The murmurs swell again, low and restless, a tide of curiosity and fear mingled together. I lift a hand, slow and deliberate, and the hall stills, the silence folding over them like a tangible thing, as if the air itself obeys. Even the faint scratch of a pen on paper halts.
"Now that you understand the price of aether," I begin, my voice firm, carrying over every corner of the room, "you need to understand the framework that governs how we use it."
Gwen steps aside, fluid and unyielding, letting the projector shift. A new diagram emerges, a silhouette of the human body, lit from within by five faint streams of light, branching from the core like roots, veins, lifelines. The diagram pulses, subtle but insistent, demanding attention.
"Inside every one of you," I continue, gesturing toward the glowing channels, "exist five paths. Think of them as channels, routes through which your aether travels and expresses itself in the world. Paths your body will recognize. Paths your mind will direct. Paths your imagination will shape."
A few students lean forward, their curiosity almost tactile. Even the cocky ones, the ones who think they already know everything, shift in their seats. They do not yet understand the weight of the words I'm about to say.
"No one is locked out of any path. Not a single human," I declare, tapping the center of my chest. "All five live within you. But your affinity—your instinctive alignment—will determine which one responds most naturally. It is the first whisper of your potential, not a limit. Not a chain. Just a starting point."
A hand rises, tentative. Small, anxious, determined. A first-year, nerves visible in every twitch of their fingers.
"But, sir… does affinity determine how strong you can become?"
I shake my head, letting my gaze travel over the room, letting the words sink.
"No. Strength is not dictated by affinity. Strength is dictated by technique. Finesse. And your ability to push your imagination beyond what your nerves tell you is possible." I let the silence linger. "Capacity," I add, voice dropping slightly, "is a lie the weak tell themselves when they hit a wall. The only real limit is how much of your own life you are willing to burn."
Gwen shoots me a sharp warning look from the side. I smile faintly, it was a little much for day one, I admit. But sometimes the truth is heavy, and there's no softening it.
I gesture toward the diagram, and the five paths flare in vibrant colors, each a living stream of potential.
"Let's break them down."
1. Boundary Users
The first path glows a cold, crystalline blue, forming a dome around the chest of the projected silhouette. The light expands, stretching outward, solidifying into a shifting barrier.
"Boundary users manipulate territory. Space. They can create a zone inside or outside their bodies where reality bends just slightly in their favor."
Students lean forward. A few mouths part, instinctively, as if they can feel the dome's weight.
"In your zone," I continue, "you can adjust temperature, pressure, sound, or the flow of energy. Reinforce your skin. Slow your heartbeat. Soften enemy attacks. Or sharpen your own. Masters of this path turn battlefields into coffins."
'' The more aether expended, the larger said zone grows.''
I let that sink in. The room is quiet, a wave of awe spreading through the first-years. Even the older students pause, momentarily impressed, their overconfidence checked by the power implied in a simple dome of light.
A humorless smile tugs at my lips. "It is not the strongest who survive," I add. "It is the one who shapes the world around them."
2. Creators
The next channel ignites, golden lines tracing geometric constructs around the figure. Cubes, triangles, platforms, and weapons appear, spinning, folding, expanding, each a manifestation of imagination made tangible.
"Creators," I say, "manifest constructs from pure aether. Tools. Weapons. Barriers. Platforms. Anything you can imagine—if your mind can hold its shape."
I point at the constructs, fractal and intricate. "The larger and more detailed the construct, the more aether it drains. A giant hammer? Cheap. A sword with a thousand cutting edges that move independently? That'll cost you everything you have and more."
A few students swallow nervously. The air feels heavier now, as if the constructs themselves are pressing into the room.
"Yes," Gwen adds, dry as ever, "Creators are walking aether siphons. And some of them blow themselves up. Do not be that student."
Some of the first-years shift uneasily. A second-year bites their lip, eyes flicking to their notes, trying to scribble guidance that doesn't exist.
3. Enforcers
The third channel pulses, deep red, spreading inward through the bones, veins, and nerves. The projection demonstrates in terrifying clarity: the silhouette's muscles densify, bones glow, eyes sharpen, and posture stiffens into readiness.
"Enforcers," I explain, "modify their bodies in extreme detail. Skeletal reinforcement. Enhanced senses. Accelerated blood flow. Hardened skin. Amplified strength. They are living weapons."
"But," I warn, "precise internal modification is delicate. One wrong calculation, and you tear something essential. Or several things essential."
A few first-years blanch. One grips the edge of their desk like it's a lifeline. A third-year scoffs, but his knuckles whiten as he grips his pen.
"Relax," Gwen mutters, "you'll only break yourselves if you're stupid."
Her words do little to calm the rising tension. The concept of weaponizing one's own body is enough to make even the bravest swallow hard.
4. Chemists
Thin, crimson threads now illuminate the bloodstream of the projected figure, weaving like molten rivers. "Chemists," I continue, voice steady but heavy, "are terrifying for one reason: alchemy within the living."
The projection shows the blood cells accelerating, transmuting, sparking. "They alter chemical reactions in any creature with blood. Speed, temperature, toxicity, healing rate, density, you name it."
A shiver runs through the hall. Students glance at each other, suddenly aware that a drop of blood could be a weapon, a tool, a curse.
"A Chemist with a single drop of blood in their enemy can ruin a life in a hundred creative ways," I say, letting the horror settle in.
Gwen mutters under her breath, "And that's why they're banned from kitchen duty."
A few students laugh nervously. The rest stare at the diagram, wide-eyed, calculating the potential they just glimpsed.
5. Alters
The final path glows a vivid, shifting purple, branching outward and connecting to a cube floating beside the figure. The cube twists, unfolds, transforms into mechanical structures, folding and reforming like liquid metal.
"Finally, Alters," I say, "specialists in reshaping the inanimate."
They can alter any non-living material, so long as they understand its internal design: weight, density, binding force, pattern, purpose. A broken machine becomes perfect. A fortress wall conceals traps. Stone and metal bend to their understanding.
I let the cube hover, twisting, expanding, solidifying in impossible ways. Some students lean forward, enchanted. Others recoil slightly, the power seeming unreal but terrifyingly real.
I step forward, letting the projection fade. Silence fills the hall like a heavy blanket. My words now hang alone in the air.
"You will all undergo affinity testing tomorrow. Some of you will discover a natural lean toward one path. Others may awaken two. A rare few may touch three." I hold up three fingers, letting the number linger in the charged silence.
"More than that is nearly impossible. The body cannot safely hold that much contradiction. It will break. It will rebel. It will kill you."
Whispers ripple through the hall. Excitement, fear, and awe mingle into a single, palpable current.
"But hear this," I say, voice firm as stone:
"Affinities do not make legends. Aether mastery does."
I flare my aura, not to threaten, but to demonstrate the raw energy flowing through control, imagination, and technique.
"Imagination," I say, letting each word resonate, "is your engine. Technique is your lifeline. And finesse… is what keeps you alive long enough to master either."
The silence stretches. Heavy. Electric. Ready to ignite.
Gwen steps beside me, her posture immaculate, her gaze sweeping the students like a promise of consequence.
"Students," she says, voice calm but resonant, "welcome to your beginning."
And for the first time tonight, the hall doesn't erupt with noise. It does not chatter, it does not whisper. It breathes. Together. Awakened. Primed.
Every pair of eyes is focused. Every mind spinning possibilities. Every heart pounding in recognition that this, right here, right now, is the foundation of everything they will become.
And I know, as I watch them, some will rise. Some will fall. But all will remember this night. The night they first glimpsed the five paths, and the infinite cost, and potential, of aether mastery.
The hall is alive. And for the first time tonight, it feels like the world outside these walls is already watching.