When Eberhard opened his eyes, the platform still stood above him.
The man in the black coat continued speaking as if nothing had happened.
Students shifted in their seats like leaves in wind. The voice that had echoed through the academy carried on with the same measured cadence.
Murmurs rose from the crowd.
Then, a tall boy near the front called out, "If we have two Affinities, how do you decide which group to pick? Do we have to choose the stronger one?"
Afterwards, a girl with braided hair raised her hand and asked, "What happens if we choose one and later realize the other would have been better?"
A student with a scar along his jaw demanded, "Is this a test of loyalty? Will the academy punish those who try to change later?"
The man smiled without warmth. "This is the test," he said simply. "You will decide based on who you are and who you wish to be. The Academy will respect your choice for now. In some cases, you may be reassigned to balance the groups. That is part of the system."
"That is vague," someone muttered.
"It is not supposed to be easy," the man answered. "A choice must mean something. If you choose without thought, then you will reveal what you value under pressure."
The questions kept coming and they made sense in a practical way for anyone hearing the instructions.
Students wanted to know if they could swap, if they would lose seniority, and what the consequences were for choosing poorly.
The man explained rules and edge cases until the crowd had fewer questions and more worry. Each answer tightened the space between the students and their decision.
Eberhard watched without speaking.
He noticed how many made their choices swiftly, as if selecting a color from a market stall. Others hesitated and rewrote their selection more than once.
The man in the black coat handed a stack of admission papers to a clerk who moved through the rows collecting them.
Eberhard handed his in with a steady hand and left the hall when told to do so.
Outside, in the courtyard, they were given a short sheet. On the paper both of his Affinities were listed. He had been given little time.
A thin line asked him to mark the one he wished to join for the first quest.
Ether or Terra.
The names sat on the paper like two paths.
The clerk stood nearby watching the line grow. Eberhard held the slate and read the words aloud in his head. He forced himself to think without panic.
Terra was the earth, the tangible.Terra allowed a person to bend the land, raise walls of stone, and anchor life in place. In simple terms, Terra gave strength, endurance, and the skill to shape matter.
It suited expeditions because it could break ground, carry weight, and withstand storms.
Many expeditions took Terra practitioners because they were hard to replace. They carried supplies and kept others safe.
On the other hand, Ether was the subtle. Ether was about perception and memory. It shaped impressions and bent small truths into new forms. Ether allowed a person to sense echoes of the past and to twist light into illusions.
It was less visible and thus less prized by those who wanted strong arms. Ether granted cunning and the capacity to reshape small things into important advantages.
He thought of his parents. He thought of the letters they had sent from an expedition and the phrase that had never left him. Genesis Core.
Terra would let him pry open places the normal person could not.
Terra will carry me to their bones, he thought.
On the other hand, Ether pulsed at the edges of memory and the shape of things. Ether might help him coax remnants of voice from ruins.
But, he already made his choice.
He looked at both words on the paper. He imagined himself at the doorway of a cavern lifting a stone slab with Terra strength to find a rusted chest.
His chest tightened with the weight of the choice.
He pictured his sister waiting in Apple Town, of their quiet dinners, of her hands stained with flour.
He reached for a pen and hesitated.
His hand trembled.
He smiled then, an odd small smile that had nothing to do with certainty.
He wrote Ether.
Memories sounds cooler than nature.
The moment his pen touched the paper he felt an odd calm. He folded the sheet and handed it to the clerk who did not look up. Around him students finished, crumpled, rewrote, and surrendered.
Back in the hall the man resumed the podium. He explained that Terra had a low rate of natural affinity this year. The academy needed to balance numbers.
"We will move students to ensure missions have the personnel they require," he said. "Some transfers will be voluntary. Some transfers will be assigned."
A ripple of whispers passed through the crowd. Eberhard felt his stomach drop as if the paper he had signed might be taken from him. If they force me into Terra I will be closer to the ruins, he thought.
Panic came for a moment.
His heart thudded.
He imagined the Academy taking students like tools and placing them where they were needed.
When the clerk finally called names for transfers, he held his breath. Names were read one by one.
Eberhard waited through the list and then realized his name was not called.
Relief was sudden and strange.
By the end of the day the ceremony concluded.
Eberhard gathered his things and was shown to a dorm building. He was assigned to the Ether wing.
His roommate was a girl.
She had a mop of dark hair and eyes that caught light in a way that suggested mirth even when she tried to look serious.
She took in his thin frame and the way he avoided eye contact and smiled brightly.
"You look like you could use tea," she said.
He blinked at her. He did not know what to say. She laughed softly and said, "I am Marin. I will be the one to steal your blankets. If you object I will use a calming charm."
He blushed and muttered something that could only be taken for thanks.
She set her trunk down and began to unpack a small clay teapot and two plain cups.
She explained the first quest like someone giving a recipe to Eberhard, who looked really clueless.
"They send groups to different regions," she said. "They said we'll go to the East Mire. The Mire is thick with roots and ancient structures. We are likely to find ruins."
"Past generations even fought large beasts there. They were not small animals. They were like hills with mouths."
Her casual tone made him shiver despite himself. "So we'll need to fight large monsters?" he asked.
"Perchance," she said.
Later that night, the Ether group gathered in a small common room.
The leader was to be chosen by vote.
Marin nominated a tall woman with bright yellow hair who carried herself like a banner.
When the group looked toward him he felt the odd heat of attention and wanted to shrink into the chair.
Marin nudged him lightly and mouthed the word vote. He realized the others sought his opinion.
He thought of ruins and of the kind of leadership that would keep them alive while letting him move in the dirt and examine corners for traces.
He raised his hand and said simply, "I think we should choose someone who plans for retreat and recovery."
The group considered it and looked to a spectacled boy, named Ren. The boy adjusted his glasses and said nothing, which made the room laugh.
The yellow-haired woman accepted the role of leader. Her name was Lys and smiled like she belonged on a ship.
The spectacled boy was named sub-leader and mapper. A stocky lad, Luke, took supplies. A slender girl, Irmina, became the tactician.
When the votes were recorded the leader turned to Eberhard. "You can be our recorder," she said. "You will keep watch on signs and keep our notes. You will help the tactician with plans."
He felt surprised and a small warmth at the position. It was not a frontline role, but it allowed him to think and to be where his hands could be useful.
He accepted and the room nodded. At least, I got a role.
"Do not forget to get a weapon tomorrow," Lys said. "The Academy does not fight for you."
Weapons? Eberhard frowned. He had never trained with arms. He asked the group where to find weapons and Lys pointed him to a market near the forge.
The next morning he stood before a curtained shop filled with racks and racks of blades and crude gear. A gruff man behind the counter wiped his hands on an apron. He explained the rules.
"You can take a basic weapon for free if you cannot pay. We keep stock for students. If you want something special the blacksmith will craft it for a price."
Eberhard walked the aisles and felt out of place among those who picked swords like ornaments.
He saw spears, hammers, and strange polearms.
For a moment a memory struck like a needle. The flash returned from earlier.
He could remember the small metal device, the click, the bright fire.
He swallowed.
"Can you make me a gun?"
The man blinked and asked, "A what?"
"It's a mechanism that ejects a small charge to strike distant targets. I will assemble it myself. Can you give me the components for free?"