The days that followed were far more peaceful than Elior had expected.
He stayed at Lucen's home — a small house nestled among the lower cloud layers of Minas Solair, where the wind carried the scent of roasted corn and laughter.
Lucen's father, Baren Varell, was a slightly chubby man whose beard always looked like a bird's nest, but whose smile was impossibly warm. He worked at the Institute of Angelic Energy, often bringing home glowing shards of ether and telling stories that shook the whole dinner table with laughter.
"At the institute," he once said, "some energy cores can actually argue with each other!"
That sent both Elior and Lucen into a fit of laughter that left them choking on their tea.
Mornings were for reading together; at noon they basked in the sunlight on the rooftop; and at night they sat by the porch, watching clouds drift by as they talked about the spells they'd soon learn at Astra. Everything seemed too peaceful—so much so that Elior sometimes forgot the chilling presence he'd met in that dark alley.
One evening, as the last rays of sunlight brushed across the sky, a soft ting sounded outside the window.
A crystal shard hovered beyond the porch, glowing faintly like a candle flame.
Lucen was the first to rush out.
"The admission letters are here!"
Elior followed, watching as the shard turned slowly in midair. Then, from within it, a voice spoke — warm and clear, as if someone were speaking directly into their minds:
"To the newly admitted student Elior Venn,
Congratulations.
You have been officially accepted into Astra Academy, an institution dedicated to the training of beings capable of manipulating Ether energy.
Date of enrollment: The 15th of Light Month, at the Upper-Tier Transfer Gate — Northern Bastion.
Items required:
– One magical weapon (wand, staff, or seal).
– One standard magical robe.
– Four introductory textbooks:
1. Elementary Cosmology – The Heavens and the Structure of the Celestial Realms
2. Elementary Soul Studies – The Anatomy and Rebirth Cycle of the Self
3. Elementary Spellcraft – Foundations of Energy and Incantation
4. Elementary Dark Matter & Energy – Secrets Beyond the End of Light
Please be fully prepared.
We await your arrival at Astra.
— Headmaster Solomon."
Elior froze.
That name — Solomon — echoed in his mind like a cold chime.
He remembered it clearly: in that shadowy room, the figure named Belial had spoken of "the old man Solomon" in a voice dripping with mistrust.
A chill crept down Elior's spine.
He tightened his grip on the crystal, forcing his breathing to steady.
It couldn't be the same person… could it?
Meanwhile, Lucen was spinning his own admission shard with excitement.
"Look! I got accepted too! We're going to be classmates, Elior!"
Elior smiled faintly, hiding his unease deep inside.
"Yeah… that's great."
But his hand remained cold.
The next morning, they woke before dawn.
The sky above the upper clouds gleamed silver.
Baren himself drove the wind-carriage, taking the two boys toward the Northern Bastion, where the Transfer Gate to Astra awaited.
"My first time sending off two future angels!" — he laughed heartily, his belly wobbling like a round little cloud.
Lucen burst out laughing, and Elior smiled quietly, keeping one hand over the pouch that held the crystal shard.
The bastion was packed.
Everywhere were young students: angels with gleaming silver wings, sparkling elementals darting about, and even a few mischievous imps tossing fireballs into the air — earning shouts from the supervisors.
The atmosphere was alive, vibrant, overwhelming.
Elior's heart pounded as he watched.
This world was so much larger than he had ever imagined — and the gate before him seemed to open straight into his dreams.
In the center of the plaza stood four towering stone pillars carved with ancient runes. As the attendant spirit began the summoning chant, energy surged between them, weaving into a massive, glowing portal.
"Prepare yourselves! All newly admitted Astra students — step forward!"
The female voice rang out, clear and resonant.
Elior took a deep breath. Lucen clapped him on the shoulder.
"Come on, my friend. That's the gate to the heavens."
They grasped their luggage and stepped onto the white stone platform.
The light from the portal flared — like a hundred suns merging into one.
Elior glanced back one last time.
Far behind the crowd, he thought he saw a shadow standing still — or perhaps it was just an illusion.
He couldn't tell.
Then the light consumed everything.
The gate closed in silence.
And Elior knew — his true journey had begun.
The radiance faded, leaving the plaza empty once more.
The wind whispered, scattering a few forgotten admission papers that swirled upward before dissolving into the silver clouds.
High atop the northern tower of the bastion, a lone figure stood motionless.
A silver cloak trailed to the floor, swaying gently in the wind.
Beneath the moonlight, his pupil-less eyes reflected a cold gleam.
Remiel — Elior Venn's guardian — gazed toward the place where the gate had just closed.
He said nothing for a long while.
Only when a soft female voice spoke behind him did the silence break.
"He's gone, my lord."
Remiel tilted his head slightly.
Beside him stood Lyria, his assistant — her dark hair neatly tied, white glasses glinting faintly in the dim light. She was staring into the space where the transfer gate had vanished.
"Yes…" Remiel's voice was deep and metallic, echoing faintly.
"I felt it. His Ether flow wavered a little — but it's stable now."
Lyria smiled, her gaze softening.
"He's always like that. A little uncertain, but steady in his heart. You know… Elior reminds me of my first days at Astra."
Remiel looked down toward the plaza below.
For a brief moment, a pale blue hue flickered across his empty eyes.
"He shouldn't remember anything."
His words fell slow and heavy — like a warning to himself.
Lyria hesitated, then nodded quietly.
"I understand. Still…" — her voice softened — "I just hope he finds happiness, at least for a little while."
Remiel said nothing.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled — a faint, rare smile that softened the edges of his face.
"Lyria, let's go."
"Yes, my lord."
They stepped toward an ancient stone dais behind the tower.
Runes carved deep into the floor began to glow beneath their feet.
Remiel raised his silver staff and tapped it lightly against the ground.
A resonant clang rang out, as though the air itself trembled.
From the point of contact, a swirling silver portal blossomed open, shimmering with floating shards of crystal light.
Remiel cast one last glance toward the sky.
"Psyche Fabricata… activate."
And in the blink of an eye, both he and Lyria vanished into the silver vortex — leaving behind only the empty tower, and the whispering wind that carried their echoes into the clouds.