Lucian followed the surge of students through the open gates, his heart thudding like a war drum. Inside the massive training courtyard, rows of magically reinforced platforms floated in staggered layers, encircled by instructors in gray-and-gold robes. Sigils shimmered faintly beneath their hoods—marks of high-ranking Syntari, no doubt.
"First phase: Control Assessment," called out a woman whose voice rang clearly despite no amplification. Her eyes glowed faintly blue. "You will each step onto a control platform. Display your primary Sigil affinity. Show us control. Not power. Not flair. Control."
Lucian was assigned to platform 23, a flat, circular stage made of polished obsidian with sigil runes pulsing faintly at its edge. One by one, students stepped forward, conjuring flame spheres, dancing water spirals, compact stone disks, or gusts of sharp wind.
When it was his turn, Lucian removed his cloak. The moment he stepped onto the stage, a few students nearby leaned in. Whispers followed—his mark wasn't on his face. It wasn't visible at all.
"Sigil?" the examiner asked.
Lucian nodded and exhaled slowly.
He closed his eyes, letting his breath guide the wind. It answered him, not as a storm, but as a whisper. A breeze swirled around him gently. He lifted one foot off the ground—and floated just an inch. Then he turned slowly, hovered, and descended gracefully.
Subtle. Controlled. Precise.
The examiner gave the smallest of nods and scribbled something on a floating glyph board.
That was phase one.
The second trial took place in the Arena.
A dome of energy encased the stone battleground, high enough for aerial combat. Students were placed in random groups and told to spar—not to harm, but to showcase what made them unique.
Lucian was placed in a group of five. His opponents included a boy who could summon stone armor, a girl who manipulated fire ribbons, a twin pair who fused their water abilities, and him.
"Begin!" an instructor barked.
Immediately, the stone-armored boy charged at Lucian like a rhino.
Lucian jumped high, a burst of wind beneath his feet propelling him upward just enough to avoid the tackle. He spun in the air and redirected a breeze toward the fire-wielder, who stumbled as her flames were knocked off trajectory.
The twins came next, weaving together a stream of water to trap him.
Lucian raised his hands and focused. Wind met the stream head-on, dispersing the flow mid-air and scattering droplets harmlessly.
"Mid-air pivot… strong spatial awareness," one of the instructors muttered from behind the glass.
Then, Lucian overextended. The stone-armored boy surged from behind. Caught off-guard, Lucian took a hit to the ribs and hit the ground hard, sliding across the gravel.
Pain flared. But something inside him refused to stay down.
He grit his teeth, reached deep into himself, and launched upward again—this time, the wind spiraled around him like a column. He hovered high and, with effort, sent down a controlled gust that pushed his opponents off their balance without hurting them.
The match was stopped. The instructors were bickering now.
The final phase took place within the Crystal Sanctum, where a large crystal hovered in the center of a circular chamber. Each student was to place their hand on it. The crystal would respond to their Constellation—confirming their Sigil's origin and potential.
One by one, the crystal responded to others with familiar colors: red for Pyros, blue for Naeris, green for Terranox.
Lucian's turn came.
He stepped forward, hesitated, then pressed his palm to the cold crystal.
Nothing happened at first.
Then—
A pulse. A soft hum. The crystal glowed faint white, then shimmered with gold, then… light blue. The colors flickered, unstable.
The instructors exchanged confused glances.
"He has… wind affinity?" one whispered.
"But… the reaction wasn't only wind," another murmured.
Lucian blinked, his hand still pressed. The crystal calmed and settled on soft sky-blue—the color of Zephyros, the Wind Constellation.
"Zephyros," the lead examiner declared, though her eyes lingered too long. "Noted."
Lucian stepped away, his thoughts a storm. Why did it flicker like that?
Had the crystal sensed something else?
By the end of the day, the results were posted.
Names were inscribed magically on a floating scroll in front of the campus gates.
Most had been placed in Standard Class. A few cheered, hugging when they were placed in Aether Class.
Lucian scanned the list.
His name was near the very bottom… not in Lower Class… not in Standard Class…
Aether Class — Lucian Zevrik.
His breath caught.
He had made it.
Somewhere above, wind rustled the academy banners.
And for the first time in a long while, Lucian let himself smile.
He was no longer the boy everyone mocked in the village.
He was now a student of Aetherreach.
And this was only the beginning.