The Guidance Session

The Academy's Guidance Office existed in a state of architectural uncertainty that made Aezur's dormitory room look positively mundane by comparison.

The waiting area was a comfortable parlor that occasionally forgot it was indoors, leading to moments when clouds would drift through the ceiling and birds would nest in the potted plants. The magazines on the coffee table were written in languages that wouldn't be invented for several centuries, covering topics like "Tem Ways to Improve Your Existential Stability" and "Summer Fashion for Non-Corporeal Entities."

"Aezur Valin?" called a voice that sounded like wind chimes made from crystallized mathematics.

He looked up to see his guidance counselor—a being that appeared to be a kindly middle-aged woman until you noticed that her edges occasionally became transparent, revealing that she was mostly composed of living equations wearing the suggestion of human form.

"I'm Dr. Probability," she said, extending a hand that felt like shaking hands with a statistical analysis. "Please, come in."

Her office was a marvel of controlled impossibility. The walls were lined with filing cabinets that extended infinitely in all directions, presumably containing records of every possible version of every possible student. The desk was carved from what looked like solidified time, and the chairs were comfortable in ways that transcended mere physical comfort.

"Now then," Dr. Probability said, settling behind her desk and pulling out a file that was simultaneously thick enough to contain volumes and thin enough to be empty, "let's discuss your academic trajectory."

She opened the file, and Aezur caught glimpses of pages covered in text that rewrote itself as she read it.

"Interesting," she murmured. "Very interesting indeed. You're showing signs of rapid advancement potential, but also some concerning instabilities."

"What kind of instabilities?"

"Well, according to this—" she tapped a page that displayed what looked like a three-dimensional graph of his psychological state "—you're developing multiple personality matrices. Not quite dissociative identity disorder, but something more... fundamental."

She turned the file so he could see the graph. Instead of a single line representing his identity, there were several overlapping curves in different colors.

"Blue represents your current personality—the awakened Echo who's trying to understand his place in reality. Red is your pre-erasure personality—the hero you were before they deleted you from the timeline. Green is your Sequence 7 personality—the Living Paradox that emerged from your forced advancement."

Aezur studied the graph, noting how the different lines sometimes aligned and sometimes diverged dramatically. "Are they... separate people?"

"Not exactly. Think of them as different aspects of your essential self that developed under different circumstances. The problem is that they're not fully integrated. This can lead to decision-making conflicts, power usage inconsistencies, and in extreme cases, temporary reality displacement."

"Reality displacement?"

"Sometimes when the personality matrices are in significant conflict, you might briefly exist as multiple versions of yourself simultaneously. It's not dangerous per se, but it can be... socially awkward."

Dr. Probability made some notes on a form that kept changing language mid-sentence. "The good news is that this kind of development is actually quite normal for entities who've experienced forced advancement or traumatic erasure. The Academy has several therapeutic programs designed to help with integration."

She leaned back in her chair, which adjusted its reality to provide optimal support. "The more pressing question is your long-term academic path. Your current abilities suggest several possible specializations."

The air above her desk shimmered, forming a holographic display of branching pathways that looked like a very complex family tree.

"Path One: Advanced Paradox Theory. You continue developing your contradiction-based abilities, eventually specializing in large-scale reality editing. High power potential, but also high risk of existential backlash."

"Existential backlash?"

"When you edit reality too extensively, reality sometimes edits back. Students on this path occasionally find themselves retroactively never having existed. We have insurance policies for that, but the deductible is steep."

She gestured to another branch. "Path Two: Consensus Engineering. You learn to work with other entities to create stable impossible spaces. Lower individual power, but much safer and excellent job prospects in the interdimensional hospitality industry."

"And Path Three?"

Dr. Probability's expression became more serious. "Path Three is... unconventional. Based on your psychological profile and power development patterns, you show potential for something we call 'Narrative Architecture.'"

"Which is?"

"The ability to edit the story that reality tells about itself. Instead of changing what is, you change what means. It's incredibly powerful, but also incredibly dangerous. Students on this path tend to attract the attention of entities that most of us prefer to avoid."

The holographic display zoomed in on the third path, showing branches that led to specializations with names like "Causality Revision," "Temporal Dramaturgy," and "Existential Authorship."

"There's also a fourth option," Dr. Probability said quietly. "Though I hesitate to mention it."

"Tell me."

"Independent Study. No formal path, no structured curriculum. You work directly with the Headmistress to develop whatever abilities manifest naturally. It's only offered to students who show truly exceptional potential."

She closed the file, which promptly disappeared into the interdimensional filing system. "The choice is yours, of course. You have until the end of the semester to declare a major. But I should warn you—once you choose a path, changing becomes... complicated."

"How complicated?"

"The last student who tried to switch from Advanced Paradox Theory to Consensus Engineering ended up as a theoretical concept for six months. We eventually managed to re-instantiate him, but he still sometimes forgets to exist on Tuesdays."

Dr. Probability stood up, signaling the end of the session. "Take your time deciding. And remember, whatever path you choose, the Academy's resources are here to support you. We've been helping impossible entities achieve their potential for longer than most civilizations have existed."

As Aezur left the office, his head was spinning with possibilities and implications. Four different paths, each offering different types of power and different types of risk.

The choice isn't really about power, he realized as he walked through corridors that occasionally forgot which direction they were supposed to go. It's about what kind of impossible I want to become.

The book pulsed against his chest, offering its own opinion: The path doesn't matter as much as the destination. And our destination was never about fitting into their categories.

Our destination?

Revenge, obviously. Against those who tried to erase us. The Academy is just a means to that end.

Aezur paused in his walking, struck by the realization that the book's goals might not align perfectly with his own. The book wanted revenge. But what did he want?

To understand what I am. To find others like me. To make sure no one else has to experience what I experienced.

Interesting, the book mused. Your personalities are integrating faster than expected. That's... probably good.

Probably.

As he made his way back to the dormitory, Aezur caught sight of other students grappling with their own impossible existences. A girl who existed in multiple time periods simultaneously, attending classes in the past while living in the present. A boy whose emotions had achieved independent existence and were taking their own courses. A group of students who shared a single consciousness distributed across seventeen different bodies.

Each of them had faced the same choice he was facing now. Each had decided what kind of impossible they wanted to become.

Tomorrow, he decided, I'll talk to Seraphina and Katya about their guidance sessions. Maybe their perspectives will help.

The book pulsed again, this time with what felt like approval.

Or maybe, it whispered, you'll realize that some choices are too important to make democratically.