Riddles, Rules, and Reality Checks

Asdras adjusted the straps of his new armor, the leather creaking softly under his fingers. The morning air was crisp, nipping at his cheeks as he made his way toward the academy's registration. Each step felt heavier than the last. Yesterday, he and Brian had parted ways, and now an emptiness clung to him — a missing piece in the pattern of his daily life.

He pulled his cloak tighter, the fabric brushing against the lute slung over his shoulder. The instrument had always been a source of solace, its melodies weaving through his fingers with ease. Yet today, even the lute's familiar weight couldn't chase away the lingering sense of loss. Without Brian — the only friend he had — the world seemed unbalanced.

A word eluded him, a way to describe this ache. It was like the melancholic notes of a song he couldn't quite capture. A nostalgic longing mingled with a bittersweet sadness, amplifying his awareness of how fleeting moments could be. The realization stirred a deeper melancholy, a yearning for something unnamed.

The academy. This place held the pieces of the puzzle he sought to solve about himself. But what price would these answers demand? What trials waited beyond those doors? Uncertainty coiled in his stomach, a silent warning he couldn't ignore.

Lost in thought, he nearly stumbled upon a gathering of youths by a shimmering lake. Their animated chatter and excited whispers were a stark contrast to his introspection. He adjusted the buckle on his bracer, fingers tracing aimless patterns on the worn leather. Questions swirled in his mind.

"How do I know how to use this?" he murmured. The armor felt familiar, each strap and clasp falling into place without thought. "We learned some things from Joe, but we never wore one... so how?"

The thrill of receiving the armor had overshadowed any confusion at the time. It had fit seamlessly, as if molded for him alone. Like wielding a sword or playing the lute, the motions came unbidden — a dance his muscles remembered even if his mind did not.

A sigh escaped him as he looked up, finally taking in the scene before him. Three figures stood near the Garden Chief's entrance, clad in emerald-blue attire that blended leather and fabric effortlessly. Pale blue jackets bore an emblem — a white belt above a yellow eye. Masks concealed their faces except for narrow slits over their eyes and noses.

'The academy...' Asdras nodded to himself. 'I wonder who they are. Students? Teachers? Are they Awakened?'

He scanned the small crowd. Only a few were around his age — a surprisingly sparse number. He'd expected more aspirants but recalled hearing this was the last batch. It made sense, yet a nagging feeling suggested there should have been others.

Then he saw her.

Asdras went perfectly still. The girl from the alchemy shop stood among the others, her golden hair catching the light, cascading over her shoulders in gentle waves. Blue eyes that mirrored the depths of a calm sea glanced around, and the emblem on her cloak gleamed faintly. A familiar emblem. His hands tingled with an inexplicable heat.

'Why?' he wondered, confusion tightening his brow. 'Do I know her? Is she family? Does she know me?'

An array of questions pressed against his thoughts, each without an answer. Whether it was his unwavering gaze or her own intuition, she looked his way, offering a polite smile. His heart lurched. Nearby, a boy chuckled, and others stared as if he were an oddity. But the weight of another's gaze pulled his attention — the masked woman from the academy. He recalled her voice but not her words. A shiver traced his spine under the intensity of her stare, irritation and annoyance palpable even from a distance.

"Again, and for the last time," the woman announced sharply, her voice cutting through the murmurs. "I'm Elvira. You are the last batch. Time's ticking faster than a fox in a henhouse, so let's rustle up. Before we start, gotta set some ground rules and offer y'all one last chance to get out!"

Elvira stepped back, making way for the figure on her left. A tall man stepped forward, his posture rigid, commanding attention with a mere shift.

"Attention!" His voice rang out clearly, silencing any remaining whispers. "My name is Edsel. Let me lay it out plain and simple for you all."

He raised a finger, the gesture precise. "First, this ain't a walk in the farm fields. This registration is a deal sealed in blood, binding you to the academy. Break it, and... well, call for me when you do — I'd enjoy watching you suffer."

A second finger joined the first. "Second, it's about the Eruption. Once you're in, you gotta choose: face it head-on or serve the academy for five long years. Lucky for you all, there's an Eruption in the next few months."

Edsel paused, letting the weight of his words settle over them. Asdras felt the seriousness of the contract pressing upon him, more so than the mention of the Eruption itself. A subtle warmth flickered in his right hand, momentarily distracting him. Around him, others exchanged uneasy glances; some whispered among themselves, while a few stood resolute.

"And third," Edsel continued, his tone unyielding, "never break the academy's rules. You'll be handed a list after your awakening. Don't go thinking your family will bail you out. Our system plays fair! Now think — do you want to go or not?"

Asdras observed the shifting expressions of those around him. Lisandra's gaze met his briefly before she looked ahead, determination clear in her eyes. Doubt flickered across the faces of several youths. One by one, six of them chose to step back, their dreams weighed against unspoken fears.

He watched them leave, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. Questions surfaced — would he have made the same choice if his past weren't a blank slate? If he had a family waiting for him, would he risk it all for the unknown? But the promise he'd made to Brian echoed in his mind, and his curiosity burned brighter than any apprehension.

For many, the academy represented a beacon of hope — a chance to grasp power and forge a new path. Tales of the Awakened captivated the imaginations of common folk, offering a glimpse into a world beyond the mundane struggles of daily life. The allure was undeniable.

Now, only three remained: Asdras, Lisandra, and a hooded boy who stood a bit apart from the others. A faint smile touched Asdras's lips at the thought of sharing this journey with the girl who stirred such inexplicable feelings within him.

"Well, that's more than in my time," Elvira remarked, a hint of amusement threading through her words. "Alright, since there are three of you and three of us, each for one. Girl, come here."

"Hey, you there with the scar," the third figure called out, pointing to the hooded boy. "Come on over."

"Well then, since Cactus got him," Edsel turned his masked face toward Asdras, "you're with me."

Asdras approached Edsel, who retrieved a yellow scroll from within his cloak. Intricate symbols bordered the parchment, faintly glowing as if imbued with latent energy. Asdras squinted, attempting to decipher the letters, but a sharp sting pierced his eyes. He blinked, stepping back.

"Unless you've got luck on your side," Edsel chuckled softly, a sound both amused and knowing, "you'll only be able to read this after you become an Awakened, boy. Three questions. First, your name and where you come from."

A momentary hesitation gripped Asdras. "Asdras from the village of Bamor," he replied. The name felt both familiar and foreign on his tongue — a tether to an identity he couldn't fully grasp. Questions spiraled within him, each answer leading only to deeper uncertainty.

Nearby, he heard the others respond.

"Lisandra Noctis," the girl stated with a firm voice, confidence underlying her words.

"Joah Numbra," the hooded boy spoke, his tone carrying a hint of an accent, steady and unapologetic.

The first question probed deeper than mere formality. In this land, a name was more than a label — it was a declaration of one's essence, a beacon that defined their place in the world. To be without a name was to drift among the forgotten, shadowed by obscurity. Philosophers preached the value of authenticity, holding that to hide one's true self was a betrayal more grievous than deceit itself. As the saying went, "To be nameless is worse than drinking rat's piss."

Edsel continued, his gaze inscrutable behind the mask. "What do you seek?"

"To find myself," Asdras answered promptly. The clarity of his own words surprised him. Edsel tilted his head slightly, perhaps intrigued by the response.

"For my honor and the honor of my family," Lisandra declared, her posture straight, eyes unwavering.

"Money," Joah said bluntly, his expression concealed but his intent clear.

The second question hung in the air, a silent challenge. What did they truly desire? At their age, ambition was both a guiding star and a distant dream. Were their goals mere illusions, shaped by naivety, or solid foundations upon which to build their futures? In that moment, their answers were like arrows shot into the night — aimed with purpose, but the targets unseen.

Edsel reached into a pouch, producing a small stone. Unremarkable at first glance, its surface was marred only by a tiny white triangle that pulsed with a gentle glow.

"Take this," he instructed, placing the cool stone into Asdras's hand. "Hold it firmly and press it against your other wrist."

Asdras followed the command. The stone warmed in his grasp, a subtle thrum coursing through his veins. It felt as if unseen eyes were observing him from within, unraveling secrets he didn't know he held.

"Are you a seeker of the darkness?" Edsel's voice resonated with a grave intensity.

"No," the trio responded in unison, their voices steady.

The final question was a formality, yet critical. Darkness lurked in the corners of their world, cultists weaving shadows into the fabric of society. Here in the North, such threats were ever-present, breeding in the cold and hidden places. The truth stone ensured their words matched their hearts, its magic dissolving deceit.

Satisfied, Edsel produced a slender needle, its tip glinting ominously. "Are you ready to seal the contract?"

Asdras nodded. A quick prick to his finger summoned a crimson bead. Before it could drip, he pressed it onto the scroll. A sudden vibration rippled through him, as if invisible threads wove tightly around his body. The sensation was fleeting but profound, leaving a lingering awareness of a bond formed — a contract sealed not just in blood but in something deeper.

"Now then," Elvira's clap echoed, pulling their attention back to her. "I reckon each of you has got your gear all sorted for the off, ain't ya? If so, let's hit the road!"

Asdras glanced at his companions. Lisandra adjusted the strap of her cloak, her eyes fixed ahead with determined focus. Joah shifted his weight, the hood shadowing his features as he hefted a worn satchel over his shoulder.

"A new chapter… I'm ready!" Asdras vowed to himself.