Gray shut his door behind him, blinking at the soft gray light spilling in through the corridor's narrow windows. For a moment he lingered in the hall, listening to the muffled bustle of the city beyond the walls, before making his way toward Renn's room.
He raised his hand and knocked once.
There was no immediate answer. Then came a sudden crash, followed by a startled yelp, and the sound of something rolling across the floorboards.
"Coming!" Renn's voice squeaked, muffled through the door. Another clatter followed, like glass tipping over, then hurried footsteps.
The door swung open at last to reveal Renn in a state of chaos. His hair stuck up in every direction, his glasses tilted dangerously across his nose. His shirt was half-tucked into his trousers, and behind him the room looked like a storm had swept through—books stacked unevenly, parchment scattered across the floor.
"Oh! Gray." Renn adjusted his glasses quickly, trying for composure. "Do you… need anything?"
Gray sighed and tilted his head toward the wall inside Renn's room. A small iron clock ticked steadily, its hands sharp against the pale wood.
Renn followed his gaze, blinking in confusion, then his eyes widened. "By the Origins! I'm late—" He bolted back inside, grabbing the nearest object within reach: a slice of bread thick with a bright red paste.
'By...the Origins? Really? What is that even supposed to mean?' He massaged his head, almost not wanting to believe what he had heard.
"What's that red thing on it?" He swiftly changed the topic.
Renn froze mid-bite. Then, with his mouth half full, he tried to explain. "It's… jam. Fruit cooked with sugar, spread on bread. Sweet, tangy… one of humanity's finest achievements." He held the slice toward Gray, his expression earnest despite the crumbs on his lips. "Here, try some."
Gray's nose wrinkled. "I'll pass."
"Your loss," Renn said, already taking another bite. His words came garbled through the mouthful: "It makes mornings almost bearable."
Together, they descended the wooden staircase. The floorboards groaned under their steps, each creak punctuated by the distant sound of wagons rolling outside.
The others were waiting in the lobby. Adel leaned against a pillar, arms crossed and expression bored. Korr stood rigid near the door, posture as straight as a soldier on watch. Lira sat quietly on the bench by the wall, her hood pulled low over her face, hands resting loosely in her lap. Of Aurelle, there was no sign.
Behind the desk, the receptionist lowered her newspaper with a sigh. She looked them over like a school teacher tired of unruly students. "Finally," she muttered. "You can leave now."
Without another word, she rose, her boots clunking against the wooden floor, and gestured sharply for them to follow.
"Charming as always," Adel whispered as they trailed behind, her voice just loud enough for Gray to hear.
The receptionist led them past the counter and down a narrow stairwell hidden behind a curtain. The air grew colder as they descended, the smell of damp stone and mildew settling in. At the bottom stretched a storage room, dimly lit by a single flickering lantern.
"Pick a coat," she ordered, pointing at a rack of heavy garments. "And your badges."
None of them understood, but no one argued.
Adel reached first, dragging a dark coat around her shoulders with a flourish. "Not my color," she muttered, "but it'll do."
Korr selected his silently, fastening it with sharp, precise movements. Lira slipped hers on without a word, the hood falling naturally into place.
Gray picked his more slowly, feeling the rough fabric between his fingers. He caught sight of a small wooden chest nearby and drifted toward it. Inside lay rows of badges, their surfaces marked with a strange crest he didn't recognize. Dust coated half of them, as though untouched for years.
His gaze traveled further. Crates lined the walls, their lids askew. Weapons lay piled within: spears dulled with rust, swords still sheathed, rifles with stocks cracked but functional. Armor sets leaned against the corners, their metal dulled but sturdy. None of it seemed new, yet it all seemed ready, waiting for hands that never came.
The receptionist noticed his stare. "They never reached this place," she said, voice flat, almost rehearsed. Her eyes caught his, sharp and unyielding. "Consider yourselves lucky."
Gray's throat tightened, but he didn't reply.
Back upstairs, the front doors stood open. A vehicle waited in the street, hulking and black, its metal surface gleaming under the gray daylight.
It was an armored truck, but unlike the battered machine they had taken through Glacierfang, this one was pristine. Its frame shone with fresh paint, the steel edges sharp, the smell of oil strong. Its wheels gleamed like polished obsidian, and its body hummed faintly as though it were alive.
"Board," the receptionist commanded.
Gray hesitated. "Wait—Aurelle isn't here. Shouldn't we—"
"There's no need," she cut him off, her tone carrying a finality that made argument pointless.
Confusion flickered across his face. He opened his mouth again, but she ignored him. Instead, she reached into a drawer and tossed something small toward Lira.
It was a cloak, black and plain. Lira caught it easily and wrapped it around herself, pulling the hood up to shadow her hair and features.
Adel arched a brow. "What's this? A celebrity disguise?"
"Shut up," Lira muttered, her voice sharp and brittle.
The words carried enough weight to silence even Adel.
One by one, they climbed inside. Korr went first, silent as stone. Adel shrugged and hopped in after him, a smirk still tugging at her lips. Renn followed cautiously, clutching his satchel like a shield.
Gray lingered. His eyes swept once more across the street, memorizing the cracked cobblestones, the crooked rooftops leaning against one another, the faint hum of voices drifting through the air. Then he pulled himself inside and shut the heavy door behind him.
The engine roared softly, and the truck rumbled forward.
Through the tinted windows, Gray watched as civilians turned their heads. Their eyes followed the vehicle with quiet intensity, whispering among themselves. He didn't know why their gazes felt so heavy, but it unsettled him.
Silence filled the cabin. The only sound was the steady thrum of the engine, the occasional squeak of metal, and Renn quietly chewing the last of his bread.
After a long stretch of road, the truck slowed. A deep grinding echoed through the walls, a sound Gray recognized immediately, the thunderous churn of colossal gates shifting open.
The truck rumbled, steady at first, then slowed as if it had reached something immense. Gray leaned against the cold glass, his reflection a faint shadow over the pitch-black void outside. A low churning noise echoed around them, metallic and heavy, reverberating through the vehicle's frame. He recognized the sound instantly. It was the same as when they had entered the City of Dawn.
'Another wall?' The thought pressed against his mind, lingering like an unanswered question.
Silence hung thick in the cabin. No one spoke, not even Adel, who usually filled the air with offhand remarks. Renn's leg bounced nervously beside Gray, tapping against the floor in soft, uneven beats.
Then, with a groan like stone parting from stone, the noise came again. The entire truck shuddered as something massive shifted. Gray gripped the seat in front of him as the world outside cracked open. A sudden shaft of white light pierced the dark, so blinding he had to raise a hand against it.
The truck crawled forward, its wheels clanking over uneven metal until the rumble evened out. The silence was broken only by the low hum of the engine. When Gray finally dared to lower his hand and look, the sight that met him stole the air from his chest.
Beyond the wall lay a city that didn't belong to the same world they had just left.
It wasn't like the City of Dawn with its weathered stone and lantern-lit streets.This place gleamed. Towering buildings stretched skyward, their surfaces a seamless fusion of pale marble and living crystal that pulsed with a soft, internal light. Roads spread wide, paved not with stone but with a single, continuous sheet of polished moonstone that seemed to glow from within. Graceful, silent carriages crafted from enchanted wood and silver glided along the streets, drawn not by beasts but by shimmering constructs of condensed light that hovered before them.
The skyline was a testament to impossible architecture: arches woven from solidified rainbows curved over entire districts, and bridges of woven, living vines, strung with floating motes of light like captive fireflies, connected soaring towers. The towers themselves were crowned with ever-burning braziers of emerald and sapphire flame that shifted and danced as though breathing. Above it all, great banners of woven starlight, too bright to be mere cloth, displayed shimmering heraldry and symbols Gray could not decipher.
Adel whistled low, pressing her face to the window. "Look at that...did we… just step into a fairytale?"
Renn, still fumbling to fix his glasses, whispered, "Those spires—look at the way the crystal grows from the marble. I've never seen artificing like this. Not even in the oldest tales."
Gray could only stare. The carriages moved too smoothly, their silence uncanny compared to the creaking wagons he was used to. They had no drivers, no reins. They glided, effortless, as though guided by the will of the city itself.
'Why are these cities so close yet so far apart?' The question dug into him. The City of Dawn, then one he was becoming used to, felt scarred by time, clinging to old traditions. Yet here—just beyond another barrier—life seemed unburdened, woven through with a power Gray couldn't even name.
The others were pressed against the windows now. Adel jabbed a finger toward a central spire that seemed to be carved from a single, massive geode, its crystalline interior shimmering with captured daylight. "Look at that! It's like a mountain of frozen starlight."
Renn pointed to a stretch of roadway where the light-carriages flowed around each other in a complex, silent dance. "How do they not collide without a word spoken?"
Even Korr, usually silent and immovable, allowed himself a faint murmur. "Not the place I was expecting."
Lira didn't look. Her hood was drawn low, shadowing her face. She sat rigidly in her seat, one hand curled tight around the cloak the receptionist had given her. Gray thought he saw her jaw tighten, but she said nothing.
The truck took turn after turn, dipping beneath bridges of woven vines and passing through streets canopied by trees with silver leaves. For a moment, Gray caught the reflection of his own pale hair in the window, tinted by the enchanted glow outside. It felt unreal, as if he were staring into a vision from someone else's life.
Then, without warning, the windows blackened.
The world outside vanished,swallowed in an instant by an opaque darkness that reflected their faces back at them. Adel let out a sharp, irritated noise. "What? That's just cruel."
Gray pressed a hand to the glass. Nothing but his own image stared back. His chest sank with disappointment, as though a door had been slammed shut on something far larger than himself.
The truck rumbled on. Minutes stretched, broken only by the hum of the engine. When it finally stopped, the silence inside was so thick none of them moved.
A hiss of air released. With a deep metallic groan, the back doors unlocked and swung outward. Rain-laden wind rushed in, cool and biting. The scent of wet stone and earth filled Gray's lungs.
No one stepped out at first. They sat in uneasy silence, listening to the patter of rain beyond the doors. Then Lira moved. She didn't glance back, simply pulled her cloak tighter and descended. Her boots splashed lightly against the stone ground outside.
Korr followed, silent as always. Adel shot Gray a half-smile, half-grimace and muttered, "Guess that's our cue." She slipped out after them.
Renn gave a nervous laugh. "Well, better late than never," he said, though his voice wavered. He clutched his bag tight and hurried down.
That left Gray.
He lingered for a heartbeat, hand braced against the cool frame of the truck's doorway. Rain pelted harder now, echoing against the roof like a thousand fingers drumming in unison. Finally, he stepped out.
The cold air struck him instantly, sharp and refreshing, soaking into his clothes in moments. He ran a hand through his ash-gray hair as it darkened under the downpour.
And then he saw it.
To his left loomed a building unlike any he had ever known. It wasn't tall like the spires they had glimpsed in the city. Instead, it sprawled outward, vast and commanding, stretching across the horizon like a fortress carved from modernity itself. Its many levels rose step by step, lined with long rows of windows that glowed faintly despite the rain. The sheer breadth of it was staggering, as though it had been built to house an entire world within its walls.
Ahead stood two colossal gates, wrought of blackened steel and etched with symbols that gleamed faintly even beneath the storm. Above them, words were inscribed in bold, radiant letters:
'The Royal Kaelith Sanctuary and Academy.'
Gray's lips parted, but no words came. The rain hammered down, plastering his hair to his forehead, soaking into his clothes until they clung to his frame. Yet he barely felt it. His eyes fixed on the gates, on the promise, or the threat that awaited within.
The garden stretched beyond, vast and manicured, lined with towering hedges and statues half-shrouded by the storm. At the far end, the academy's grand entrance rose like a challenge, waiting.
It all felt like he was dreaming.
Gray swallowed hard. Something inside him shifted, a quiet certainty beneath the chaos of awe.
Everything was about to change.