The outer perimeter of the Celestial Academy had long grown silent, the trial bells echoing one last chime before fading into the sea of dusk-lit clouds. A light wind stirred the tall goldengrass, its glow dimming beneath the twilight veil. Rows of floating jade platforms held watching elders, instructors, and recording scribes. Among them, a few noble spectators lounged behind privacy veils of spiritual fog.
A single figure stood at the base of a spiraling staircase made of amethyst rock—Nocth.
He had no idea why his name had been drawn first, nor why Shae' had watched him with that unreadable glint in her eyes right before the announcement. There was something behind her calm… almost protective. Yet she said nothing.
The spiraling staircase led to the garden.
Nocth's boots made no sound as he climbed, and his heart didn't race the way others' might. His pulse was quiet—not because he was calm, but because he was distant. There was something about this moment, about this place, that felt... familiar.
Not in the way memories returned.
In the way dreams echo.
The Garden for Testing was no ordinary terrain. Formed by ancient Celestial Architects from the Zyreon Clan—renowned Runic Builders—it was said to react differently for every disciple who entered. The environment shifted with the resonance of the individual's potential, fear, desire, and most importantly—vein alignment.
When Nocth stepped past the garden gate, the scenery changed instantly.
The skies above flickered. What was once a serene violet evening became filled with floating petals of crimson mist. Large flowers, some breathing like living beasts, others frozen in glass-like bloom, rose around him. Trees with veined, luminescent bark twisted upward, humming as though whispering a tune from a forgotten star.
Nocth stared forward. He felt something crawling beneath the soil—not a creature, but an instinct. A ripple across the earth matched the pulse within his chest.
"So quiet," he murmured, eyes narrowing.
Then came the rustle.
From behind a crimson-blooming shrub, something stirred. A creature, low to the ground but large, its body like stitched moss and glowing vines, emerged. Its maw glowed with spores, and its eyes were deep spheres of glistening void.
A garden beast.
Born of the testing law itself.
Malleable. Fierce. Designed to break spirit more than body.
Nocth instinctively took a step back—but not from fear. It was confusion. His legs moved before he willed them to. His body wanted to act, but his mind was blank.
The beast lunged.
He ducked low, rolling under a whiplash of vines. The creature twisted mid-air, screeching, and sent a pulse that made several roots shoot from the ground like spears.
Nocth stumbled, his hand catching a strange branch—its touch was warm. For a moment, the world turned still. A haze blanketed his mind.
And in that breath between heartbeats—
He saw a figure.
A child. Barefoot. Floating upside-down. His face was obscured, yet his smile cracked the veil of time itself.
Then, the vines shattered before him. Not by effort. Not by will.
By reaction.
A field of golden-white thread shimmered outward from his palm—thin as breath, yet glistening like silk from beyond this world. The beast halted, growled, and whimpered back into the mists, slowly dissolving.
The trial bell rang. The gate opened. Nocth stood alone, blinking as if waking from sleep.
And in the distance, hidden among the branches, two observers whispered.
One was Shae', her expression unreadable.
The other, veiled in the shade of a giant lotus, was Ezrel—his smile too calm.
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