The training hall was alive with sound.
Resonance pillars pulsed with pale light, the air trembling as dozens of recruits synchronized their Aether patterns. Energy flickered across the room like heat mirages.
"Today," said Instructor Halden, "you fight against the pulse itself."
His tone carried through the hall, clipped and cold. "Your task is to maintain balance under live pressure. The Archive will monitor every fluctuation."
At the far end of the observation gallery, Crown delegates watched—representatives from Fire, Ice, and Trade. Their sigils glowed faintly on the walls behind them. The evaluation was more than a test. It was politics in motion.
Connor tightened the gloves around his hands. The air hummed around his skin, soft at first, then deeper—alive.
Deog gave him a nervous look. "You don't have to push yourself this time. Just match the pulse."
"I'll be fine," Connor said quietly. "It's only a test."
◇◇◇
Halden's voice echoed. "Pair match. Vale, you're first."
Connor's name rippled through the crowd. His opponent stepped forward—a tall recruit with crimson hair, Fire Dominion crest etched across his uniform. Marek.
Marek smirked. "Try not to short the lights again."
Connor didn't answer. The lights dimmed. Aether rings expanded beneath their feet.
"Begin!"
The floor ignited with light. Marek struck first, flames twisting around his fists in disciplined arcs. Connor moved to block, his resonance rippling through the air like transparent armor. Sparks scattered—metallic, golden, and wild.
Each hit carried rhythm—the pulse of Aether through living bodies. But something inside Connor pulsed off-beat, deeper, heavier.
Marek grinned, pushing forward. "What's wrong, Vale? Losing rhythm?"
Connor clenched his teeth. "No… it's just—"
The hum roared. The ground trembled. The lights flared into blinding white.
Marek's flame shattered mid-strike, crushed beneath a surge that wasn't his own. The resonance pillars cracked. Aether burst through the seals like a storm let loose.
Deog shouted from the sidelines, "Connor! Stop! You're overloading!"
But Connor couldn't hear him. The voice had returned.
Why resist what you are?
He fell to one knee, clutching his chest as the entire field pulsed in sync with his heartbeat.
Let it breathe through you.
Then—silence.
The pillars extinguished. Smoke coiled from the floor. Marek lay unconscious, unharmed but shaken.
Every recruit stared.
Vonix stood in the upper gallery, hands clasped behind his back. His expression didn't change. Only his eyes—the faint silver flicker of recognition.
Instructor Halden approached cautiously. "Containment protocol—now!"
Guards surrounded Connor, their devices humming with suppression fields.
Deog pushed through the line. "He didn't mean to! It was the tower again!"
Halden's gaze hardened. "Enough. He's not being punished. He's being studied."
Connor met Deog's eyes. "Don't—"
"Save it," Deog whispered, anger and fear mixing. "Just don't disappear again."
As the guards led him away, the Aether conduits along the ceiling glowed faintly, resonating to his steps like the tower itself was listening.
And far above, in the Crown balcony, the Ice delegate leaned toward the others. "You saw it too," she murmured.
The Fire delegate's eyes burned brighter. "Oh, I saw it. And I want him."