The garden was quiet in a way that felt almost sacred. Above, a wide break in the stone ceiling let the moonlight spill through a curtain of vines, casting shifting silver shadows across the moss-covered stones. The air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of old earth and still water from the cracked fountain nearby.
At the entrance of their tent, the inner flap of fabric had been folded and stretched just enough to serve as a makeshift seat. Just a few feet ahead, the campfire's flames flickered softly, its warmth brushing their faces as Noah and Syl sat side by side, knees drawn close, each holding a warm bowl of soup balanced on their laps. The faint steam curled into the night air, vanishing into the moonlight.
They ate slowly, the soft scrape of spoons against the bowls filling the comfortable silence between them.
Noah rested the bowl on his lap. "Lucky I had enough vegetables left in my backpack to make another round of soup..."
Syl took a sip, then glanced sideways at him. "Lucky? I made sure not a single beast got anywhere near your backpack, and you call that luck? How ungrateful, my friend."
Putting on an exaggeratedly polite tone, he said, "My apologies, ma'am..."
They both laughed quietly, the sound mingling with the soft crackle of the fire.
Syl's smile faded into something gentler as she studied him. "You're sure you're not hurt anywhere?"
Noah swallowed the last bit from his spoon, then shook his head. "Nope. Not a scratch." He smirked and pinched the hem of his shirt as if to lift it. "Wanna check?"
Syl didn't even look up from her bowl. "The only reason I'm not smacking you like earlier is because I'd spill this on you. And this soup"—she took another slow spoonful—"has nothing to do with your lack of manners."
Noah chuckled, low and warm, before returning to his meal. The night wrapped around them, patient and still, as if it had all the time in the world to listen.
Beyond the circle of firelight, the garden's shadows seemed undisturbed—yet they were not empty.
In the darkness, a tall figure stood in the mouth of the passageway, her presence hidden so completely that even the night seemed unaware of her. Violet eyes—deep, unyielding, almost unnatural—watched with quiet precision. Her posture was poised, every line of her frame speaking of centuries of memory and authority. Long black hair spilled like silk from beneath the edge of a silver hood, catching the faintest glimmer of the moon above.
So that's how they made it past the guardians and the shifting labyrinth.
I remember pairing the princess with the only human in this year's intake, believing she could handle the challenge without prejudice.
Even for a once-in-a-millennium prodigy like her, reaching this far would have been difficult alone. It seems that bond they've formed has carried them further than skill alone ever could.
Who would have imagined two students making it this far...
She shifted out of the deeper shadow, loosening the clasp of her silver cloak. The fabric fell back over her shoulders with the quiet weight of water, the moonlight catching faint patterns embroidered into its edge.
She stepped forward at last, the firelight breaking across her form like a slow unveiling.
"Good evening."
The words were calm, almost gentle, yet her presence carried the weight of command. Her hair, black as coal, stood out starkly against skin pale and faintly touched by time. She was a vision of balance — measured grace in every movement — save for her eyes. Violet and unblinking, they betrayed the quiet storm behind her civility, the kind of power that needed no threat to be felt.
Both reacted instantly, startled into motion — blades drawn in a fluid reflex. Yet even with steel in their hands, some instinct told them it would be useless — like ants bracing against the inevitability of a descending boot. Noah shifted into a defensive stance, eyes narrowing, every muscle poised for whatever might come next.
"Who are you?" he asked, the words coming out lower than he intended — steady, but carrying the weight of something in him that had flinched.
The black-haired elf touched her chin, narrowing her eyes as she looked directly at Noah.
That pulse...
It's the same Soul Heart I once felt from him — fierce, unyielding, impossible to mistake.
Never did I expect that human to be you, Noah.
I still remember when his last words were brought to me — that his son, who wasn't even born yet, would one day find his way to me. That it was inevitable.
I had never seen my brilliant, stubborn apprentice so certain about anything... and yet, I never thought that "one day" would come so soon.
What has life done to you, my dear...
Syl froze for a heartbeat, then gently laid a hand on Noah's arm, pressing down until his blade lowered. She leaned closer, voice barely above a breath.
"That's the Headmistress. I've seen her before—in memory orbs my sister kept. You can't mistake those eyes."
She stepped forward and offered a slight bow, posture respectful.
"Madam Headmistress, forgive our reaction. We weren't expecting anyone here. If I may ask... why are you here? We believed we still had time to complete the trial. We just need to find a way to open that stone vault—"
The Headmistress lifted a hand, smile carrying a faint, playful glint.
"Don't worry, my dear. I'd have been startled too, in your place. As for the trial... you've already passed."
Noah and Syl exchanged a sharp glance.
"This path you took," she continued, "isn't part of the exam. Ordinary students could never make it past the shifting labyrinth... let alone the gargoyles. Do you know each one was centuries old — relics that cost dozens of onyx runes just to activate?"
Noah's stomach tightened, his mouth parting in a half-formed apology, and his face lost its color.
Wait... did she just say dozens of onyx runes?
Those worth, like, a thousand emerald ones — the same kind I had to scrape together just to even get here.
I'm pretty sure that even if I worked in the Academy's kitchen my whole life, I still wouldn't pay that back...
—only for the Headmistress to let out a soft laugh.
"Relax, I'm teasing you. They were indeed centuries old, but placed there precisely because no one was ever meant to get that far. When I was informed someone had broken into the chamber they guard... I came in person. But I didn't expect to find two candidates here."
Her gaze softened, though there was a depth in her expression that reached far past the moment.
"If you'll allow me, I'll guide you out of the labyrinth. That door should not be opened. It would take five elementalists with distinct essences to activate it—or, perhaps... one of you two would be some legendary fifth-essence wielder, by any chance?"
She looked directly at Noah over the rim of her round glasses, the knowing gleam in her eyes cutting sharper than her gentle tone.
Noah and Syl shared another look—and both shook their heads.
"Just as I thought," she said, the corners of her mouth curling into quiet amusement. "Now, follow me. After all this, I believe you've earned a proper night's rest."
The return through the labyrinth was nothing like the journey in.
No shifting walls. No distant growls from unseen guardians. The air itself felt still—not peaceful, but deferential, as though the stone recognized the one who now walked before them.
The Headmistress moved with unhurried certainty, her silver cloak whispering against the ground. Noah and Syl followed, trading the occasional glance but keeping silent, as though their voices might disturb whatever silent agreement kept the maze at rest.
"You said this path isn't part of the trial," Syl's voice broke the silence, calm but curious.
The Headmistress didn't turn. "It's a restricted wing. Students aren't meant to wander here. That is why the guardians exist."
Noah's brows furrowed. "Then why aren't there traps or walls shifting to block us now?"
A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. "Because the labyrinth knows me."
They walked for several minutes more until a tall archway appeared ahead, carved from a single block of white marble. Its surface shimmered faintly with runes that pulsed in soft blue, like the slow beat of a sleeping heart.
The Headmistress stepped through without pause, the light swallowing her form.
Noah and Syl followed—
—and the chill of the labyrinth vanished. Cool night air met them first, carrying the scent of grass and blossoms. They stood on a garden lawn, the deep green painted silver where moonlight filtered through the branches of well-kept trees. The faint trickle of water reached them from somewhere unseen, and the quiet felt so complete it almost magnified every distant sound.
Lanterns hung from curved posts along the stone walkways, casting warm pools of light across white marble paths edged in dark blue. A few students crossed them in no hurry, their robes marked with the colors of their element—fire-red, water-blue, earth-brown, wind-green, and light-gold.
From the garden, side corridors branched under high archways, their polished floors reflecting lamplight.
An instructor in green robes appeared from one of them, hurrying toward the group. He stopped a respectful distance away and gave a short bow. "Madam, I was told to—"
"I'll handle them myself," the Headmistress said, her tone warm but absolute.
The instructor hesitated only a moment before stepping aside, allowing her to continue toward one of the main entrances.
She moved without a word, her steps quiet but certain, and they followed.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, the openness of the garden gave way to the stillness of the Academy's halls. Here, the white marble was traced with subtle patterns in elemental colors, and tall windows framed moonlit courtyards outside. Their footsteps echoed lightly in the high-ceilinged corridor as they walked deeper inside.
"Now," the Headmistress said at last, glancing over her shoulder, "I welcome you both as students of Soul Academy — the very first summoner academy in history."
"You will live here as you trained in the trial — in pairs," the Headmistress began. "The living here is just one. They are lodges not dormitories. They will be your homes, your shelters, and your training ground outside of the formal halls."
She gestured as they walked, passing through an open gallery where the wind carried the scent of fresh bread from some distant kitchen. "Each lodge has shared spaces — the sitting room, the kitchen, the laundry courtyard, and the training yard at the back. You will cook your own meals. You will clean your shared rooms. You will wash your clothes and maintain your weapons. There are no attendants. No servants. You will rely on each other for the mundane as well as the extraordinary."
She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze brushing briefly over Noah. "Each of you will also have a private bedroom and a private bathing room. They are warded with elemental barriers keyed to your Soul Heart signature. No one enters without permission."
Noah lifted a brow. "So... not even my partner could just walk in?"
"Not without your consent," she said, her tone leaving no room for ambiguity. "And by consent, I don't mean words alone — the wards read your Soul Heart itself. The same sigils woven through the Academy will stir if any harm or coercion touches a student. In your quarters, the protections are stronger still — no malice can cross that threshold unnoticed."
He felt a quiet relief settle in, shoulders easing as the certainty sank in — Syl would be safe here, even if she chose another partner.
Syl gave him a quick glance at his question, though she said nothing.
They passed under a carved arch that opened onto a large practice yard, where pairs of students trained under the fading light. Sparks of elemental essence flared in the air, blades rang in sharp rhythm, and the breeze carried the scent of ozone and sweat.
They reached a tall door of dark oak bound with veins of silver. The Headmistress placed her hand against it, and it opened without a sound.
Warm light spilled from within, chasing away the cool shadows of the corridor. Her office was spacious yet intimate, carrying the quiet weight of centuries. The air was scented with dried herbs and parchment, undercut by the faint sweetness of chamomile.
A wide window dominated the wall opposite the door, its glass panes revealing a vast lake far below, silvered by moonlight — a view that made plain just how high the Academy perched upon the mountain.
On the right, a broad desk of dark wood stood neatly arranged, scrolls and quills resting beside a crystal sphere faintly lit from within.
The left wall was lined with shelves, heavy with leather-bound tomes, crystal vials, and relics that pulsed softly with contained elemental essence.
At the heart of the room sat two facing sofas of deep blue velvet, separated by a low carved table. Steam curled from a porcelain teapot set at its center, the fragrance of mint and chamomile spilling into the warm air.
The Headmistress gestured toward them as she settled into one sofa with the ease of someone entirely at home in her domain. "Sit."
Only after each had a cup did she rest back, fingers wrapping around the porcelain. A small smile tugged at her lips, and she glanced between them as though realizing something.
"Where are my manners? Everything happened so quickly, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Elaenora, Headmistress of Soul Academy — and I also teach the advanced classes for Bridges. For now, just ignore it; in time, you'll find out what a Bridge is."
Her fingers traced idly along the porcelain cup, gaze settling on them with a quiet weight. "Now, let us speak."
Noah tilted his head, his expression calm but edged with genuine interest.
"Can I ask... why is everything done in pairs? Not that I'm complaining," he added with a faint smile, casting a quick glance at Syl. "If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have made it this far. But I imagine there's more to it than just training."
Elaenora set her cup down, the steam from the tea rising like a thin veil between them.
"There is. And to explain... I need to start with our oldest enemy."
She leaned back slightly, her gaze fixed on something distant, as if looking through years of memory. "For over five centuries, the Null have lingered over this world like a shadow. Less than twenty years ago — before either of you was born — the last great battle was fought and many died."
Noah frowned. "A war? Null? Sorry, I'm a bit lost here..."
Under the table, Syl's foot nudged his sharply — more warning than pain. When he glanced at her, she gave him a look that said as clearly as words: Behave. She's the Headmistress, you idiot.
Elaenora drew in a slow breath, as though weighing how much to reveal.
"They are the oldest enemy of our world — an uninvited guest," she began. "You already know the concept of a Soul Link. I'll leave the deeper lessons to Professor Nemya, but the foundation is simple: once your Soul Heart has grown and been nurtured enough, it can form a link with a creature from another dimension. When you initiate that contract, your Soul Heart binds to the soul of that being."
Her voice softened, though the weight in it remained.
"Imagine casting a thin line across the surface of a vast lake — a line humming with a unique energy. Somewhere in those endless waters, only one other thread will answer that call. When it finds you... and accepts you, the Link is formed."
She lifted her hand then, turning it slowly in the air. The space before them rippled, a sharp crackle of energy splitting the air as a jagged fissure opened.
From the rift emerged a massive black serpent, scales gleaming like polished obsidian, streaked with crimson markings. Its eyes glowed a deep, unnatural violet — the same hue as Elaenora's own. Looking closely, it was as if they were fragments of the same being, two halves of a shared soul.
Her gaze overflowed with a dark amethyst light, not the bright, sharp hue of mental essence like Syl's, nor the eerie gleam of the gargoyle's. This was deeper, heavier... like staring into an abyss carved from violet crystal. Her hair, dark as midnight, shared its shade with the serpent's scales, both carrying the same depthless tone.
It moved with deliberate slowness, sliding forward until its body curved around the entire sofa in a single, unbroken coil. Only when the loop was complete did the serpent lower its enormous head — easily four times the size of a human's — into Elaenora's lap.
Noah's hand shifted instinctively in front of Syl, a quiet gesture of protection. Almost at the same time, Syl leaned in toward him, her own arm brushing his — their hands nearly touching in a fleeting, unplanned moment before they both stilled.
Elaenora's fingers moved over the serpent's head with the unhurried rhythm of someone caressing a cat's fur, her touch gentle despite the beast's size and power.
"This little one is my Link," she said evenly. "Her name is Nightfall. As you saw, she came because I called her. The first time you form a Link, the portal you open reaches into another dimension to find them. But once the bond is made... they live within your Soul Heart. The portal you saw just now is only a way to call her forth from there."
Noah muttered under his breath, "Little one?"
Syl's elbow nudged his ribs sharply. "Shh... Pay attention," she hissed, eyes never leaving the serpent.
"My cute Nightfall here has been my Link for centuries," Elaenora said, her hand still gliding over the serpent's scales. "A Link can't be undone once both sides agree — not a spoken promise, but a pact written into the soul itself. But I've already gotten too carried away. Let's get to the point."
She stopped caressing the serpent, which slowly slid away into a crackling portal before her.
"Nightfall is my Link — I invited her to become one with my soul, and she has been my friend and partner ever since. Nulls, however, are creatures that learned to exploit Link portals to raid other worlds. Think of them as Links that were never invited — not bound to anyone, owing no loyalty, taking and consuming whatever they want. We've been holding their forces back for as long as I can remember. Over the centuries, it became so common that only Summoners still fought them directly. We learned where they come from, the fissures they use. We had great people at our side. But the last war... was different."
"Now to you understand why we use everything in pairs, if we compared to the first four hundred years, when each of their assaults claimed dozens time more... our losses were unboreable. But That change began when we made every summoner fight in a pair. The bond between partners saves more lives than any strategy on the battlefield. They weren't two, they were four, each summoner has their link, each two summoners are almost a small squad. They could live days weeks without communication or supplies, they were trained to live together, to survive together and to rely on each others"
"Even if, in the future, you don't fight alongside your current partner, the survival and combat training you gain together builds a synchronicity that can be carried to any new pairing. In times of war, that ability to adapt quickly to a different partner can be the difference between life and death."
"What I tell you now is yours to accept or reject. Stay here, share a lodge, train, and live under these rules... or leave. But if you leave, the gates will never open for you again. Life offers no path without cost — and this will be the first choice of your lives here."
"That said," Elaenora added, "you are not bound to keep the same partner forever. If you find yourselves unable to adapt to one another, you may request a reassignment. Still, we recommend keeping the same partner you had in the Labyrinth — at least in the beginning — since you've already learned to read each other's rhythm."
Noah's mouth curved into a small smile. "I can't imagine asking for a better partner than a friend," he said, glancing at Syl. "If she's willing, of course. And I can guarantee the meals will be on me."
Syl's lips tugged upward, though her eyes held a mock-serious glint. "If you promise to make soup at least three times a week, I've got no problem with that."
Noah turned toward her, extending his hand with the same quiet certainty as that first time. "Partners?"
She met his gaze, her own hand sliding into his without hesitation. "Partners."
Elaenora's gaze softened, though her tone remained formal.
She rose from her seat. "Come here." With a smooth motion, she traced her hand in front of their chests. A faint light shimmered between them before fading into nothing.
"There. You're now bound to accommodation number twenty-four. Simply retrace our steps and turn right—you'll see a large lake, and around it, the lodges. You're dismissed. I expect you both at the orientation class tomorrow. Only two pairs remain in the labyrinth, so I believe we'll conclude by then and properly welcome everyone."
Noah gave a small nod. Syl bowed in respect and murmured her thanks.
They stepped out into the night, the cool air wrapping around them as the door shut quietly behind. Neither spoke on the walk, their footsteps the only sound along the stone path. Now that the rush of the labyrinth had passed, the weight of exhaustion settled in—limbs heavy, muscles aching, even speaking felt like it would take more energy than they had left to spare.
The faint shimmer of moonlight on water appeared ahead, and soon the lake stretched wide before them.
Lining its shore, a row of cabins stood in quiet symmetry, each crafted from pale stone and dark wood, trimmed with marble accents. Low fences framed small patches of grass in front and a narrow path leading to the door. The cabins were identical in every way — same shape, same size, same sloped roofs — their only distinction the small brass numbers fixed beside each door.
They stepped into the cabin without so much as a key; the door opened at the touch of the handle, a small rune glowing faintly as they drew near.
The entryway opened directly into a wide living space. To the left, a strip of marble marked the beginning of a small kitchen, visible from the couch in the center of the room. Straight ahead, at the end of the hall, a door seemed to lead to the backyard. Along that same wall, two side corridors branched off — one to the left, one to the right.
They exchanged a brief glance, both looking as if the effort of speaking might be too much. The exhaustion that had been pushed aside in the labyrinth now weighed heavy in their limbs. Even their breathing felt slower, deeper, as though their bodies had only now realized they were safe enough to rest.
"Tomorrow we'll sort things out?" Syl said, her voice low. "Bath and sleep for now?"
"Read my mind, dear partner," Noah replied with a faint smile. "I'm guessing those corridors lead to the bedrooms."
Without even looking ahead, he turned toward the right corridor—only for a symbol on the wall to flare orange. An instant later, an invisible force repelled him backward, knocking him onto the floor.
When he looked again, it was as though the corridor had been replaced by a wall of murky water. Nothing beyond it could be seen.
Still lying there with arms spread, Noah allowed a small grin to creep onto his face. Syl stepped closer, peering down at him, her lips twitching as if she were fighting a smile.
"Noah, are you alright?" A tiny laugh slipped between her fingers.
"I'm guessing that's your side of the house," he said, voice tired but playful.
She extended a hand to help him up.
"You think?" she giggled.
"Thanks, but no need," he murmured. "I think I'll just lie here and admire the ceiling for a bit..."
Her lips curved faintly. "Alright. Goodnight, Noah."
"Goodnight, partner."
He let his head rest against the floor, the next words slipping out in a broken whisper, his breath catching as if it took effort just to push the air out.
"I shou... have... lis...tened to... my mas...ter."
"Used the air pressure too long to hold that gargoyle..."
"I wasn't supposed to use it that much — no more than twenty seconds in that state of focus... I held it for what — two minutes?"
He glanced toward the corridor Syl had passed through with ease, his expression a mix of pain and regret.
"Sorry, Syl..."
"I promised you I wouldn't waste my life on reckless risks. And I know you could have taken the gargoyle on your own... but fear was stronger than reason. I'll be more careful next time."
It took effort to push himself upright. Every muscle ached, the strain from that technique now burning through his body in pulsing waves.
He stepped into his own corridor without resistance this time. A short hall led to two doors — the one on the left likely the bathroom, so the right door drew him in.
Noah entered the room and barely made it two steps before his knees gave out. The bed was only a few paces away, but he sank to the dark wooden floor instead, propping himself on one shoulder before finally letting himself lie flat.
"I think I'll just sleep here... better than the labyrinth," he mumbled, each word fainter than the last. "At least nothing's... trying... to... kill... me..."
His eyes closed, but one last word slipped out with a faint smile before sleep claimed him completely.
"...thanks, Syl..."
On the other side of the house, in the same breath of time.
Syl lay wrapped in a full-body pajama suit shaped like a cat — soft ears drooping over her hood, strands of damp hair curling against her cheeks as she curled into the bed's warmth. She reached into the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out a small object. Lying on her stomach, she cradled it in her hands — a delicate glass orb, like a snow globe, its core sealed in a frost that seemed frozen in time.
Suspended at its center was a single lavender bloom, preserved perfectly, as though it had never known decay. Syl brought the orb closer to her face.
At once, flickers of memory shimmered inside — a sun-dappled forest, a vast field of violet flowers swaying in the wind... and a boy's smiling face as he offered her a single lavender. The visions continued: the boy walking beside her, his fingers brushing the edge of a wicker basket; the boy flushing red as she fastened a necklace around his neck and then the boy's small figure disappearing into the trees, swallowed by distance.
Syl clutched the orb tighter, her voice a whisper meant only for the moonlit walls.
"Noah... now I know your name, Flower Boy. I wish I could tell you. I wish I could say I'm her. But I can't... not now. Not when it would only end the moment we step outside these walls."
Her grip tightened further, knuckles pale.
"As Syl, I can at least stay by your side. I can be your friend... be near you. But as the girl from the lavender fields... I'd never be able to hide these feelings and keep them locked inside me."
Her breath caught, her thoughts stalling. Heat crept into her face, blooming across her cheeks.
"And as a noble... they would never let me mar— marr—"
Flustered, she yanked the blanket over her head until it covered her up to her chin.
"What are you even thinking about..." she muttered, the lavender orb still pressed to her chest.
After a moment, she pulled the orb close to her face again, her gaze softening at the frozen lavender within. She set it gently on the bedside table, then turned onto her side. Her eyes drifted between the suspended memories in the glass and the silver wash of moonlight spilling through the window — as if, in that single breath of stillness, she could see both the past and the future at once.
She closed her eyes and whispered, barely louder than the rustle of the sheets.
"...thanks... Noah..."