A new map flickered into view above the Hall.
It didn't have names, no borders, no colors; there were pulsing points of light scattered across the battered surface of the world.
Each one marked an academy.
Some blinked faintly—flickering lights nestled in forgotten forests, perched on jagged mountain cliffs, or hidden deep beneath wastelands.
Their structures were barely more than reinforced ruins, but they were still there. Still alive.
Others pulsed steadily. Strong. Structured. Fortified hubs with energy shields stacked like layered domes. Complexes that resembled miniature cities more than schools.
Astralis glowed the brightest.
But it wasn't the oldest.
The Dean turned again, slowly, with no rush in her movements. This time, she faced the students directly. Not just glanced at.
Her posture carried the quiet weight of someone used to being listened to, even when speaking gently.
"Other systems failed," she said.
