Light and Void: The Academy’s First Test

The Academy's vast ground pulsed with the weight of 135,000 dreams, the air thick with anticipation as Sylviora stood atop the podium, her silver hair a stark contrast to the dark runes carved into its wood.

Her presence commanded silence, her piercing gaze sweeping the sea of aspirants like a blade seeking weakness.

Though Sylviora was the same age as most first-time aspirants and younger than those on their second or third try, her voice carried a commanding weight that silenced the crowd.

She would join the 8,000 students selected from the 135,000 hopefuls, sharing a division with 2,000 of them as peers. Her presence sparked awe in some, jealousy and bitterness in others, and a restless tension in the rest.

Caelumis stood among them, his golden eyes fixed on her, his heart pounding with the stakes of the day. Somewhere in this throng, Aeri and her brothers faced the same trial, their futures hanging on the edge of a knife.

Sylviora's voice rang out, cold and unyielding, cutting through the murmurs like a winter wind.

"The first round is a written test, covering the syllabus you've prepared: history, mathematics, science, and, for those required, rune theory." Her words were precise, each syllable a hammer striking the anvil of their resolve. "Your performance here determines your worth."

A low rumble echoed across the ground as six massive constructs, Aethercarts, their sleek frames of polished iron and glowing sigils gliding soundlessly, rolled in from all directions.

Each bore a towering crystal, their facets shimmering with an otherworldly light that seemed to hum with latent power. The crowd stirred, whispers rippling like waves as the artifacts' presence sent a shiver through the air.

Sylviora raised a hand, silencing the unrest. "These crystals are Starshards, ancient artifacts that discern your attributes. Those without attributes are exempt from the rune theory exam and will be guided to a separate hall. Those with specific attributes will be directed to halls with questions tailored to your gifts. Only those scoring above the 50th percentile in relative grading will advance to the next round. The rest…" Her eyes glinted, sharp as frost. "You may try again next year."

Her tone was a blade, cold and final, slicing through the hopes of those unprepared for the brutal culling.

Guards in gleaming armor moved with practiced precision, ushering the crowd into six orderly queues before the Aethercarts.

The crystals loomed taller now, their surfaces swirling with faint mists that seemed to whisper secrets only they could hear.

The process was swift, the guards' efficiency honed by Sylviora's earlier commands. Aspirants stepped forward, one by one, placing their hands on the Starshards, their fates sealed by the artifacts' judgment.

Caelumis joined his queue, his pulse quickening as the line inched toward the glowing crystal.

One by one, hands pressed against the shimmering crystals, and faint pulses of color: red, blue, green, white, flared within, revealing the attributes that would dictate their exam halls.

Caelumis stood in his queue, his golden eyes flicking between the Starshards and the sea of faces, searching for Aeri, Borun, or Vol, but finding only strangers marked by noble crests or threadbare ambition.

The crystals sorted the aspirants with ruthless efficiency. A boy with a fiery glow was directed to the Fire Hall, his steps eager but nervous. A girl with a soft blue shimmer was sent to the Water Hall, her face pale but resolute. Earth, Wind, Space, Light, Darkness, the attributes and their derivatives unfolded like a tapestry of power.

Whispers rippled through the crowd, tales of the attributes that shaped the world's magic: Fire's ferocity, Water's fluidity, Earth's unyielding strength, Wind's fleeting grace, Space's elusive mastery, Light's radiant clarity, and Darkness's veiled might. Each held its own prestige, its own path to glory within the Academy's hallowed walls.

But there was one attribute spoken of only in hushed tones, a legend shrouded in mystery: Time.

In all of recorded history, only one soul had borne its mark, a figure whose name was etched in the annals of the Prayer halls.

The moment his Time attribute was revealed, he was whisked away, ascending to the Council's celestial halls in an instant. A feat others could only dream of, their lifetimes spent chasing such divinity.

Worshippers claimed Time was the ultimate gift, bestowed only upon those who had amassed tremendous karma across past lives, a divine reward for cosmic virtue.

Atheists scoffed at such mysticism, arguing Time was a rare hybrid, born from the union of a fundamental attribute like Fire and a derivative like Darkness.

The sole Time-wielder's parents, after all, had been gifted with Fire and Darkness, their union sparking a power unseen before or since.

"Hello, I'm Torren, nice to meet you!"

Caelumis jolted, his social anxiety flaring as he turned to find a lanky boy with tousled brown hair and a nervous grin standing behind him. "H-hello," Caelumis stammered, his voice betraying his unease. "I'm Caelumis. Nice to meet you too."

Torren laughed, scratching his cheek. "Sorry for jumping you like that. I'm just nervous, you know?"

"Me too," Caelumis admitted, a small smile breaking through his tension as he relaxed into the shared awkwardness.

Torren leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "When I got tested at my school, they said my attribute's Earth. What's yours?"

Caelumis hesitated, his mind flashing to the outdated artifact at his own school. "They told me Fire, but… it could be a derivative. The artifact we used couldn't tell the difference between fundamental and derivative attributes. So, Fire or maybe Light. Probably Fire, though, haha."

Torren nodded, his eyes bright with understanding. "Yeah, Fire's likely. Derivatives are super rare." He paused, then leaned in again, his voice tinged with frustration. "You know, I don't get why Space is considered a fundamental attribute. I had to memorize all those circle formations for it because my school's graduation exam included questions from every fundamental attribute. It's a pain!"

Caelumis chuckled, warming to the conversation. "I feel you. Space is almost as rare as the derivatives—Light and Darkness. I don't know why our ancestors called it the fifth fundamental."

"Right!" Torren exclaimed, his enthusiasm bubbling over, loud enough to draw a scowl from a nearby guard. Both boys ducked their heads in apology, their faces flushing as the guard's glare bored into them.

Torren lowering his voice continued, "Do you know this theory that's been spreading among the common flock.. You know, ones not from the worshipper and atheist factions."

Caelumis lowered his voice, glancing at Torren. "A theory? Not from believers or atheists?"

Torren's eyes lit up, undeterred by the guard's warning. "Yeah, it's not in any textbook. Space is so rare, but it's still a fundamental, which means its derivative should be the rarest of all, right?"

Caelumis tilted his head, puzzled. "But Light's a derivative of Fire or Wind, and Darkness comes from Earth or Water. Space is supposed to be derivativeless."

"That's what the books say," Torren said, his smirk mischievous. "But there's a theory among common folk that Time, y'know, the rarest attribute ever, is actually a derivative of Space. Makes sense, right? If Space is rare, its derivative would be even rarer."

Caelumis clutched his head, groaning. "C'mon, don't mess with my brain right before the test!"

Torren laughed, his grin infectious. "Sorry, sorry! We'll talk more when we both make it into the Academy."

Caelumis smiled, warmed by Torren's confidence. They clasped hands, a silent pact of camaraderie. But a shadow loomed over them, heavy and sudden.

A guard towered at their side, his armored frame like a storm cloud. They'd been so caught up in their chatter that they hadn't noticed him.

Sweat beaded on Caelumis's brow as the guard's voice rang out, sharp as a trumpet. "Move along in the line, or I'll generously escort you to the exit."

The boys bowed sharply, muttering apologies as they scrambled to catch up with the queue, earning annoyed glances from those behind them.

Caelumis's heart raced, the Starshard now only a few steps away, its glow beckoning like a judge awaiting his verdict.

The girl before him stepped onto the platform, her hand trembling as she pressed it against the Starshard.

The crystal flared a vibrant green, and the female instructor beside it, her quill scratching swiftly, announced, "Wind attribute. Proceed to the Wind Hall, left wing."

A guard guided the girl away, her steps quick but nervous. Caelumis's heart pounded as he climbed onto the Aethercart, the platform cool beneath his boots.

The instructor, her face stern but curious, nodded at him. "Place your hand on the Starshard and circulate your mana."

Caelumis obeyed, his palm meeting the crystal's smooth surface. He focused, channeling the faint hum of mana within him. The Starshard gleamed red at first, a fiery glow that matched his school's outdated test.

But then the light shifted, deepening to a radiant yellow that burst into a golden brilliance, bathing the platform in a warm, otherworldly glow.

The instructor's eyes widened, her quill pausing mid-stroke. "Child," she said, her voice tinged with awe, "you're gifted with the Light attribute. Head to the hall in the right corner."

A ripple of gasps and murmurs erupted from the crowd, not just in his queue but across the ground, as heads turned to witness the rare spectacle.

A derivative attribute—Light, one of the rarest gifts, second only to the mythic Time. Caelumis's cheeks flushed under the weight of their stares, his social anxiety prickling as he stepped off the Aethercart.

A guard led him through the crowd, their whispers trailing him like a shadow: "Light attribute… Did you see that glow?"

The guard ushered him into a cavernous hall, its high ceilings lined with cooling artifacts that hummed softly, their chill calming the nervous heat in his chest.

The room was eerily empty, no queue, no other aspirants. "Wait here until the test begins," the guard said, his tone clipped but kind. "All the best." He left, the heavy doors closing with a thud that echoed in the silence.

Caelumis sank into a random seat, the vast hall stretching around him like a forgotten cathedral. The whispers from the crowd faded, replaced by the soothing hum of the cooling artifacts.

His nerves steadied, but his mind raced. Light. Not Fire, as his school had assumed, but its rare derivative. The weight of it settled over him, both a gift and a burden in this crucible of ambition.

Back on the testing ground, Sylviora stood atop the podium, her silver hair glinting as she observed the attribute tests with a hawk's precision.

A golden glow caught her eye, the Starshard on the far right blazing with Light. The second-year student beside her, appointed as an overseer, leaned in with a teasing grin.

"Your grade might bag a derivative this year, huh, Sylviora?"

Sylviora's lips twitched, a spark of anticipation in her eyes.

"Of course, I hope so. My days without competition have been dreadfully dull." Her tone dripped with confidence, bordering on arrogance, and her senior shot her a look... there she goes again.

But Sylviora's gaze lingered on the fading golden light, a rare smile tugging at her lips. "Caelumis, huh?" she whispered, committing the name to memory.

Before her senior could respond, a commotion erupted at another Aethercart. The Starshard there stood dark, its surface dull and lifeless, refusing to glow.

Sylviora's eyes widened, a rare crack in her composed facade. "Attributeless?" she murmured, disbelief lacing her voice.

Her senior gaped, her voice rising. "What's wrong with this group this year?"