Weeks turned into months, measured not by calendars – which seemed a quaint, forgotten concept here – but by the slow, agonizing crawl towards regaining motor control. Being an infant with an adult mind, or at least the fragmented echoes of one, was a unique form of torture. My days were a cycle of feeding (still the one perk, courtesy of my angelic mother, Alice), sleeping (far too much, this body was infuriatingly useless), and attempting to master the simple act of not randomly smacking myself in the face.My parents, Alice and Reynolds Varis, seemed… nice. Genuinely kind, even. Alice, with her gentle grey eyes and silver hair that always seemed to catch the light, treated me with unwavering tenderness. Reynolds, despite his initial baffling request for me to say 'dada' moments after birth, was boisterous and warm, his own silver hair often falling into his stormy grey eyes as he'd swing me around (much to Alice's consternation). They didn't seem like the typical, power-hungry nobles my fragmented Earth memories conjured. They lived in a modest, sturdy house on the outskirts of what I learned was a settlement called Oakhaven, nestled somewhere I hadn't yet figured out within the vastness of Astrum Regalia.My understanding of the world grew in frustratingly small increments. Alice would talk to me constantly while carrying me through Oakhaven – a place far more developed than the candle-lit room I was born in, with sturdy wooden buildings and cobblestone paths, though still lacking any technology I recognized. Reynolds practiced his… magic? He called it 'Augmenting,' focusing his will to draw power from the ambient energy, shaping earth and stone with impressive, if not overwhelming, force. Alice was a 'Mender,' her abilities focused on healing, coaxing life and vitality with gentle light.They spoke of continents – Luminora Prime, Ignis Crucible, places that sounded like they were ripped from a high fantasy epic. They mentioned Divine Patrons, celestial entities granting power, and Noble Bloodlines wielding magic tied to them. The Varis name, apparently, was minor, respectable but far removed from the Great Houses ruling the 30 continents. We weren't destitute, but we certainly weren't mingling with the Solarius or Krakenborn dynasties.Then, one day, everything changed. A visitor arrived. Tall, cloaked, with eyes that seemed to hold the cold distance of stars. He spoke with my parents in hushed tones, his gaze occasionally flicking towards me, sending an inexplicable shiver down my spine. There was an exchange – a small, intricately carved wooden box from the visitor, a heavy purse from my father. Then, nods, a firm handshake, and the visitor departed as silently as he'd arrived.That night, Alice held me tighter than usual, her gentle eyes filled with a complex mix of hope and fear. Reynolds paced the small living area, his usual boisterous energy replaced by a tense silence. They spoke of the 'Academy Nexus,' a place of learning floating above Astrum's Maw itself, a place for the elites, the powerful, the connected.And somehow, impossibly, I was going.The journey itself is a blur in my memory – weeks spent on rattling carriages, then a skyship that defied gravity, soaring through clouds that felt disconcertingly solid, towards the gaping darkness that dominated the sky. Astrum's Maw. It wasn't just a black hole; it felt like a presence, a silent, watchful entity that pulled not just at light, but at the very fabric of reality. Its gravity felt less like a physical force and more like a conceptual weight pressing down on my nascent consciousness.And then, we arrived. The Academy Nexus wasn't on a continent; it was a continent, or perhaps several, fused together in an impossible architectural marvel. Sprawling structures of gleaming white stone and dark, obsidian-like material pierced the void, connected by shimmering bridges of pure energy. Towers scraped the star-dusted heavens, their peaks lost in swirling nebulae of raw magic. It hung suspended, a lone island of order against the terrifying beauty of the Maw's accretion disk, which painted the void in hues of violent purple, burning orange, and impossible blues.The scale was breathtaking, terrifying. My Earth memories offered no comparison. This wasn't a university; it was a monument to hubris, a city built on the edge of oblivion.Disembarking the skyship onto a vast, crystalline platform, I was immediately overwhelmed. The air thrummed with palpable energy, a thousand different magical signatures clashing and harmonizing like an invisible orchestra. Students milled about, a bewildering tapestry of races and forms. There were humans, yes, but also tall, graceful beings with pointed ears and eyes like polished jade – Elves from Elenoir, I guessed. Stocky, bearded figures adorned in intricate metalwork – Dwarves from Darv. Others were stranger still: individuals with faint scales shimmering on their skin, some with feathery wings tucked neatly against their backs, others whose lower bodies were serpentine or arachnid. Hybrids. Descendants of pacts, symbiotic rites, or perhaps stranger origins tied to the fractal nature of this multiverse.I clutched the simple tunic I wore – a far cry from the elaborate robes and uniforms many others sported. My silver hair, unusual even in Oakhaven, drew curious glances here, but I felt utterly insignificant, an anomaly dropped into a sea of power and privilege. These were the heirs of the Great Houses, the scions of the 30 continents, beings born into magic and power I couldn't comprehend.An automaton, a gleaming construct of brass and crystal, glided towards the new arrivals, its voice a melodic chime. "Welcome, initiates, to the Academy Nexus. Please proceed to the Orientation Hall for designation and preliminary assessment." Its multifaceted eyes seemed to linger on me for a fraction of a second longer than the others.Walking – or rather, toddling awkwardly, as my body was still that of a young child, perhaps five or six years old now, though my mind felt ancient – through the Nexus corridors was like traversing a living museum of cosmic wonders. Walls shifted with holographic star charts, fountains flowed with liquid light, and the very air seemed thick with knowledge and power. I overheard snippets of conversation, fragments that painted a picture of the world beyond."…House Solarius envoy demands satisfaction after the incident near the Zephyrion trade route…"
"…heard the Krakenborn Collective is increasing pressure manipulation drills… the Leviathan stirs…"
"…another Blightspawn outbreak on the fringes of Verdant Eternalis… the Sylvaneth Monarchs are stretched thin…"
"…ridiculous! Accusing the Astral Congress of hoarding Void Essence? House Nocturne grows bolder…"Divine Patrons. Noble Bloodlines. The Godswar. Void Essence. These weren't abstract concepts; they were the currency of daily life, the undercurrents shaping the fates of trillions.We were ushered into a vast amphitheater, the Orientation Hall. Thousands of seats carved from luminous crystal tiered down towards a central dais. As I found an empty spot near the back, trying to make myself as small as possible, a figure appeared on the dais. Tall, radiating an aura of immense, ancient power, clad in robes the colour of midnight studded with points of light like distant galaxies. His eyes swept across the assembled initiates, pausing almost imperceptibly as they passed over me."I am Proctor Valerius," his voice resonated through the hall, not loud, but carrying an undeniable weight. "Welcome to the Academy Nexus, the crucible where potential is forged into power, where the future stewards of Astrum Regalia are tempered."He spoke of the 30 continents, the Divine Patrons – the Starweaver, the Eternal Flame, the Sky Serpent, the Leviathan, the World Tree, and countless others, beings of cosmic might whose favour dictated the flow of magic. He spoke of the Noble Bloodlines, families entrusted with maintaining the World Pillars, the colossal megastructures stabilizing reality against the Maw's pull. He spoke of the curriculum: Stellomancy, Pyroclastic Forging, Aeromantic Bonding, Abyssal Pressure Manipulation, Phytomancy, Gravitic Crush – arts tied intrinsically to the patrons and their domains.My mind raced, trying to connect the pieces. The world-building from my fragmented memories felt less like fantasy and more like a terrifyingly complex reality. And I was here, Kaelen Varis, a nobody with faint recollections of a world called Earth, possessing no discernible connection to any Divine Patron, no Noble Bloodline, just… here.As Proctor Valerius continued, detailing the Academy's strict codes and the dangers inherent in wielding cosmic power, a strange sensation began deep within me. A low hum, almost below the threshold of hearing, resonated from the very structure of the Nexus around me. It wasn't the thrum of magic I'd felt earlier; this was deeper, more fundamental. It felt like the building itself was breathing, a slow, rhythmic pulse that seemed to echo the distant, silent pull of Astrum's Maw.No one else seemed to notice. They were focused on the Proctor, on the promises of power and glory. But I felt it. A resonance. A connection to something vast and ancient, something tied to the very foundations of this impossible place. It wasn't power, not yet. It was just… awareness. And in that awareness, a chilling thought solidified: I didn't belong here, not in the way these others did. I was something different. An outsider. An anomaly.