The air was fresh as blue banners hung lovely, swaying with the gentle breeze. The town square was lively, yet thick with unease. Many shops were closed, their owners gathered outside with the crowds. People waited, staring toward the upper districts, questioning what had happened.
The upper council and the right hand of the princess looked down on the people below with wary expressions. Below them stood the headmaster, positioned directly in front of the academy gates. Behind those gates, the rift swirled like a quiet sentry on the academy grounds. Guards with steel faces and spears planted to the ground formed an impenetrable line. The situation looked hopeless.
"Do not allow the public to hear any of this," the headmaster said harshly to someone beside him.
He was a man in his late forties with greying hair that caught the afternoon light. He stood before a mass of people: parents, children, siblings, neighbors, anyone who might have shared a bond with the students trapped inside that rift. The mass clearing had started a day before. Normally, there would have been external communication through a pendant guarded closely by a professor who entered with the students. But two professors had entered that day, which was more than protocol required.
"You may begin now, sir," someone said, handing him an ornate artifact.
The headmaster wore a cape over his shoulder, draped across robes of black and blue. He was rarely seen outside his office, spending most of his time behind closed doors attending to matters that seldom concerned the common folk.
He raised the artifact to amplify his voice.
"I greet you this fine afternoon," he began, his tone measured and formal. "I observe that many among you harbor concerns regarding your brothers, sisters, daughters, sons and neighbors who have entered the rift. Allow me to express my highest regards, for they were brave enough to enter for the sake of our kingdom's future. These young people represent the very pride, the very defense that will help our nation stand with dignity in the eyes of history, just as our founder envisioned."
The crowd grew quiet, but also more weary. Whispers spread like wildfire through the gathered masses.
A girl stepped forward, brushing past a guard. She held a stuffed toy clutched to her chest. She had green emerald eyes and orange hair, and her eyes were visibly tired from days without proper sleep. She was crying. Her dress was tattered, dirt staining the hem. She stumbled forward and fell to the ground, then looked up at the headmaster with desperation etched across her young face.
"Why are you speaking so calmly?" she cried out, her voice breaking. "My sister has been trapped for two days!"
Immediately, two guards moved with practiced precision, lowering their spears below her neck to prevent her from advancing further. It was a cruel act, but a necessary one in their eyes.
A woman holding a child broke from the crowd and rushed into the opening. She also had orange hair and pale skin, and wore the simple robes of a commoner. She looked up at the headmaster with pleading eyes.
"Forgive my daughter!" she begged, her voice shaking.
The girl struggled against her mother's grasp. "Mother, let me go!"
The headmaster raised a hand as if to dismiss the incident, his expression unchanging.
By now, they had garnered many looks. Spiteful looks. Pitying looks. Disgusted looks. From noblemen, from commoners, from everyone gathered in the square.
"Who allowed these commoners up here?" someone muttered from the crowd.
"Apparently, they are family of the silver badges," another voice replied with disdain.
"The stench of poverty is unbearable," a nobleman said, loud enough for others to hear.
The headmaster spoke again, his voice cutting through the murmurs.
"Rest assured, I shall employ my utmost capacity in resolving this matter. There has been merely a minor complication, as the properties of the rift have been altered in a manner unforeseen by our mages. We shall take appropriate action once we have resolved the problem at hand."
"That is complete fabrication!" a man yelled from the back of the crowd.
"Where is the first class knight of the Ashford family? And where is the proto-knight?"
He was immediately forced to the ground with little effort by the guards. The crowd seemed to grow more confused, more agitated with each passing second. Tension crackled through the air like lightning waiting to strike.
"I comprehend that you express confusion during times such as these," the headmaster continued, his tone remaining infuriatingly calm. "It is indeed difficult. What I ask of you is to maintain faith in your daughters and sons, in the very people you have come to trust upon this earth. Believe in them. Believe in the future of our nation."
He lowered his hand from the artifact and looked past the crowd, his gaze distant.
"I acknowledge that this is an unprecedented time for our people, which is precisely why we have taken appropriate measures."
Steps with clear intent echoed from behind the crowd.
A pressure so overwhelming carried through the air that it seemed to manifest visibly. The atmosphere was enveloped in a menacing light blue ambient glow. The crowd felt that surge of power and instinctively stepped away, parting to make way for whatever force approached.
The headmaster stood his ground, looking forward without flinching.
Past the crowd walked a figure clad in silver armor with a blue crest emblazoned upon their shoulder. Their head was covered by a helmet that concealed every feature. The armor was thin, not bulky, but made of metal shaped precisely to define their capable, athletic form. A sword hung at their hip, and a blue cape flowed behind them as they walked forward with measured, deliberate steps.
"We have summoned forth an Enlightened," the headmaster announced, his voice carrying new weight. "Not merely any Enlightened, but one of considerable renown. I present to you the Sky-Sundered Saint, Paladin of the Northern Reaches. Lyssandra. "
The figure did not speak. It did not even pause in its stride. The guards parted immediately, allowing passage toward the headmaster. The figure stopped before him, looking up through that expressionless helmet.
It raised its hands to shoulder height in a gesture of greeting, offering a slight bow.
"Greetings, Headmaster."
"Welcome, Sky-Sundered Saint. Your arrival brings us great relief."
The paladin looked up, the helmet catching the light. "I presume we shall proceed with the previously discussed arrangements."
Beneath the helmet that covered every aspect of their face and muffled their voice, the words came measured and formal.
The headmaster nodded his assent.
The figure moved past the academy gates with purpose and walked toward the steps with careful, measured strides. They approached the rift, which swirled ominously before them like a wound in reality itself.
The paladin stopped before it and raised one hand.
Immediately, purple energy lashed out like an electrical backlash, swirling violently around the rift's perimeter. It looked like a tear in the very fabric of air itself, pulsing with malevolent energy that made the surrounding stones crack and groan.
"A Beta classification," the paladin muttered under their breath, their tone suggesting concern.
The headmaster walked up behind them, maintaining a respectful distance from the dangerous energies.
"Are you capable of entering it?" he asked.
"I possess the capacity to split the rift entirely with my blade," the paladin replied, their voice even. "However, such an action would carry unnecessary destruction to the academy grounds and surrounding residential areas. The collateral damage would be extensive."
"Not the academy grounds," the headmaster said quickly, almost frantically. "We have invested considerable resources into these facilities. There must be another method. I understand that Enlightened possess various techniques for such circumstances."
The figure turned toward the headmaster with a motion that felt almost menacing despite the lack of visible expression. The air around them grew heavier, darker.
"Are there individuals trapped within that rift?" the paladin asked, their tone carrying a dangerous edge.
"Yes, though I am certain they shall manage adequately. Half of them are merely silver badges of little consequence."
"I suggest you expedite your efforts toward a less destructive solution," the headmaster added impatiently, then seemed to catch himself, reconsidering whom he was addressing.
The figure leaked a deadly aura, deep blue energy emanating from their form like smoke. They had turned fully toward the headmaster now, and it seemed as though they might draw their sword at any moment. The pressure in the air became suffocating.
"What… what is the meaning of this?" the headmaster stammered, taking a step back.
The paladin's hand rested on their sword hilt for a long moment. Then, with deliberate slowness, they released it. Beneath the helmet, their voice came cold and clipped.
"As you wish, Headmaster. This situation does not concern me, I shall employ a more delicate approach."
The figure turned back toward the rift, dismissing the man entirely. They began tracing the rift's edge with their silver-gloved hands, as if plucking at invisible strings and weaving them into new patterns. Their fingers moved with precision, manipulating energies that made the air shimmer and distort.
"I possess the capability to manipulate the fundamental effects and weave the rift's properties to grant myself access," the paladin explained, their voice returning to its previous measured tone. "However, such a process requires considerable time and concentration. I estimate several hours before entry becomes viable."
The headmaster opened his mouth to protest the timeline, then thought better of it. He simply nodded, stepping back to give the Enlightened space to work.
Behind them, the crowd watched in awed silence as the paladin's hands moved through complex patterns, blue light trailing from their fingertips as they slowly, methodically began to unravel the rift's defenses.
The girl with the stuffed toy watched with hope rekindling in her tired eyes, clutching the toy tighter to her chest.
Perhaps her sister would come home after all.