The bell signaling the end of class echoed like a metallic clang through the halls of Rixus Institute. My head was still spinning from the discussion with Maestra Zara about Fosack’s new genesis era. She had taught her class with that calm authority that commands respect, but the same thing kept ringing in my ears: the official history didn’t line up with what I had read in rumors and old writings. And that void, that blank space, was what pulled me in like a magnet.Karol was waiting for me by the door, clutching her notebooks to her chest. The smile she gave me held a hint of nervousness, as if she were excited to carry out the teacher’s assignment. “Alright, Miguel,” she said. “Time for the official tour. Brace yourself, because this campus is a labyrinth.” I nodded, following her as the other students scattered into clusters of laughter and quick conversations. The main hallway opened into a wide corridor with soaring ceilings and stained-glass windows that let in a fragmented lig

The Institute had a strange silence to it that morning. Maybe it was my imagination, or maybe it was the stares. I had noticed for a few days now that some students followed me with their eyes—not with curiosity, but with the kind of contempt that hides behind a polite smile. I didn’t like it, but it didn’t stop me either.That day, as we were leaving History, the tension exploded. “Look who’s talking about old wives’ tales again,” said a tall boy, his uniform perfectly pressed and the emblem of a student society embroidered on his pocket. Two of his friends were with him, surrounding me in the hall.Karol, who was walking beside me, frowned. “Leave him alone, Arven,” she said sharply.Arven smiled, but not at her. At me. “I’m just saying, we come here to study what’s real, what’s documented, not fables about portals and lost magic. Or do you think you know more than the teachers?”I stood still. I could have lowered my head and walked away, but my blood was boiling. “If they were jus

MiguelThe night smelled of damp asphalt and the promise of rain. I held the two pieces of paper in my hand, nearly identical in their mystery. One was a simple slip with an address jotted down in a quick but elegant script, the one Kai had given me. The other, a stiff, formal business card, had the same address written on the back. Two invitations, one destination.I decided to follow the directions from Kai’s paper. There was something about the older student’s calmness that inspired more trust than the rehearsed smile of the man in the suit.The address led me far from the Rixus campus, to a residential neighborhood of two-story houses with small front yards. It was a normal, almost boring place, the kind of spot where no one would expect to find the epicenter of a conspiracy. I stopped in front of a number painted on a wooden mailbox. Soft music drifted from inside the house, along with the murmur of several conversations mixed with occasional laughter. Colored lights flickered be

Isandra VeyraThe artificial light in the Governor’s office was cold, designed to keep the mind sharp and eliminate any shadow where ambiguity might hide. Outside, the Rixus night enveloped the city, but in here, at the pinnacle of the Veyra tower, time itself seemed under our control. Edrian watched the cityscape through the armored window, his hands clasped behind his back. He wasn’t admiring the view; he was assessing it, like a general studying a map before a battle. My place was at the long, polished mahogany table, a holographic screen floating silently before me, displaying the post-crisis reports.The crisis, of course, was the one we had manufactured. “Solar flare.” An elegant, scientific term to cover up a massive electrical storm that had swept across all of Fosack. The narrative had been a success. Edrian’s speech, where he announced his aspiration for Internal Minister of the continent, had calmed public nerves and reinforced his image as a firm leader in times of uncerta

MiguelThe note on my pillow wasn’t just a piece of paper. It was a violation. It was a statement. The cold wall of paranoia that had been closing in on me all day had finally collapsed, crushing me. The surveillance was no longer passive, no longer across the street or down a distant hallway. It had been in my room, in my safe space. Fear, until that moment, had been an animal stalking me from a distance. Now, it was in the cage with me. I sat on the edge of my bed, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, staring at the three words in that elegant, unfamiliar handwriting: The mural breathes.Solitude was a death trap. They would isolate me, make me doubt my own sanity, and then, when I was scared and confused enough, they would make their move. I couldn't let them. Kai, Silas, Rocco, Lena... they were all I had. Ignoring the tremor in my hands, I left my room and headed for the student wing’s communication center. The emergency method was risky: sending a text message to