Ilias woke to white ceiling tiles and the smell of antiseptic.
His body ached. Every muscle screamed. His Resonance was a guttering ember in his chest, barely flickering, threatening to die.
For a moment, he just lay there, staring up at nothing, trying to remember where he was.
Then the memories crashed in.
*The fight.*
*Vyra tackling him. Pounding him into the ground.*
*The Entity's voice echoing in his skull.*
*Ripping her arm off.*
*Beating her with it.*
*The teachers screaming at him to stop.*
Ilias bolted upright, gasping.
His hands were shaking. His chest was tight. He couldn't breathe.
*What did I become?*
"Easy."
The voice was unfamiliar. Male. Calm. *Close*.
Ilias's head snapped around, searching the infirmary.
Empty beds. Medical equipment. No one.
"Who's there?" he croaked.
"Here."
Ilias looked down.
And froze.
Standing on the edge of his bed was a *figure*.
Small—no taller than a child—but *radiant*. Its form flickered between solid and translucent, like it existed somewhere between reality and dream. Skin dark as polished mahogany, marked with glowing patterns that pulsed faintly in rhythm with Ilias's heartbeat. Eyes golden and ancient, studying him with an expression that was equal parts amusement and concern.
It wore no clothes. Didn't need them. Its form was abstract enough to be neither naked nor dressed, just... *present*.
Ilias stared.
"What... what *are* you?"
The figure tilted its head. "A guide. A companion. A piece of the divine granted form." It gestured to the staff leaning against the wall beside Ilias's bed—Osh'Kora, still faintly glowing. "I am the essence of that which you carry. The will of Orun-Fela, given shape."
Ilias blinked. "The staff is... *alive*?"
"Not alive. *Aware*." The figure sat down cross-legged on the bed, entirely too casual for something that looked like it had stepped out of a myth. "Your god made a promise. He will not interfere directly. But he did not say his *gift* could not guide you."
Ilias rubbed his face, trying to process. "So you're... what? A teacher?"
"A companion. You will not receive much guidance from Orun-Fela himself. That is his way. But the staff has gathered enough power—*your* power—to manifest like this. To help you learn. To keep you from destroying yourself."
Ilias's stomach twisted. "I almost killed her."
"Yes."
"The teachers had to stop me."
"Yes."
"I don't even remember half of it. I just... I wasn't *me* anymore."
The figure's expression softened. "You were afraid. Your power responded to that fear. It protected you the only way it knew how."
"By turning me into a monster?"
"By surviving." The figure leaned forward. "You are not the first Blessed to lose control. You will not be the last. But you *can* learn. That is why I am here."
Ilias stared at the small glowing figure, then at the staff, then back.
"Do you have a name?"
The figure smiled. "Not yet. You may give me one, if you wish."
Ilias thought for a moment. "What about... Kofi?"
The figure considered. "No."
"Ade?"
"No."
"Femi?"
"Absolutely not."
Ilias sighed. "This is going to take a while, isn't it?"
"Yes."
The door to the infirmary opened, and Zael stepped in, carrying a tray of food.
He stopped when he saw Ilias awake. "Oh, thank the stars. You're alive."
Ilias glanced at the glowing figure still sitting on his bed.
Zael didn't seem to see it.
"Uh. Yeah. I'm alive."
Zael set the tray down on the table beside the bed. "You've been out for a full day. They said you pushed yourself too hard. Resonance depletion, or something."
"A day?"
"Yep. Missed all of yesterday's classes. Which, honestly, lucky you." Zael sat down in the chair beside the bed, studied Ilias's face. "You okay? Like... *actually* okay?"
Ilias didn't know how to answer that.
The glowing figure tilted its head, watching him.
"I don't know," Ilias said finally. "I lost control. I could've killed her."
"But you didn't."
"Only because they stopped me."
Zael was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Look. I don't know what happened in that fight. I don't know what you felt, or what triggered it. But I know you're not a monster. You're just... figuring it out. Like the rest of us."
Ilias wanted to believe that.
Wasn't sure he could.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
Zael grinned. "Don't mention it. Now eat. You look like death."
---
When Ilias was finally released from the infirmary, he made his way back to the dorm.
The moment he stepped into the common area, he stopped.
The walls were covered in spray paint.
**LUCKY BASTARD.**
**SHE LET YOU WIN.**
**YOU'RE NOTHING.**
Furniture overturned. Cushions slashed. Someone had tried to break into his bedroom—claw marks around the lock, dents in the door—but hadn't succeeded.
Ilias stood there, staring at the destruction, and felt... nothing.
He'd grown up in the Morrows. This wasn't new.
Movement caught his eye.
Three students at the far end of the hall, running the moment they saw him.
Fanclub.
Ilias didn't chase them.
Just walked into his room, closed the door, and sat on the edge of his bed.
The glowing figure appeared beside him, manifesting out of thin air.
"They fear you," it said.
"They hate me."
"Same thing."
Ilias didn't argue.
---
The next day, walking through the Academy halls, students tried to trip him.
Not subtly.
One stuck their foot out as he passed.
Ilias didn't break stride.
Just planted his next step in *midair*, walked up like the space in front of him was solid ground, stepped over the student's head, and kept going.
The student gaped.
Others stared.
Ilias didn't look back
Unbothered.
Let them try.
The cafeteria was packed.
Ilias grabbed food, found an empty table, and sat down alone.
Zael and Tamir were at another table, waving him over, but Ilias shook his head. Didn't want to drag them into this.
He took a bite.
Something wet and sticky hit the side of his head.
Mashed potatoes.
Laughter erupted from across the room.
Ilias didn't turn around.
Just set his fork down.
Took a breath.
Another projectile flew—this time aimed at his back.
Ilias raised his hand.
Osh'Kora, leaning against the wall ten feet away, *flew*.
Shot across the cafeteria like a missile, spinning end-over-end, and *cracked* the student who'd thrown the food square in the head.
They dropped like a stone.
The cafeteria went silent.
Then the fanclub *stood*.
Twenty students. Maybe more. All glaring at Ilias with murder in their eyes.
Ilias stood too.
Slowly.
Calmly.
The air in the cafeteria grew heavy.
Students at other tables held their breath.
In the corner, a group of well-dressed students—nobles, royals, bloodlines that mattered—watched with detached curiosity. One of them, a sharp-featured boy with perfectly styled hair and an air of superiority, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
Caspian.
He didn't move. Didn't intervene.
Just watched.
The fanclub took a step forward.
Ilias didn't flinch.
Then—
"Enough."
The voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Everyone froze.
Vyra stepped into the cafeteria.
Not from the door. Just... *there*. Like she'd materialized out of thin air.
Her presence was *overwhelming*. The air itself seemed to vibrate, heavy with power, pressing down on everyone in the room.
Her Blessed aura radiated outward, and every student within range felt it—*crushing*, undeniable, a reminder of exactly how far beneath her they were.
The fanclub's aggression died instantly.
They lowered their eyes. Stepped back.
Vyra walked forward, arms crossed, four eyes sweeping the room.
"Unsanctioned fights lead to expulsion," she said, voice calm but absolute. "Academy rules. Or did you forget?"
The fanclub stammered apologies.
"We understand, Your Majesty."
"Forgive us, Queen."
"We didn't mean to—"
"You're so beautiful when you're angry—"
Vyra ignored them.
Her gaze swept across the cafeteria, landing on specific students.
"Zael Orin."
Zael blinked, stood. "Uh. Yeah?"
"Caspian Thel'Voran."
Caspian rose smoothly, expression unreadable, flanked by three students who moved in perfect sync with him—his lackeys, silent and obedient.
"Kira Vex."
A short girl with wild energy bounced to her feet, grinning. A small floating spherical drone hovered beside her—HYMN, sleek and minimalist.
Vyra's eyes shifted to a student sitting alone in the far corner.
Bandaged from the neck down. Face hidden by a hoodie pulled low, obscuring everything but shadow.
"You," Vyra said. "Follow."
The student didn't speak. Just stood.
Finally, Vyra's gaze landed on Ilias.
"Ilias Venn."
Ilias met her eyes. "What's this about?"
Vyra's lips curved into something that might've been a smile.
"Follow me."
"Where are we going?" Zael asked.
Vyra turned, walking toward the exit.
"The Forge."
---
The hallways emptied as they walked.
Ilias, Zael, Kira, Caspian and his lackeys, the bandaged student, all following Vyra in silence.
Kira was practically vibrating with excitement, whispering to HYMN. "Do you know what The Forge is? I've heard rumors but—"
HYMN's robotic voice was flat. "Insufficient data."
Zael leaned over to Ilias. "You know what The Forge is?"
"No idea."
"Great. So we're just following her blindly."
"Seems like it."
Caspian walked ahead of them, chin raised, three students trailing behind him like shadows. He didn't speak to Ilias. Didn't even look at him.
But the air around him practically *hummed* with arrogance.
The bandaged student walked alone, silent, keeping pace but never looking up.
Vyra led them deeper into the Academy.
Past classrooms. Past training halls. Past sections Ilias had never seen.
Down a corridor lined with glowing crystal, the walls humming with energy.
And at the end—
A door.
Massive. Made of some dark metal Ilias didn't recognize, inscribed with symbols that *pulsed* with power.
Vyra stopped in front of it.
Turned to face them.
"Inside," she said, "is where Blessed go to become more than they are. Where power is forged. Where weakness is burned away."
She placed her hand on the door.
It began to open, light pouring out, heat washing over them.
"Welcome," Vyra said, stepping through, "to The Forge."