The classroom shimmered with music.
Every wall was etched with golden staff-lines, notes drifting lazily along them like fireflies. At the center stood the instructor, an older man with streaks of silver in his black hair, dressed in robes of deep indigo. His eyes were sharp, and the baton in his hand radiated authority.
"I am Maestro Dorian Valcrest," he began, his voice carrying with ease, layered with faint undertones that made the room fall still. "For those of you who survived the entrance, congratulations. But surviving is not the same as belonging. Many of you will not last until the end of this term."
Kael's throat tightened. The casual certainty in the man's words made his skin prickle.
Dorian raised the baton. A flick, and glowing letters appeared midair, shaped from light and resonance.
Harmonics
Echoes
Resonance
"These," Dorian said, pointing to each in turn, "are the pillars of our craft."
He began pacing slowly, the baton tapping against his palm in rhythm.
Harmonics
"Harmonics are those blessed, or cursed, depending on your view, with the ability to weave sound into reality. You are conductors. Builders of melody and destruction alike. The strongest Harmonics shape entire movements, entire symphonies, out of thin air."
Kael saw several students sit taller at that, their pride almost visible.
Echoes
"Echoes," Dorian continued, "are rarer, though often looked down upon. You do not build, you reflect. An Echo amplifies, distorts, or bends the music around them. Many of you Harmonics laugh at them. But I tell you this, an Echo with mastery is worth an army of Harmonics. Without harmony, an orchestra is just noise."
Kael felt heat rise in his chest. For once, someone wasn't dismissing him.
Resonance
Then Dorian struck the board, and a new word flared brighter.
Resonance
"Resonance," he said, "is the manifestation of your soul through sound. It is what separates you from mere musicians. Resonance divides into two primary forms"
Another flick, and two words appeared:
Elemental Resonance
Conceptual Resonance
"Elemental Resonance," he explained, "draws from nature's raw music. Fire, Flame, Water, Stone, Wind. Do not confuse Fire and Flame—" His gaze swept the room, as if daring someone to do so. "Fire consumes. Flame illuminates. Both share Symphony, a natural compatibility. But do not assume similarity means sameness. To wield one is not to wield the other."
He turned, baton striking again.
"Conceptual Resonance," the word pulsed, "is rarer. These are born not from nature, but from ideas. Silence. Death. Memory. Sound itself. They are more dangerous, more volatile. Many believe they are curses, not gifts."
A chill swept Kael's spine. Silence.
Dorian's voice deepened. "Some Resonances overlap in fragments. For example, the Resonance of Sound allows the pausing or bending of noise. Others may share this trait. Yet the scale differs. One child may pause a whisper. Another, an entire battlefield."
Kael's chest tightened. He risked a glance at Selene, whose hood shadowed her face. She was perfectly calm, though her presence suddenly felt heavier.
Symphony and Dissonance
The instructor raised his baton once more, and two final words appeared, glowing crimson and gold.
Symphony
Dissonance
"Resonances are not isolated. They sing with, or against, each other. When two Resonances share Symphony, they blend seamlessly, creating something greater than the sum of their parts. Fire and Flame. Wind and Song. Memory and Sound."
His tone sharpened.
"But when they clash, when their cores reject each other, there is Dissonance. And Dissonance is not mere incompatibility. It is destruction. When Dissonant Resonances collide, they unravel each other, ripping apart not only the wielders, but often everything around them."
The words hung heavy in the air. No one dared whisper.
Dorian's eyes swept the class. "Remember this: Resonance is not music. It is power disguised as music. Treat it lightly, and you will die as lightly as a plucked string."
He lowered his baton. Silence filled the room, real silence, the kind that pressed on Kael's chest.
And for a moment, he feared it wasn't Dorian who had created it… but himself.