The moment Eryndor and Kaelus stepped off the carriage, the world seemed to shift.
The air shimmered faintly—not from heat, but from sheer density of power. Mana wasn't just ambient here; it breathed. The academy's walls pulsed with life, engraved with runes that responded to every spark of divine energy.
Before them stood two colossal gates forged from what looked like molten glass, swirling faintly with hues of blue and gold. Divine inscriptions danced across their surface like constellations. Standing guard were two armored sentinels—men whose mere presence felt heavy enough to press against Eryndor's bones.
One of them, a tall guard with silver eyes, lowered his spear slightly. "New arrivals?"
Kaelus gave a small wave, looking far too relaxed for someone standing under the gaze of beings who could probably erase him with a thought. "Yeah. Two rookies here to ruin the balance of power."
The other guard snorted faintly, his expression almost amused. "Then you'll fit right in." He gestured toward the shimmering gate. "Proceed through. The others have gathered on the second floor of the Grand Hall. Orientation begins soon. The Headmistress herself will attend."
Eryndor inclined his head in thanks, his usual calm masking the faint spark of curiosity in his eyes. The gates opened soundlessly, releasing a wave of warmth and soft light that enveloped them.
Inside was something between a city and a realm.
Bridges of glass connected floating platforms, each surrounded by gardens that shimmered with elemental energy. Rivers of mana flowed through the air like streams of liquid crystal. And everywhere—everywhere—there were people who didn't feel human.
Kaelus whistled. "And here I thought our world's elite were intimidating. This place feels like a storm waiting to happen."
Eryndor's gaze swept across the plaza ahead. Students—if they could still be called that—walked past in pairs and groups, each emanating energy potent enough to distort the air. Some had halos of fire, others the faint rippling distortion of space, while a few carried a coldness that hinted at death affinities.
They weren't ordinary cultivators. They were candidates.
As they ascended to the second floor of the Grand Hall, the air changed again—thicker, charged with faint divine resonance. Rows of ornate seats filled the vast chamber, occupied by both new recruits and upper-tier students, all conversing quietly. At the front, near the stage, stood several figures who didn't seem like students at all. Their presence was sharp and suffocating—lesser deities, the instructors of this academy.
One of them, a tall man with silver wings folded behind his back, turned as Eryndor and Kaelus entered. His voice echoed through the hall like rolling thunder. "Newcomers from the mortal realm?"
Kaelus grinned. "The one and only."
Eryndor simply nodded, scanning the crowd. He could feel it—the faint but distinct difference between himself and many here. Some were god candidates already resonating with fragments of divine law. Their power wasn't cultivated through effort—it was birthed into them.
And yet, rather than intimidation, Eryndor felt only anticipation.
The hall's hum of conversation died instantly when a wave of heat passed through the air. Not fire—heat. The kind that warped light and made breath feel like molten air.
The ceiling itself shimmered, and a single figure appeared near the dais.
She didn't need to announce herself.
Her presence alone commanded silence.
The woman stood tall, her crimson hair cascading down like a molten river. Her eyes, golden with faint traces of ember patterns, carried a calm authority that made even the lesser deities straighten instinctively. She wore a sleeveless mantle that flickered like flame, its embroidery glowing faintly as if alive.
"Headmistress Seraphina Caldris," whispered one of the recruits behind them, awe and fear blending in their voice.
Kaelus leaned closer to Eryndor, murmuring under his breath, "She's the one? The Phoenix of Solaria?"
Eryndor nodded slightly. "That's what the stories say."
Seraphina's gaze swept the room once, her tone cool yet resonant. "Welcome, initiates and candidates, to Celestia Divinity Academy. This is not a sanctuary—it is a crucible. You are here to burn away your limits and forge yourselves into beings worthy of the higher realms."
Her eyes glowed faintly, the temperature spiking just from her words. A few recruits shifted uncomfortably, sweat beading on their brows.
"The academy's hierarchy is simple," she continued. "There are mortals who seek ascension, and there are god candidates who've already felt the resonance of the divine laws. Some among you," her gaze flicked briefly to a corner where several older students sat with casual arrogance, "may already hold divine fragments. But power without discipline," she raised one hand, the flame around her fingers brightening, "is self-destruction waiting to happen."
She closed her palm. The air cooled instantly.
"This year," she said softly, her voice carrying a faint undertone that made even Eryndor's heart quicken, "the trials will be different. The Black Sun has stirred beyond the higher veil, and the balance between dimensions is shifting. The academy exists to prepare you for that inevitability."
The murmurs that followed were filled with unease and curiosity.
Eryndor felt something within him stir at the mention of the Black Sun—an echo from his dream. His fingers twitched slightly, though his expression remained calm.
Seraphina's eyes paused briefly on him. For a fraction of a moment, her fiery aura flickered—subtle recognition, as if she'd seen something within him she couldn't yet name.
Then she turned away.
"Classes begin tomorrow," she declared. "Rest well tonight. You'll need it."
As the crowd began to disperse, Kaelus exhaled softly. "She's terrifying. Beautiful, but terrifying."
Eryndor smirked faintly. "Reminds me of someone."
Kaelus grinned. "Lyanna?"
Eryndor didn't answer, though the faint smirk deepened as they walked down the hall toward the dormitories. Behind them, the faint echo of Seraphina's aura lingered in the air—warm, heavy, and absolute.
This was no ordinary academy.
It was a gathering of gods-in-the-making—each student, each candidate, a spark of creation in waiting.
And Eryndor Nasarik had just stepped into the heart of it.