Chapter 7
The victory in the House Trials changed everything.
Dorm D, once dismissed as the "outsiders' bunk," had become the talk of Sanctum Astrae. Whispers echoed through every hallway—about the mysterious boy with eyes like eclipses, the frost witch with a silver tongue, and the wind dancer who fought like poetry.
But victory always had a cost.
And for Astern, it came in the form of attention.
The following morning, they were summoned to a briefing in the Hall of Sigils. Only a few dorms were chosen.
There, Principal Seraphon waited beside an unfamiliar figure—a woman in a crimson coat, armored in star-iron, with eyes like polished obsidian.
"This," Seraphon began, "is Instructor Selkyr. She oversees elite tactical classes. Dorm D, your performance has earned a place in her watch."
Selkyr's eyes swept over them, sharp and calculating.
"I don't care about your ranks or where you came from," she said. "If you falter under me, I will send you back to the dirt you crawled from."
Kaela swallowed hard. Lunaria's expression didn't change. Astern… simply nodded.
"Good," Selkyr said. "Your first assignment begins tonight. A simulation—no healers, no resets. A raid scenario. Gear up."
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Night fell like a velvet blade. In the simulation chamber beneath the Aether Spire, Dorm D was transported to a mock battlefield. Forests burned in the distance. Ruins crumbled under unseen pressure. It was too real.
Kaela whispered, "This is based on the Ghoul Wars, isn't it?"
Lunaria nodded. "Same terrain. Same mission profile."
"Extract the sealed relic," Astern said, scanning the map.
They advanced cautiously.
Halfway through the ruins, an ambush hit. Spectral demons surged from the mist—simulations made of corrupted ether. Zirak conjured a barrier beast just in time. Yareen slammed her shield into one, only to be knocked back.
Kaela struck fast and clean, slicing through the illusions, but the numbers overwhelmed.
"Pull back!" Lunaria ordered.
Astern didn't move.
He stepped forward instead, aura unraveling from his back like a silken storm. The air chilled and shimmered. His presence shifted—no longer just celestial.
Dark strands coiled through his energy. His hands glowed.
He whispered something no one heard.
And the spectral demons froze.
A single step forward, and they shattered into black motes.
When silence returned, Lunaria looked at him hard.
"That wasn't holy energy," she said. "That was something else."
Astern didn't answer. He only turned away.
They completed the mission. The relic was secured. But the others knew something had shifted.
Back in their dorm, Kaela finally broke the silence.
"You're not like us, are you?"
Astern sat at the window, watching the stars move. "I don't know what I am yet."
Lunaria folded her arms. "Whatever it is... you're not alone anymore."
That night, as Astern drifted into uneasy sleep, he dreamed of two silhouettes—wings torn, blood dripping—standing in a forest long gone.
And in the distance, a throne made of bone and starlight waited.