The silence of the hall stretched until it weighed upon every breath. Then, with the faintest motion, Professor Selora swept her staff in a shallow arc, gesturing the first-years forward.
Their footsteps echoed as they filed into the wide open space before the head table. The air seemed denser here, charged, as if the constellations above leaned closer to watch.
For a heartbeat, nothing. Then the mythic wisp around Maximilian stirred. He raised one hand, and from the shifting aura a single glass of clear water shimmered into being, floating gently into his grasp. With the other hand he summoned forth a small crystalline tablet, glowing faintly with inner light.
His voice rolled out across the hall, calm yet undeniable:
"Before the Sorting may begin, you must first take within you the spark that will carry you beyond what you are now. This—" he held up the tablet, "—is the Chip. A key. A seed. A binding between your will and the Zodian that watches you. To consume it is to choose the path of more. To refuse is to remain as you are."
He placed the tablet in the glass. It dissolved instantly, light rippling through the water until it glowed with ethereal radiance.
"When you drink, the Chip will fuse into your mind. You will feel it thread itself into the depths of your being, binding to your very brain. It will burn, it will sear, it will mark you. From that moment onward, you will no longer be merely human."
A heavy pause followed.
De'Oliver's hand twitched nervously at his side. "We're just… supposed to drink it?"
Jayden stepped forward without hesitation, smirk broadening. "At last," he said, taking the glass without waiting for permission. He raised it high, let the starlight catch in the liquid, and downed it in one bold swallow.
For a moment, nothing. Then his body jolted. He gasped as light spidered across his skin in threads of fire, pulsing once—twice—before fading beneath his flesh. His eyes snapped open, gleaming sharper than before. A low laugh spilled from his lips.
"Power," he whispered. "I can feel it."
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the gathered first-years.
Others stepped back, uncertain. One girl shook her head, retreating toward the shadows of the corridor. "No. That's not for me. I didn't come here for this." Her voice trembled, but her resolve did not.
Cynthia's gaze was cold, calculating. She folded her arms, then stepped forward. "If this is the cost of standing among the worthy, then so be it." She took the glass, drank, and staggered slightly as the Chip seared through her. Her teeth clenched, but she didn't falter.
Kaitlyn followed after her, eyes thoughtful, almost serene. She held the glowing water as though studying it one final time before drinking. When the light sank into her, she exhaled, whispering: "It listens."
All around, choices divided the first-years. Some eagerly seized the glass, eager for more. Others lingered, torn by doubt. A few turned away entirely, their faces pale, as though the very idea of changing their nature was too great a price.
Through it all, Maximilian watched in silence, the wisp around him curling like a patient storm.
"Choice is the first step," he said at last. "And choice is what separates the forgotten from the remembered. So choose wisely."