The spaceship doors hissed open with a sterile rush of air.
"Now arriving: Nalanda University," announced a calm, synthetic voice.
Everett Miracle stepped onto the disembarkation platform. His breath caught.
This wasn't just a campus.
It was a city of the future.
Towers the size of hundred-story buildings shimmered in glass and platinum alloy, piercing the upper clouds. Between them rose massive cathedrals and monolithic temples—some shaped like giant spirals, others like upside-down pyramids held mid-air by magnetic spires. Floating arenas hovered in the sky, flashing with distant echoes of battles and simulations.
Bridges stretched like ribbons of light between structures. Gardens bloomed in the air on levitating platforms. Everything pulsed with elegance and technology, yet it carried a strange sacredness—as if the place was not just engineered, but consecrated.
Everett just stood there, overwhelmed.
He barely heard the footsteps approach until a firm but polite voice called out.
"Everett Miracle?"
He turned. A young woman in silver-accented robes—somewhere between a scholar and a priestess—stood before him, holding a sleek console pad. Her short hair framed her sharp features, and the emblem of Nalanda University gleamed on her chest.
Everett nodded, unsure what to say.
The woman's expression brightened. "Student Everett Miracle. Congratulations on your entry into Nalanda University. You have been designated a Tier One student."
Everett blinked. "Tier One?"
Before he could ask, the people around him reacted.
Several students nearby turned to look. A few whispered. One boy actually took a step back, eyes wide. Their stares weren't hostile—they were reverent.
Tier One? He didn't even know what that meant. But from the way they stared—he knew it mattered
Like he had done something... extraordinary
"Please follow me to the temporary dormitory," the woman said, gesturing down the long marble road that curved toward a distant cluster of dome-shaped buildings.
Still a little dazed, Everett followed.
They walked through streets that sparkled like liquid crystal. Automated transport spheres zipped past silently. Students and faculty of every age and appearance strolled through the open plazas—some dressed like warriors, others like philosophers, artists, or monks. Everett passed under massive stone gates carved with strange script. One glowed softly as he stepped through.
Then, ahead, he saw someone familiar.
A blonde woman stood at the edge of a reflecting pool, gazing into the rippling surface. She was in her early thirties, tall and poised, dressed in a sleek formal suit with soft green trim.
Everett's heart skipped.
Gloria Cheng.
Former president of the United States of Cascadia before the First Shift. A brilliant political mind and one of the youngest national leaders in history.
Her fate had been unknown. Some believed she died in the chaos. Others said she had defected to the Federation. But Everett had grown up watching her speeches, admiring her cool logic and defiant youth.
And now, she was standing thirty feet away, very much alive.
She turned slightly—she had noticed him.
Then she nodded, acknowledging his presence.
"Are you also a Tier One student?" she asked, her voice calm but curious.
Everett swallowed. What did one even say to a former president?
"Uh, yes, miss."
She smiled faintly.
"Good. Let's see if you can live up to it."
Gloria Cheng gave Everett a final glance before entering her own chamber down the corridor. The dormitory wing was quieter here, hushed by sound-cancelling fieldwalls and soft atmospheric lighting.
Everett stood before his door—Room 118.
The moment he approached, the panel lit up.
"Everett Miracle. Tier One access confirmed."
The door hissed open.
Inside was... a world apart.
The apartment wasn't large, but it felt expansive. A wide window dominated the far wall, revealing a panorama of Nalanda's central district, where luminous rivers wove between colossal spires. The furniture seemed grown rather than built—seamless, flowing, and adaptive. The living space included a compact lounge, a kitchenette with molecular reassembly units, and a bedroom with biometric temperature fields woven into the sheets.
A single orb hovered in the ceiling corner, pulsing gently.
> "Welcome, Student Everett Miracle," said a soothing voice. "You may now initiate Well-link."
Everett dropped his bag on the couch and sat cross-legged in front of the orb.
"Begin Well-link."
A shimmer spread from the orb. The air itself seemed to fold open, revealing a spiral of floating data glyphs and user-interface ribbons.
As the glyphs spiraled around him, Everett felt a soft tingling behind his eyes—like something ancient was peering back.
The Well.
The collective knowledge grid of the Nine Planetary Federations. Everett had heard rumors about it during his adjustment in Boston, but this was the real thing. It wasn't a database—it was a living, interactive mindspace.
"Tier One confirmed," the system said again. "Restricted access permissions granted. Please verify retinal and pulse identity."
Everett blinked and placed his hand against the console that emerged from the floor.
The system pulsed green.
"Verification complete. Uploading secure documents."
A glowing file hovered before him, marked with golden brackets and a shimmering header:
"Confidential: Tier One Orientation Briefing — Eyes Only."
He tapped it.
The air changed.
Holograms sprang to life—maps of the galaxy, classified Federation reports, economic flows, political alliances, covert Realm operations, and something called The Tier Protocol.
Everett's eyes widened as he scanned through the first few pages.
His stipend alone was staggering: enough to fund an entire town from his old life.
And that wasn't all. Embedded inside the orientation packet were private memos about interdimensional ethics, psychic thresholds, and training schedules involving pre-quantum cognition.
He leaned back, overwhelmed.
This wasn't just school.
It was a gauntlet.
Everett had finally finished reading the confidential materials provided by Nalanda's admissions node. Security protocols. Federation history. Tier classifications. Realm-access rights. Most of it was fascinating. Some of it… unsettling.
By the end of it, Everett felt a tight pressure in his chest.
Not fear.
More like awe—with a pinch of cosmic vertigo.
He let the documents dissolve back into the wall screen and lay across the bed. It conformed perfectly to his body. Too perfectly.
He couldn't sleep.
His thoughts were already out there—across the campus, across the stars.
He grabbed his coat and slipped out into the corridor.
The hallway was hushed, the lights blinking like sleeping eyes.
Minutes later, he was gliding on the monorail, sitting by himself in a glass pod as Nalanda unfolded around him. Towers shimmered like dreams paused mid-breath. Bridges of light pulsed with soft music. Parks, temples, and archival orbs dotted the landscape like pieces of a giant riddle. The rail eventually coasted past a terrace overlooking a faux-beach—where sand met shimmering liquid not quite like water, and the breeze smelled faintly of copper and eucalyptus.
He disembarked.
Alone beneath the artificial starlight, Everett sat on a smooth basalt bench near the edge of the "beach." The surface of the water shimmered with reflections of planets.
He exhaled deeply. "Assistant?"
"Active."
"Any messages?"
> "One message pending. Realm-designated channel. Voice-only. Confirm playback?"
"Yeah, go ahead."
The calm night fractured.
> "EVEREETTTT!!!"
Guruji's voice howled through the air like it had been thrown across time itself.
Everett jumped.
Then laughed, shaking his head. "Of course. It's you."
There was a pause in the message.
Then Guruji's voice came again, quieter this time.
"You laugh, child, but the threads are already moving. You dance on threads woven in frost."
Everett grinned and leaned back. "I'm at Nalanda. Where are you?"
There was static—then one final line.
"I am behind the line where memory forgets itself…
Where echoes go to sharpen their teeth…
Where the horizon keeps a secret in its second shadow."
Then the message ended.
Everett stared out over the silver waves.
He wasn't sure if he felt more comforted… or more haunted.
But he knew one thing for certain: the story wasn't over.
Not even close.