Asher lay still in the upper bunk, eyes fixed on the ceiling above. A mural stretched across the dome—a serpent, coiled around a crumbling tower, tail looped beneath weathered stone. But tonight, the mural was different. The tail was fading. Not chipped paint. Not erosion. It was disappearing. Worse—its eyes had moved.
Asher stared harder. Refused to blink. Shadows from the flickering hall light danced across the ceiling, but he saw it clearly now. The serpent blinked. He sat up fast, hitting his head on the iron bedframe.
"Shit..."
His breath caught. Silence returned. The eyes were just paint again. Cold, lifeless. Mocking. But it had looked at him.
Across the room, Ryvak tossed dice with three others on the lower floor. Laughter filled the dorm. Asher looked over. The boy opposite Ryvak—Brian—was cheating. Obvious. Void trick—barely two seconds into the future. It made every roll perfect. A parlor trick.
Asher leaned on the railing, watching. "Ryvak, you idiot... he can see two seconds ahead. Of course he's winning," he thought.
Ryvak noticed his gaze and grinned up at him. "Join in! Might be your lucky night."
Asher shook his head. "Nah. That's not luck. You're losing because Brian is cheating."
Ryvak's smile froze on his face.
Asher climbed down the ladder, not to play, just to move. His thoughts still stuck on Beth. On Thorne. On what the serpent's eyes meant. He couldn't shake the feeling. He walked toward the latrine, jaw tight.
Behind him, the mood had shifted. The others were starting to question the cheater Brian. Voices raised.
"How the hell'd you land six sevens in a row, huh?"
"What's your trick, buddy? That a real power or you just bluffing?"
Then a thud. A crash. Someone hit the table.
Brian stammered. "It's not what you think—it only works for dice! It's just two seconds!"
Another boy shoved him. The laughter was gone now. Just suspicion and posturing. Someone knocked over the dice. One of them grabbed Brian's collar, playfully rough.
"C'mon, cheater, show us again. Let's bet your teeth this time."
Brian yelped and ducked away, tripping over a footlocker. They didn't beat him. But they didn't let him off easy either. He'd be mocked for weeks.
That night, before the lights cut, he whispered it to himself:
"It was looking at me. I swear it was looking at me."
0400 hours.
The wake-up bell rang like a war cry. Orders were barked. Boots slammed against metal. The initiates were yanked from their beds, shoved into uniform, and marched single-file through the main doors of their tower.
Across the connecting bridge, into the heart of the Academy.
The Mutation Wing.
They descended into stone tunnels, the temperature dropping with every level. The air turned wet. Red emergency lights flickered against sealed bulkheads and rusted support beams.
The trial room stretched wide and low, with twelve gurneys arranged in two perfect rows. Six left, six right. Straps on the armrests. Steel clasps. Syringe ports dangling like leeches. The smell hit Asher instantly. Old metal. Antiseptic. Rust.
A voice crackled from the speaker, Arbiter Vireon.
"Welcome to the Mutation Trial. Each of you has bonded with a Void Shard. Today, you will receive a direct infusion of raw Void energy."
No one spoke.
"For nobles, this will refine your mutation. For conscripts... it will unlock it."
"Line up Nobles on the right. Conscripts on the left," shouted Sgt Nix.
Segregation on display. One of the nobles, a boy named Cain, spoke up, smug and relaxed:
"Void Echo. That's my ability. Every swing stores force. Every step builds power. My family is very influential—my dad is friends with Governor Vireon."
Cain looked at the conscripts with a sneer. Asher didn't respond, but he immediately hated the man. He walked left. Ryvak followed.
A mousy-haired girl to Asher's right raised her hand—nervous, pale.
"Has anyone ever... died from this?"
Sergeant Nix ignored her completely.
Then the door opened. A beautiful woman stepped in, robed in black. Silver hair, accentuated with silver embroidery lining her sleeves—a serpent coiled around a scroll.
Warden Kaelin Vei, the head of House Solvaris.
She spoke in a low siren-like voice. Many of the boys, even the nobles, stood up straighter, fixed their collars. Postures changed. Chests expanded, jaws clenched like they suddenly cared how they looked. It was almost funny.
"Today is an important day for all of you. This is your first step into the Academy sorting. For those of you who wish to join my house—I wish you luck. In Solvaris, we are thinkers and planners. Vireon would not exist without our graduates. We are the pillar that holds civilization together. If your aspect power is compatible with my house, I may decide to accept you."
The room fell silent. Names were called in no particular order.
The mousy girl from before was called forward. "Tiffany Young." Nervous energy radiated off her as she stepped toward the gurney, hands twitching at her sides. Her eyes were wide behind smudged glasses, and she looked like the kind of girl who had spent more time around books than battlefields. Even her voice, quiet as it was, trembled when she spoke.
"Has anyone ever died from this?" she asked the awaiting nurse.
"Yes," said the nurse in a businesslike tone.
A few minutes later, the nurse called out:
Mind Reader – Can hear surface thoughts in a short radius. Strongest during emotional stress. Great for interrogation—terrible for making friends.
That last part was unneeded. The only reason the parting shot was directed at Tiffany was because, like Asher, she was a conscript. Her family was poor. Like Asher, she was a peasant brought into the academy due to the new laws that opened doors for conscripts to receive shard powers. Had Tiffany been a noble, the staff undoubtedly would have treated her with reverence.
One of the nobles, Rainley, was called. He stepped forward without a word. Calm. Precise. He didn't flinch when strapped in. A few minutes later, the attending nurse called out:
Disorient Field – Emits a localized field that scrambles enemy senses and balance. Great for battlefield support and confusion tactics.
Next was the noble Morgan Kell. He moved like smoke. Gaunt frame, ribs visible even under the academy robes. Pale skin stretched thin, like candle wax over bone. He was barefoot, toes curling against the cold metal floor as if he couldn't feel it.
But it was the eyes. His eyes were pure black. Not void-dark or shadowed—black. No whites, no irises. Just orbs of bottomless pitch that didn't reflect light. They didn't track movement. They didn't blink. They watched.
Asher felt something cold coil in his stomach. Not fear—instinct. Like some part of him had just recognized a predator in human skin.
That one is not human.
A few minutes later, the nurse called out in a clipped, almost hesitant tone:
Marionette Vein – Can implant Void threads through touch and control a living body like a puppet. Victims stay conscious during control. Can fully manipulate corpses. Highly dangerous.
The nurse gulped. Even the nobles looked uneasy.
Then it was Asher's turn.
He laid back into the gurney. The restraints clicked. One. Two. Three. Four. He flinched when the wrist lock snapped tight.
"Damn, I never thought we would get this far," Ryvak muttered beside him.
The machine hummed. Lights above dimmed. The sound was low, unnatural. Like something alive breathing through wires. A spiral lit beneath Asher's gurney.
Minutes later...
A voice came over the intercom again:
"Dren, Asher. Report to the Arbiter's chamber."
Murmurs rippled through the room. Asher was unstrapped. Alone. He followed two guards through quiet corridors. Up past the tower gates. Into the spire.
The Arbiter's Chamber.
Oryn Vireon was in an angry mood. The Hive mission had been a disaster. Nearly every initiate he'd sent south was dead. Only a handful returned. And the worst part? His brother, Governor Darius Vireon, wanted blood.
The Hive Queen had been underestimated. It was supposed to be clean. Quick. It had turned into a massive loss of human life.
"I told him to send less mundane humans. The idiot."
Now Fortress Vireon bled soldiers. Bled money. Bled trust. And to make his day worse, Intelligence Officer Selen had just confirmed that there was a spy from the rebel group that called themselves The Unseen within the Academy walls. A confirmed breach.
His brother would be furious. Like Oryn didn't already have enough to deal with. When Oryn lost his temper, bad things happened.
Some called him demonic especially during his rages. Rumors said he didn't sleep and fed on fear. That, of course, was a lie—one Oryn had carefully encouraged. After all, who can go without sleep?
Oryn was one of the most powerful in Vireon—second only to his brother. Power insulated him. Rank protected him. No one survived his wrath. If he wanted to root out the spy, no one could stop him.
A knock.
"Initiate Asher Dren, reporting as ordered."
Oryn didn't turn. Let the boy sweat. Let the moment stretch.
Then, finally:
"Enter."
The door opened.
And Oryn turned.
He studied Asher in silence. The chamber's lights were dim, but Void glyphs flickered faintly in the marble floor between them. Oryn didn't speak—he circled slowly, hands behind his back.
Then he began to rant. Not at Asher. Not directly. About weakness. Spies. The Academy's recent failures. His tone sharp, voice like splintered glass.
"You're not the spy," Oryn finally said. "You're the anomaly."
He turned and placed a glyph-reader device on the table. Its screen pulsed with distorted patterns. "This picked up something during your mutation trial. A Void signature we can't identify. You bonded with something... else."
Asher stayed quiet. Oryn smirked at the silence.
"Good. I like restraint. That's why I won't report you. Yet."
He leaned in, voice colder.
"You'll owe me. I have projects. People I want watched. I'll call on you soon."
Then softer, almost amused:
"Void Stones aren't entirely unknown. Just... inconvenient to acknowledge. Let's keep your inconvenience quiet."