(Silfira's pov)
I never thought a five-minute walk could feel like wandering through a dream.
The moment we stepped out of the main hall, the air changed warm yet crisp, carrying a faint scent of blooming silverwisp flowers, their petals glowing faintly in the soft daylight. Above, arched bridges of white marble connected towers draped with vines that shimmered faintly, as if each leaf carried a trace of stardust. The streets were paved with smooth, opaline tiles that caught the light in ripples, almost like walking on a shallow stream.
Head Professor Darien walked ahead with his usual sharp stride, his coat flaring slightly with every step, boots clicking softly against the polished path. "All of you will be in one dorm," he said without looking back, his voice steady but authoritative. He glanced down at a sleek black tablet in his hand, the screen pulsing faintly with golden sigils. "A house good for fifteen people." He swiped at the screen with two fingers, eyes narrowing for a moment before a faint sigh escaped him. "Apparently… one of you is late."
He didn't even need to emphasize it for the group to feel the mild edge of dissatisfaction in his tone. A few heads turned, some exchanging curious looks. I, however, kept my gaze forward, wondering to myself who could be the one bold or foolish enough to make a late entrance to a place like this.
We walked a little further until the path curved and opened into a small plaza. At its center was a fountain unlike any I had seen. Instead of mere water, streams of luminous liquid, faintly violet, flowed upward in spiraling patterns before falling back into the basin with a sound like distant chimes. Tiny orbs of light danced above the surface, moving in time to some unseen rhythm. The basin itself was carved from a dark, iridescent stone, its edges etched with runes that pulsed faintly whenever the liquid touched them. The whole thing gave off a feeling both ancient and advanced, like it belonged to a civilization that had mastered both magic and science.
Beside the fountain stood a large pavilion-like tent, though "tent" was too simple a word for it. The frame was made of what looked like blacksteel bones, each one humming softly as if channeling energy. The fabric was a deep navy laced with threads of silver that caught the light whenever it shifted. Transparent panels occasionally flickered to opacity, shielding whoever was inside from the outside world, only to turn clear again in the blink of an eye. The flap entrance had no seams; instead, a faint vertical line of light appeared whenever someone passed through.
Head Professor Darien stopped near the fountain and turned to us. "While we wait here for the last person, Doctor Ruan will begin the initial assessments." His gaze swept over the group, lingering on a few of us as if silently evaluating something beyond appearance. Then he took a step away, tapping at his tablet again before lifting it closer to his mouth. His words into the small receiver were too soft for me to hear, but his posture was all business slightly tense, the kind of stance you take when giving direct orders.
Doctor Ruan stepped forward. He was tall, wearing a white coat that was far from ordinary it had patterns of faint blue circuitry-like veins running along the sleeves and collar, glowing faintly. His dark hair was pulled back neatly, though a few rebellious strands fell over his forehead. A half-smile curved his lips, the kind that didn't quite hide the sharpness in his gaze.
"Well then," he said, clapping his hands lightly. "Shall we?"
Before we could respond, Head Professor Darien turned back briefly. "I'll be a short distance away. Behave." And with that, he moved toward the far end of the plaza, tablet still in hand.
Doctor Ruan's eyes swept over us, measuring. "First things first," he began, his tone lighter than Darien's but still professional. "I'm Doctor Ruan Alastor. You'll be seeing quite a bit of me in the next few weeks, whether you like it or not." His grin widened slightly. "I'm in charge of ensuring you're alive enough to survive the year."
There were a few chuckles from the group. Even I couldn't help but find him strangely likable, despite the slightly unsettling precision of his stare.
"And that man," he added, jerking his thumb in Darien's direction, "is Head Professor Darien. He looks scary because he is. But he's also the reason you're all here. He doesn't waste time with people he doesn't believe in."
"I have a question," came a voice from somewhere on my left Zenjiro, if I remembered correctly. "About the letter. From yesterday uh, I mean, from… the first day we got it." He hesitated, as if unsure how much he was allowed to say. "It didn't really… explain everything."
Doctor Ruan's grin didn't falter. "Ah. The famous letter. Yes, I've heard a few complaints about its… mysterious nature." His gaze swept the group again, as if checking for how many of us were nodding. "Well, regarding that the Dean herself will explain the full details later. My job for now is to see what state you're in after your little… recruitment journey."
With that, he gestured toward the tent. "Inside. Let's get this over with."
The interior of the tent was far larger than its exterior suggested, the air cool and faintly scented with something herbal mint and something sharper, like ozone after lightning. A row of narrow diagnostic beds lined one wall, each with a floating screen above it, scrolling data in pale blue light. Sleek metallic cabinets stood on the opposite side, their surfaces so smooth they reflected our movements like mirrors. In the center, a holographic table projected a rotating 3D model of a human body, the musculature and nervous system highlighted in shifting colors.
We were guided one by one to the beds. The assessment felt part medical checkup, part… something more. First, they scanned our vitals with a device no bigger than a pen, its tip glowing faintly as it traced along our arms and neck. Then came a strange test where they placed thin, transparent patches on our temples when activated, they pulsed in rhythm with our heartbeat, and faint shapes danced in my peripheral vision.
They drew a small vial of blood, but instead of storing it, the liquid was immediately transferred into a crystal sphere that glowed faintly and dissolved the blood in seconds. Doctor Ruan made occasional notes on a floating screen, his slightly turned color green eyes sharp and unreadable.
At one point, he asked me to close my eyes and breathe slowly while holding a metal rod that hummed faintly in my grip. When I opened them, he was staring at me with that same half-smile.
"Interesting," was all he said.
Halfway through the process, Head Professor Darien returned. He stood at the tent's entrance for a moment before speaking. "The last one will be here in t-minus five minutes."
I was sitting on the edge of my bed, still feeling the faint buzz of whatever device they had used on me. I glanced toward the entrance. Darien's gaze was fixed somewhere past the fountain, his posture straight, almost expectant.
"Isn't that…" Asmera's voice broke the low murmur of the tent. She was standing near the flap, peering outside.
I followed her gaze and there, emerging from the far street, was a figure. He walked with an unhurried stride, as though the world would wait for him. His silhouette alone radiated something that made the air feel heavier.
"That's…" Asmera began, but her words were cut short by Doctor Ruan's voice, smooth and unhurried.
"Savero Algorian Raven."
The name seemed to settle over us like a whisper and a weight. The man approached until he stood in front of the fountain, his features now clear in the violet light. He was tall, with hair the color of blacksteel that fell just past his jaw, strands catching the light in faint silver streaks. His eyes were a deep, unsettling grey, like storm clouds moments before lightning. Even in stillness, he gave off the sense of coiled motion, like a predator watching from the shadows.
"God," Savero muttered, running a hand through his hair with a motion that was equal parts frustrated and effortless. "That damn conductor is really somethin'…"
His voice was low, with a lazy drawl that somehow made the words sound both careless and deliberate. There was a faint roughness to it, like he'd been speaking over wind for hours. As he stepped closer, I noticed the small details the faint scar along his jaw, the worn leather of his gloves, the way his gaze flicked over each of us not with curiosity, but with quiet calculation. Every movement felt practiced, like a man used to controlling the pace of every room he entered.
And yet… something about him felt strangely familiar.