...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.
***
The script was old—or this part at least—written in that tight, slanted style by the author.
This must be from an epic—
...Oh it is.
The book was quite interesting.
...maybe I will finish this one—while I still can.
—And the clock struck six...
Damn it.
***
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. And I'm here dragging my feet to not starve.
...Maybe I'll have bread this time. Yeah, bread...
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 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.
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 sat at a corner table, like usual, eating eggs and bacon strips between slices of fresh bread, letting the steam waft for a second, and taking my time with each bite.
Ahhh... heavenly.
A rare moment—to eat without complaints.
Despite the cold and chaotic morning, there was warmth.
And peace—brief, but mine.
Even if it's only for today.
"Alaris!"
And of course there's Caeler—grinning—slowly closing in, weaving between tables with ease, with a tray stacked like he planned to feed three people.
Still don't know why this kid's not fat yet.
He's got energy for morning routines, at least.
Probably has motivations or something like that.
I have none, fortunately.
He sat across from me—still grinning—and shoved a piece of bread into his mouth.
Caeler swallowed his food and asked, "How was the book?"
"Epic," a rugged voice answered. Must be mine.
Caeler laughed," What's with your voice? Barely got any rest?"
"I didn't sleep."
"You're gonna drop dead like that, you know—though honestly, I think that's impossible. Anyway…"
Caeler kept talking while eating.
Between bites, I wondered if the sun ever got tired of rising.
...Probably not. But I do.
"You don't think that food's a bit too much?"
Caeler had bread, sausage, and beans for breakfast.
Beans?
"Not really," he replied. "We got practice this morning. I don't want to faint halfway like what happened last time."
"That sounds exhausting."
He glanced at me. "You have yours tomorrow."
"No."
"Yes."
...I prefer not having myself in the fields...
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 his tray, and walked away.
"Yeah, see you later."
My chocolate brew had gone cold minutes ago, I still have to finish this...
***
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?" said the janitor.
I turned to the clock behind me. 24 minutes 'till 8.
"I still got time." Truth be told, our class building is a city block away. Must be why he asked.
...maybe I should hurry...
***
"...Resonance. Capacity. Sacrifice," said Professor Maren, pacing slowly in front of the class. She 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 but the class—like paper caught up in the wind, refusing to land on where you want it to be.
Sunlight streamed through the high-arched windows, casting long beams across my desk.
Outside the glass stretched the clear skies of Ever Gale.
The view at the top row looks really nice…
My attention wandered to the skylands, floating over the horizon—quiet, still, and unaffected.
There were three of them.
Broken. Forgotten.
And for most people, out of reach.
One had a ruined tower.
...that looks like a castle...
"Resonance," Maren continued, pointing the word with a stick.
"Manifestations only occur when your soul aligns with Aelr—when internal essence meets the world's flow. That connection creates a current. And that current becomes power."
One island sloped gently northward.
Its top half wrapped in green lush, its underside are jagged stones.
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..."
That last sentence caught my attention—though it just blended right into the background, drowned out by silence. Happens most of the time.
"And finally—Sacrifice," she said, her voice steady.
"To shape Aelr is to pay a price. You offer something—be it focus, stamina, time, or even clarity of mind. The greater the Manifest, the greater the toll. Nothing is ever free."
The vines are snaking up the tower's side.
Ruins like that had stories buried under stone.
Not the kind written in textbooks, though.
"—Mr. Azrith."
My name cracked through the air like a whip.
It snapped me upright—my eyes looked straight to the professor.
"...Ma'am?"
Professor Maren had raised a brow, hands on her hips.
"Would you care to demonstrate a basic Manifest for the class?"
That call felt like I'd just been asked to sing in front of royalty. It froze me for a bit.
A few students snickered.
"Can I refuse ma'am?" maybe I could—
"Come. Here. On this stage."
Figures...
An awkward smile etched my face as the stairs led me down to the center stage.
Kinda awkward facing the class like this...standing on a center stage doesn't help people like me...
I raised my hands—palms open and muttered random words beneath my breath, exaggerating every motion like I was holding something heavy from the very air.
"Hugghhh—"
Pop.
A tiny orb of light hovered above my palm—wobbly, flickering, and doesn't look stable at all.
It didn't even light up my face. It's more like a firefly than a Manifest.
There was a pause. A few students laughed. Others exchanged glances. Some just looked disappointed or got bored.
I just laughed awkwardly, smiling like an embarrassed kid on stage, and bowing the way people from the East do it when they're saying sorry.
Professor Maren had that look again—half-annoyed, half-unimpressed.
He must've noticed my act.
Yeah... She definitely saw through it. Am I that obvious?
But the professor gave me a slight nod instead.
"That's enough. You may return," she said.
I bowed all the way as I climbed the stairs and sat down, grinning like an idiot.
Anyway—
I turned to the window like nothing just happened earlier—wiped the stupid grin off my face and set my eyes back to the skies—
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.
Waiting...
***
Caeler and I were walking through the corridor— full from the meal we had and not really in rush to get anywhere. 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.
"Mr. Alaris Azrith!"
A woman's voice called us from behind.
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 were fogged, cheeks flushed, and her breath came short.
She looked like she'd been running errands nonstop for the last few hours.
In her hand was a key.
She bent in front of me as she catches her breath.
After a brief pause, she straightened up, took 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 controlled 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.
The key is brass with faint scratches. It's just a basic room key.
Caeler glanced at me. "What was that?"
"I don't know," I said. "—Anyway, wanna come along? To the Grand Building?"
He hesitated for half a second. "That's like four blocks away from here."
"..."
"Oh yeah, 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.
We didn't stay long enough to confirm he's there either.
We kept walking...
***
It was quiet at the Headmaster's wing— 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. But 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 yourselves 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 onto his.
"Master, about that summon," I said, "Ms. Criscila looked like she ran through three buildings trying to find me. It better be something worth the sweat."
Nerius' face turned serious. His grin faded.
"Oh, it is worth the sweat," he replied as he turned toward 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, and some castle ruins. 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 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."
"So, you want me to climb it. Check it out and eliminate something, if ever there's that something?"
"You're free to do whatever you want there, If nothing ever caught your interest, just observe and report. If it's Remnants, do what you must."
I slowly turned to Caeler—with a smile on my face—giving his shoulders subtle shakes.
"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."
"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. "You'll barely miss me."
I can count on this kid.
"You can start in thirty minutes, and try to be back before seven. I'll notify your professors regarding your absence," Nerius said.
Nerius let out a sudden laugh. "What a way to abuse authority," he added with a smirk—probably because he knows he's violating regulations.
I turned to him, grinning, and said,
"Mark. It. Done."
To be continued...