After the speech, everyone began to exit the theatre under the guidance of our seniors, the fading light casting long, mysterious shadows along the marble floor. The air was cool and carried a hint of anticipation as we slowly filtered out in neat rows. Today, we only had to attend the first lesson of the day, and after that, we were free either to go home or to linger and chat with our peers in the quiet corridors.
For each class, a group of seniors was assigned to escort us to our lecture hall. Since we were already organized by our numbers, the seniors moved with confident ease, swiftly gathering everyone as if they'd done it a thousand times before. Our group, being in the middle and the smallest, had to wait until everyone else had departed before our senior finally appeared.
"Nice to meet you all, Class 0. From the records, I see we have a talented group right from the start. It might be that every one of you stays for all six years—or maybe not, hahaha. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. For those curious about the name of this dashing senior, some secrets are best left unsaid. But I'll give you one: my name is Troy."
His voice carried a mix of mischief and authority that made even the mundane sound enchanting. He added, "I will sign your uniforms at a later date, so follow me. Class 0 is a bit special—only 30 of us in The Garden. Our space may be smaller than that of the other classes, but we have the best spot, right in Point Hall. Yes, I can almost hear your little brains asking, 'But, beautiful Troy, where is the Point Hall?' Don't worry—I'm here to answer your questions. The Point Hall is at the centre of the big building you all passed under to reach the Garden. And like magic, here we are!"
Troy paused under the grand arch of one of the main buildings near the gate. His voice softened as he instructed us to form a circular pattern in the centre of the floor. He tapped his hand twice, and in a blink, the world around us shifted with a soft, almost imperceptible rumble—SWOOSH—and we found ourselves whisked upstairs.
I stepped into a classroom filled with the soft ticking of brass gears hidden among the wooden beams and the gentle hiss of steam flowing through delicate pipes overhead. The room was a symphony of contrasts: the warm, inviting scent of polished wood mingled with the cool, clean aroma of white marble. The walls, mostly a deep, rich brown from finely grained wood, were accented by white marble pillars that rose gracefully to support the high, vaulted ceiling.
On one side of the room, a large, round window dominated the space. Through it, I could see Drybay spread out below—a city alive with bustling docks, drifting airships, towering metallic structures, and winding canals that sparkled under the sunlight. The view was breathtaking, filling me with a sense of wonder and the promise of adventure.
The classroom was arranged in three levels, each row of desks slightly higher than the one before. Each level contained two sturdy desks crafted from dark wood, their simple brass trims catching the light in just the right way. No matter where I sat, I had an unobstructed view of the board at the front, where the professor would soon sketch diagrams and write intricate notes.
At the front, the professor's desk was an impressive mix of polished metal and rich wood, outfitted with a few levers and dials that hinted at hidden mechanisms and secret purposes. Diagrams of complex machines and rough sketches were pinned to a nearby board, their edges worn from countless uses. A small, steam-powered device sat on a side table, its quiet ticking punctuating the otherwise hushed atmosphere as it periodically released gentle puffs of mist. Despite the natural light streaming through the window, brass lanterns along the walls provided an extra layer of soft, ambient illumination.
"Now, find a seat and wait for your teacher," Troy's voice echoed through the room with a playful lilt. "Your first lesson should be fun—oops, I need to hurry!" With that, he dashed back to the circle where we had arrived, tapped twice, and vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
I looked around, taking in the familiar faces of my classmates—the same companions who had shared the mysterious awakening with me. To my right, Durum, Arabell, and Eliza sat quietly, while on my left, George's expression was unreadable. Sensing the tension, I moved toward a desk, but not before noticing the intense gaze of someone in the room, their stare burning a hole in my back.
Why are they staring so hard? Do they all want that perfect seat near the window? And if so, why isn't anyone moving?
After a brief moment of indecision, I spotted the ideal place: a desk in the second row, right by the window, offering an excellent view and a balance between the front and the back of the room. I slid into the seat just as the others began to choose their spots—Durum and Arabell in the first row, George in the last, and Elizabeth settling beside me.
Just as I was about to start a conversation, a circle of light on the far right of the classroom shimmered, and Archmage Biasta emerged from it. His presence commanded attention, and his calm, authoritative tone filled the room.
"Welcome, everyone. I will be your coordinator and your teacher of Ether manipulation. Since this is our first lesson, I will begin with the basics of Ether accumulation. Even if some of you have already started your journey, it is crucial to master the fundamentals."
He continued, his words deliberate and clear, "To begin accumulating Ether, you must first achieve a state of complete tranquillity and silence. The first stage is called 'Feeling,' which is divided into three parts. First, you must learn to hear the Ether surrounding you. Then, you need to see it, and finally, feel it upon your skin. To hear the Ether particles, close your eyes in a dark, quiet room and relax. There is no fixed time—some hear it within an hour, while others may take days, so do not be discouraged if it doesn't happen right away.
"The next stage, seeing the Ether, is more challenging. You must use your intuition to determine the location of these particles, based on subtle sounds and impressions. Once you have a rough idea of their position, connect your inner core to your eyes and focus intently on that spot. Remember, your core—a sphere that rests between your lungs—is central to the awakening process. Finally, in the last part of 'Feeling,' you must reach out and touch the Ether particles, using your body to sense their presence."
"That is all for today. Under your desk, you will find a book titled 'Basics of Ether: What It Is and How to Sense It.' It contains a more detailed explanation of everything I have just outlined. Now, you are free to return home or stay here a while longer."
With that, Archmage Biasta returned to his circle and departed, leaving a thoughtful silence in his wake. At that moment, I noticed George gathering his belongings, seemingly ready to leave. However, Durum intercepted him at the bottom of the stairs, while Arabell stood firmly beside him, effectively blocking the way. Elizabeth watched the scene with an air of disdain and quiet scorn.
I couldn't help but think, I expected at least some peace here—why does there always have to be some sort of commotion? The quiet hum of gears and the distant echo of departing footsteps blended with the soft murmur of conversation, leaving me to wonder what the rest of the day might bring.