The train lurched.
For the first ti in seven days, the shadows rose. The desert outside rippled, trembled. A low rumble echoed beneath the wheels—like sothing vast shifting in its sleep.
Then, like a curtain being torn away, the scenery flickered.
The Shadow Realm vanished.
In its place— rusted tal, cracked concrete, flickering lights overhead. The train screeched to a halt inside an underground tunnel—an abandoned subway reeking of age and decay. The atmosphere snapped back to reality— weighty, gritty, real.
The doors hissed open.
Zephyr stood, along with the others.
Seven days of silence. Seven days of stillness.
Now it was over.
One by one, the passengers stepped off the train, their legs unsteady, shoes clacking against the grimy tunnel floor. Dust hung thick in the air. Nobody spoke. The only sound was the distant whine of wind cutting through the passage.
Then—the shadows moved.
It started with a flicker along the walls. Then ca the surge.
Darkness rushed forward like a tide, swallowing the ceiling, the floor, the very space between atoms. It wasn't shadow. It had weight. It pressed. It invaded.
Zephyr's senses exploded.
It wasn't just darkness. It was mass. A closing fist.
His instincts roared.
"It's a trap—move!"
He jumped, enhanced strength launching him off the ground. He twisted mid-air, aiming to vault over the rushing tide.
But it was too fast.
The shadow snapped up—and swallowed him whole.
Then—
Nothing.
No suffocation. No pressure. No pain.
Just an endless silence.
Then—light.
The darkness burst like a shattered dream. Zephyr fell. Gravity returned in a rush. He slamd into soft grass, rolling hard, instinct keeping him from injury.
He ca to a stop and pushed himself up.
Everyone nearby was staring at him like he'd just grown horns. It was then he realized that they were teleported from wherever that underground railroad was to this location.
With and embarrassed expression he dusted himself off, refusing to et their eyes.
'Stop looking at like that... How was I supposed to know we weren't being attacked? No one ever taught about the other clans.' He scowled to himself. 'And besides, what would you do if it felt like the world was closing in on you?'
That was what his spatial sense sent him, it was like everything was closing in on him. His body reacted before he could even think.
But then he looked up—and paused.
The breath left his lungs.
'This world seriously doesn't know how to be normal.'
They stood on an endless erald adow, bathed in cool wind. The sky above was a deep bruised violet, clouds stretched like painted strokes. Far in the distance, hills crested the horizon.
But no one looked at the sky.
Their attention was pulled forward—to the thing that dominated everything.
A colossal structure, rising like a mountain built by gods.
Spires pierced the heavens. Marble steps, wide as rivers, led to towering arched gates inscribed with glowing runes. The walls shimred—part circuitry, part stone, pulsing faintly with life. A strange harmony of ancient and futuristic design.
Then—a voice.
It thundered across the adow, shaking the marrow in their bones. No mouth spoke it, yet it was heard by all.
"Welco to the Academy."
Zephyr barely had ti to breathe in the strange, clean air before the voice returned. This ti, it was sharper—less ceremonial, more like a command.
"Step forward. All new initiates, proceed toward the Academy gates. Orientation and entrance protocols will begin shortly."
The gates groaned open, revealing a sprawling city-like fortress within. The Academy was not a single structure—it was an entire domain, with towering spires, flowing rivers of Aether, floating arenas, and massive bridges connecting the separate districts.
'This certainly isn't what an academy is supposed to look like'. Zephyr was sure if it
It wasn't a place designed to forge people into being better.
"Those bearing the Black Tortoise symbol, proceed to the East Wing."
"Those bearing the Red Phoenix symbol, proceed to the South Wing."
"Azure Dragon symbol—North Wing."
"White Tiger symbol—West Wing."
The mont the nas were called, flickers of energy glowed on everyone's skin. Zephyr flinched as he felt sothing moving on his wrist. Looking down he could see a Phoenix symbol unfurling on his wrist
He took a breath and glanced around. Other initiates were also checking their marks. So looked excited, others confused or even horrified depending on their designation. A girl near him was visibly shaking, clutching her arm as the Black Tortoise emblem faded into visibility.
No ti was given for chatter or adjustnt. The voice had already fallen silent, and figures wearing the sa uniforms but different colored ties had begun moving from within the gates, directing each group toward their assigned wings.
Zephyr turned westward following behind the rest of people who were heading westward, following closely behind soone he decerned as a senior in the school.
From where he stood, the West Wing was partially visible—its architecture stark and severe. The structure was built in steps, like terraces carved into a sharp mountainside, with jutting balconies and training grounds suspended in midair. White stone clashed with dark tal, and energy lines pulsed beneath translucent tiles.
There was no grandeur there. Just function and edge.
He moved with the others taking in the novelty of the school. Then he felt sothing— sothing familiar, he stood and surveyed the environnt with a frown, the rest of the people was already ahead of him, shaking off the feeling he began to move forward until he heard a voice, an all too familiar voice.
"Yo red hair Wait".
Reviews
All reviews (0)