, ranging from seeker, novice, apprentice, high apprentice and mentor. Akira Misul was sent to Lightless by his mother at the age of thirteen and is the sole survivor of his Abysmal Trial.
Pillar of Moon Clan, Aysun Misul had made a deal with the council and managed to hide her son's real age from everyone, yet the moment when he entered the boy's room, he came face to face with Ishaan, who saw through the lies right away.
Akira will never admit it out loud, but he was terrified upon finding out where his bed was located and plotted to have it moved for the first few months.
The golden-haired male is from Sun Clan, the most feared holy clan. At the age of seventeen, he had ignited all seven chronicle points. Now eighteen, he has his own relic under Leo and is in possession of more than seven relics.
On top of that intimidation, Ishaan rarely talks and when he does, he's either insulting you or issuing orders.
'And man, does he know how to make your pride feel like shame in mere seconds,' Akira thinks.
Later, in his late first year, Akira became comfortable with Ishaan's presence, only feeling annoyed with the controlled freak whenever he cleaned his space without permission. It's been years since their first meeting, both now in their second last year as high apprentices.
Watching the trial this year must have awakened some nostalgia in Weather Singer. He whistles wistfully and leans back on the headboard. "You going to the party tonight?"
The older boy shakes his head. "No."
"It'll be fun."
"You say that every damn time."
"And you go almost every damn time."
"I never attend a party in my first year, let alone on the day before classes start." Ishaan scoffs. "Who's throwing such a dumb thing anyways?"
"..."
"Oh faith, Akira!"
"Don't give me that exasperated voice." Akira's hands shot up as he shrugs, grinning playfully. "I wish I would have been more loose as a first year. You only live once. I'll be damned if they don't get the chance I never had."
"Nothing like fuck up before the finishing line then not even crossing it."
Akira's brows knit in confusion. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Enlighten yourself." Ishaan stands and brushes the non-existent dust off himself. He wants to get far away from Akiraquickly before the motherfucker somehow convinces him to join the stupidity.
He has that type of talent; making wrong decisions seems smart.
However, this time, Ishaan is prepared not to give in.
'Fears are natural. Common sense, if you will. Everyone shrinks back at something, yet what you fear matters more to people than the actual terror or trauma. A man could fear a beast, and mankind will call him weak. A boy could fear his mother, and the clan will mock him as dramatic.'
Even if the world crumbles and his secret could save mankind, he would let it all perish.
'As Ziven said, some people don't need tragedy; they are the tragedy. I cannot live in fear. I would rather die in the place that is haunting me.'
****
"Hello, Lady Catalina. I am teal. Lightless's host to all the student body," a voice says, resonating in the walls of the villa, yet only resounding in her mind. "There are twelve floors. You have the right to visit every single one now that you have guaranteed your spot here."
"Where is my room?" she asks.
"On the second floor where the rest of the underclassmen girls stay. Your belongings have been delivered. I organized them for you."
'Is this bitch fucking for real? Out of the shitty things here….' Catalina fingers twitch, annoyance flooding through her. She exhales deeply and rolls her shoulders, attempting to relieve her overwhelming anxiety. Her skin is hot, pulse dull with quiet exhaustion. "I share a room with someone?"
"With many someone's," Teal says. "Only mentors have their own living quarters on the twelfth floor."
"For god's sake," Catalina smacks her forehead, gliding deeper down the stairs, flight making her trip quickly.
"On the main floors are the kitchen, cafeteria, study rooms, and training rooms. A common space for hanging out is there as well," Teal explains.
"Each floor where students stay, the boy's room is on the left, and the girls are on the right. If you have any questions, feel free to chant my name three times in your head and I will be there. But if you aren't on the island, I can't reach you."
Lightless is alive and its name is teal. Teal is an assistant created by high technology in the northern continent, fueled with divine energy at the base of the island. It is formless yet floats like its own force in the air.
"My class schedule?" she asks, feet landing on smooth ground.
"A communicator provided by the council is on your bed. Your professor will also inform you and guide you in the morning. I recommend you either sleep or party the stress away as the gods did when war descended within them!"
'Fuck my life.' Catalina holds back a yawn. 'It already sucks having to share a room, but to share a whole building is beyond insane.'
She isn't good with people and doesn't want to be around so many people she doesn't trust. But at the same time, she can't complain too much. She won't be here forever.
'Unless, of course, I die here. Then my spirit may haunt Lightless instead of passing on. But that's if my death is petty.'