The dawn broke over Caelumaris in strokes of molten gold and violet shadow, casting long blades of light across the floating terraces of Aetherion Academy. The air shimmered with silent tension as the first true test approached. The time of trials had come.
Hundreds of applicants had gathered on a broad, levitating terrace encircled by seven radiant pillars—each humming with elemental resonance, their glyphs representing the seven Celestial Zones of Akavira.
They stood beneath them, hopefuls from every Dominion, bloodlines noble and forgotten alike, drawn by the singular call of destiny.
"Day One," the whisper passed among the crowd like static. "The Gate chooses those worthy of stepping beyond the veil."
Artha stood near the edge of the crowd, quiet, unnoticed, a shadow amidst stars. His fingers instinctively clutched his right wrist—where, yesterday, time itself had seemed to fracture. A whisper from nowhere had seized his body and moved it before thought could catch up.
He hadn't slept.
"Something bent inside me," he thought. "Like time cracked open... and whispered."
Around him, others muttered with glee or curiosity. The scene with Kaasik had made the rounds overnight. Most dismissed it as fluke or bluff. But some—like Tivaan Al'Saroj, who still watched him with scholarly interest—had not forgotten.
A pulse of silver light struck the terrace.
Floating inches above the stone appeared a tall figure clad in armor that shimmered like liquid moonlight. Sigils moved across his robes like flowing ink. He didn't walk. He hovered.
Instructor Aster Velnir.
His voice came not from his mouth, but into every mind.
"This is not a contest of strength. This is a judgment of potential," he declared. "You face the Veil Engine today. It does not care for your spells, bloodlines, or how loudly your aura burns."
He raised a hand.
"It sees through you. It will judge three things: Essence, Will, and Fate Thread. One is power. One is path. The last is purpose."
The crowd shifted nervously.
Then the platform trembled.
A massive sphere rose in the center, its surface layered in rotating mantra-rings, engraved in ancient cosmic scripts. Energy pulsed from it in rhythmic intervals—light brushing the faces of each applicant as if tasting their soul.
The Veil Engine.
"Essence determines what you wield. Will, how far you'll grow," a nearby student muttered. "But Fate Thread… that decides what you become."
One by one, they were called forward.
Varik d'Zamora went first.
The crowd watched in awe as the Engine read him instantly. Red-gold light erupted around him.
Essence: Fire-Linked Weapon Soul.Will: High.Fate Thread:"Warrior King."
Tivaan scribbled in his floating book. "Expected. His bloodline breeds generals."
Faryne Luthen followed.
A kaleidoscope of fire, ice, and gravitational tethers spun in harmony around her.
Essence: Prism Core (Tri-elemental).Will: High.Fate Thread:"Celestial Strategist."
The crowd murmured. She didn't blink.
Kaasik Ren took the stage next.
Green venom mist curled from his fingers as the Engine responded sluggishly.
Essence: Acidic-Green.Will: Medium.Fate Thread:"Masked Snake."
Tivaan muttered, "Deceptive… even to the Engine."
Finally…
Artha.
His name was called, and silence fell.
He walked slowly, ignoring the mutters, the smirks.
"Let's see what 'Zero-boy' has."
Tivaan didn't smirk.
"Don't blink," he said softly.
Artha stepped into the Veil Engine's core.
The rings whirred.
Then... halted.
Not with resolution—but with confusion.
The symbols warped, collapsing into chaotic glyphs. Light flickered between black and white, unstable. The Engine trembled.
A mechanical voice echoed—magically projected.
"Thread... unreadable. Temporal anomaly detected. Recalculating fate—error."
The crowd gasped.
A burst of unstable light surged through the platform—and Artha's mind was flung into a vortex of memory and vision.
A crater.A crying child—himself.A sky split by glyphs older than the stars.And a figure… dragging another away. A hand. A whisper.
"Brother…?" Artha screamed, the memory like glass in his chest.
The Veil Engine erupted. Ghostly sigils surrounded him in concentric spirals before collapsing into nothing. There was no result.
Not even failure.
Just void.
A ripple of fear and confusion passed through the applicants.
Aster Velnir floated forward, his gaze fixed, troubled.
"The Engine has never failed before," he murmured to the instructors.
Tivaan was writing furiously. "Temporal override? No. Possibly… a second layer to his Fate Thread?"
The crowd buzzed.
Varik clenched his jaw.Faryne narrowed her eyes, finally intrigued.Kaasik sneered, louder now.
"Trickery. Probably a broken rune artifact. Glitch-boy."
Then a hush fell again.
A second instructor stepped forward—tall, robed, blindfolded.
His presence silenced thought itself.
Guru Naimar.
He spoke only once.
"That boy's Thread is not broken," he said quietly. "It is unwritten."
The words struck the students like thunder.
Artha swayed, blood trickling from his nose.
He collapsed.
A flash of light—and someone broke through the instructor circle.
Sariya.
She caught him mid-fall, holding him like a mother catching a wounded cub.
"You idiot," she whispered fiercely. "You weren't supposed to be tested this early."
Artha blinked, dazed, the vision still burning behind his eyes.
"He was there," he whispered. "My brother. I saw him."
Sariya's expression froze—but she said nothing.
Above them, in a high observatory chamber, a woman watched the entire scene through mirrored crystal.
Lady Virelya, the Watcher of Threads.
She turned from the scrying orb to face a great stellar chart. Six lights glowed steadily, each marking a claimed Fate Question.
But one blinked dimly.
"He's drawn the gaze of the Seventh," she said, voice cold with wonder. "The last unclaimed answer…"