“What is your ability?” Rose asked, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of curiosity. “Wind,” Juliet replied, her voice steady despite the slight anxiety in her chest. Rose gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. “Very well, your test begins now.” She gesture toward the raised platform where the targets were set felt like the beginning of a trial. Juliet drew in a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. She wasn’t as confident as Vorden, not yet, she is still a beginner in using her wind ability. She raised her hand, feeling the familiar stir of wind swirl around her fingertips. The wind gathered with a force that felt like an old companion, wrapping itself around her palm. She focused, and one by one, small rocks from a nearby pile lifted into the air, floating with controlled precision. The first rock shot forward, speeding toward the red dot. A perfect hit. The second rock followed, then the third—each one striking the red spot with flawless accuracy. The rush of

The instructor’s voice broke the silence. “Silver, you’re up next.”With a confident smile, Silver stepped forward. Her movements were fluid, deliberate, and sure. The others watched her, but Henry couldn’t help but focus on the calmness in her demeanor. There was no trace of hesitation or nerves in her expression—she was ready. She exuded an air of self-assurance that seemed almost otherworldly.Beside him, Juliet’s gaze was fixed on Silver. Her lips pressed tightly together, eyes narrowed in a way that struck Henry as strange. Something was off—he couldn’t quite place it, but it seemed like there was more to Juliet’s watchful gaze than simple curiosity. A flicker of jealousy perhaps? He wasn’t sure, but it made him uneasy.'Show me what you've got' my kind. Henry thought to himself, feeling the words linger in his mind.The instructor motioned for the first test to begin. At his signal, three targets emerged in various locations around the arena. Without missing a beat, Silver raise

Henry’s fingers brushed the cold metal of the key as he stared at the tag attached. A simple number—25—was engraved on it, its surface reflecting the dim light from the hallway. The soft clinking of the keys in his hand broke the silence as he made his way toward the stairs, arriving at the upper floor with fewer students. The academy’s vastness had already overwhelmed him, but the dormitory felt like an entirely different world. The building was imposing, with corridors that stretched on forever. Finally Henry reaches the door to room 25, he hesitated for a moment, holding the key in front of him. He slid the key into the lock and turned it. The door creaked open with a slight resistance, the sound echoing through the hallway behind him. The room before him was sparse—three beds lined up against the far wall. Each was neatly made, their dark brown sheets immaculate, almost too perfect. Henry stepped inside, his eyes scanning the space. The beds were simple, their frames sturdy

Black tears began to fall freely from Henry’s eyes as he slowly regained consciousness. His body felt heavy, his senses clouded, but the tears—they burned, leaving a cold, unsettling feeling behind. For a moment, he blinked rapidly, disoriented, until the sensation of something wet sliding down his cheek pulled him back into reality."Hey, what’s that black substance coming out from your eyes?" Ashton muttered, his voice filled with concern as he watched Henry’s face in disbelief.Henry froze, his gaze still unfocused. He raised a hand to his cheek, unsure of what was happening. His fingers brushed against something sticky, the substance unlike any tear he had ever known. Pulling his hand away, he was greeted by a trail of blackness—thick, tar-like, and unsettling.His heart skipped a beat as he tried to process the sight. It didn’t make sense. Was this... was this some kind of side effect of his contact vision? Or something worse?"It’s nothing," Henry replied quickly, trying to dism

The towering, old oak doors of the library creaked as Henry and Vorden pushed them open, stepping into the quiet yet bustling interior. The air smelled of aged parchment and polished wood, a scent that calmed Henry’s nerves. There were students scattered across the first floor, but the space didn’t feel crowded. Instead, it hummed with the low murmur of people immersed in their studies. The shelves, high and stacked with books of every kind, stretched up high, like silent sentinels guarding centuries of knowledge. The atmosphere, despite its liveliness, seemed to belong to another world—one where everything was muffled by the thick walls of the library and the hushed whispers of those around. Henry's gaze swept the room, taking in the desks arranged in various sections, some circular, some square. His attention, however, was drawn to the center of the tables, where a large, gleaming orb hovered on a pedestal. It emitted a soft, steady glow, a strange contrast to the otherwise subdu