The sky had begun to take on the amber hues of late afternoon by the time Saguna, Radji, and Osa made their way back to the Grand Auditorium. The day had stretched long—filled with impossible visions, inexplicable marks, and questions that seemed to multiply with each new discovery. What had begun as a simple orientation exercise had somehow evolved into something far more complex and unsettling.
Saguna's thoughts kept returning to the three-figured statue in the Memorial Hall and the vision it had triggered. Find us. Learn. Prepare. The words echoed in his mind, still as cryptic as when he first heard them. And then there was that peculiar sensation when he touched Osa and Radji—the fire-water and fire-earth collision that had left him strangely breathless. He stole a glance at Osa walking beside him, wondering if he felt equally confused by what had happened.
"So," Osa broke the contemplative silence, his casual tone belying the gravity of their discoveries, "we all have matching triangle marks that appeared today, we experience strange sensations when touching each other, and we've found multiple references to something called 'The Triumvirate' throughout campus." He gave a short, bemused laugh. "Just your average first day at the Imperial Academy, right?"
"Not exactly what I expected when I enrolled," Radji admitted with a slight smile. "I came to the Imperial Academy to follow the traditional path into government service. Most students here are preparing for established careers in domain administration or the High Council." He gazed thoughtfully at the imposing academy buildings around them. "My parents made significant sacrifices for my scholarship. The Academy is known for producing Zendirah's political elite—ministers, ambassadors, and domain representatives. I always assumed I'd become a policy advisor in Meridian City after graduation."
He adjusted his spectacles, a gesture Saguna was beginning to recognize as his way of organizing his thoughts. "But these coincidences are too numerous and specific to dismiss," he continued. "The triangle symbol in the Convergence Courtyard, the three-figured statue in the Memorial Hall, the book's mention of 'The Triumvirate Cycles' and the 'Trifold Seal'... and now these marks on our bodies." He touched his forearm unconsciously. "There's a pattern here that cannot be ignored."
"The question is," Saguna added quietly, "what are we supposed to do about it?"
Any further discussion was cut short as they entered the Grand Auditorium. Various student groups were already gathered there, handing in their completed assignments to Master Damian. The professor stood near the center of the room, his deep blue academic robes giving him an air of stately authority as he conversed with a cluster of students.
The three waited their turn, each lost in their own thoughts. When the other group finally moved away, Master Damian turned his attention to them, his keen eyes seeming to take in far more than their disheveled appearance after a long day of exploration.
"Finally," he said, his voice carrying the weight of decades of academic discourse. "Have you finished your tour of the Academy?"
"Yes, we visited all the destinations you gave us on this list," Radji answered, handing over their assignment sheet.
Master Damian examined their notes briefly before looking up. "And? What is your impression of our academy?"
Radji hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "We encountered much of the academy's historical past, and strangely, all of it seemed related to elemental spirits or the balance between them." His analytical mind had clearly been working on this puzzle throughout the day. "It's almost as if people in Zendirah a long time ago could actually see these spirits. Not just as metaphors or educational tools, but as real entities they interacted with."
Something flickered in Master Damian's eyes—surprise, perhaps, or recognition. "Interesting," he said after a moment of silent observation, one eyebrow raised slightly. "People nowadays call that superstition, but that is a perceptive first impression."
His gaze moved between the three of them, lingering just a moment too long on each, as if searching for something specific. "Anything interesting from the Memorial Hall?" he asked, his tone casual yet somehow weighted.
"We just know there's apparently a hero's descendant attending this academy—that Emberil student," Osa replied, his distaste evident in his expression. "I hope his ancestor did something valuable for Zendirah, because I never read about any Emberil before."
"And what about The Last Triumvirate statues?" Master Damian pressed. "Did you notice anything...unusual about them?"
The three exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. There was something peculiar about these questions, as if Master Damian was expecting certain answers—as if he knew something they didn't.
When they remained silent, Master Damian continued with a small, enigmatic smile. "You didn't look at their names?" He paused for effect. "One of them is Adara Nyala, Professor Nyala's ancestor."
The revelation hung in the air between them. Saguna recalled the elderly professor who had approached them in the Tranquility Garden, her piercing gaze and cryptic invitation. Should any of you find yourselves... curious about the academy's deeper histories, my office door is always open. Especially on Wednesdays.
"Professor Nyala will be conducting your first class tomorrow morning," Master Damian added, his smile widening slightly. "Historical Practices. I believe you'll find it most... enlightening."
There was an undeniable weight to his words, a significance that transcended mere academic scheduling. He handed back their assignment sheet, now marked with an elegant script that simply read: Most observant. Further inquiry recommended.
"The Academy values inquisitive minds," he said, his voice lowered slightly. "Those who question rather than simply accept. Those who look beneath the surface." He straightened, his tone returning to that of a professor addressing new students. "Rest well tonight. Tomorrow begins your true education."
With that, he turned to greet the next group, leaving the three standing in thoughtful silence.
"Did anyone else feel like he was trying to tell us something without actually saying it?" Osa murmured as they moved away.
"Definitely," Radji replied. "And his specific mention of Professor Nyala cannot be coincidental, especially after our encounter with her today."
Saguna nodded, feeling the weight of too many "coincidences" pressing down on him. "He mentioned her ancestor was part of The Last Triumvirate—the three figures in that statue. The ones who supposedly prevented some kind of catastrophe three centuries ago."
"The ones who, according to that inscription, 'paid with their mortal existence,'" Radji added grimly.
A chill ran down Saguna's spine, the marks on his neck pulsing in response. "We need to learn more about this Triumvirate thing and what it means for us," he said with newfound determination. "If Professor Nyala's ancestor was one of them, maybe she knows something about these marks and why we've been... chosen, or whatever this is."
"I just hope we're not signing up for the same fate as the last three," Osa said, his usual lightheartedness momentarily subdued. "That whole 'paid with their mortal existence' thing doesn't sound like a great career path."
As they exited the Grand Auditorium into the courtyard, the setting sun cast long shadows across the stone pathways. Other students hurried past, laughing and chatting about their first day, completely unaware of the strange burden now shared by the three new acquaintances.
"So," Osa said, breaking the pensive silence. "I guess we're sticking together now, huh? Magical triangle marks and all?"
Despite the gravity of their situation, Saguna found himself smiling slightly. There was something reassuring about Osa's ability to find humor even in the inexplicable. Perhaps that was why he felt drawn to him—that easy confidence that made even the impossible seem manageable.
"I suppose we are," Saguna agreed. "Though I'm not sure what we've gotten ourselves into."
"Well, for better or worse, we're in it together," Radji said, his usual precision giving way to unexpected warmth. "I suggest we meet early tomorrow before Professor Nyala's class. Perhaps we can compare notes and develop a strategy for approaching her."
They agreed to meet at sunrise near the Tranquility Garden, and bid each other goodnight. As they parted ways, Saguna felt a curious mixture of apprehension and anticipation. The mystery of the Triumvirate and their newfound connection remained unsolved, yet for the first time in years, he didn't feel alone in facing the unknown.
The marks on his neck hummed with a gentle warmth as he walked back to his house, the whispers that had once terrified him now strangely quiet. Perhaps this was what it meant to be part of something larger than himself—to be connected to others who shared his burden and his gift.
Tomorrow would bring Professor Nyala's class and, hopefully, answers to at least some of their questions. But for tonight, Saguna took comfort in knowing that whatever Wednesday mysteries awaited him, he would no longer face them alone.
***
In a secluded chamber high in the Academy's northeast tower, Professor Nyala stood before an ancient map of Zendirah, its surface covered with small markers indicating energy fluctuations across the elemental domains. Three new markers glowed with particular intensity—two near the heart of the academy, and one other in the student dormitories.
"So, they've finally arrived," she murmured, her fingers tracing the inverted triangle pattern formed by the glowing points. "After all these years of waiting."
Behind her, Master Damian entered silently, closing the heavy wooden door. "You were right," he said without preamble. "They've begun to manifest the signs. They found the connections in the orientation tour without any direct guidance."
Professor Nyala turned, her expression both triumphant and troubled. "Then the prophecies were correct. The Veil thins once more, and a new Triumvirate rises to meet the challenge." She moved to a bookshelf, pulling down an ancient tome bound in weathered leather. "The question remains: will they be ready in time? The patterns suggest the convergence is accelerating far faster than we anticipated."
"They're just children," Master Damian said, concern evident in his voice. "Barely adults. To place such a burden on them—"
"We weren't much older," Professor Nyala interrupted, her tone sharp with remembered pain. "My ancestor wasn't much older when she gave her life to seal the breach. Age has little bearing on one's capacity for greatness... or sacrifice."
She opened the tome to a page marked with a silken ribbon, revealing an illustration of three figures standing in a triangular formation—identical to the statue in the Memorial Hall. Below the illustration was a prophecy written in ancient script:
When the Veil weakens thrice, three shall be called.
One to walk between worlds,
One to bind the unbound,
One to speak the forgotten tongue.
United in purpose, divided in element,
Only together shall they restore what was broken.
Begin their training tomorrow," Master Damian said after a long silence. "But remember, they must choose this path willingly. The binding cannot be forced—you know the consequences of that better than anyone."
Professor Nyala closed the book with a decisive snap. "Of course." Her expression softened slightly. "I've waited thirty years for their arrival. I can exercise patience for one more day."
As Master Damian turned to leave, she called after him: "Damian... do you think they'll succeed where the others failed? Where my ancestor failed?"
The old professor paused at the door, his face half in shadow. "For all our sakes, I hope so. The Breathless One grows stronger with each passing day. If this Triumvirate falls as the last one did..." He left the thought unfinished, closing the door quietly behind him.
Professor Nyala returned to the glowing map, watching as the three points of light pulsed in unison, like heartbeats finding a common rhythm. "Sleep well, young Triumvirate," she whispered to the empty room. "Tomorrow your real journey begins."