Astral Era, Year 7635 – Day 1 of the Fifth Cycle
The air at the Altamira Academy of Solaria buzzed with a mix of anticipation and tension. The Grand Stellar Tournament was approaching, and though no one said it aloud, everyone felt this time would be different.
Every step echoed through the hallways like a chorus of collective suspense—a symphony of restrained adrenaline. Students trained in the open fields, their eyes locked on their movements, though their minds were clearly elsewhere.
Jake watched from a corner of the courtyard. He wasn't taking part in the training today. Not now. It was no longer just about preparing the body—it was about understanding the weight of what was at stake.
There was a different energy in the air, something that made him more alert than usual. Sophia walked beside him, arms swinging carelessly.
"Look at them," Sophia said with a mocking grin, pointing at a group of guys punching the air as if fighting giants. "It's like they're training to survive a massacre... when we all know they're just here to lose—spectacularly."
"Massacre?" Jake let out a dry chuckle. "Come on, the only things dying here are egos."
Sophia tossed a rock into the air, catching it with ease. "Same difference. They'll all come out of this defeated or humiliated... Or worse, kicked out of the competition like me," she said with a dramatic wave of her hand. "Thanks for playing, miss. Better luck in the next life."
Jake smirked but said nothing. He knew Sophia had given up—that anything related to stellar energy meant nothing to her anymore. But he also knew the tension at the academy wasn't just about the tournament. Something else had shifted, something he couldn't yet define.
As they walked through the courtyard, a familiar figure appeared before them. Raven, with his usual mysterious air, approached. Jake had never fully trusted him, but he didn't have any reason to distrust him either. Not yet.
"Ready for the big day?" Raven asked, his voice calm, though his eyes seemed to study every reaction.
"Sure, if by 'big day' you mean watching an endless line of people get humiliated," Sophia replied, tossing the rock to the ground and stepping on it playfully. "I can't wait."
Jake merely nodded, glancing sideways at Raven. Something in his tone was off. It wasn't casual conversation—it felt more like he was testing the waters.
"Some see it as an opportunity," Raven murmured, crossing his arms. "Others… a trap."
Jake raised an eyebrow, but before he could reply, a tall, dark figure slid between the shadows like a predator gliding through its domain—Zephyr Blackthorn.
Zephyr's mere presence was magnetic. Something in his stride suggested he already knew exactly how everything would unfold… and that he was enjoying the show before it even began.
No one really knew what Zephyr was doing at the academy, but he wandered the grounds like he owned the place. And somehow, that felt… right.
Zephyr paused, just close enough for Jake to feel his presence, but far enough to avoid being intrusive. He eyed Raven with narrowed eyes, as if he'd already reached a conclusion.
"Interesting…" Zephyr murmured to himself, barely audible, before vanishing as quickly as he had appeared.
Jake's heart began to beat faster. He didn't know why, but whenever Zephyr was near, the atmosphere shifted—heavier, charged. What does he know that we don't? he thought.
"That guy..." Sophia began, but stopped as she noticed Raven still watching the direction Zephyr had disappeared in.
"Just another spectator," Raven said, though his tone carried something different this time—something even he couldn't fully hide.
Jake narrowed his eyes, noticing the leader of the occult club seemed more contemplative than usual. Something's off, he thought. And if there was one thing Jake was good at, it was reading people.
Everything was about to change… but neither he, nor Sophia, nor even Raven could imagine how much.
The interior of the occult club was shrouded in near-total darkness. Only the dim flicker of a sputtering candle lit the walls, covered in ancient symbols and dusty tomes.
The atmosphere was thick, charged with a haunting energy—as if the shadows stretching across the floor were alive, watching. Raven, the room's sole occupant, sat at the center in silent meditation.
The other club members had left hours ago, but Raven always found a reason to stay. Solitude has a way of clearing the mind, he often thought. And in this place, far from the academy's noise, he could feel the energy flowing—always present, still untamed.
The candle's faint flicker made Raven open his eyes. The air shifted, as if an invisible door had been opened to something… darker. What is this? he thought, unmoving.
There was no one else—he knew that. But the presence he felt was undeniable. Something was there with him, something that didn't belong to this plane.
A strange chill began to seep through the walls, and the candle's flame seemed to falter, as if some unseen force were stealing its light.
Raven frowned, scanning the room for an explanation, but all he found was the oppressive silence now surrounding him. He tried to dismiss the feeling, but his instincts screamed something was terribly wrong.
Then he felt it—a faint breeze, too cold for an enclosed room, and a soft creak behind him. Raven spun around sharply. Nothing. Nothing, except for a shadow in the corner that hadn't been there before.
"Who's there?" he asked, his voice firm, though his heart was beating faster.
The shadow didn't respond. But something about it moved, as if writhing beneath its own darkness. Then, from the gloom, a figure began to emerge—slowly, deliberately.
First, the outline of a tall man, poised and elegant. Then, the flickering candlelight revealed what he truly was: a black, cracked mask, emanating a faint purple glow.
The eyes behind the mask were twin voids—cold and impenetrable.
Raven held his breath. He didn't need to ask who it was. The presence said it all.
Zephyr Blackthorn.
The silence in the room grew heavier, almost tangible. Raven said nothing at first, watching as Zephyr drifted closer, finally standing right in front of him.
Zephyr's disturbing calm enveloped everything, and though he hadn't made a single threatening move, just being there filled the space with unbearable tension.
"Raven Lockhart," Zephyr's voice was deep, resonant, with a quality that made the room feel smaller. "I've heard… things about you."
Raven's heart pounded, though he kept a composed exterior. He knew he was facing something far greater than he understood, but he couldn't afford to show weakness.
"What kind of things?" Raven asked, his voice slightly lower than he'd intended.
Zephyr didn't reply immediately. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if studying Raven—as if his eyes could see through his skin, into everything within.
Each passing second tightened the pressure in Raven's chest, but he wouldn't yield. Not yet.
"Things that suggest… potential," Zephyr finally said, his voice softer, but no less unnerving. "But potential, without direction, is… worthless."
The silence that followed hit like a marble slab. Raven felt the air thicken, nearly unbreathable.
And though a part of him screamed to run, he couldn't move. Zephyr had total control of the moment, and every word fell like iron.
Zephyr stepped closer, and the cold deepened.
"I wonder..." Zephyr murmured, almost to himself. "How far you'd go… if someone gave you the right direction."
The candle flickered once more, and for a heartbeat, everything froze.
Raven struggled to stay composed, but every second in that room with Zephyr felt like being crushed under invisible weight. Stay calm, he told himself. This is just a conversation. Nothing more. But deep down, he knew it wasn't. Not with Zephyr.
"The right direction, huh…" Raven repeated, forcing a tight smile, trying to project confidence.
He was a leader, after all. He couldn't let this intruder see him falter. "And what kind of direction are you offering?"
The silence after his question was like an invisible slap.
Zephyr didn't move an inch, but his presence became even heavier, more suffocating. Every word, every gesture seemed to carry an unbearable weight.
And as Raven tried to plan his next move, the room itself felt smaller—like the walls were closing in.
"I offer… possibilities," Zephyr finally answered, his voice barely above a whisper. Each word seeped into Raven's mind like poison—soft, yet corrosive. "But of course, not everyone is ready for what's coming."
Raven tried to reply, but the words died in his throat.
There was something in the way Zephyr looked at him, as if he already knew his thoughts before Raven had even formed them.
As if he knew exactly where to strike to shake the foundations of the beliefs Raven had built his entire life upon.
"What… do you want from me?" he managed to ask at last, the knot in his stomach tightening.
Zephyr stepped closer, so slowly it almost looked like he was gliding. The chill in the room grew sharper, and the candle still burning flickered erratically, as if it were on the verge of going out.
"It's not about what I want from you, Raven," Zephyr said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge, like the blade of a dagger hidden beneath velvet. "It's about what you can become."
Raven swallowed hard, his mind racing for a way out—for any angle from which he could regain control of the conversation. This was his ground, his club, his domain of power. He couldn't let this stranger dominate him so easily.
But as he tried to gather his thoughts, every possible path he considered shut down before him. It was as if the options he once believed he had were being swallowed one by one under Zephyr's looming presence.
"Don't fool yourself," Zephyr murmured, leaning in just enough that Raven could feel his presence pressing closer.
"The power you seek, the answers you crave… you won't find them in those books you cherish. Not even in the rituals you practice so diligently."
A cold sweat ran down Raven's back. How does he know? he thought, heart pounding. No one outside the club should know what happened during those meetings—no one who wasn't directly involved.
"You don't understand it yet, but you will," Zephyr continued, his words coiling around Raven like serpents, strangling any attempt at resistance.
"Everything you've done up to now has been… child's play. And I… I can teach you real power."
The candle flickered violently—then went out, plunging the room into a darkness so thick it seemed to absorb every last trace of hope. Raven stood up abruptly, but his legs trembled beneath him, as if his body was already surrendering to the pressure.
"I… I don't need your power," he said, the effort behind the words costing him more than he'd ever admit.
But even as he said it, he knew his voice lacked conviction. Zephyr's silence was damning, as if no answer was needed to expose the truth Raven didn't dare admit.
The cold in the room wasn't just physical—it was something deeper, something that began to seep into his mind, his soul. And for a fleeting moment, panic flared through him.
"Do you really think you have a choice?" Zephyr took another step forward, and though he didn't touch him, the weight of his presence was crushing. "Every step you take, every decision you make, brings you closer to the edge. And once you've seen the abyss… you can't look away."
Raven's breathing quickened. He tried to focus, to find some escape route, but all his mind could conjure were shadows and emptiness. There's no way out, he realized silently, as despair began to take hold.
"You can reject it," Zephyr went on, almost relishing every word. "You can pretend you still have control over your destiny. But in the end, we all reach the same point, Raven. We all face the abyss. The only question is… will you be the one who falls, or the one who masters it?"
His words echoed in Raven's mind, each one tearing down the walls he had so carefully built around himself.
He tried to fight back, to resist—but with each passing second, Zephyr drew closer to staining his soul with that dark energy, that terrifying, infinite force of the starborn void.
And as the darkness engulfed them completely, Raven realized he was closer to the fall than he had ever been.
The sun bathed the gardens of Altamira Academy in soft hues, painting the sky with warm tones that stood in stark contrast to the organized chaos of preparations for the grand tournament.
Jake walked through the corridors of the main building, oblivious to the hidden tensions lurking in the darker corners of the academy.
For him, that afternoon was about making sure the decorations were in place and that the registration process didn't become an administrative disaster.
"Jake! We need more ribbons here!" shouted a voice from across the courtyard, as a few students wrestled with a stubborn banner that refused to stay up. Jake sighed—but he couldn't help smiling.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming," he replied, waving his hand as he quickened his pace. These kinds of tasks always relaxed him; the routine, the teamwork, the excitement of a big event like the tournament. It was simple—and it gave him the perfect excuse to avoid thinking about more complicated things.
He was headed toward the registration table when he ran straight into one of his friends—Kyle—who seemed to be locked in a losing battle with a decorative fabric roll.
"Seriously, Kyle? Can't even handle a little fabric?"
Jake raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, it's not as easy as it looks, okay? This thing's got a mind of its own," Kyle grumbled, struggling with the rebellious cloth that seemed determined to entangle itself in everything.
Jake laughed, grabbing one end and placing it into position with ease.
"There. Now just… hold it in place, will you?" he said with a wink, as Kyle gave him a look that mixed gratitude and mild annoyance.
"You're a wizard, Jake, but I refuse to admit you just saved my life," Kyle muttered with a smirk, making both of them chuckle.
The atmosphere around the academy buzzed with excitement. Students rushed around, making sure every detail was perfect for the tournament, and despite the frenzy, there was a strong sense of camaraderie.
Laughter echoed from every corner, and the air was thick with gossip about who might take the title of champion.
As Jake crossed the courtyard, a younger student from the decoration team—Lily—ran up to him, panic written all over her face.
"Jake! Jake! The vice principal wants someone to take the final registration forms to her, and… and I think she's going to eat me if I go alone!" she exclaimed, eyes wide as saucers.
Jake chuckled gently, kneeling a bit to be on her level.
"Relax, Lily. The vice principal doesn't bite… at least not on Tuesdays," he said with a mischievous grin, earning a nervous giggle from her.
"But Jake… it's not Tuesday," she replied, still clearly on edge.
"That's exactly why we're going together. I promise I won't leave you alone with her," he joked as they walked toward the vice principal's office.
Jake could feel the tension of the past few days slowly fading away—at least for him. All he had to do now was keep himself busy with decorations, sign-ups, and the never-ending to-do lists.
The tournament had always been his favorite part of the academy. Not because of the competition itself, but because of what it meant for everyone: a chance to escape daily responsibilities and dive into something bigger, something that brought everyone together.
On the way to the vice principal's office, they paused near a small fountain, where a few students had started splashing water around, soaking some unsuspecting passersby.
"Same as always," Jake muttered, but he couldn't help smiling at the scene.
"Hey, Jake! You joining or what?" one of the guys shouted from the edge of the fountain, flinging a splash his way.
"Nope! I've got work to do," Jake replied, raising his hands in surrender. "But don't start the rematch without me!"
As they continued walking, Jake noticed something odd in the air. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable, but there was a stillness in certain corners of the academy, as if the laughter and noise were just a mask.
He shook his head, trying not to dwell on it. Probably just the stress of the preparations.
At the vice principal's office, they handed in the forms without issue, and Jake said goodbye to Lily, who finally seemed more at ease. On his way back to the courtyard, his phone buzzed in his pocket. A sly smile spread across his face as he read the message—it was from Sophia.
"Did they drench you yet or are you still the poster boy for responsibility?" she teased.
"You'd be surprised. Still holding down the title of role model," he shot back.
Her reply came quickly: "Bet you a coffee you won't stay dry till the end of the day."
Jake chuckled to himself, slipping the phone away. The day was moving along smoothly, and little by little, everything was falling into place.
The decorative arches were up, banners hung proudly from the windows, and the students were more excited than ever.
Still, that strange feeling lingered in Jake's mind. Something in the air felt off, like he was walking on the surface of something deep and dark—but he couldn't quite see what lay beneath.
He paused for a moment, glancing toward the building where the occult club was based. He didn't know why, but his eyes always ended up there, as if something was pulling him in.
"It's just my imagination," he told himself, turning back toward his tasks.
The tournament would be a success—he was sure of it. And for now, that was all that mattered.
Back in the occult club, the atmosphere remained stifling, though calmer than it had been during the final moments of Raven and Zephyr's encounter.
Silence reigned—not an empty silence, but one that whispered things no one could fully understand, a silence that felt alive, as if the very walls were guarding ancient, dark, and dangerous secrets.
Raven had been left alone after Zephyr's departure, though his presence still seemed to cling to the room. He stood in the center, trying to calm the storm that strange meeting had left behind. His mind raced, desperate for a rational explanation.
But there wasn't one.
No matter how hard he tried to make sense of it, something inside him had changed. And the worst part was—he knew it.
It felt like Zephyr had planted something inside him, something already taking root. The darkness he had felt during their conversation hadn't vanished—it had just hidden, waiting for the right moment to return.
"Damn it…" he muttered, rubbing his temples, trying to shake the gnawing sense of vulnerability.
For the first time in a long while, Raven felt out of control. And that was intolerable.
Suddenly, a soft tearing sound—like fabric ripping—broke the stillness. Raven tensed. The room looked empty, but that sound made him step back, instinctively searching for something to defend himself with. His eyes scanned the room—nothing seemed out of place.
At least, that's what he thought… until he saw it.
Right where Zephyr had stood just minutes ago—there was something on the floor. A mark. A black scorch-like stain, as if darkness itself had briefly solidified before fading.
Raven frowned and stepped closer. The air around the mark was colder, and for a moment, he felt like if he got too close, it might drag him somewhere he could never return from.
"What the hell is this…?" he muttered, crouching down. As he reached out to touch it, a sharp chill shot through his fingers, making him yank his hand back instantly.
That cold wasn't natural.
The clubroom door slammed open, and light from the hallway spilled inside, dispelling part of the oppressive gloom. Raven jumped to his feet, every muscle tense, ready for anything.
But it wasn't Zephyr.
It was one of the younger club members—a boy named Erwin—staring at him in confusion.
"Raven? What are you doing here so late?" he asked, stepping closer. "I thought everyone had gone home."
Raven didn't respond right away. Part of him wanted to explain what had happened, but how could he put it into words—especially when he barely understood it himself? Mentioning Zephyr might open a door he wasn't ready to face.
"I just... stayed longer than I meant to," he finally said, forcing a smile. "Was going through a few books, you know."
Erwin raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but didn't press further. Instead, he glanced around, noting the strange atmosphere still lingering in the room.
"This place feels... weird," he said, rubbing his arms. "You sure you're okay?"
Raven nodded, more to reassure Erwin than because he actually felt okay. He knew he needed to leave the clubroom tonight—but he couldn't stop thinking about that mark on the floor and Zephyr's parting words, still echoing in his head:
"Everything you've done so far... has been child's play."
That phrase repeated over and over, like a sentence he couldn't escape.
"Yeah... I just need a break," he murmured, trying to sound convincing. "I'll lock up for the night."
Erwin gave him a quick nod and patted him on the shoulder. "See you tomorrow then. Get some rest, Raven."
Once Erwin left, Raven stood at the doorway for a moment, staring into the room's deepening shadows. He was about to close the door when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—the candle that had nearly gone out during Zephyr's visit suddenly flickered back to life, its flame swaying gently in the darkness.
A silent warning.
Raven shut the door harder than he'd meant to and walked briskly toward the dorms. But as he left, he couldn't shake the feeling that—even though he had walked away from that room—something had followed him.
Something that wouldn't let him go so easily.