A wave of dizziness swept over Elior as the brilliance around him dissolved.
It felt as if he had been pulled through a vast current of warm wind — not painful, just enough to turn his insides upside down.
"Lucen…" Elior murmured. His own voice sounded far away, echoing faintly in his ears.
"Right here!" Lucen called back, a grin tugging at his lips. "I swear, next time they should hand out Ether sickness bags."
Elior forced his eyes open — and forgot to breathe.
A colossal hall stretched before him. The arched ceiling curved high above like a sky of liquid gold, light pouring down in soft waves from clusters of floating Ether crystals. They shimmered like stars caught in daylight.
In the center, two white marble pillars rose to meet the dome, their surfaces etched with thousands of runes glowing faintly — breathing warmth, almost alive.
Rows of polished tables and benches filled the space below, and three tiers of balconies spiraled upward, each lined with dozens of doors whose names shifted and shimmered in flowing letters:
Golden Library, Ether Frequency Training Hall, Chamber of Light Research, Beginner Dormitory — and a smaller plaque tucked in one corner that read:
Rune Arts Club – Please Don't Ring the Bell More Than Three Times.
Lucen let out a long, low whistle.
"Wow… if this were my school, I'd never step outside again."
Alice gave him a sidelong glance, her silvery hair catching the light.
"If you stayed here too long, the walls would probably collapse from your curiosity."
Before Lucen could think of a comeback, a calm, pleasant voice floated down from above:
"You must be the new students of the Angelic House, aren't you?"
A young man descended the staircase from the second floor — tall, poised, his white robe lined with gold. His short blond hair gleamed in the crystal light, and his eyes — a clear, deep blue — reflected everything around him. There was a stillness about him, the kind that made even the air seem to quiet itself in his presence.
"I'm Seraphan, third-year Intermediate," he said, smiling with gentle confidence. "I'll be your guide today."
"Yes, sir," a soft voice answered. It belonged to a small girl standing nearby, her hands clasped before her cloak, which still glittered with faint Ether dust. "I'm Miriel, from the southern forest region."
A boy with tousled brown hair chimed in eagerly, "I'm Roen! I came from the Academy of Demi-Gods. They didn't have glowing ceilings there!"
Lucen nudged Elior with a grin. "See? People here come from everywhere. This place feels like a little universe."
Seraphan's gaze passed over the group.
"Indeed. The Angelic House does not choose by birth, but by the resonance of your spirit. But remember this — light can be the finest mask for darkness."
The words made Elior pause. A faint chill crept down his back.
"Now," Seraphan said, turning gracefully, "I'll show you to your quarters."
He led them down the wide corridor at the base of the hall. Elior glanced about as they walked. Other students were already scattered across the area — some laughing while tracing runes into the pillars, others pressing their hands against the walls to make sparks of Ether flash like miniature lightning.
A group of senior students passed by in silver-trimmed robes, their expressions cool, almost aloof, as if watching children playing in their old classrooms.
"Don't let them unsettle you," Seraphan said softly, as if reading Elior's thoughts. "Every one of them began as a first-year — just like you."
They stopped before a large white door, engraved in glowing letters: BEGINNER DORMITORY.
"Place your hand here," Seraphan instructed. "The Ether will read your signature and open your personal room."
He pressed his own hand to the rune. Ripples of light spread out like water disturbed by touch, and the door slid open without a sound.
Inside stretched a long corridor lined with identical doors, each engraved with a student's name in shimmering gold.
Lucen laughed softly. "No keys? That's dangerously convenient."
Alice's voice was barely above a whisper. "Convenience often hides something clever… or something dangerous."
Seraphan glanced at her, amused. "You're perceptive. In Astra, nothing is ever truly simple. Rest well, children of light."
He bowed slightly and turned away, his cloak whispering against the polished floor as he disappeared down the hall.
Lucen and Alice found their rooms quickly. Elior lingered before the door marked Elior Varen. The golden letters seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"See you tomorrow," Elior said quietly.
Lucen waved. "Sleep tight, oh dreamy angel."
Alice's laughter followed, soft and brief. "Don't let the Ether crawl into your dreams."
Elior touched the rune, and the door opened.
The room inside glowed with warm light — small, neat, and impossibly tranquil. A round window framed a sky of golden clouds. A white-sheeted bed stood ready by the wall, and on the desk rested a small crystal orb, slowly rotating, its glow throbbing like a quiet heartbeat.
He sat down, fatigue washing over him — yet sleep would not come. That strange feeling lingered still, the same unease that had seized him when he passed through the Gate of Angels.
And then, faintly, a voice whispered through his mind:
"Light exists only when darkness remains to reflect it.
Tell me… which one are you running from?"
Elior's eyes flew open.
In the reflection of the window, his face looked back — but the eyes were not his.
They were deeper.
And they were smiling.
He froze. The image vanished.
Outside, the Ether Bells began to toll — low and solemn, their sound rolling through the halls like a hymn from a distant heaven, welcoming the newborns of Light.
Elior lay down, his heart still unsteady. He didn't know whether to feel awe or dread.
But he knew, beyond doubt —
His first day at Astra had truly begun.