Farewell was supposed to be bittersweet. At least, that's what everyone said.
Four years of shared lectures and emergency prep sessions were meant to end with a gentle ache.
For him, the word farewell felt hollow in the dull auditorium, as plain as the cheap punch they served.
His name was Dante. In college, he was like a moon circling other people's lives, close enough to see them shine, but never close enough to join their world.
If he disappeared, nothing would change for them.
"I'm done pretending I care," he muttered to his reflection in the men's room mirror. The boy staring back had dark circles under his eyes and a mouth that looked too tired to smile. He adjusted the ceremonial sash over his blazer. "One last performance," he told himself quietly. "Then I can finally leave."
Outside, the party was pushing toward its fake climax. Crimson and gold banners drooped from the rails. A huge poster flashed "Batch of 2025 - Soar High!" with desperate cheer. Dante stared at it, wondering how many of them would still be smiling when real life began.
"And now, our final dramatic act for the evening, 'Adieu, Alma Mater!'" The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, trying too hard to sound excited.
The crowd clapped and whistled. Couples held hands, friends gathered for one last round of selfies. Their faces glowed under the blue-white light of their phones. Dante's phone stayed in his pocket. He had no one to take a picture with, and nothing worth remembering.
When the lights dimmed for the slow dance, the floor filled with movement and color. Gowns brushed against tuxedos. Laughter and music rose together, fading before they reached the steps where Dante sat, counting the ceiling bulbs one by one.
'Let it end,' he thought. 'Please, just end already.'
His wish came true, only not the way he expected.
The first flash was so bright it made him flinch. The second one tore the roof apart. A massive pillar of blue-white lightning burst through the ceiling and struck the disco ball. It vanished in a puff of silver dust.
Then came the sound. It wasn't just loud; it was a force that crushed the air out of his chest.
The floor shook, his ears rang, and every nerve screamed in pain. For a moment, he thought the entire world was collapsing around him.
'So this is it,' his mind whispered. 'I'm dying on graduation night. How fitting.'
But he didn't die.
When his eyes opened again, the ceiling was gone. The sky stretched endlessly above, filled with strange, glittering stars. He was lying on wet moss, the air cool and sharp against his face.
Around him, people were groaning, coughing, calling out. His classmates. Their faces glowed under two moons he had never seen before.
One was a perfect white pearl. The other was cracked, glowing green from within.
A hundred students, snatched from a party and dropped into a forest that felt alive and ancient.
"Where are we?" someone shouted."Was that a terrorist attack?""Check for injuries! Ariel's bleeding!"
Voices overlapped in panic. A girl started crying. Another person just cursed again and again. Then, all at once, silence fell.
Tiny specks of silver light floated through the air. They gathered in front of the group, swirling until they took the shape of a woman.
She hovered a few inches above the ground, her body glowing softly. Her hair shimmered like sunrise, and her eyes looked older than time itself.
"Welcome, heroes," she said. Her voice was soft and deep at the same time, echoing inside their bones. "I am Liora, Goddess of Light. Forgive me for summoning you so suddenly."
The group froze.
"Send us back!" the football captain shouted, his voice cracking. "We have families!"
Liora tilted her head slightly, her glow dimming with sadness. "If I could, I would. But this is a pact older than your world. Every fifty years, champions are chosen. This time, it was you."
"What gives you the right to drag us here!" a thin boy yelled, fists trembling.
Her expression didn't change, but her voice grew heavier. "The choice was not mine. But I will give you what I can: strength, purpose, and a chance to become more than you are."
"All hundred of us?" asked Eric, the class valedictorian, trying to keep his voice calm.
Liora hesitated. "I cannot promise that."
Fear rippled through the crowd.
"Explain," demanded Maya, the debate club head, her tone sharp.
"To become heroes, you must first survive the Trial of Verdant," Liora said. "Only those who pass will earn the right to walk the lands of Zerawell. I cannot say how many of you will still be alive when the final gate opens."
Her words hit harder than the lightning. The crowd erupted. People shouted, begged, and argued. Some cried. Some froze.
Liora lifted her arms. Threads of light streamed from her fingers, forming glowing symbols above each of their heads. "These are your unique skills, reflections of your true potential. Form alliances. Learn your powers. The twin moons will be your only guide through this forest."
The stars shifted slightly, as if listening.
"There are monsters here," she said. "Plan, train, and survive. That is your only path forward."
For a few seconds, no one moved. The air felt too heavy to breathe.
Dante licked his lips. He could taste something metallic, sharp. Not fear. Excitement. The dull fog that had followed him for years began to lift.
The act was over. The real story was beginning.
"Step forward one by one," Liora said. "I will grant your skill and answer one question each. Then, I must leave you to your fate."
A glowing doorway appeared behind her.
The students hesitated but began to form a line. Fear and confusion flickered in their eyes. They wanted answers, but none were sure what to ask.
Dante stood still, watching, listening.
'Knowledge is power,' he thought.
And waited for his turn.