The sky above Alunara shimmered like glass, split by floating isles that
drifted on invisible winds. Bridges of light connected them, threading the
world together like a broken constellation desperately trying to stay whole.
At the very center of it all, floating higher than any other island, stood
Skyreach Academy—a place of learning, discipline, and awakening. A place where
young wielders of magic, elemental resonance, and inner potential came to grow.
Or to break.
Today, the academy welcomed a new intake of students.
Airships glided through the clouds, dropping off wide-eyed initiates.
Banners bearing clan symbols rippled along the skywalks. Laughter, nerves, and
challenge filled the air. Some students were already forming groups. Others
eyed their rivals.
But two arrivals stood apart.
Advait Luna
He stepped off the transport alone.
Silent. Graceful. His midnight-blue hair fell over silver-gray eyes that
revealed little. He wore moon-toned robes that moved like liquid silk. Most
didn't notice him—but those who did felt the urge to watch, as if
something ancient passed by unnoticed.
Few knew he had already mastered more in silence than most did in chaos.
His hands looked delicate—but had once called weapons of pure aura from the
void, slicing through steel as easily as breath. Only the elders of the Lunaris
Clan knew. They had warned him not to show too much.
"Learn with them," his grandmother had said. "Grow slowly. When the time is
right… you'll know."
He glanced around the courtyard once, eyes lingering on the academy spire
glowing under the sun. Then walked inside.
Viaan Sola
He arrived in the center of a group.
Loud, laughing, teasing, copper hair catching every bit of sunlight. He
tossed a bag over his shoulder and waved off a clanmate who warned him to
behave.
"I always behave. Just... selectively."
Wherever he went, energy followed. His sun-kissed skin, amber-gold eyes, and
flame-motif jacket made him impossible to ignore. He cracked jokes, flirted,
challenged everyone to a duel he had no intention of losing.
No one knew that at age eleven, he had disarmed an elder using nothing but
his bare hands and a flicker of heat-born aura.
Like Advait, he'd been warned to hide it.
"Let them see your smile," his cousin had said. "Not your scars."
And so, he laughed and joked and played dumb. But his eyes… his eyes always
searched for something he couldn't name.
Across the Courtyard
They didn't notice each other yet.
Or maybe they did.
Maybe the wind shifted when they both stepped into the light. Maybe their
auras brushed, faint and forgotten. Maybe a memory stirred just beneath the
surface.
But the moment passed.
For now.
The Main Hall
The main hall of Skyreach Academy was a marvel of magic and architecture.
Its ceiling was a dome of translucent crystal, reflecting the ever-shifting sky
above. Runes danced along its borders, ancient and alive. The floor beneath the
students' boots shimmered with faint energy, absorbing the footsteps of
hundreds like a living memory.
New students stood in clusters—some silent and unsure, others loud with
excitement or nerves.
Four glowing banners hovered above the dais at the far end of the hall, each
marked with a symbol of the major clans:
The Solaris Flame —
wild, bold, masters of fire and sound.
The Lunaris Veil — calm,
intellectual, tuned to moon, mind, and memory.
The Stormshade — agile,
sharp, attuned to lightning and wind.
The Duskrend — grounded,
intuitive, linked to earth, shadow, and instinct.
But unlike other schools, Skyreach didn't divide students by clan. Instead,
it divided them by growth—by potential, by soul, by connection. No one knew
what the sorting trials would demand.
The Orientation
A soft chime rang through the space.
Students turned as four instructors stepped onto the dais, cloaks trailing
behind them, each radiating their own strange energy.
The one in front, dressed in deep green and gold, raised her hands. Her
voice was soft, but somehow filled the entire chamber.
"Welcome, Initiates, to Skyreach."
"Here you will not be trained to become warriors. You will be trained to
become whole."
"You will learn to listen to the pulse of your power. To shape it, not
control it. To know your limits—and to break them, without shattering
yourselves."
"Some of you will rise. Some of you will fall. All of you will change."
The instructor's name, they would later learn, was Mistress Calisya—Guide of
Soul-Bond Dynamics.
Student Reactions
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"Did she say whole? Not strong?"
"I thought we were learning combat…"
"What does soul-bond even mean?"
Viaan stood among his group, eyebrow raised. "This just got interesting."
Advait, listening from a quiet corner, tilted his head slightly. The word whole
echoed in him longer than it should have.
The Academy Grounds
After orientation, the students were shown to their rooms in a tall,
spiraling dormitory tower. Each floor floated slightly above the next,
connected by glowing stairways of solidified light. Their rooms overlooked the
sky.
Every student was given a small orb called a Pathlight, tuned to their
magic. It glowed faintly when touched, pulsing with the student's unique energy
pattern. These would be used in future exercises—training tools, and trackers.
Advait's Room
His room was quiet. Clean. No excess furniture. A shelf lined with blank
notebooks. He stood by the window for a long time, looking at the floating
islands in the distance.
He didn't speak. But his fingers tapped faintly on the windowsill—an old
rhythm he didn't remember learning.
Viaan's Room
His room was alive with sound—books half-unpacked, clothes tossed casually.
He leaned out of the window, watching the floating bridges sway in the wind.
Something tugged at his chest. A pull.
Not toward the sun.
Not toward fire.
Toward something else entirely.
He clutched the pendant beneath his shirt and whispered, "You're out there,
aren't you?"
Duskfall
That evening, the bell rang three times—a sign that the First Trial would be
announced in the morning.
As the sun set, painting the sky in purple and gold, some students
practiced. Some laughed. Others studied nervously.
But two boys—separate, unaware—stood quietly on opposite balconies of the
dormitory tower, looking at the same sliver of moon.
Neither knew the other was watching it too.
Neither spoke.
But somewhere, deep inside, both felt it.
"I'm not alone."