Sunlight poured through the high-arched windows, drifting lazily over the rows of desks like gold-dusted breath. A strand of it caught Neo across the face, casting his features in sharp relief—the jagged shadows cutting across his jaw like calligraphy etched by time itself. His eyes, a deep and contemplative grey, reflected the dancing motes of light, not unlike the still surface of a lake contemplating the sky.
He sat reclined, elbows propped, chin resting lightly against steepled fingers, as the background hum of conversation filled the air. The classroom was alive—students laughed, shuffled papers, traded rumors like currency. Yet to Neo, the noise felt like the static before a storm—buzzing, insignificant.
A sudden hand clapped him on the shoulder.
"Young man, What matter has you distressed like that?" came Kael's voice, thick with amusement.
Neo flinched slightly—caught. His friend stood grinning beside him, sunlight glinting off the pale blue trim of his academy robes. His dark curls bounced with every motion, and his green eyes gleamed like polished jade. Kael always seemed to wear the wind itself—easygoing, irreverent, always two steps ahead in mischief.
"You always sneak in like that?" Neo muttered.
Kael snorted. "Nonsense. I am an upright youth. It is clearly yourself who was too immersed in your thoughts to see me coming."
Then—
A hush fell.
A beautiful girl stepped into the room.
The shift in mood was almost physical—as if the very air paused. She moved with quiet certainty, her steps neither hurried nor showy, yet every eye turned. Her long, golden hair cascaded like woven sunlight, and her academy robes shimmered faintly with runic threads that hinted at her status. Eyes of brilliant amethyst surveyed the room, not cold, but impossibly distant—like a star noticing a flower.
Neo stared, just for a second too long.
Kael leaned in. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Looking like an idiot caught in a love poem."
Ayna took her seat with perfect composure, and a few of the braver students quickly gathered near her desk, offering smiles and small talk. They hovered like bees to bloom, fawning over every glance she spared. But to Neo, the sight was... dissonant.
"Doesn't it bother you?" he muttered.
Kael, lips quirking, replied, "It's not like I have a crush on her. Why would I be bothered?"
The classroom door opened with a low groan, and all voices quieted as Instructor Kaelmar entered.
He was an older man, straight-backed, clad in layered robes of rust-red and iron-grey. His hair was bound into a tight crown of braids, and two thin silver rods floated in silent orbit around his right wrist—a sign of someone who'd glimpsed more than one realm. His eyes, dark and depthless, scanned the room like a blade testing for weakness.
"Good morning," he said, voice calm and weighty. "You seem lively. Excellent. Let's see if your spirits match your preparation."
The room went still.
Kaelmar didn't open a tome. Didn't gesture toward the board. Instead, he folded his hands and asked, "Tell me, how prepared are you for the Heavenly Trials?"
Silence.
Some looked away. A few coughed. The quiet became too loud.
Kaelmar's voice cut in again, sharper now. "Do not insult this moment with lies or half-measures. Speak clearly. Speak truth. Elric—start us off."
Elric, a boy in the third row, stood up nervously. "I—I reviewed the books last month. I think… I think I'm halfway there?"
Kaelmar blinked slowly. "And how does halfway serve you when your future is not halfway earned?"
Elric sat down in embarrassed silence.
Another student tried, stammered, failed to bring clarity.
Then—
"I can answer," came Ayna's voice, cool and clear.
She rose, light dancing along the crescent symbols embroidered onto her robes. Her presence felt like winter moonlight—clean, distant, illuminating every flaw.
"I began with comparative renditions of the Fourth Mortal Volume," she said. "Instead of standard harmonics, I traced sub-patterns through reflective interpretation. Then inverted them to expose foundational contradictions. From there, I formulated layered insights and applied mnemonic resonance to confirm clarity. My preparation is complete."
A beat of stunned quiet followed.
Kaelmar inclined his head. "Precision without arrogance. You make the academy proud."
Then he turned.
"Neo. You next."
Neo stood, shrugging off the weight of expectation like a loose coat.
"I didn't choose a single path," he said. "Instead, I examined conflicting interpretations and treated each like a lens. When overlapped, the contradictions revealed hidden truths. I anchored them into a compiled summary—not perfect, but representative."
There were murmurs of confusion.
Kaelmar smiled faintly. "And what did you learn through multiplicity?"
"That I'm not seeking a single truth," Neo replied. "Just the ones that matter."
Now Kaelmar looked genuinely intrigued.
"Kael."
Neo's friend stood, brushing dust from his sleeve as if from a performance costume.
"I approached the text like a dialogue," Kael said. "Instead of reading it as law, I argued with it. Every rule, every metaphor—I tried to refute it. What remained, after resistance, I accepted."
Gasps. One girl whispered, "He argued with the Mortal Volume?"
Kael just smiled.
Kaelmar, for the first time, gave a full nod.
"Three roads. All different. All valid. Let this be your measure."
He paused—then his voice shifted into something deeper, heavier.
"The trials come for each of you, no matter your lineage or lack of it. The celestial law does not bend for wealth or station. At the age of eighteen, you will be tested. And make no mistake—though the trial is not lethal, it will carve your path."
A stillness fell again, this one reverent.
He continued, "From this day forth, your lessons are suspended. Your preparation begins now. Go. Strive. Fail. Rise. Find the version of yourself that deserves to step through the light."
The old bronze bell in the spire tower rang—low and layered, like the echo of fate.
The classroom stood in silence.
Then the scrape of chairs. Quiet murmurs. The sound of a hundred destinies beginning to stir.
And Neo—still seated—looked out the window as the last rays of sunlight slipped across the sky, as if marking the end of something quiet… and the beginning of something vast.