...And lo, the Judge was fractured—
cast beyond the Throne,
to wander the Spherae Aeledrei,
A flame without name, without form.
A light without vessel,
will without anchor,
he drifted across the ages untold.
Then the Flame descended—
Who became the Sun Incarnate,
And walked among mortals.
In the age of the false gods,
he rose— not as Savior,
nor as King, but as Fire.
Through his flame were the pretenders tested,
and those found unworthy were scorched.
He bore no crown,
yet was called Emperor.
He gave no verdict,
yet was known as the Judge.
His light was mercy to the faithful,
and ruin to deceivers.
And when his purpose was fulfilled,
he vanished without a word—
as dawn fades not into night, but into day...
-Of the Lost Ages, page 243.
---
I flipped the page, thumb tracing the worn edge of the vellum. The script was old— written in that tight, slanted style that made even simple verses sound like prophecy.
It read more like myth than history.
Didn't stop it from being shelved under "Doctrine," which is funny and weird.
Are they implying something?
I kept reading anyway. The book was quite interesting...
---
Early morning.
Breakfasts were served at the Academy's dining hall— a building away from our dormitories, where we had to brave the cold just to fill our stomachs.
...I think I'll have bread this time. Yeah, bread for sure.
Speaking of bread—
For the past five days, the bread we had was stale— hard, dry, probably shelved longer than it should've been, just reheated to be served the next morning.
Not that it mattered much to me. That's how bread is sometimes. I wouldn't even mind some moldy ones, honestly.
I've eaten worse.
You eat what's there and get on with your day.
You don't always get to be picky.
But the word was, the baker responsible for it got fired yesterday.
Someone must've finally noticed and filed a complaint.
Took them long enough to figure it out.
Still, bread tastes better when it's fresh.
And this morning, the differences were obvious. The crust cracked just right beneath my fingers— still warm to the touch. The inside was soft and airy, like it had just left the oven.
Even with all the fancy breakfast options— bacon, eggs, porridge, pastries, sausages —I'll choose bread and a warm cup of chocolate any day.
I found a small corner table for two, rested my tray, sat down with my back against the wall, and quietly, I prayed.
The dining hall was half-full again. Students scattered across long tables, eating and chatting.
Cutlery clinked against metal trays, scuffed boots on stone-tiled floors, and someone laughing a bit too loud three tables over.
The kind of noise you stop noticing until it's gone.
Nothing unusual for now.
I sandwiched my fried egg and bacon between the slices, let the steam waft for a second, then took my time with the first bite.
Ahhh... heavenly.
A rare moment— to eat without complaints.
I took another bite and a slow sip from my cup, and let the warmth linger a little longer.
Despite the cold and chaotic morning, I found warmth.
And peace.
"Alaris!"
I looked up and there was Caeler, grinning, moving between tables with ease, tray stacked like he planned to feed three people.
Still don't know why this kid's not fat yet.
He's got some energy for morning routines.
Probably had motivations or something like that.
I have none, fortunately.
He sat down, smiling, and shoved a piece of bread into his mouth.
Caeler swallowed his food and asked, "How was the book?".
"Epic."
---
I watched him eat for a bit. Three loaves and three sausages already.
"You don't think that food's a bit too much?" I pointed out his breakfast of bread, sausage, and beans.
Beans?
"Not really," he said. "We got practice this morning— I don't want to faint halfway again."
I took a bite off my sandwich. "That sounds exhausting."
He glanced at me, unfazed. "You have yours tomorrow."
Little did he know I was watching them from a window last time.
Maybe I shouldn't tell him that.
Yeah, let's not.
The two of us kept eating and chatting, waiting for the chimes to play.
---
...And Caeler was done right as the school chime rang.
The kid's fast.
"See you later at lunch," Caeler stood up, picked up his tray, and walked away.
"Yeah, see you later," I replied, still drinking my chocolate brew. It had gone cold minutes ago.
By the time I finished, the dining hall was nearly empty. Most had rushed out the moment the chime rang. Only a few students, me, and the kitchen staff were left behind.
"Shouldn't you hurry up, kid?" a janitor talked to me while I was returning my tray.
I glanced at the clock. 7:36. Classes won't start until 8.
"I still got time," I replied.
I walked to class— no rush. I like things chill and slow.
The hallways were quiet, just as expected.
All is good.
...
I arrived five minutes earlier than our professor and took my usual spot— top row near the tall windows, far from the board, where no one bothers to look.
The view from here looks really nice.
...
"...Resonance. Capacity. Sacrifice," said Professor Maren, pacing slowly in front of the class. He turned and etched those words across the blackboard.
"Three fundamental principles you must never forget."
Most of the class were focused.
Heads down, quietly scribbling notes.
The room was still and silent, save for the scratch of pens, the occasional cough, and Maren's lecture.
Some were fully tuned in. Others looked relaxed but still paid attention to the professor.
Meanwhile, my mind drifts somewhere— like paper caught up in the wind.
Sunlight streamed through the high-arched windows, casting long beams across my desk.
Outside the glass stretched the clear skies of Ever Gale.
My attention wandered to the skylands, floating over the horizon— quiet, still, and unaffected.
One of them had a ruined tower.
Broken. Forgotten.
And for most people, out of reach.
"Resonance," Maren continued, pointing the word with a stick.
"Aelr will not obey you if it does not recognize you. It only listens when you align with your source..."
One island sloped gently northward.
Its top half wrapped in green lush, its underside are all stone.
I wonder if I could get permission to climb that one.
"Capacity," Maren said louder. "How much Aelric energy your body can hold, circulate, and radiate— without tearing itself apart..."
I blinked and shifted in my seat, only half-aware of the last sentence.
"And finally— Sacrifice," he said. "You will always give something when invoking. Control. Stamina. Time. Safety. Never assume it comes freely..."
My eyes traced the vines snaking up the tower's side.
Ruins like that had stories buried under stone.
Not the kind written in textbooks.
"—Mr. Azrith."
My name cracked through the air like a whip.
I straightened in my seat and looked straight to the professor.
"...Sir?"
Professor Maren raised a brow, hands on his hips.
"Would you care to demonstrate a basic Manifest for the class?"
I paused, blinked twice, then scratched the back of my head.
It felt like I'd just been asked to sing in front of royalty.
A few students snickered.
I stood up with an awkward smile, kept my head low, and walked down the steps to the center stage.
At the platform, I faced the class. I raised my hands, palms open, then mumbled some indistinguishable words before exaggerating my every motion, like I was pulling weight from the very air.
"Hugghhh—"
Pop.
A tiny ball of light hovered above my hand— wobbly, flickering.
It was more like a firefly than your average Manifest.
A few students laughed. Some were disappointed. Some didn't care at all.
Good. I don't have time to entertain this crowd.
I just laughed awkwardly, smiling like an embarrassed kid on stage, and bowed the way people from the East do it when they're saying sorry.
Professor Maren had that look on his face again.
He's giving me that "You dare not listen to my class and give me such a performance?" kind of look.
But the professor gave me a slight nod instead.
"That's enough. Very good," he said.
He let me return to my seat, hand scratching my head, and sat down, grinning like an idiot.
Anyway—
I turned to the window again like nothing just happened earlier.
I wiped the stupid grin off my face and set my eyes back to the sky—
Back to the skylands—
Back to the tower.
I will definitely get permission to climb that one.
The class went on, but the ruins stood still in the distance.
Silent.
Watching...
...
Sometime past lunch. The sun had already cast long beams across the arches of the corridor, warming up the old stone walls but not enough to cut the breezy feel that lingers in the halls.
Caeler and I were walking through the corridor, full from the meal we had and not really in rush to get anywhere.
Then a voice called to us from behind.
"Mr. Alaris Azrith!"
Our heads turned immediately.
It was Ms. Criscila— hair tied back into a tidy ponytail swaying slightly as she walked, although a few strands had slipped loose into her face. Her glasses fogged, her cheeks flushed, and her breath comes short. She looked like she'd been running errands nonstop for the last fifteen minutes.
I noticed her hand holding a key.
She stopped in front of me, panting.
After a brief pause, she grabbed my hand and pressed the key into my palm.
"The Headmaster wants to see you, Mr. Azrith," she said between breaths. "And— could you return this to the janitor for me? I heard he's still on break in his room. Thank you."
She tried to control her breath, fixed her glasses as she spun around, and walked away, vanishing around the corner.
She probably had three more errands stacked behind that one.
Caeler glanced at me. "What was that?"
I inspected the key. Brass. Faint scratches. Just a basic room key.
"I don't know," I said. "—Anyway, wanna come along?"
He hesitated for half a second. "Sure. I don't know why... but sure."
"Good."
We passed the janitor's room on the way and found the door was slightly ajar. He had a handwritten note taped on his door that says:
On Break
There's also no sign of Mr. Guard inside.
"Do you think he's sleeping?" Caeler asked while peeking his head inside.
"Probably," I said while stepping in quietly, just enough to place the key on a nearby table.
The room smelled faintly of polish and old socks.
I didn't stay long enough to confirm he's there either.
We kept walking, and finally arrived at the Headmaster's wing.
It was quiet— oddly quiet than usual. The noises we can hear are only our footsteps and the occasional creak from old floorboards.
We stood outside the door and knocked.
A voice answered from inside— gravelly, drawn-out, and just barely audible. "Come in."
I pushed the doors open.
The room was warm with the scent of aged paper and lavender oil— he must've lit something again. Shelves towered along the walls, and a few loose scrolls scattered on the floor. It's probably there for days now.
Does he ever make time to clean his office, like occasionally?
The Headmaster was behind his desk, seated in his chair with his back towards us.
"You sounded ancient. It doesn't suit you," I told him.
He let out a laugh. First like an old man. Then it shifted— mid-chuckle —back to his normal voice as he turns his chair to face us.
"Can I not?" Nerius replied with a smirk. "One hundred and sixty-three? Not that anyone bothers to keep counting after the first century."
"Fair enough," I said, expression flat.
Nerius stood slowly— his coat probably caught on something, either the chair or his desk.
Caeler slid in beside me.
"Should we be worried?" he asked in a low, cautious voice.
"Yes," I replied.
Nerius chuckled. "Hello there, Caeler."
"Good afternoon, Uncle," Caeler replied.
"Anyway, make yourself at home," he said, pointing out the cushioned seats in front of us. "Criscila's still not here though."
Caeler and I took our seats while Nerius settled back into his chair.
"About that summon," I said after sitting down.
"Ms. Criscila looked like she ran through three buildings trying to find me. It better be something worth the sweat."
Nerius' face suddenly turned serious. His grin had already faded.
"Oh, it is worth the sweat," he replied as he turned towards the windows on his right.
"You see those skylands over there?" he pointed at the floating land masses that had drifted this morning.
"Yeah. I saw them."
"The Mapwrights made contact with one of the skylands right after noon break and confirmed a tower ruin. They did not find anything visually threatening but reported a very abnormal Draeg reading. Strong enough that they halted the investigation for the meantime. They are probably requesting for backup from the IAC right now."
"Anything dangerous?"
"Maybe. I do not know. They did not want to push their luck, but they are out there split into teams— one on board their ship, the other's camping just below the island."
I started piecing it together. "So, you want me to climb it. Check it out and eliminate something, if ever there's that something?"
"If nothing ever caught your interest, just observe and report. If it's Remnants, do what you must."
I slowly turned to Caeler, grinning as I shook his shoulders lightly.
"You hear that? I knew I'd get permission," I said.
"Good for you, Alaris," Caeler shrugged.
"It's a good thing you came along," I said. "You know the drill— cover for me."
"Right, right," Caeler replied with a sigh and a half smile. "And I'll trust you'll be back before dinner."
"Six hours is plenty," I said, grinning. "You'll barely miss me."
The kid's dependable.
"You can start in thirty minutes, and try to be back before seven. I'll notify your professors regarding your absence," Nerius said.
He then let out a laugh, and stopped. "What a way to abuse authority," Nerius added with a smirk— probably because he knows he's violating regulations.
It thrilled me.
Finally— I got permission to climb a skyland again.
That's all I really wanted.
If there's trouble up there? Fine.
I'll deal with it.
But first—
I'm going up.
I turned to him, grinning, and said,
"Mark. It. Done."
...
To be continued...