The Arcanic Academy of Alykarn had always smelled of parchment, ink, and the lingering traces of old spells. But here, those scents were tainted by the acrid sting of burned reagents and the faint, unsettling aura of something…other. The lab was in disarray, and so the academicians toiled to set it right, scrubbing away the remnants of their latest research.
Among them, Nerath worked in silence, her hooves moving on their own while her mind wandered elsewhere. She could still see the spirit, could still feel its presence curling around her like a winter chill. Even now, the memory of it sent a shudder coursing through her spine.
Those eyes—crystalline, piercing—had reflected her own terror back at her. No matter how she tried to banish the image, it lingered in the corners of her thoughts. She gave her head a sharp shake, sending her wild curls tumbling over her shoulders. The thing was gone, for now. The lab needed tending, and beyond that, there was the matter of Akasa. Someone would have to go, and she had to decide who.
Her gaze swept the chamber, noting the faces of her fellow scholars, the varied kin of Equestera all accounted for—save the Luxians and Ardenians, still off on their seasonal retreat. Just as she was considering the matter, the door swung open.
The sight of the alicorn who stepped through it struck Nerath like a gust of wind before a storm. Relief came first, sharp and sudden, uncoiling in her chest. Then, just as swiftly, it curdled into anger.
She strode forward, words spilling from her lips before she could temper them. "Why didn't you leave me a message? Where in the seven kingdoms did you go? I had to hear of your departure from a passing scholar—said they saw you vanish through the Teleportation Service!"
Her voice quivered with frustration, though whether it was from fury or fear, she could not say. Then, as her keen eyes traced the rigid set of her friend's shoulders, she saw it—something deeper, something hidden behind that ever-stoic mask.
Nerath's ire faltered. Without thinking, she stepped forward and pulled Naegissa into an embrace. "I'm glad you're safe," she murmured, softer now.
For a few seconds, Naegissa stood still. Then, with careful restraint, she exhaled. "I'm sorry, Nerath," she said, her voice as even as ever. "I should have told you."
Yet she did not return the embrace. Nerath noticed, and after a heartbeat, she let her go. Some alicorn did not care for public displays of affection. She understood that.
Nerath's gaze flicked past Naegissa, searching the open doorway as though another familiar figure might step through at any moment. But the lab remained silent save for the hushed murmurs of the other academicians, the scrape of hooves against stone, the faint clinking of glassware. Seconds stretched, and when no one else appeared, a shadow of confusion crossed her face.
"Naegissa," she asked at last, her voice edged with uncertainty, "was Raybarn not with you? Where is he?"
At the mention of their fellow researcher, Naegissa's ears flicked backward, her expression tightening. A glimmer of irritation passed over her sharp features. "He received a communication crystal," she said, her voice flat with displeasure. "Something about urgent personal matters—had to return to Fulmenia with Feyn. Just like that, he left us to investigate on our own again." She snorted, the sound rich with frustration. "At least he apologized. That's something."
Nerath exhaled, shaking her head. "Did you find anything in the Slitherroots Woods, at least?" she asked, hoping the excursion had not been a complete waste.
Naegissa's answer was a simple shake of the head, but the weight behind it made Nerath's stomach twist. "Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Well," Nerath muttered, rubbing a hoof absently against the cool stone beneath them, "I suppose it doesn't matter anymore…the spirit we were researching disintegrated itself."
Naegissa's ears perked at that, her brown eyes narrowing. "Disintegrated?" she echoed, her voice low, measured. That wasn't supposed to happen. Her gaze swept across the lab, taking in the familiar array of workbenches, stacks of scrolls, the faint glow of containment wards—and then, finally, the empty enclosure.
She stepped forward, inspecting it with the same sharp scrutiny she applied to all things. There was no mistaking it—the entity was gone. Not simply freed, not lingering unseen, but utterly, completely gone.
Nerath watched her carefully, then spoke again. "While you were gone, I received notice of something that happened in Akasa."
She relayed the details, speaking of the communication crystal, the message from their colleagues, the permission she had sought from the headmaster. Naegissa listened in silence, her expression unreadable. Then, when Nerath had finished, she spoke.
"I'm willing to go to Akasa."
The words landed like a thunderclap.
Nerath's ears shot upright, her violet eyes widening. "You…?"
"I need fresh air," Naegissa said, her voice smooth, but with a weariness beneath it. "Outside of Pythonia. And…the trip with Raybarn was nice."
For a moment, Nerath simply stared, and then—before she could stop herself—a delighted squeal escaped her lips. The sound echoed through the lab, turning a few heads, but she hardly cared. Her hooves lifted slightly off the ground as she bounced in place, her wings flapping with a barely contained excitement. "Let's go inform the headmaster!"
She was already halfway to the doors before she realized Naegissa had yet to move. Turning back, she beckoned her forward, grinning ear to ear.
Naegissa sighed, rolling her eyes, but a small, almost imperceptible smile played at the edges of her lips. With a shake of her head, she followed.
As they neared the doors, they swung open of their own accord, slow and deliberate, as if the very air had thickened. A weight settled over the laboratory, a presence vast and undeniable. The scent of sacred oils and old steel clung to the figure that stepped through.
Solaryon.
The First Paladin. High-Priest of Python.
A sage draped in sanctity, his golden mane cascading on his shoulder. He carried the authority of both faith and steel, and for a moment, neither Nerath nor Naegissa dared to breathe. Then, as one, they shook off their surprise and straightened.
"Great Academician Nerath," Solaryon intoned, his voice measured, steady, but beneath that calm exterior lay something else. Something troubled. "Have you chosen which of your peers will embark on the mission to Akasa?"
Nerath inclined her head. "I have." She gestured to Naegissa at her side. "The Great Academician I've chosen is Naegissa. She has been invaluable in our research of the enigmatic spirits and has volunteered for the task." She spoke with the reverence befitting his station, yet in the back of her mind, the question gnawed—why had Solaryon himself come to inquire about this?
The First Paladin regarded them both, his gaze lingering on Naegissa for a breath longer than necessary. Then, with a curt nod, he turned on his heel.
"Follow me to my office," he said. "The situation has evolved."
***
Solaryon's office commanded a view of Alykarn that stretched as far as the eye could see, a city of spires and scholars, where the weight of history pressed down upon every street and square. His chamber sat just one level beneath the three personal floors of Queen Python herself—a testament to his station.
Grand, yet solemn, the room bore little of the vanity found in other's quarters. Instead, it was a sanctum of knowledge, its walls lined with towering shelves, each groaning under the weight of ancient tomes. The scent of parchment and ink clung to the air, mingling with something older, something sacred. At the far end of the room stood his desk, heavy with scrolls and sealed letters, set before a row of seven windows. Each plane of stained glass depicted one of the Primordial Pantheon, their celestial forms cast in hues of deep sapphire, fiery amber, and other rich colors.
Above them, three smaller circular windows gleamed—a trinity of color: green, blue, red. The meaning of those lights was never known, yet they sometimes appeared within the Academy.
Artifacts from every corner of the world found their place here, relics of kingdoms both distant and near, gathered as if to unite the far reaches of Equestera within these walls. The wooden beams, shelves, and even the grand desk itself had been carved with careful magic, their surfaces etched with the stories of old—the triumphs, the tragedies, the weight of ages past.
Candlelight flickered in the alcoves where scholars would sit to read, while above, floating orbs of soft, golden light bathed the chamber in a steady glow. There was power here, woven into the very stones, but not the cold, crushing might of a battlefield. This was something else. A presence that commanded both respect and reverence—a force both immense and watchful, like an elder's guiding gaze.
And today, Solaryon was not alone in his office.
As he stepped into the room, Nerath and Naegissa following at his sides, they found another already waiting within. A Pythonian alicorn, patient and silent, stood amidst the tomes, his presence woven into the solemn hush of the chamber.
He dipped his head in greeting, his smile broad and easy, a warmth to it that felt almost out of place in the solemnity of the Paladin's chambers.
Solaryon's voice broke the silence. "This is Ntokozo, one of the Priests of Arcane. He will be accompanying Great Academician Naegissa on her mission to Akasa."
He gestured toward the alicorn, his pink mane a striking contrast to the dark brown fur with lighter curved stripes he bore. Ntokozo wasted no time stepping forward, his energy unrestrained. "Hey! You can call me Kozo! Looking forward to working with you soon!"
Younger than Nerath and Naegissa by a few cycles, perhaps, but no fool. If he had earned Solaryon's favor—the recognition of both the First Paladin and High-Priest of Python—then there was more to him than met the eye.
It was Nerath who finally broke the moment, her voice carrying both deference and curiosity. "May I inquire why the plans for this mission have changed?"
A stillness settled over the chamber. The air thickened, pressing down on them like unseen claws, the weight of something unspoken yet immense. Solaryon's expression turned grave. He exhaled, slow and measured, then gave a single nod.
"What is said here will not leave this room," he declared. "Another task has been added to your mission. Like I said, the situation has changed."
Nerath felt her thoughts racing. Had they found a spirit responsible for the corruption? Had Ardenia's High-Priest—Aren, she believed his name was—sent word to Solaryon? A dozen possibilities flickered through her mind, each more troubling than the last.
But none of them came close to what Solaryon said next, words hanging in the air like the toll of a funeral bell.
"A Paladin has just died."