The bell of Aelgrath Academy didn't just ring; it shook the sky. The sound was ancient and deep, vibrating through the floating island like a heartbeat. Each note echoed with a different color of light. Below, the city of Valmorra glimmered through a layer of mist, with spires and bridges reaching up like fingers grasping for the academy's drifting shadow.
Students poured into the open courtyards, a sea of uniforms, spellbooks, and magical familiars darting between them. The morning air carried the scent of mana and rain, with faint trails of energy flowing like sleepy fireflies in the breeze. The banners of the five divisions—Arcana, Combat, Support, Summoning, and Research—fluttered proudly from the marble towers.
For most, today marked a new beginning. For Noah Valen, it felt like the clock was ticking closer to something unavoidable.
He stood at the edge of the eastern balcony, leaning on the railing as he watched the sun rise between the hovering citadels. His reflection in the glass below looked almost human, except for the faint, shifting glow that pulsed beneath the skin of his left hand, concealed by black cloth and a fingerless glove.
He didn't like remembering his identity. Half-Etherian. Half-something the world had nearly erased from history.
"Still pretending you're mysterious?"
Noah turned. Sarah Liora stood a few steps away, a grin playing on her lips as she tossed a small flame between her fingers like a coin. The fire shimmered gold, matching her eyes. "It's the first day, and you're already in brooding mode. That has to be a record."
"Just watching the sunrise," Noah muttered.
"Sure," she replied, twirling the flame until it formed the shape of a tiny phoenix. "You're 'just watching the sunrise' on the morning the most competitive combat course in the kingdom starts. Totally not hiding existential dread."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "Still diagnosing people with your 'emotional pyromancy'?"
Sarah shrugged, the flame puffing out with a smirk. "It works better than therapy."
Before Noah could respond, a metallic clang echoed from below, followed by shouting. They both leaned over the railing just in time to see a tall, broad-shouldered student in armor arguing with a guard about weapon regulations.
Zeke Valen, Noah's older brother by a year, was trying to explain that his two-handed sword "technically counted as part of his spine," since it was bonded to him through a soul-forge ritual. The guard looked unimpressed.
"Someone please tell him to stop arguing with campus security," Noah muttered.
"On it," Sarah sighed, waving her hand. A small ember floated down and exploded in a harmless spark near Zeke's boots. He immediately looked up and waved cheerfully. "Morning, little brother! And Sarah! Still flaming things for attention?"
"Still compensating with overcomplicated armor?" she yelled back.
Trailing behind Zeke came Alice Fenn, her long silvery hair tied in a loose braid. She was carrying what looked like a harp, a flute, and several books bigger than her head. "Zeke, slow down! You're—oh no—" She tripped over the strap of her satchel, and Noah caught her mid-fall with a flick of his wrist, a faint shimmer of blue light stopping her before she hit the stairs.
"Got you," he said casually.
Alice blushed and pushed her glasses up. "You, uh, always make that look so easy."
"Because it is," Sarah teased. "You should see him dodge responsibility the same way."
Before Noah could respond, the air shifted. It wasn't wind; it felt like the world itself exhaled. The temperature dropped, the mana in the air thickened, and a ring of glowing runes appeared in the center of the courtyard. Then, someone appeared. Tall, thin, and wrapped in a long coat that shimmered like liquid metal, the stranger landed softly. His eyes glowed like fractured glass. His hair was pale and faintly glowed blue, and his presence bent the air around him slightly, as if gravity didn't know how to respond.
"I'm late," he said simply, dusting off his coat. "Again." The surrounding students froze. One fainted. Another screamed about "illegal teleportation circles." Professors rushed toward the disturbance, their hands glowing with binding spells.
But the stranger didn't move. He just looked around, curious, until his eyes landed on Noah. For a moment, it felt like the world stopped.
"You're early," he said quietly. Noah blinked. "What?" The man—Osiris, as the faculty soon called him—just smiled faintly. "Nothing. Wrong timeline. Almost forgot this part."
The air snapped back into motion. Students gasped and whispered. Noah's mark under the glove burned. The pain wasn't sharp; it felt like his soul was vibrating in tune with something unseen. He looked up and saw it again: a faint crack in the sky, like glass under pressure, glowing silver and humming softly.
Then it disappeared. The noise resumed. The teachers scolded Osiris, who offered no defense except, "Time travel paperwork is always late."
Sarah turned to Noah. "Did you feel that?"
Noah hesitated. "No."
She squinted. "Liar."
"Fine," he said, pushing off the railing. "Let's get to class before Zeke challenges someone to a duel over breakfast."
They started toward the main tower, students parting around them. Behind them, Osiris watched Noah walk away with an unreadable expression, his mismatched eyes flickering softly as he murmured something under his breath.
"Found you, finally."
As the first bell faded into silence, a shadow passed over the sun—so faint that most didn't notice. Only Osiris looked up, his eyes narrowing.
And somewhere above the clouds, the faint crack shimmered again, spreading wider and humming softly like something waiting to break.