Morning came quietly, with the faint golden rays slipping through the high-arched windows of the academy's dormitory. My eyes fluttered open to the muffled sounds of life—students rustling in the halls, the distant ring of a bell, and the whisper of wind brushing against the panes.
Today was our first theory class.
I sat on the edge of the bed, glancing over at my still-snoring roommate—Cassian, the lightning-blooded boy I'd met just days ago in the city. Sparks always flickered faintly from his hair when he slept. Across from me, light filtered through the dust hanging in the air, illuminating a small mirror set above the desk.
I stepped toward it.
For a moment, I simply stared at the reflection staring back. Slender but not fragile, with a toned build that had come from wandering, surviving, and fighting off beasts in the forest. My skin was pale gold, touched faintly by the divine energy I'd fallen with. My eyes—perhaps my most striking feature—shimmered with an ethereal hue, caught between silver and sunlit amber, as if holding a thousand dawns within. My hair was stark silver, falling in tousled layers around my face, with a single lock braided and tied with a simple thread—an old woman in the village had done that for me. I hadn't taken it out since.
But most noticeable of all was the mark.
Faint but unmistakable, pulsing with a soft, divine warmth, was a spiral sun etched just beneath my collarbone—a sun with wings spreading outward in gentle arcs, like a crest of forgotten divinity. It wasn't ink. It wasn't a scar. It glowed, like a truth burned into flesh. I pulled the shirt closed. It was better hidden, for now.
---
The classroom was larger than I expected—stone walls lined with glowing crystals, wide arched windows overlooking the city below, and long rows of desks filled with students. Cassian and Lyra sat beside me.
At the front stood a man cloaked in storm-blue robes, his beard meticulously braided and streaked with gray. His voice rang out like a seasoned orator as he gestured toward the large floating screen behind him.
"Welcome to the Foundation of World Theory. I am Professor Aldros, your theory class instructor. Today, you will begin to learn what lies beyond the simple truths of fire and stone. To understand your place in this world, you must understand the fabric of it."
The lights dimmed. On the screen, an ancient symbol spun—three overlapping circles, each glowing in different hues.
"This," Aldros said, "is the Trinity of Realms."
He tapped the top circle.
"Elysium. The realm of divine beings, ruled by the Almighty, where Archangels hold dominion and peace reigns."
The second circle, below it, glowed red.
"The Demonic Realm. A hellish domain twisted by malice and chaos, ruled by the Demon King Azrael. It is sealed from our world by a divine barrier."
Then he tapped the final circle, centered between the two.
"The Mortal Realm. Ours. Caught in the balance. Home to humans, spirit beasts, and countless bloodlines..."
The screen shifted again. Now it displayed symbols—flames, waves, shards of ice, cracks of lightning, a leaf caught in wind, shifting sands, then stranger ones: a spiral, a radiant light, a black void.
"There are ten fundamental elements," Aldros continued. "Six basic: Earth, Fire, Water, Ice, Wind, Lightning, healing. And three advanced: Light, Darkness, and the forbidden… Time."
A murmur stirred in the room.
"Each individual is born with a bloodline. This is the legacy of power passed through generations—some diluted, others pure. Your bloodline dictates the element you can wield, and no one can force a bloodline into their body without risking death… except—"
He paused.
"Except in times of divine anomaly."
I felt Selene glance at me, and even Cassian sat up straighter.
"The rarest of cases," Aldros went on, "speak of wielders who transcended bloodline limits. Those touched by higher powers. Saints. Saviors. Or… harbingers of calamity."
The screen dissolved into a swirl of shadows. The image of a horned being, cloaked in flame, took shape.
"Demons," Aldros said, his voice low now. "Creatures born in the dark pits of the demonic realm. Most are immortal, especially the high-tiered ones, regenerating even after death. Only weapons forged with divine essence or wielded by those bearing divine marks can slay them truly."
He let that hang in the air.
"What happens if a demon kills someone in the mortal realm?" someone asked from the back.
Professor Aldros turned.
"The soul is devoured. The body rises again… corrupted. And worse: each death tears at the barrier."
My chest tightened.
I looked at my hand.
That mark… it wasn't just a strange brand. It was something sacred. Something meant for war.
---
After class, the three of us sat on the stone benches outside, under a blossom tree that overlooked the training grounds. Cassian was still chewing over the lecture.
"What if someone did have all nine elements?" he muttered.
Selene scoffed. "They'd be unstable. No mortal body can handle it."
I didn't say a word.
Because somehow, deep inside, I felt them all.
Whispers of fire and frost. The pulse of the earth. The drift of wind. The flicker of lightning, the glow of light… a
nd something colder, deeper, waiting beyond the veil.
Something old. Something patient.