Within the hallowed halls of the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn, a lone alicorn sat cloistered in her chamber, the door barred against the world. Every lantern in the room burned bright, yet the light did little to ease the unease in her chest. Her dark pink eyes darted to each flickering shadow, muscles taut, breath measured. She watched, she waited—half-expecting some phantom to slither forth from the gloom. But the darkness held its silence.
With a heavy sigh, she turned her attention back to the parchment-strewn desk before her. The loss of the more corrupted of the two enigmatic spirits had dealt a grievous blow to their research. The ramifications reached far, rippling through their work like a stone cast into still water. What had once been certainty was now riddled with questions, and what had been progress was now buried beneath a deluge of revisions. The ink on her latest draft had scarcely dried before she found herself scratching entire lines away.
It was fruitless to continue in such a state. Frustration gnawed at her, and she knew the evening would yield nothing but folly if she pressed on. Pushing the documents aside, she exhaled slowly, willing herself to find even the smallest respite. Her friends would return soon, weary but triumphant from their latest mission—one she had not been a part of. That, too, stung.
"Damn it, Nae," she muttered, shaking her head. "Couldn't you have left some word? A single note, at least…especially with how much this concerns our work."
The sound of running water filled the chamber, a quiet, steady stream spilling into the marble tub at the far end of the room. By now, it would be full. She had meant to check the temperature, to let the heat soak away her tensions. But as she took a step toward it, a sudden shimmer in the air gave her pause.
A crystal materialized before her, catching the light as it pulsed with an inner glow.
She gasped, the sharp intake of breath breaking the stillness. Her wings twitched, instincts flaring—but her reflexes were swift. Her horn sparked to life, magic curling around the floating crystal before it could drop.
A message crystal. And not just any—this was high-grade, reserved for dire emergencies or matters of particular significance. The illusions it projected were crisp, clear as a memory brought to life.
Twin figures coalesced in the air before her, spectral yet distinct.
An Ardenian and a Luxian. Yukio and Daxem.
Nerath furrowed her brow. "The Festival," she murmured. "You should be at the Festival of Sorority."
Her words were more accusation than question.
She carried the crystal to her desk, setting it down with practiced ease. If they had sent a message in such a manner, there would be need for notes.
The Ardenian was the first to speak. His tone was formal, measured, but beneath it lurked something else.
"Nerath," Yukio intoned, inclining his head slightly. "I hope we do not interrupt critical research, but Daxem and I must report on the Festival's proceedings. We have observed…unusual energies."
At this revelation, Nerath's ears twitched, her quill poised over parchment as she began taking swift, meticulous notes. She gave a curt nod, an unspoken command for them to continue.
"During the performance," Daxem went on, his voice steady but weighted, "the alicorn portraying our esteemed Queen Luxoah was consumed by an unknown energy." He paused, as if recalling the moment in stark detail. "The sensation of it…familiar, yet inverted. It bore a resemblance to the signatures of the spirits we have been studying, but at the same time, it was their opposite."
Yukio interjected then, sharp and certain. "It felt like fire," he said, his tone edged with conviction. "The flames did not belong to her, yet they obeyed her. Her Katana replica—nothing more than a prop—was wreathed in them, alive with power she should not have possessed." There was something in his voice, an authority born of experience. Few could read the nature of flames as he could.
Nerath stiffened at that. "Fire?" she echoed, her breath catching. "And a Luxian wielded it?"
Her mind raced. A Luxian should have had no dominion over flame, yet here was testimony of one wielding it as if it were her birthright. She felt the first embers of intrigue, the pull of discovery. If she could meet this alicorn, question her, study her…
But the hope that flickered in her heart was snuffed before it could fully take hold.
Daxem must have seen the glimmer in her eyes, for his expression darkened, and his next words struck like a blade to the gut.
"She killed the Ardenian narrator," he said grimly. "The one who leaped in to shield the actress playing Queen Ardenu."
Silence settled, heavy as stone.
Daxem's gaze dropped, his voice thick with sorrow. "She was sentenced to execution. Today."
The words landed like a physical blow. Nerath's breath hitched, her throat tightening as she struggled to comprehend the depth of the loss. A life, taken by forces unknown. An alicorn, caught in something beyond her understanding, and now lost to it forever.
Tears welled in her eyes. Not only had she lost a lead, but another innocent had fallen to these unseen forces. And worse still, she had no answers. Only grief. Only questions.
But now was not the time for grief. That Luxian was dead—there was no changing that. Whatever sorrow she might have felt for a stranger could not be allowed to take root. The weight of an alicorn's death was heavy, yes—but not so heavy as inaction. There was work to be done.
At Nerath's request, Yukio conjured the signature with his magic, shaping it in the air, letting its essence take form. When at last it settled into a stable image, he carefully transcribed it onto parchment, the ink strokes precise, deliberate. He recorded it within the crystal as well, ensuring that no detail would be lost. Alongside it, he drafted technical sketches of the stage props that had been affected—every minute detail captured, down to the way the false Katana had burned in Mei's magic. He outlined, too, the signs of corruption she had exhibited, documenting each shift, each change, no matter how subtle.
Nerath studied the sketches in silence, her mind turning over every possibility, every connection.
"Thank you for this," she said at last, her tone composed, though the weight of her thoughts was plain. "I will contact the headmaster and seek authorization to investigate this further." Her quill moved swiftly across the parchment, committing every last detail to her notes. "The research into our enigmatic spirit has stalled. It self-destructed within the laboratory." She exhaled, shaking her head. "For now, this may be the only lead we have left."
Yukio and Daxem exchanged a look, their expressions shifting from concern to outright shock. The spirit, gone? A being so elusive, so powerful, simply…undone?
"We'll be here when you arrive," Yukio said, his voice steadier than his expression.
But Nerath only smirked, tilting her head slightly. "Don't let this cut your vacation short," she told them. "You don't return home often—enjoy it while you can. The work will be waiting when you're finished, and when that time comes, I expect you both to be well-rested and ready."
Daxem let out a quiet chuckle, exchanging a glance with Yukio before they both nodded.
"We'll keep that in mind," Yukio assured her.
"We hope to be of service again once our vacation ends," Daxem added.
With that, the crystal's light dimmed and died, leaving the chamber steeped in quiet once more. All was still—save for a single sound, soft yet insistent, the hiss and rush of water echoing from beyond the door.
Realization struck her like a thrown dagger. Nerath let out a sharp gasp, sprang to her hooves, and darted toward the bathing room, her heart thudding like a war drum. The marble tub had long since surrendered to the torrent, water spilling over its edges in shimmering sheets.
Too late. She cursed under her breath as she seized the flow with a twist of magic, choking it off before the room drowned. For a moment, she stood there, chest rising and falling, then loosed a heavy sigh.
She sank to the floor, her back pressed to the cold stone wall, dampness curling against her fur. Another sigh slipped past her lips, long and weary.
"Well," she murmured to no one but the silent room, "I'll deal with the mess after my bath. The Pantheon knows, I've earned it."
***
Nerath moved swiftly through the winding halls of the Academy, her steps measured, her mind focused. The corridors stretched long and twisting, lined with old banners and etched with cycles of knowledge. From the residential quarters, she passed into the grander halls of the main building, where the air grew heavier with the weight of history. The headmaster's office lay ahead.
As she neared the door, she felt it—a pulse of magic, strong and unwavering. The signature was familiar, one she had sensed many times before in this place. It did not strike her as strange, though few in the Academy possessed such an aura.
Pausing before the great wooden door, she took a steadying breath, smoothing away any trace of nerves. This was no time for hesitation. Lifting her horn slightly, she grasped the ornate knocker in her magic—shaped like the emblem of the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn: a grimoire, bound in iron, flanked by a horn and a pair of wings. She struck it once, then twice, the sound echoing through the chamber beyond.
A voice from within bid her enter.
As the door swung open, she lifted her head, stepping inside—only for her breath to catch in her throat.
She had expected to find the headmaster alone, seated behind his ancient desk. Instead, another figure stood beside him, his presence commanding, unmistakable.
Solaryon. First Paladin of Equestera. High-Priest of Python.
It was his magic she had sensed, not the headmaster's.
The revelation sent a jolt through her, but she schooled her features, dipping into a respectful bow, lowering her head before these two figures of authority. When she spoke, her voice was measured, but the reverence in it was clear.
"Esteemed First Paladin. Honored Headmaster. I am Nerath, a humble Great Academician of this institution, and I have requested this audience regarding the matter of the enigmatic spirit."
Solaryon studied her for a moment before a knowing smile crossed his lips.
"Ah," he murmured, his voice deep, edged with quiet wisdom. "So you are the one who summoned Raybarn."
Nerath gave a solemn nod in reply.
The headmaster, an elder Pythonian of fifty cycles, regarded her with curiosity. "Then let us hear it," he said, motioning for her to proceed.
Straightening, Nerath reached into her satchel, retrieving the documents she had carefully prepared. The moment had come to present her findings. And so, with steady hooves and a mind sharpened by purpose, she began.
"In Akasa, a most peculiar event unfolded during the Festival of Sorority," Nerath said, her voice steady, though the weight of her words hung heavy in the air. "The alicorn chosen to play Queen Luxoah was overtaken by a mysterious force—an energy unlike any other we've encountered. It drove her to wield magic akin to Ardenian Flame-magic. Yet there was something wrong about it—something inherently different. It bore a closer resemblance to the enigmatic energy emanating from the spirits we've been researching."
She laid out the magic signatures her colleagues had carefully gathered, each one an echo of something unknown, something dangerous.
"I wish to send at least one of our great academicians to Akasa," she continued, her gaze unwavering, "to study the site where this occurred. We must determine if there is a connection between this event and the mysterious spirit we seek."
She paused, a breath escaping her as she gathered her thoughts.
"Sadly, the alicorn was executed before we could further our studies. So, she is lost to us now. But the props she wielded in her role—those remain intact, untouched by the strange forces that consumed her. Perhaps there is something there, some clue we have yet to uncover."
Her plea hung in the air, her hope now laid bare before the headmaster.
He listened closely, his expression unreadable, his brow furrowed with concern as the details unfolded. His eyes flicked briefly toward Solaryon, standing silently beside him. The First Paladin's gaze was distant, his thoughts his own, but Nerath could not help but sense that he had already learned of the execution. After all, it was likely that at least two Paladins had been present at the Festival, namely Ayzat and Xuefeng.
Nerath continued, pushing through the rising tension in her chest, knowing what she was about to admit would not sit easily.
"The spirit we had captured—the one most corrupted by the unknown energy—self-destructed," she said, her voice tightening with the weight of her words. "We are left with only the secondary-corrupted spirit. Its potential is…limited. Without a new lead, our research here at the Academy will stall."
Her ears drooped slightly, a hint of shame creeping into her posture. To lose such an important subject, one so central to their work—it felt like a failure, one she knew would be seen as reckless, irresponsible even, by some. But she pressed on, clinging to the hope that Akasa might offer them the breakthrough they so desperately needed.
"I trust that Akasa might hold the key," she said softly, the weight of her request pressing heavily upon her.
Nerath had expected surprise, or perhaps some trace of disbelief, but the headmaster's reaction was far from what she had anticipated. His years of experience—his vast knowledge of the unknown—had long since tempered his response to such revelations. These were the sort of things that came with the territory of the mysterious, after all. His expression remained as steady as ever, though the faintest flicker of thought passed through his eyes.
But it was Solaryon who stirred next, his brow knitting ever so slightly as the implications settled in. He knew Raybarn had an audience to Queen Python, for he was the one to grant it, and that meeting was almost certainly tied to this very enigma. The weight of that knowledge pressed against him, though he held it in silence, his mind turning over what had been revealed.
The moment passed, and the headmaster's voice broke through his contemplation.
"Paladin Solaryon," the headmaster asked, his tone calm but carrying the weight of decision, "are you in agreement with sending one of our great academicians to investigate this strange energy?"
Solaryon's gaze shifted toward the headmaster, his thoughts momentarily drawn from the depths. A smile, faint and tinged with amusement, touched his lips. "It could indeed be an intriguing endeavor," he replied. "So, yes, I will allow it." He raised an eyebrow, a slight gleam in his eyes. "But let it be known—you need not wait for my approval. You are the headmaster, not I."
The headmaster's eyes widened in surprise, a brief flash of embarrassment crossing his features. "Ah, you're right," he stammered, quickly offering an apologetic chuckle. "Forgive me," he muttered, clearing his throat before turning back to Nerath.
"I accept your proposal, Nerath," he said at last, his voice regaining its firmness. "However, I believe at least two alicorns from the Academy should be sent, and one of them must be a Great Academician."
Nerath inclined her head in acknowledgment, though her mind was already racing ahead. "Understood," she replied. "I already have a few names in mind, I'll contact them as soon as I can."
The headmaster gave a thoughtful nod. "We must move swiftly. Whatever force lies at the heart of this anomaly—it's not waiting for us to catch up."
Solaryon, now silent, studied Nerath with a quiet intensity. There was no need for further words; the course had been set, the first thread pulled.
As the quiet settled back over the chamber, the headmaster turned toward the high windows. Nerath left the room, the long shadows from the fading daylight following her across the stone floor.