"Good morning, students of Lightless," Teal's voice exclaims, his voice reaching everyone on the lower floors. "Announcement for the seekers, Cherubim Shadeen cannot make it to guide you as planned. She sent out an email informing you of everything she planned to do in person. She will be here for first class. Until then, you have two hours to yourself."
'Shadeen. Ah, yes. Kian's wife or fiance?' Catalina regrets opening her eyes as harsh light glares overhead. 'Should I run away? But then Cas…. It would fall on him. I can't do that. He isn't really a fighter.' With a deep exhale, her hands sweep across the sheets for the block device, finding her communicator.
She clicks it up, then gasps. 'Good grief. It's only fucking 6:00 AM?!'
'Sleep or get ready?'
After a while of contemplating, she drags herself out of bed and pulls her neck back with a groan. Crawling to the end of her bed and lifting the storage box, she pulls out the uniform she grabbed from one of the main floors. Pushing herself to her feet and stuffing her hands with her daily essentials, she greets fellow students with an unfeeling smile on her way to the girl's shower.
****
Catalina stares at herself in the door mirror hanging inward. Her eyes travel over the crispy white shirt, navy blue button up with a collar and trousers donning her body. Paired with the academy uniform are polished black boots.
The first year's rank—a white dove—is etched on her jacket beside the breast pocket showcasing her name. Her hair is styled in a high ponytail that sways and brushes her lower back; the ends curled naturally.
"Looking good, Catalina," she mutters to herself, a small smile brightening on her heart-shaped face. She is insecure of her existence, not her appearance.
"I didn't peg you for a narcissist," chuckles Rhea as she strolls down the aisle.
"I can't admire myself?"
"Of course you can!" She stops an inch behind her, nudging her aside to put in the orange knife hair clips. "Self-love is damn near divine."
Catalina snorts a laugh and slings a bag of snacks over her arm. "I'm starting to like you, Windy."
"It's Rhea."
"Right."
She stomps her foot with a huff. "You're teasing me!"
Catalina shrugs with a soft grin, already striding out of the room and into the halls. Purple oil lamps lit up the pathway to the staircase. On every floor are portraits of legendary Ophanim plastered on the walls, decoration of their tales retelling in forms of stardust. When one tips their head into the dusty atmosphere and inhales, sending divine energy into their brain cells, they witness the relics crafted by these beings.
She walks instead of flying, sensing Rhea's hurried steps behind her. The light pink-haired girl asks: "Have so much confidence. How do you do that?"
The daughter of Winter Clan coughs awkwardly. "Fake it till you make it."
"Huh?"
"The art of confidence doesn't appear when you want it, nor will you ever gain it by thriving for it. Whether it's fake or not, be confident and then eventually it'll no longer be fake."
"I never thought of it like that," Rhea mutters. "I thought people with confidence were…. I don't know." She shrugs, an aching strain in her calves as she pushes herself up the steep steps. "Born with it?"
"Can't you manipulate yourself to be confident?"
"I am." Rhea's mouth spreads in a thin smile. "But forcing your emotions doesn't make them real. It just exists…. Many things can exist, you know, but not everything has a purpose that is genuine."
'I don't really get it,' Catalina thinks, but not wanting to continue the conversation she picks up her pace, intending to ditch her casually as she no longer desires the girl's presence. 'I spoke to her. We talked. That's enough for the entire week.'
Nearing the entrance, she passes by the kitchen, and instantly her gaze launches onto a handsome figure. Her steps stutter. Flawless golden hair that flows down a lean muscular back like waves of sunlight ensnares her attention like a magnet. With her sharp sight, his hair appears bright enough to light up the darkest night.
The mysterious stranger is clad in a similar uniform—though the shade is silver, and his breast pocket dangles with gold tied threads that flaunted achievements and blocked his name. She has a sense of familiarity, yet his name is a dark fog that won't clear.
'To have over 20 achievements is insanely great.'
Achievements at Lightless rank from a student's performance in all divisions and the success rate of missions given to them. In the end, their achievements determine the celestial weapon gifted on graduation.
She guesses he must be a holy clan child like herself; however, Catalina pays little attention to any of them. It's not like she isn't interested; she simply does not want to become friends with future enemies.
'A waste of energy and time. That is a fact that no logic could break,' she thinks.
Despite the peace that binds them, there's been indirect war between the clans. Assassins ordered to blade in the night, merchants paid to mess up trade deals or steal shipments and goods, spies sent to gather information illegally, etc. Her father told her it's like chess online, naming it the overseer's war. She always admired that as a child, ignorant of the damage their pettiness done to the lands and innocent civilians.
Children are like eggs. You must be very careful with them, so they don't crack and break. If you cook it right, you're in for a delight. If you don't, you're left with either a rotten egg, burnt egg, or a milky one. Catalina wonders most of the time how she turned out. If she is still in the process of being a delightful history or a stain in the belly.
In the face of chaos, the holy clan rulers are the pillars of earth, leading mankind and guiding them through the new age of life. If those pillars of divine strength turn on each other in front of the Elysian Cosmos, then the world will be in utter disorder and perfect for invasion from realms that disdain the earth.
It is not anonymous to mankind of the conflict between the Four Holy Clans, but for centuries since the ancestors built the foundation of the new world, they have been allied and took up issues with another, not involving citizens or damaging lands. The sage's moral value of human life is what stopped the pillars of this era and previous eras to not stoop to that level of depravity.
Ignorance is blissful to the average citizen when arrogance is beyond control. The people are not who determine what individual has power—a weak soul can reign over powerhouses if they never stop reaching for the heavens. As much as conflict is a game to the holy families, it is a show to mankind, one they can watch and bet on.
Ishaan drinks a mug of coffee. As if Enigmatic Poet senses her scrutinizing, he crooks his head slowly to the right, facing her direction. Immediately, Catalina ducks her head with a racing heart and picks up her pace. 'Isn't he blind? Why did I feel like he could fucking see me?'
'Good morning.' His pleasant voice whispers in her head, tingling her scalp.
Startled, Catalina bumps into the wall, pain lacing her shoulder. Her face freezes stiffly in embarrassment as students throw her judgmental looks.
'Fucking hell! He can't keep doing that!' Annoyed at her choice to wear her hair up, itching to yank the hair tie out and shield her face, Catalina's feet, silent as a night breeze, lift as she soars to the doors. 'I can't even fucking reply. I'll pretend I didn't hear him.'
Just as fresh air greets her in a gentle caress, carrying in it the sweetness of autumn, she hears him purposefully send his chuckle into her head. The soft sound of birds chirping and chattering students reaches her ears next.
Stepping out of the way of a tattooed upperclassman, moving past him, she clicks on her communicator as a distraction.
She is used to hearing voices speak to her in her mind, as it's common in the cosmos for those who had mastered divine energy, yet the usual voices belong to people she is familiar with.
On the mail icon is an email she read once and already memorized, but she rereads the words like it's her first time, looking up occasionally to make sure she is heading the right way. A virtual map was sent by Shadeen, who preferred to have given it to them when she was done with her guidance. Catalina does not use it for no reason other than the fact that she is too lazy to swipe over and go through the process of opening it.
'My memory is better anyway. Divine Research and Cultivation is my first class, located in the west wing, Room 5. Survival Skills is second in the dead forest. As for my last class, it's Beast Companion in the north wing, Room 68.'
When she arrives, she realizes the classroom is one of the rooms she noticed upon her first day on Lightless campus grounds, located close to one of the creamy towers. Its arched windows leading to the ceiling, engraved on the surface are dragons, angels, sirens, and phoenix designs that dance along the structure like paths of history.
Five long oak tables extend the space before a glittering circular podium, which on top of it lays a blue crystal globe, and behind is a transparent board. The fragrance of lavender and ethereal wafts the atmosphere with a homey odor.
Orderly seated at the long tables are eager seekers; their faces plaster with a hint of wariness, yet unconcealed excitement. Catalina walks over to a free seat in the back, ignoring the curious and hesitant glances thrown her way. The chosen seat is nestled between an empty one and one acquired by a short girl.
She drops her bag on the table and curls her shaky hands into a fist and stows them in her jacket pocket. In her peripheral vision, she involuntarily checks the girl out, coasting over bronze skin, detached lime green eyes, glossy black straight hair that flows past her nape, with short strays framing her stunning diamond freckles.
Her attention is drawn downward. Four gold tied threads pinned the alluring girl's purple breast pocket. Two dangles delicately on each side of her name: Vienna.
'A seeker with four achievements? Gold at that. No, that's not possible.' Catalina's eyes almost dilated in shock before she rationalizes herself. 'She's wearing purple.'
The grade years at Lightless can be detected by the color of their uniform.
Navy blue—seeker. Green—novice. Purple—apprentice. Silver—high apprentice. White—mentor.
'What's an apprentice doing in a seeker's class?' Catalina's eyes illumine in curiosity, leaning her chin upon her left palm. On Vienna's hands, her zodiac path chronicles points are ignited, a sharp contrast to Catalina's dull pointed stars. None of the seekers know what relic is within the Chronicle Points until they ignite it. She wonders in amazement on how many relics Vienna possesses to have both hands marked.
Shaking her head softly, she dismisses the interest. 'Not my business, not my problem.'
Just as she shuts Vienna out her mind, her eyes fully focus on the paper she's been drawing on—a black rose ensnared by a chain resembling a crescent moon.
"Beware of the sky," Vienna says. "For even though she won, she is lost and biding her time."
"Are you…. Are you talking to me?" Catalina asks.
Vienna does not answer.