The first week at Aetherion did not unfold so much as shift — as though time itself had chosen to spiral instead of march.
Each dawn brought new corridors, rearranged lecture halls, and tutors whose very presence rewrote the definition of sanity.
By the second morning, Iblis had already memorized seven different campus layouts.
He arrived in the central lecture spire — a column of floating tiers suspended by magnetic rings. Dozens of students occupied translucent seats hovering in circular formation. Each desk projected a light-glyph bearing their crest and academic classification.
His seat materialized beside a tall boy with soft silver curls and an expression of permanent mild panic.
"Ah—hello!" the boy said, nearly dropping his stylus. "You must be the new intake! I'm Callen Rhyst. Third-line cadet under Archmagus Hyran's tutelage. And you are—?"
"Iblis."
Callen blinked. "Just Iblis? No House designation?"
"I require none."
The boy looked impressed and slightly alarmed. "Bold choice. People will either respect you or… well, die trying."
A soft laugh came from behind them. "You're assuming they live long enough to try."
Iblis turned.
The speaker was a girl of sharp posture and unbothered grace — olive skin, eyes like liquid topaz, hair cut short except for a single braided strand tied with silver thread.
Her crest shimmered faintly on her shoulder: House Caedryn — Wind Scholars of the East Reach.
"I'm Rhea Caedryn," she said. "And before you ask — yes, I'm aware my family name sounds like a weather report."
Callen snorted. "That's because your ancestors tried to domesticate a hurricane."
Rhea grinned. "And yours tried to make friends with lightning. At least we succeeded."
Iblis observed the exchange silently, his gaze flicking between them as though measuring wavelengths.
Callen elbowed him gently. "You're quiet. That a personality trait or an intimidation strategy?"
"Observation," Iblis said simply.
"Of what?"
"Human variance."
Rhea leaned back in her seat. "Well, consider us your laboratory, I guess."
Before Callen could respond, a ripple of energy passed through the hall. The temperature dropped; the glyphs dimmed.
Then the professor arrived.
Or rather, phased into existence.
A figure composed partly of flesh, partly of light, and mostly of impatience. Her hair flickered between black and gold, her eyes like fractured glass.
"Good morning, students," she said, voice layered like chords. "I am Professor Veyra Solenne, and if any of you attempt to cheat resonance equations with stored sigil matrices again, I will personally invert your circulatory flow."
Someone coughed in terror.
"Excellent," she continued. "Today we begin Practical Aether Theorems — the art of coaxing chaos into coherence. Pencils out, minds open, egos deflated."
Callen whispered, "She's… delightful."
"Shh," Rhea hissed. "She can smell sarcasm."
Professor Solenne's gaze swept the room — and stopped on Iblis.
Her expression flickered for the briefest instant. Recognition? Appraisal? Discomfort?
Then it vanished.
"Mr. Iblis," she said. "Our nameless prodigy. You've already made quite the impression on the combat circuits."
"I merely participated," he said evenly.
"Mm. Participation that collapsed a ring in under three seconds. Tell me — how do you justify such efficiency?"
He met her eyes. "Perfection requires less time than failure."
A pause.
Then, to everyone's surprise, Solenne laughed.
"Well said. Let's see if your perfection extends to controlled resonance. Step forward."
The room drew a collective breath.
Rhea muttered, "Oh, this'll be good."
Iblis stood, approached the central dais, and raised his hand to the suspended crystal. Energy hummed between his fingertips.
"Contain the current," Solenne instructed. "Shape it into a sphere. Sustain for ten counts."
The crystal pulsed violently. Most students struggled to form even a flicker. Iblis's hand barely moved — yet the energy folded upon itself, condensing into a perfect sphere, rotating in silence.
He stopped at count five.
"Why did you cease?" Solenne asked.
"Because it was already stable."
A hush.
Then, slowly, Solenne smiled. "Efficient and arrogant. You'll fit right in."
Callen whispered to Rhea, "I think I just found our class villain."
She grinned. "Correction: main character."
---
Later that afternoon, the trio gathered in the Aether Commons, a courtyard garden suspended between towers. Aether streams coiled like ribbons through the air, feeding crystalline trees whose leaves sang faintly when the wind touched them.
Callen collapsed onto a bench. "I swear, if she assigns any more field equations, my brain's going to leak out my ears."
"You could reinforce your cranial barrier," Iblis offered.
"I—uh—think that was a joke?"
"No."
Rhea snorted. "He's serious, Callen."
"Of course he is," Callen sighed. "Tell me, Iblis, do you do anything that isn't efficient?"
Iblis sipped his tea. "I breathe."
"See? Efficient."
Lyra appeared then, crossing the bridge toward them. Her uniform was rumpled, her expression both tired and amused.
"You three have adopted him, I see," she said to Rhea and Callen.
Callen grinned. "He's like a feral cat. Looks cold, bites sometimes, but grows on you."
"I don't bite," Iblis said mildly.
"Metaphor, genius."
Rhea gestured at Lyra. "You know him?"
Lyra smiled faintly. "More than most. Less than he'll admit."
That earned curious glances from both Callen and Rhea, but Lyra only winked and sat beside them.
For a rare moment, laughter lingered between the four of them. It felt… normal — a strange word in a place that defied its own geometry daily.
Then a shadow passed overhead.
A figure drifted down — an upperclassman draped in layered robes of obsidian thread, his crest shining crimson.
"Well, well," the newcomer drawled. "If it isn't the Academy's new spectacle."
Rhea whispered, "Oh no. That's Draen Veyrahl. Third-year. He's—"
"Related," Iblis said flatly.
Draen smiled thinly. "Cousin, technically. I wondered how long it would take for you to crawl out from under your father's shadow."
Callen leaned toward Rhea. "Is it just me, or is this about to get theatrical?"
"Shh. It's genetic with that family."
Draen folded his arms. "Tell me, Iblis — does House Veyrahl know you're here impersonating legitimacy? Or are you just another failed experiment uncle couldn't discard properly?"
The air around them went still.
Iblis's expression didn't change. His gaze slid upward, cold and unblinking.
"Be careful, Draen," he said softly. "Not all experiments remain contained."
For an instant, the light warped — a ripple of silence spreading outward. The nearby leaves trembled without wind.
Draen stepped back, smirk faltering.
Then he scoffed. "Enjoy your little scholarship, cousin. The Academy has a way of devouring those who think they're special."
He turned and left, the air hissing faintly as the aether currents restored themselves.
Silence lingered.
Rhea exhaled. "So… family reunions must be fun."
Callen muttered, "Remind me never to provoke your bloodline."
Lyra gave Iblis a long, quiet look — not of fear, but recognition. "You could've destroyed him."
"I know," Iblis replied.
"And you didn't."
He shrugged. "I'm learning restraint."
Rhea smirked. "Learning? You sound like you're auditing morality as an elective."
He almost smiled. "Perhaps I am."
---
That evening, as the four of them left the commons, the Academy bells sang — deep, resonant tones echoing through the air like the heartbeat of something immense.
The lights of Aetherion rippled across the towers.
Lyra glanced sideways at him. "You know, for someone who claims detachment, you're oddly good at collecting people."
Iblis didn't answer.
But his eyes softened — just enough to catch the reflection of the stars above.