Rayan woke to the sound of a bell.
It was sharp, long, like the screech of an iron door opening after years of rust. He jumped out of bed as if stung by fire. For a moment, he thought something was wrong. Then he remembered. It was the morning of the first day. The entrance ceremony.
He rose slowly. His muscles ached from last night's training. The red flame, the scars that had burned, the pain that had throbbed in his bones even after he fell asleep. He looked at his right hand. It was unharmed.
He pulled down the sleeve of his black shirt and tightened his high collar. He would attend the ceremony in the formal uniform – the dark blue robe that reached below his knees, the cuffs embroidered with silver thread, the silver badge on his chest: a silver circle, a nine-pointed star, a small red ruby.
He left his room. The corridor was crowded. New students gathered in small clusters, whispering, adjusting their outfits. He didn't see anyone he knew.
In fact, he didn't know anyone at all because he hadn't left his room for six days except to eat.
So He walked alone Until he reached The Grand Hall.
The great hall was even more magnificent than he had imagined. Its high vaulted ceiling, crystal chandeliers hanging like clusters of glowing grapes, and white marble columns engraved with ancient maps of the continent of Arthalia—all these were breathtaking. The hall was filled with hundreds of students—some wearing the same blue robes as him, others in civilian clothes, as they had not yet received their new uniforms.
The seats were arranged in zigzagging rows, each with a number. The top students sat in front. The latecomers sat at the back.
Rayan searched with his eyes for a small head with silver hair. Ari but He didn't see her.
He scanned the crowds, the rows of girls, the unfamiliar faces but He couldn't find her.
he whispered to himself, but he wasn't sure.
"Maybe she's in the front"
He asked a guard standing by the aisle:
"Where are the seats for the new students?"
The guard pointed to the back rows.
The seats were arranged according to admission order.
Ryan nodded. He knew where he was.
He headed to the back row. He found a seat with a number and his name on it: "Ryan Darvin - Admissions: 57".
His seat was on the edge, far from the podium, where no one could see him clearly. He sat down.
**********
After a quarter of an hour of waiting, another bell rang. The hall gradually fell silent.
The teachers climbed onto the wide podium. They wore long dark blue robes adorned with intricate silver embroidery. On their chests was the golden eagle on a crimson background – the eagle's eyes made of small red rubies, the crimson background burning like blood when the light hit it.
They stood in a single row. There were about thirty teachers, ranging in age from thirty to seventy.
And He saw his sister Mira among them.
In the centre stood the a woman. She was a woman in her fifties, her hair pure white, tied in a tight bun. Her eyes were sharp grey, her thin, wrinkled face like an old map. She didn't smile. She wore a darker blue robe than the others, and the eagle on her chest was larger, more detailed. She carried a short wooden staff, carved with symbols Ryan didn't understand.
She stepped onto the central podium and placed the staff on a wooden stand before her. She looked at the assembled crowd for a moment, then spoke.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it was sharp as a blade cutting through silence.
"Students of the Royal Academy. I am Vera Caldis , Director of this institution for fifteen years. In those years, I have seen thousands of faces pass through this hall. Some became legends. Some disappeared as if the earth had swallowed them."
She paused. Let her words settle.
"This Academy does not make heroes.This Academy makes survivors. Survivors are the ones who make legends. The only difference between who lives and who dies is not the strength of his element, nor the amount of his spark. The difference is the mind. The mind that decides when to fight and when to retreat, when to strike and when to stay silent."
She raised her staff slightly.
"Here you will learn combat arts, the history of the elements, and strategies of war. But most importantly, you will learn to think like soldiers. Because that is what you are now. Soldiers. Even if you don't hold military ranks, even if you don't stand on borders, you are the first line of defence of this kingdom in the fauter."
She paused again, then continued in a deeper voice.
"Do not think these are mere words. In one year, you will face your first real test. A competition between the Royal Academy and the Academy of Kavalon. You will stand face to face against students from a kingdom that has considered us enemies for centuries. Those who fail that competition... may not get a second chance."
Ryan's eyes widened when he heard the familiar name.
He whispered unconsciously,
"Kavalon."