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Chapter Text

In the twilight of stars and gods, twelve stood in balance, twelve gave the world shape, and name, each a thread in the tapestry of order.

From void came corruption.  From corruption came war.

God devoured God and the world burned.

Gods fell, the tapestry shredded, and corruption will—

— Fragment of the Aether Codex, recovered from the Ruins of Ithra.  Burned and partially translated.  Author unknown. —

________________________________________

Xelvethan 19^th, 909 A.G. (Over 100 years before the current time)

The Verdant Abyss, Southern Fringe – Subterranean Ruins

They had been digging for four months. 

Four months in the sticky, cloying heat of the jungles of the Verdant Abyss.  Despite being in the depth of winter, Marrek Voss wiped sweat from his brow and took a long drink from his canteen. Around him, his colleagues toiled on, slower now, dulled by repetition, heat, and the rot of the fresh excitement that carried them here four months ago.

The Verdant Abyss did not give up its secrets easily. 

Professor Allin Dareth knew that before leading his team here.  It was no secret that almost every expedition returned empty-handed, if they returned at all.  But the professor had insisted, stating that the magical echoes in the area, along with the symbols burned into the obsidian stone suggested that something ancient was buried here. 

And they would be the first to uncover it.

“We’ll be legends,” the professor had told them.  “Our names will be written into journals that will be studied hundreds of years from now.”

Marrek wasn’t all that interested in becoming a legend or being mentioned in journals.  He had come because the professor had promised lots of coin, and maybe whatever loot the ruins had left behind.  Coin, he knew, that would help pay off the debts he had to others in the Tidal Confederacy that didn’t take missed payments lightly.   

But after four months of digging, it was looking hopeless.  They had found some trinkets, such as rusted amulets, broken etchings and cracked magical amplifiers, but there was no sign of the great discovery that the professor had promised.  They were now having to ration food, and the water had to be boiled magically three times to make sure it was safe enough to drink.  Even then, it had a horrible, metallic taste.  And then there was the bites and stings from myriad jungle creatures, leaving several team members feverish and infected.

That was even before the canopy weavers and shadowstalkers came hunting for them.

The former were spiders as large as horses, venomous and unnaturally intelligent.  They would drop from the jungle canopy to attack, before skittering back into the trees.  If you looked closely, you would be able to see their eyes peering at you from between the branches.  The latter were cats made of muscle and silence, seen only the second before they struck.

Marrek knew his way around a sword, and even knew a little magic, but not enough to fend off creatures like that.  Thankfully, Professor Dareth had hired help.  Two Mistborn Ascendants, graduates from the famed Neptune Academy in The Tidal Confederacy.  

Korin Deyne and Vaela Marinx had an air around them that screamed confidence and certain death.  Marrek had no doubts about their ability; he had seen them cut down a nest of Canopy Weavers in minutes, without breaking sweat. 

But for all their skill, there was something… unnerving about them.  They never helped with the digging or the excavating, and if they spoke, it was only to each other in hushed words, or to the professor. 

Not that Marrek cared either way.  He had no words for scum that came from Neptune.  

His hatred of Neptune was personal.  His sister had been chosen to attend, displaying her affinity for water magic at a young age.  She had entered the academy, bright, excited and full of wonder.  She was the pride of their family, the first in any of their generation to earn a place and one of the four famed magical academies in the world.

For the first two years, his sister wrote to them frequently, telling them all the wonders of the academy, the lessons, the magic, and the friends she made.  Until one day, the letters stopped, sealed by a final missive from the academy head, telling them that his sister had died on a mission.

Pretty words, that spoke of honour and duty and sacrifice.  No words that explained what had happened or why she had died.  When Marrek had gone looking for answers, the academy shut him down, calling it none of his business.  In his desperation, he had gone to the underworld of the Tidal Confederacy, only to find himself in debt to groups he should have stayed far away from.

Marrek stowed his canteen, and prepared to start digging again, when a shout from one of the other excavators, roared across the camp.  “I have something!” Taron’s voice cracked through the air. “Over here!”

________________________________________

Taron’s voice still echoed as Marrek crossed the dig site, his shovel forgotten in the dirt.

By the time he reached him, half the team had gathered, their breath ragged from exertion, despite the heat. Taron was crouched beside a slab of blackened stone, half-buried in moss and root. He had scraped away just enough of the soil to reveal a crack — a narrow arch, barely wider than a man’s shoulders, yawning open into darkness.

“It’s a passage,” he said, eyes wide. “Goes down.”

Professor Dareth stepped forward, eyes gleaming with a light that Marrek had not seen in weeks. He inspected the runes on the edges of the stone. “None of these… are in any language I have ever seen. Marrek. Get the team ready.  Packs. Lanterns. Water. We will go down and explore.”

“Do you not want to send a scout in first, Professor?”  Marrek was worried at the speed the Professor wanted to move at.  Usually, if they were exploring ancient ruins, a scout would be sent to survey the area and determine how safe it was before sending others down.

The Professor responded with a tut.  “Nonsense Marrek.  We have no time to lose.”  He stepped up, pressing his hand onto Marrek’s shoulder.  “This is it, Marrek.  This is what we’ve been searching for.  Get them ready.”

Despite his concerns, Marrek did as asked.  The Professor paid them for this after all.  He set the rest of the team to get ready, and he noticed Korin and Vaela emerge from the shade of a vine-strangled pillar, already armed. They said nothing, standing with their arms crossed, waiting for the order to proceed.

Within the hour, they descended into the darkness.

To Marrek, it felt like the tunnel breathed.

________________________________________

They had been descending for nearly two hours.  Always heading down.  The path was jagged and broken, like it hadn’t been walked for centuries.  Korin had taken point, whilst Vaela had taken on rear guard duty.  The air this far down was dead, and there was a horrible kind of pressure that seemed to beat at the air, making every step into the blackness feel heavier. Marrek had stopped trying to lean on the walls to help with his balance, as there was a sticky substance that leaked from the walls on a constant basis.  Their torches and lanterns hissed and sputtered, refusing to burn clean, even when reinforced with magic. And when they did burn clean, the light seemed to bend strangely against the stone, almost as if it was unwilling to illuminate what lay ahead.

They marked their path as they walked, moving downward in a tight formation, their footsteps echoing off the stone.  There was no chatter, that had long since stopped.  The only sounds were the sounds of breathing, boots on stone, and the occasional muttered curse when someone slipped, or touched the walls and recoiled. 

That’s when the skittering started.  The noise of something scratching and skittering around them.  Whenever a torch would try to find out where the noises came from, there was nothing. 

“Rats,” someone whispered.

“No rats in ruins this deep,” came the reply.

Twice, they passed runes carved into the walls, long-forgotten sigils warped by time and lichen. The Professor grew excited, stating that they bore resemblance to ancient script he had seen somewhere before.  He seemed unconcerned that neither of the two Mistborn Ascendants had never seen anything like this.

Professor Dareth traced one with gloved fingers.

“Pre-Godfall,” he muttered. “This could predate the known divine script… or perhaps it's a root language.”

Marrek didn’t like the way the torchlight dimmed the longer he stared at it.

They eventually moved on.

The deeper they descended, the worse it became.

The air turned sweet, like overripe fruit, but laced with something acidic beneath it. One of the Professors interns, Kell, usually the quietest of them, muttered that it tasted like copper.

They stopped for water and found some of the flasks had fouled. Three were tainted with green and black algae that definitely hadn't been there when they started the climb down.  Even the Mistborn, experts in water magic, couldn’t cleanse the taint.  In the end, Vaela poured it out without a word.

The rest of the group huddled closer.  None of them liked the feel of this place, and if something had corrupted the water, then how much worse was it going to get? “Should we turn back?” Taron asked.

“Now?” the Professor snapped. “When we’re this close?”

“Close to what?” Marrek muttered, but not loud enough to start a fight.

He could see something shift in the Professors eyes.  An anger burning, and he was about to lash out at Marrek when Kell spoke. 

“Wait.  Has anyone seen Dren?”

Dren Halveth was one of Marrek’s team.  Always reliable, the type of person you would want at your back for exploring these kinds of places.  He had been near the rear of the formation, torch in hand. 

But suddenly, he was gone.

They called out for him, their shout echoing in the tunnels.  There was no response.  Marrek spun on Vaela, who had been on rear.

“Where is he?  You were on rear guard.  Did you not see him walk off?  Did you not stop him?  Did you do something to him, you fucking…”

He stopped dead, as a blade was placed against his neck.  He hadn’t seen or heard Korin move.  “Finish that sentence, and you won’t be walking out of here.”  It was the first time Korin had spoken to him, and his voice was cold, like it had been drawn from the depths of the ocean itself. 

Marrek was frightened, but not by the blade on his neck.  He had never taken his eyes off Vaela, who was blinking and muttering quietly.  “But… he was right there.  He was in front of me… and then just gone.  I don’t…”

“Vaela.  You saw nothing at all?” asked Korin.

She shook her head.

If even she hadn’t seen him go… what the hell had happened?  Marrek turned toward the professor, who was debating with Kell and the rest of his assistants about ordering a search for Dren.  It looked like he was about to order a search, until Vaela, pale and still dazed, shook her head.

“No.  If you send someone, you’ll lose them too.”

She looked at Marrek for a moment, before turning away.

Marrek felt a little sick and angry that they were leaving one of his men down in the dark to die.  It was a horrible way to go.

But if the Mistborn were saying others would be lost…  Well.  Dren was a friend, but Marrek was no fool.  He had no intention of dying down in this darkness.

After a few minutes of gathering themselves, the descended deeper into the ruins.

________________________________________

They walked in silence now. Even the scrape of their boots on the stone had quieted into something muffled, as though the earth itself had grown thick.

Marrek kept his hand on the hilt of his blade, though he doubted steel would matter down here. The air clung to his skin like damp cloth, heavy and sour.

Marrek.

It was like someone had whispered it directly into his mind. He turned sharply, but no one was near him.  Korin had moved ahead, whilst the rest of the group were huddled together behind him.

A whisper, again. Just his name.

Marrek.

It came from the dark.

“Did you hear that?” Marrek asked, glancing to the others around him, but they only shook their heads.

After what felt like days, the walls and ground around them started to change.  The stone tunnel started giving way to pillars of obsidian, carved and veined with strange inlays that pulsed in the dim light.  The air changed again, becoming thicker and sour, and every breath was a fight not to retch.  Marrek tried to cover his face with a scarf, but it never helped.  It wasn’t just rot or mold or the stench of sealed stone. It was older than that.

The space before them opened wider than it should have. Their torchlight barely reaching the floor, let alone the far walls or ceiling. Shadows swam along the edges, refusing to settle. There was a hum in the air, a vibration, that Marrek couldn’t figure out if it was coming from somewhere or if it was his own brain creating it. 

The chamber itself had been carved from smooth, black stone — some kind of polished volcanic glass or obsidian that glimmered with an unnatural sheen. Beneath his boots, the floor bore wide, looping circular carvings that spidered out from the center like veins.

“Fascinating,” the professor muttered into the dark.  These markings aren’t decorative; they have a purpose.  Perhaps for some form of ritual?”

Marrek wasn’t sure who he was talking to, or if he was even talking to anyone.

They walked forward, slowly now, as if something might wake at their footsteps. Kell murmured a warding prayer under his breath. No one stopped him. 

Marrek knew they should not be there.

Vaela stiffened beside him. Even Korin had gone pale beneath the tattoos that inked his skin. The Mistborn said nothing, but their eyes scanned the shadows like soldiers on the eve of war.

As they walked further in, they could see some structure take shape at the far end of the chamber.

At first, Marrek thought it might be another arch, or some kind of collapsed gateway. But as they moved closer, the shape resolved slowly, almost reluctantly, as if the shadows themselves were holding it close.

It was a temple.  Not grand or towering, but solid, ancient, and intact. It stood in direct opposition to everything else the jungle had reclaimed. No roots touched it. No mold dared cling. Its surface was bare black stone, carved in lines that made your head ache if your eyes traced them for too long.

At the center of the temple sat an altar.

It rose from the floor like a block of pure obsidian, edges honed so perfectly that torchlight failed to reflect off it at all. Instead, it seemed to drink in the light, swallowing it whole. The top of the altar glistened wetly, as though slicked with oil.

Two objects rested upon it.

The first was a book. It was thick, bound in what looked like leather, though the grain of it moved faintly when the torchlight passed across it, almost like skin twitching beneath a knife. Symbols ran along its spine, none of which any of them recognized. They shimmered faintly, like veins beneath bruised skin.

The second was an orb that was no larger than a man's fist. It hovered a finger’s width above the altar’s surface, gently spinning. It was not made of glass, nor of any metal Marrek knew. Its surface was pitch black, until you looked closer, where it seemed like something moved around just under the surface.  Something almost… worm like.   

Everyone stopped at that point.  Even Korin and Vaela, who had remained cold and unreadable through storms and spider ambushes and the fevered madness of the jungle, stood rigid now. Their bodies were tense, as their hands hovered near their blades.  They were trained to hunt down the worst the world had to offer, and they were afraid.

Marrek heard Kell whisper behind him. It wasn’t even words, more sounds, like choking, stuttering sounds.  When he turned, the younger man’s eyes were wide, fixed on something out there in the dark — something no one else could see.

“Kell…” Marrek started, but the man shook his head.

“I saw her,” Kell whispered, so quietly it barely reached Marrek’s ears. “She was… she was right here.”

Marrek didn’t ask who. He didn’t want to know.

He was vaguely aware of the professor stepping a step toward the altar, and as she did something in the air shifted.  Almost as if the world itself bent, as thoughts and memory splintered.  Marrek felt his balance shift, even though his feet were steady. But there was a weight behind his eyes, a pressure behind his teeth, like something was pushing from inside his skull trying to crawl outward.

He blinked, and the torches that the party held flared. For a brief moment, the runic lines at their feet pulsed.

Like a heartbeat. 

He staggered back, breath ragged in his throat. “We shouldn't be here,” he muttered, but it came out more like a plea.

Professor Dareth did not listen.  He took another step toward the alter.

The older man’s face was blank, muttering “this is it,” over and over.  His eyes were wide but unfocused, tracking nothing and everything at once, almost as if he were sleepwalking. 

“Professor,” Marrek called, louder now. “Don’t go near that altar.”

Dareth didn’t stop. His boots echoed with slow, deliberate rhythm against the altar’s steps. Each one a heartbeat Marrek could feel in his chest.

“Don’t touch it,” he pleaded.

The words came out cracked and wrong, like his tongue was suddenly too big for his mouth. His body screamed at him to move, but when he tried to step forward, a weight, invisible and immense, struck him like a hammer.  His legs crumpled. He hit the floor hard, chest heaving, vision swimming.

He looked up to see Korin and Vaela staggering forward, hands outstretched to try and pull the Professor back.  He watched in horror, as the professor extended a hand toward the orb…

One finger touched it, and as it did, the orb flared, and the altar sang. It sang, not in music or voice, but in a resonance that should never be heard by a living mortal. 

It was a song of madness.

And then the whispers returned.  Not from the darkness, but from within their own heads. 

________________________________________

Marrek lay where he had fallen, palms flat against the cold stone floor, ribs aching with each ragged breath. His lantern lay several feet away, its flame struggling to stay alight in air that no longer felt like air at all. Every inhalation coated his tongue in a metallic tang, like he was breathing in rust.

Professor Dareth’s full hand now rested on the orb.  He was standing motionless, his posture rigid.  But his face… his mouth hung open impossibly wide, locked in a soundless scream. 

He could hear the others around him.  Kell was sobbing quietly to himself nearby, whilst Vaela muttered an incantation under her breath.  Korin said nothing, but the way his jaw was clenched said enough. 

Slowly, it was like the air around them lit up, though there was no source of light that Marrek could fathom.  It slowly revealed the cavern, and Marrek screamed.

The walls of the temple were alive.  Pulsing in time to a heartbeat that only they knew.  Giant eyes bulged from the walls, each one staring directly at them.

Then the whispers came again, rising from inside his own mind.

Marrek.

He swung his head around, trying to stop the whispers by the force.  Nothing he did helped, as the voices kept whispering.  One of them he recognised as Dren. 

The tone was familiar and measured, just like it had been on the second week of the expedition, when the man had loaned Marrek his jacket on a cold night and talked about going home after this, about building a house near the cliffside in Elireth.

But Dren was gone.

Lost in the tunnels. Lost in the dark.

“You left me,” the voice whispered. It was close enough to feel its warmth against Marrek’s ear. “You didn’t even try.”

“No,” he whispered back, hands tightening on the stone. “No. I didn’t…I couldn’t…”

The heat intensified. Not on his skin, but under it, behind his eyes, crawling down his spine like hot fingers dragging nails, to painful too even think straight. 

“You didn’t look for me,” the voice said. “But I see you.”

Marrek clenched his eyes shut. He couldn’t stop the tears now.  Tears born of fear and sensory overload, as everything about this room was wrong.  The pressure, the smell, the way the air buzzed with whispers in a language no tongue should remember.

Shapes detached from the far walls and Marrek heard himself scream again. Things of nightmare shambled forward, limbs jerking like puppets pulled by clumsy strings. Their bodies were not bodies at all, but an amalgamation of nightmares come true.  Heads where the stomach should be, too many arms, too many legs, a mouth blooming alongside an elbow, teeth where no teeth should be.

As the monstrosities shambled toward them, the professor spoke.  But whatever voice had once been the professors was gone, replaced by something sickening and twisted, somewhere between sanity and madness.

“Do you understand now?” the thing said. The words came from his mouth, but also from somewhere else—behind Marrek’s ears, in the marrow of his bones. “He was never gone. None of them are gone. They are simply… misplaced.”

Korin moved.

He lunged, sword drawn, lightning leaping across the blade in sharp, silver arcs. His boots slammed against the obsidian floor, and for a brief moment, Marrek believed he’d reach the professor. That he’d drive the steel into him and end this madness.

But he didn’t, as something stopped him mid-charge. A force holding him in place, before flinging him backwards to the ground, like dust in the wind.

The monstrosities had reached them now.  Korin had staggered to his feet, swinging a blade at a monster, only for it to pass through like it wasn’t even there.  Marrek watched Korin’s eyes widen in confusion, then horror as the creature leaned toward him. It didn’t attack, but it mirrored Korin exactly.

Its head cocked to exactly the same angle.

Its jaw slackened in the same shape.

Its expression, empty and unreadable, became his own reflection, stripped of meaning.

Korin screamed then, and Vaela grabbed him, pulling him away from the creature.  She began whispering spell work, as water beaded along her forearms, pulled from the air itself.  It swirled into shape, a swirling tempest to be unleashed into the madness.

But the water changed mid-formation.

It seemed to stretch, thinner and thinner, before fraying and unravelling, the water falling to the floor in broken splashes.  Vaela’s voice cracked, as the spell incantation faded. 

Vaela let out a strangled cry and tried to call the tide to her like she had done so many times before. But the water didn’t come. Her magic stuttered and twisted and became… wrong. Threads of moisture wove around her wrists like strings, binding her arms to her sides. Her mouth opened wide, and the scream that came out was no longer hers.

The walls were still watching.

Marrek felt the last of his courage snap.

He pushed himself backward, trying to put distance between himself and the altar, only to come up against something soft and inhuman.   As he touched it, his world bent, as memories spilled into the air.  He saw his sister, her final letter, her voice lost in the sea wind. He saw Dren. He saw the jungle. The academy. The debt. The blood.

His vision began to fracture, like a mirror that had been dropped over and over. 

“Make it stop,” he begged.

His hands lifted to his face. All he could think of is that he needed darkness and silence.  To not see the horrors in front of him.  That the pressure in his skull was too much. 

He pressed his fingers to his eyes and strangely felt no pain.  He saw the Mistborn fall to the monsters, devoured by teeth and claw, screaming as they fell.

He pushed harder, as a laugh through the chamber. It wasn’t triumphant, it wasn’t even cruel. 

It was… joyful.  Like a man who had been blind all his life and could finally see.

Like a pilgrim stepping through a doorway and finding a god on the other side.

Professor Dareth stood before the altar, arms wide, his body backlit by the impossible light.

“I am Xelarian.  Xelarian is me,” he whispered, and the whole chamber seemed to breathe in response.

Marrek finally screamed as he clawed out his own eyes.

Chapter Text

Kaeronth 01st, 1012 A.G.

Aboard the Skyship Elarion’s Reach

Yeonji

The sky was wider than she’d ever imagined.

Yeonji pressed her hands into the wooden railing of the upper deck, her breath catching as clouds rushed past beneath the hull, sun-dappled and swirling like silk in the wind. Behind her, the engines of Elarion’s Reach thrummed with restrained power, their pulse rising and falling like some enormous sleeping beast, guiding the ship onwards.

She had never flown before. At least, not like this.

She’d once ridden as a passenger in a glider cart that hurtled down the mountain paths near Rilveth — if clinging to her cousin and screaming counted as riding — but this was different. This one was nothing like that. This was a Skyship.

Elarion’s Reach was all dark iron and bonewood, sturdy and old, with rune-scribed panels along its hull that shimmered faintly whenever the sun hit them at the right angle. Magic ran through the Skyships veins, visible as threads of blue light that pulsed in the seams between plates. Dozens of students lined the railings and catwalks, clutching their trunks, wide-eyed and windblown — most of them no older than Yeonji herself.

She clutched the wooden rail with white-knuckled fingers and tried not to squeal again. She’d squealed five times already. Six if you counted the one only dogs could hear.

To Yeonji, it felt like she was standing on the edge of a new world.

Back home in Caelport, she would see the occasional Skyship now and then.  Magical, glinting specks in the clouds, with stories told in vapour trails. Once, when she was eight, her father had lifted her onto the roof of the alchemist’s market to watch one come in low for repairs. He’d said it looked like a bird built by a god, all gold wings and glass. She’d believed him.

She turned, grinning to herself, and pulled her coat tighter against the wind. The air up here was cold, and she loved it. It filled her lungs like she’d been breathing wrong her entire life until this moment.

Somewhere behind her, an older student in a long navy coat barked orders at a cluster of younger ones who had nearly dropped their gear down into the clouds. An insignia gleamed on the older student’s shoulder. Something Yeonji didn’t recognise, but it had the look of a rank, of leadership and seniority.  Not someone she wanted to annoy.

At least not yet.

________________________________________

Two months ago, she hadn’t even known Zenith was an option. She’d been a nobody in the city of Caelport.  She was good at climbing into high places, good at getting herself into trouble, and even better at running from said trouble.

Her parents had always said she had too much energy, whilst her teachers, when she bothered to show up, described her as spirited. Which, Yeonji was pretty sure, was a polite way of saying she can’t sit still, doesn’t pay attention and talks too much.

And they weren’t wrong. 

But she always felt like she was different from the other kids around her.  Like… there was something inside her. It was the way she couldn’t sit still.  She had to be moving, fighting, or dancing.  Just… doing something.

During the frequent thunderstorms that hit The Free Highlands, it felt like lightning crackled beneath her skin.  Her father said it was nonsense. Her mother called it delusions of grandeur.

She knew they were wrong, and the proof happened when she’d been running from three boys who thought they could make her hand over the coins she’d found at the edge of the port. She told them to stick it, launching an empty wooden bucket at them, before turning and sprinting.  She hadn’t expected them to chase her, so she didn’t have much of a plan beyond dashing through the city streets and hoping they got tired before she did.

So, that mean she hadn't counted on them being stronger, or lasting longer than she did, and they ended up cornering her near the water tower at the edge of town.  They approached, cracking their knuckles, threatening to hurt her for making them chase her, even if she handed over the coins.

She wasn’t afraid.  This wouldn’t be the first beating she would have suffered a beating from one group or another in her life.  Her mouth did have a habit of getting her into trouble after all. But she was tired of running, and tired of feeling like nothing.  She could feel the lightning under her skin, and in that moment, it was like everything dropped away.  There was no anger, no resentment… just clarity.

And then that clarity was replaced with a storm.  Her thoughts fragmented, burned and howled, as if one of the massive thunderstorms that would engulf the coast had taken root inside her. She felt herself burning, flying, soaring… dying.  The storm inside needed an outlet, or it would destroy her.

She had raised her hands, and lightning and wind answered. There was a surge, a rush of force that felt like her own heartbeat being thrown outward. Wind screamed sideways from nowhere and knocked the boys clean off their feet. One of them went crashing into the side of the water tower, crumbling into a heap.  Lightning arced from her hand, striking the dirt between the other two on the ground, before they scrambled back to their feet and ran, their faces filled with terror.

And just like that, the storm was gone, only to be replaced with silence, an ache and emptiness that clawed at the very edges of her soul. 

________________________________________

Thankfully, the boy that had hit the water tower was fine, suffering with some light bruising and cracked ribs. 

Hours later, she was sitting in front of her parents, her palms still tingling from what had happened, trying to explain her side of the story. Her father scoffed, believing Yeonji was lying, or making up stories to cover for herself.  But her mother… there was a look in her eyes that said she believed her. 

For the longest time, Yeonji thought she had imagined or dreamed everything that had happened.  She was never able to call on the power again, and stupidly, she thought if she put herself into danger, maybe that would bring it to the fore. All that did was cause her bruising, a slight concussion and a bruised ego.

She was just about ready to give up grasping the power ever again.  And then the letter came.

It didn’t come from a messenger, or a scroll to their door.  A Thunderhawk, white feathered with violet eyes, rare creatures only seen in the highest peaks of the Highlands, appeared in their home in a burst of lightning, burning a hole through their door as it did.  Yeonji remembered her mother screaming and her dad falling back into the couch.  But she didn’t feel fear, only awe and wonder.

It left as quickly as it arrived, disappearing in a flash of lightning bright enough to blind.  It left behind an envelope, bearing the seal of the Academy of Zenith — a lightning strike through a spiral of wind.  It was addressed to her.

The rest had happened in a blur.

Tests. Interviews. A tiny room in a coastal enclave filled with people who smelled like lightning and wind trapped in a bottle.  They asked her impossible questions while her fingers jittered against the table. They’d told her she had potential. Not control, not discipline — but the potential to become a huntress.  To help protect and serve the world that she lives in.

She was a natural Spark they said.  Whatever that meant.

“She’s strong,” one of them had murmured.  “Potentially good enough to become a Tempest.”  She said the word tempest like it tasted strange in her mouth, almost as if it was something rare or never happened.

Yeonji didn’t know then what becoming a tempest meant. But that seemed to have been enough for the others in the room. 

________________________________________

That had been a few months ago.  She still didn’t know what becoming a tempest was supposed to mean, but here she was, a bag of belongings, a one-way Skyship ticket to Zenith Academy, and a feeling of excitement that made her want to bounce around the deck like a bolt of lightning.

That probably wasn’t the best idea on her first day, so she settled for tucking her hands into her pockets and bounced on her heels. Looking around, she noticed how almost all of the other first-years looked as excited as she did.  Some of them were chatting, and pointing out things in the clouds, whilst others sat alone, silent.

Everyone handled nerves differently.

She noticed how some of the students looked older than her, even if they were first years, just like her.  “Some of them look so much older,” Yeonji muttered, half to herself, half to a girl standing nearby.

The girl was around the same age as her.  Sharp-eyed, round-faced, and prettier than she probably knew. Her arms were crossed as she leaned on the railing, her long and ink-dark hair blowing in the wind. There was something fierce and alive in her gaze, the kind of look that said she’d argue with the sky itself if it challenged her. “That’s normal,” she said casually. “The Spark doesn’t come at the same age for everyone. Some get it at ten. Some not until sixteen or seventeen.”

Yeonji blinked. “So… they’re all first-years?”

“Should be,” the girl shrugged. “Zenith doesn’t care how old you are. Some academies will only allow first years between certain ages.  Zenith just cares whether you’re ready or not.”

“Oh.  That makes sense.” Yeonji paused for a second, before introducing herself.  After all, her parents had told her to play nice with her fellow students. “I’m Yeonji. I’m from Caelport.”

“Eunchae,” the girl replied. “From Velensport.”  Then with a smirk she added “Don’t touch my bag, Caelport girl.” Her smirk curled like she was half-serious, half-daring Yeonji to try.

Yeonji grinned right back at her, liking Eunchae and her spunky attitude already. “Wasn’t planning to.”

Eunchae appraised her with the look of someone who’d already ranked everyone onboard from ‘passable’ to ‘lost cause.’ After a second, she nodded, before letting a wide grin spread over her face. It was a smile that transformed her completely, no longer looking as intimidating as she had a few seconds before. “You look like you will fit right in with Zenith,” she said. “If you don’t fall off the edge of the academy in the first week.”

Yeonji opened her mouth to ask what that meant, but Elarion’s Reach banked right, the wind shifted the clouds in front of the ship, and her breath caught.

________________________________________

Far ahead, floating above the mountain line like a fortress built from cloud and stone, stood Zenith Academy. 

Zenith wasn’t a place you reached on foot. It had no gates and no walls. It floated, held aloft and magically anchored to the peak of Mount Zephenir, a jagged, myth-wrapped spike in the Northeast of the Free Highlands. All of it stood in open defiance of gravity and reason.

The floating isles rose like teeth from the clouds, jagged and layered, each one held aloft by forces no one fully understood anymore. The topmost isle held the main campus, rising like a temple carved from stone and sky. Its towers shimmered with faint, shifting runes.  Smaller isles ringed the campus like moons, whilst hanging suspension bridges swung between them.  The rocks that formed the base of the isles pulsed blue and silver, alive with stored magic.

And beneath it all — sound. A low hum, deep and endless, thrummed through the air like the heartbeat of the world itself. The wind sang across the bridges, catching on the runic spires until they rang with quiet resonance, a harmony of magic and storm. Thunder rolled somewhere far below, soft but constant, like the sky was purring in its sleep.

Each isle had massive towers that spiralled skyward like they’d been carved by lightning itself. Rings of magic shimmered around the spires, shifting with the wind. Smaller skyships moved like insects, ferrying cargo and students from level to level.

Thunderhawks scattered from the archways as another Skyship docked ahead of them, and Yeonji could see dozens of other students already crowding the landing platform, their faces a mix of the same awe and terror Yeonji felt.  Workers were already unloading luggage onto the platform, where they would be carried up to their rooms later.

Yeonji refused to blink, desperate to soak in every sight in front of her.  She glanced at Eunchae, whose eyes reflected the shimmering towers of the academy, her face full of the same wonder Yeonji felt.

Yeonji squeaked, then spun to face the wind again, and her cheeks hurt from grinning so much.  Up to this moment, none of it felt real.  Like, at any point, she expected to be thrown overboard, or labelled an imposter.  

But none of that had happened.  She was going to Zenith.

________________________________________

The wind hit harder up here, and Yeonji hadn’t really appreciated how high they were until she stepped off the Skyship and onto the open stone platform that jutted out into the clouds. There were no railings. No safety enchantments she could see. Just the sky stretching out in every direction, wild and endless. The drop was so vast it stole her breath.

The platform was carved from dark stone and inlaid with strange circular markings—veins of silver that pulsed with a quiet hum beneath their feet. It felt alive.

Yeonji was too busy looking around and bumped into a fellow first-year, her shoulder thudding against the girl’s back. She opened her mouth to apologise, only to see the student looking into the sky, slack jawed.  Yeonji followed her eyeline, her own jaw opening in disbelief, as she saw students above them, flying.

Flying. Not floating, not levitating. Flying. One upperclassman arced across the courtyard like a bolt of wind-laced motion, flipping through the air to land on the far wall and stick there like it was upright. Others were running along the walls, racing across bridges, slinging magic like it was breath.

The crowd around her were chattering, their excitement overcoming their nerves.  Yeonji’s attention was drawn to the steps in front of them, where four figures were standing.

The two in the middle looked older, and wore storm-grey coats embroidered with blue thread at the seams, signifying that they were Zenith instructors. One was a little shorter than the other, with her dark hair braided.  The other was a little taller, with blonde hair and a smirk on her face. They were flanked on either side by two students that stood like sentinels, their arms crossed as their eyes sized up the crowd of incoming first years.  Yeonji noted that they kind of looked similar to each other, and that they were around their early twenties.  One of them was wearing a cloak of brilliant white, blue at the seams, whilst the other wore the same blue that the older students on the Skyship wore.  Outside of the cloaks, the rest of their uniform looked ragged, like they had stepped out of a storm or a battle. 

Maybe both, thought Yeonji.  This was Zenith after all. 

One of the teachers stepped forward, which was enough to silence the group of excitable first years.  She wasn’t tall, but she was composed and carried herself like she was ready to battle in the breath between one second and the next.  Her dark braid swung over one shoulder, as she swept her gaze over the students.

“I’m Stormbinder Eunbi,” she said, her voice carrying easily across the platform. “This is Stormbinder Yuqi,” she indicated to the other teacher.  “Welcome to Zenith Academy.”  She paused to make sure the first years were paying attention. “Some of you were recruited by our scouts. Most of you are here because your Spark woke and you have the capacity to learn and become hunters and huntresses. Some of you,” she paused, glancing at a pale boy near the front, “look like you thought this would be a nice summer camp or a vacation.”

Stormbinder Yuqi stepped forward, smiling like she was already planning which wall to throw someone through, and gave a lazy wave.

“We’re not your parents,” she said. “We’re not going to hold your hand. If you cast a spell and get yourself struck by lightning, that’s a you problem. If you survive it, we’ll teach you how not to do it again.”

A few students laughed nervously.

“Zenith doesn’t break students,” Yuqi went on. “We break inexperience. We break fear,” Yuqi went on. “Your Sparks are raw, and unshaped but you’re all here because you have potential. But if you don’t learn how to control the storm magic, it will kill you. Quickly, if you’re lucky.”

Yuqi finally uncrossed her arms. “I know that sounds terrifying, and that’s because it is. But Zenith is also the best place in the world. This is a school where people fly without wings. Where magic is a living storm. Where no two days are the same, and no one expects you to be normal.”

“And that,” said Eunbi, “is where we come in. And them.”

She nodded behind her, where the two older students stood, their arms still crossed, and showing very different levels of enthusiasm.

The taller of the two girls shifted forward, her cloak flowing in the breeze behind her.

“This is Tempest Hyunjin,” Eunbi said, nodding toward her. “You’ll learn about the rankings later, but she’s a seventh year and one of our best.”  Then with a grin that promised way more than she let on, she added “You won’t like her.”

Hyunjin didn’t blink, but she did raise an eyebrow at the statement. Her expression was calm, unreadable, framed by sleek auburn hair that fell like polished copper down her shoulders. Even standing still, she carried the quiet threat of lightning waiting to strike — graceful, but coiled and deliberate. Her gaze swept across the first years like she was already measuring which ones would wash out first.

“And this,” said Yuqi, “is Storm Rider Yerim. Sixth year. She’s way nicer than Hyunjin, and will probably be your friend… possibly against your will. But don’t let her kindness fool you, she’s just as happy, and as capable, of putting you through a wall as Hyunjin.”

The other girl stepped forward, and her first impression couldn’t have been more different from Hyunjin’s. Where Hyunjin screamed controlled stillness, Yerim was motion given shape. She had sunlit hair, bright eyes, and a smile too wide for the rules she was supposed to enforce. Her braid was tied with storm-sigil bands, her coat hanging open over a mess of clashing colours and fabric that somehow worked. She was shorter than Hyunjin but burned twice as bright, her presence crackling like static.

Yerim waved both hands, almost bouncing as she did. “Hi! First-years! You all look adorable! I can’t wait to watch you fall off something! Don’t worry, you’ll probably survive the week! Probably!”

Yeonji blinked, as Eunchae muttered beside her, “She’s either my future best friend or my worst nightmare.”

“And yes,” Eunbi added, “they’re sisters. No, we don’t know how that happened either.”

Hyunjin finally spoke. “I was born first,” she said flatly. “Which means everything Yerim knows, I knew better first. And I don’t do babying. If you fall off a bridge, don’t expect a rescue… unless it’s funny.  Then I might.”

Yerim stuck out her tongue. “Ignore her. I’m the fun one and I will definitely rescue you. So, you’re welcome.”

Yuqi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “They’ll be splitting you into two groups. They will be showing you to your rooms and giving you a brief tour of the academy. If you’re lucky, you get Yerim. If you’re not… well, you’ll still learn something.”

Hyunjin gestured to one side of the group. “You lot are with me,” she said. No further instructions. No tone. Just expectation.

Yerim beamed at the other half. “That means the rest of you disaster children are mine! Don’t worry. I’m super responsible and won’t let any of you fall off the side of the academy.  It’s a long way down, after all.”

Yeonji found herself swept along in Yerim’s group, Eunchae looking at her forlornly as she was herded off into Hyunjin’s group. Beside her, other first years were whispering things like what did we sign up for? and what does she mean, fall off the side?

The teachers said nothing more. They didn’t have to.

Yerim turned to the group and started walking backwards as she talked. “Alright, everyone, follow me. We’re heading to your quarters first. You’ll get beds and wardrobes.  Keep up and don’t touch anything that glows as it’ll probably explode.”

As the group shuffled after her, boots thudding against stone that hummed faintly beneath their steps, Yeonji swallowed hard. This… was going to be a lot.

But for some reason, despite the storm in her stomach and the burn of nerves behind her teeth, she was smiling.

________________________________________

Yerim led the procession with the boundless energy of someone who had either slept for twelve hours or not at all. She skipped backward as she talked, her hair bouncing against her back, pointing out buildings and paths as they emerged through the swirling mist.

The wind whipped through the arches as she walked backward, her voice carrying easily over the low hum of magic that seemed to thread through the air. “That huge tower on the East Island? That’s the Skyforge. You’re not allowed near there yet, because chances are you’ll fuse yourself to the wall and die.”  She pointed over towards a rocky hill on the west side of the main isle.  “That hill has the best ridges and spots to nap. If you can handle the wind and the Thunderhawks that nest there”. 

They followed Yerim up a winding stone path. Despite the academy being on a floating island, it was a mountain floating on a mountain.  The winding stone path zig-zagged upward in sharp switchbacks, and the higher they went, the more of Zenith Academy revealed itself. 

Yeonji couldn’t stop staring at everything. It felt like the sky had been peeled open just to make space for this place. Massive towers curved up and around each other like spiraling blades, stitched together by walkways made of floating stone and suspended bridges lined with glyphs. The main spire—twisted, jagged, and alive with storm light—pulsed like a beating heart in the centre of it all.

Below them, walkways branched like veins across the campus, filled with older students in flight-leathers and mages robes. A shriek of delighted laughter echoed across the air as a student went flying past on what looked like a skyboard, trailing a ribbon of blue magic behind them.

“Is… is that safe?” someone asked.

“Absolutely not!” Yerim beamed. “That’s what makes it Zenith!”

A ripple of nervous laughter spread through the group.

As Yeonji looked around, she saw other students flying, zipping past on currents of air, some riding skyboards or gliders. Others simply leapt, caught mid-air by invisible pulses of magic. Thunderhawks circled lazily in the clouds above and around the flying students, their feathers lined with streaks of storm-light that shimmered when they banked into the sun

In the distance, there was a rhythmic boom, as if two giant forces were colliding and clashing in some kind of battle.  One of the other first years shouted out “Storm Rider Yerim.  Miss.  Ma’am.  Uhm… what’s that noise we are hearing?”

Yerim laughed, amused at the first year not knowing how to address her. “Just Storm rider Yerim is fine.”  She closed her eyes for a moment, smiling as she listened to the noise, before opening them a heartbeat later.  “That, my little friends, is the sound of combat practise.  Don’t worry, you’ll get to see it soon enough.”

They proceeded up the path again, only to stop when something massive shrieked above them.

Yeonji looked up just in time to see a massive, winged creature spiral overhead. Its wings were long and translucent, and its body shimmered with arcs of static charge. Its cry split the air, part thunderclap, part screech.

“Skyhawk,” Yerim explained with a grin, watching it loop toward one of the roost towers. “Bigger than Thunderhawks.  They nest in the western peaks and sometimes come down to scavenge spare magic off our towers. Don’t try to pet them unless you like getting electrocuted.  Or eaten.  That’s happened a couple of times.”

Yeonji had no words. She turned to another first-year student, wide-eyed, only to find her wearing the same awestruck expression.

Yerim continued, guiding them through an archway inscribed with the Zenith crest and into one of the dormitory towers. They were carved directly into the rock face, threaded with vines and sky bridges.  Hawks flew between them without care.  The upper levels seemed to have private balconies.

“This is the dormitories,” explained Yerim. “First and second years are on the lower floors, whilst the third years and above are higher up.  Your quarters are shared, two to four per room.  We tried to match you up with someone that is compatible with your magic and your vibe.” She winked at them. “If you end up hating your roommate, challenge them to a duel.  That’s how we usually resolve things around here.”

There were a few nervous laughs again, along with a few quiet groans.

She stopped at a curved hall lined with large doors, each marked with unique sigils that shifted subtly as they passed.

“Rooms are keyed to your magic. Head on up, and you’ll feel it when you find your room.  I’ll give you 30 minutes to get settled, after that I want you all down here for the tour.  If you’re late, I will leave you behind.” She beamed, as if leaving them behind was actually a good thing.

Yeonji followed the others up into the dorms. She was a little nervous as she had never had any siblings growing up, so she never had to share a room before. She hoped her new roommate was nice. 

As she wandered past to the doors, she wasn’t sure what she was expecting to happen.  She passed the first four, and as she approached the fifth door, she heard it give a small click, and the sigil above it pulsed softly in a faint teal blue.

“Found mine,” she murmured to no one, placing a hand on the door, feeling it swing open as she did.

The room inside was surprisingly spacious and warm. It was made of pale stone walls and had large, patio style windows that let in the storm-filtered light and offered dizzying views of the isle below. She had gotten lucky, as it looked like she would only have one roommate.  There were two beds, one on either side of the room, with a desk beside each of them and a single floating crystal lamp in between them. Shelves were embedded into the walls, and there was even a small plant in a levitating pot in the corner — its leaves humming faintly.

Yeonji stepped into what would be her home for hopefully a long time to come, and swung the door closed behind her. 

She noted faintly that her luggage was already there and was so absorbed in taking in her surroundings that she didn’t notice that she wasn’t alone. 

“Hi,” a quiet voice spoke.

Yeonji squeaked, jumping into the air as she heard the voice.

“Oh!” came a voice from one of the beds. “Hi! Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Yeonji clutched her chest, trying to calm her heartbeat. When she finally got her breathing under control, she found herself face to face with the girl who must have spoken.

The girl had already started unpacking, and Yeonji noticed straight away that everything was placed neatly, and in order.  Her books were lined up, whilst her desk desk looked like it belonged to someone who enjoyed putting things exactly where they belonged.

The girl herself looked to be about Yeonji’s age.  She was taller, with a calm sort of presence that immediately steadied the room. Her dark brown hair was tied back in a tidy ponytail, though a few strands had fallen loose around her cheeks. She had the kind of face that looked soft until you noticed the focus in her eyes — sharp, clear, quietly observant. Her uniform coat was buttoned perfectly, and on her bed there was a small stuffed creature made of chain links and buttons, half-collapsed from travel.

Yeonji blinked. “Oh. Uh. Hi! I think this is… my room too?”

The girl glanced at the sigil still glowing above the door, then smiled faintly. “I guess we’re roommates, then.”

“Guess so!” Yeonji laughed awkwardly and stepped forward, hand out. “Kwak Yeonji, Caelport.  But just call me Yeonji.”

“Joobin,” the girl replied, shaking it carefully. “Just Joobin.  I’m from Nareth.”

There was a pause, before Yeonji tilted her head. “You’re really neat.”

Joobin glanced back at her desk. “Oh. I just like to keep things in place. Less chaos, you know?”

Yeonji nodded. “Yeah, I get that. Sort of.”

There was another pause.

Then Yeonji sat on the bed opposite and grinned. “I like your… uh, chain creature.”

Joobin looked down at the object in question, before picking it up. “This is Chompers.”

“Chompers…” repeated Yeonji.

Joobin shrugged. “He helps me think.”

Yeonji propped herself on her hands, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I think we’re gonna get along.”

Joobin gave her a tiny smile in return. “I hope so.”

Outside, Yerim’s voice echoed down the hall. “You’ve got thirty minutes to unpack. After that, it’s tour time. Don’t be late, or Hyunjin will find you. And she doesn’t find gently.”

Yeonji laughed.

This was already the weirdest, loudest, most chaotic place she’d ever been.  It was exactly what she needed.  It felt… like coming home.

________________________________________

Joobin

Joobin’s tour group had arrived earlier than the others, so she had spent time in the room alone, unpacking methodically as a way to calm her nerves a little.

Joobin didn’t usually get nervous, but she was a little worried over sharing a room with someone she had never met before.  Her luggage was already here, and she wondered if her roommate would be nice.

She hoped for the former, obviously. 

She still found it a little strange that when her magic had first come to her, it was the Storm that had come to her, and she had ended up in Zenith. If anything, she expected to be in Sun or Neptune because her family would use words like grounded, cautious, soft-spoken to describe Joobin.

Zenith was the exact opposite of that.  Loud, unpredictable, wild.  Her mother called it the academy of idiots with wings once, before learning that is where her daughter would be going. 

After that, her parents hadn’t said much.  Only that they were proud of her and to do well on her studies.  The words weren’t enough to hide their disappointment that she was going to Zenith.

And because of that, she had spent the whole summer worrying, even getting close to the point of talking herself out of going to Zenith at all.  But it was like the scouts had told her when she first sparked her magic.  Storm magic was wild, and if she didn’t learn to control it, she would likely kill herself without meaning to.

And Joobin didn’t want that.

No, she wanted to become a huntress.  She wanted to serve, to find her sense of purpose, and protect the world.  She had seen what Dreamspawn could do.  She had lived through one of them destroying her town and she had sworn then and there to do everything she could to make sure such an event never happened to another town again.

Besides, it’s not like Joobin was… boring.  She liked to have fun, liked to joke around with others.  She was the type of person that matches their personality to the others around them… maybe she would be fine in Zenith.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of the door opening, and she had to still her heart a little to calm herself down.

She watched as the girl entered the room.

She was shorter than Joobin, and she exuded wiry energy and nervous excitement.  Her long, dark hair was halfway between tidy and wild, like it couldn’t decide which it wanted to be, whilst her uniform was half-buttoned; a travel bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder. She moved with a kind of restless momentum, like even standing still took effort.

There was a light to her though, something in the way she glanced around the room with wide, wondering eyes that caught on every small detail — the window view, the levitating plant, even the faint hum of the lamp crystal. She looked like someone seeing the sky for the first time.

When she smiled, it was quick and a little crooked, but real.

Joobin felt a flicker of relief.

This girl didn’t look cruel, or haughty, or like she’d sneer at Joobin’s carefulness. If anything, she radiated the kind of chaos that Zenith was famous for — and, strangely, that made Joobin feel a little safer.

“Hi,” Joobin said quietly, trying not to startle the girl.

The newcomer let out a startled squeak and spun around, clutching her chest like her heart had just leapt out of it. For a second, Joobin almost apologized again — but the sight was oddly endearing.

“Oh,” the girl said, still a little breathless. “Uh, sorry, and hi! I think this is… my room too?”

Joobin glanced at the glowing sigil above the door, then gave a small, reassuring smile. “I guess we’re roommates, then.”

“Guess so!” the girl laughed — a quick, awkward, but warm sound. She stepped forward and offered a hand. “Kwak Yeonji. But just call me Yeonji.”

“Joobin,” she replied, shaking it carefully. “Just Joobin.”

Yeonji tilted her head, studying her for a second. “You’re really neat.”

Joobin blinked, then followed her gaze to the tidy desk, the stacked books, and Chompers — her little chain-and-button creature — sitting at the foot of the bed. “Oh. I just… like to keep things in place. Less chaos, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Yeonji said, even though Joobin had the distinct sense Yeonji didn’t.

There was a pause as Yeonji sat cross-legged on her bed and pointed. “I like your… uh, chain creature.”

Joobin looked down at Chompers and smiled faintly. “This is Chompers.”

“Chompers…” Yeonji repeated, like she was testing the name on her tongue.

“He helps me think,” Joobin added, half a joke, half an honest truth.

Yeonji leaned back on her hands, grinning. “I think we’re gonna get along.”

Joobin found herself returning the smile, small but sincere. “I hope so.”

Outside, Yerim’s voice echoed down the hall.  “You’ve got thirty minutes to unpack. After that, it’s tour time. Don’t be late, or Hyunjin will find you — and she doesn’t find gently!”

Yeonji laughed and the sound filled the whole room.

Joobin looked around at the open windows, the hum of the crystal lamp, the sky still churning faintly with stormlight. She hadn’t known what to expect from Zenith, or from her new roommate. But in that moment, with Yeonji’s laughter bouncing off the stone walls, she thought that maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.

________________________________________

The silence that followed was strangely comforting. Yeonji had flopped back onto her bed, arms sprawled like she was trying to soak in the room by osmosis. She was quiet now, having done most of the talking since they’d arrived, but Joobin could feel her still buzzing beneath the stillness.

Joobin stayed sitting for a moment longer, hands gently smoothing the fabric of her pillowcase. Her mother always said you could learn a lot about someone by how they unpacked.

Yeonji’s method of unpacking was essentially flinging her bag open and letting her belongings explode outward in a wave of shirts, socks, and what looked suspiciously like a collection of pebbles wrapped in twine.

Joobin’s side of the room, in contrast, was methodical. Precise. Neatly folded robes in muted greys and ocean-blues. A small stack of books already arranged by subject and thickness, with her desk neatly arranged, ready for study.

Yeonji noticed. “You really are organised, aren’t you,” she said, turning her head to the side so her cheek squashed against her pillow.

Joobin shrugged. “It helps me think.”  Which was true, she always found that being ordered helped her focus more by reducing distractions.

Yeonji grinned from where she lay. “I think best in chaos.”

Joobin blinked. “That’s… impressive.”  She wasn’t quite sure it was, but that seemed like the polite response.  Diplomatic, as her mother would call it.

Yeonji laughed. “Nah. Mostly I just wing it and hope for the best.”

Joobin couldn’t help but feel that there was something earnest about Yeonji. Something warm and immediate, like she didn’t hold things back. Joobin wasn’t used to that. People at home, especially in her mother’s circles, always seemed to measure words like they cost money.

But not Yeonji. Yeonji wore her emotions on the outside. Loud and bright and real.

Joobin reached for Chompers as they spoke, clutching him in her lap. It probably looked a little childish, but she didn’t really care.  Yeonji had noticed though, and kept the conversation going.

“So.  Chompers huh?” Yeonji asked, pointing to the plush creature in Joobin’s lap. “He’s cute.”

“He’s not supposed to be cute,” replied Joobin.

“Ah.” Yeonji gave it another long look. “In that case, he’s terrifying.”

Joobin nodded and smiled, satisfied and a little happy that Yeonji had played along with her. “Thank you.”

Yeonji laughed again, and Joobin found herself smiling without meaning to.

They lapsed into a more comfortable silence, the kind that felt earned. A few birds, which were probably some kind of Thunderhawk or Skyhawk, screeched somewhere outside, and below their window, she could hear the hum of movement from the other wings of the academy.

Yeonji sat up, crossing her legs, spinning to face Joobin directly. “We’ve got some time left before we need to head down to the courtyard. If we are going to be roommates, we should get to know each other a little more.” 

She didn't give Joobin a chance to agree or disagree, her words spilling forth like a tsunami.

Yeonji was practically bouncing as she spoke. “As I said earlier, I’m Yeonji. I like snacks, I talk a lot, I trip over everything unless I’m doing something fast and dangerous, in which case I’m weirdly graceful. Also, I’m not so great at sitting still, so sorry in advance if I disrupt your studying and peace and quiet.”

Joobin blinked at her, a little unsure what she was supposed to do with the information dump Yeonji had dropped on her.   

“If I do get annoying,” Yeonji said softly, twisting a strand of hair, “just tell me and I’ll leave you alone. I’d prefer that over you not saying anything.”  Yeonji said it with a smile, but her body language and tone spoke as if she was used to it and had since tried not to let it bother her as much.

Yeonji really was different from what she was used to.  But she kind of liked that Yeonji seemed to be such an open book.  It was so different from her own upbringing.  Maybe the academy did know what they were doing when they paired them together.

Either way, Yeonji was right that they would be spending a lot of time together, so it was only fair that she shared some stuff of her own. 

Even so, Joobin hesitated just a little, fiddling absently with one of Chomper’s button eyes before she spoke. “Well,” she began slowly, “I’m Joobin. You already knew that part.”

Yeonji nodded enthusiastically. “Mhm.”

“I’m… not really used to this kind of place,” Joobin admitted. “My family’s from Nareth. My parents are merchants and were fairly high up in the guild. They expected I’d go to Sun or Neptune and were a little disappointed I was in Zenith.”

Yeonji tilted her head. “Did you not want to be in Zenith?”

Joobin gave a small, self-conscious smile. “Not that.  I just didn’t expect it.  But I guess the storm had other ideas.”  She shrugged her shoulders a little. “I thought maybe they made a mistake.”

Yeonji grinned. “You and me both.”

Joobin blinked, caught off guard by how casually Yeonji said it. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Yeonji said, shrugging. “I figured they’d take one look at me and send me home. Or kick me off the Skyship on the way here. But I guess they saw something during all the tests, so here I am.”

Joobin found herself laughing softly. “No, I don’t think they would.  You will fit right in at Zenith.”

They fell quiet again, wrapped in a silence that comes after two people realise they might not be as different as they thought.

After a moment, Joobin added, “I like reading. And drawing, when I can. I’m not much for talking, but I’m a good listener. And I can handle myself in a fight. I’m not... great at dealing with unpredictable people, but I think I’ll have to get used to that.”

Yeonji smiled, leaning forward with mock seriousness. “That’s fine. Like I said, I’ll just warn you first.”

Joobin raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to warn me before being unpredictable?”

“Of course not,” Yeonji said brightly. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Joobin sighed, but she was quickly smiling again. “Right. I walked into that one.”

They spent the rest of the time making small talk.  More accurately, it was Yeonji speaking, Joobin listening, because when Yeonji told her that she liked to talk, she wasn’t lying.  Joobin found her head spinning, as Yeonji attempted to tell her about her home and her family, but each time the story would go off in a wildly different direction. 

For example, she had been trying to tell Joobin what her parents do, but now she suddenly started talking about how one time, she found a collection of river stones, that she had apparently wrapped in enchanted twine that sparked when held at the right angle.

“They hum when a storm’s coming,” Yeonji explained, holding one up.

Joobin doubted the science of it.  “Okay…” she mumbled.  “But… why have them?”

Yeonji just smiled.  “Why not?”

There wasn’t really an argument for that.  After all, Joobin had Chompers, so if Yeonji had rocks, then that was the way it was.  By the half-hour mark, they had both fully unpacked, and Yeonji hadn’t paused for breath in nearly two minutes.  It was chaotic. It was strange. But somehow… it didn’t feel bad.

Before they left for the courtyard, Joobin took one last glance around the room before following Yeonji out the door. Maybe her parents were wrong. Maybe the Storm knew her better than they did.

They left together, stepping back into the courtyard, now filled with murmuring voices and students filtering out of their rooms in twos and threes.

The sky outside had begun to darken.  Not from evening coming, but from the arrival of one of Zenith’s frequent weather spells. The clouds overhead churned with faint arcs of light, and wind whispered through the high banners, carrying voices and laughter from the upper walkways.

Yerim was standing at the edge of the courtyard, her arms wide and her grin even wider.

“There you are!” she called as they approached. “My little Sparks! C’mon, it’s tour time. No stragglers, or I’ll make you spar Hyunjin before breakfast tomorrow. And that will have you end up in the infirmary, so let’s try to avoid that, hmm?”

Joobin wasn’t sure if that was a threat or a privilege. Yeonji snorted beside her. “I like her.”

“I can tell,” Joobin murmured. Yeonji wasn’t wrong though.  There was something bright about Yerim that made you just like her, even if she was somewhere between smothering you with kindness, and knocking your teeth in.

They stepped fully out into the stone courtyard, the towers of Zenith rising above them like watchful titans, and for the first time, Joobin allowed herself to feel something close to excitement.

________________________________________

Yeonji hadn’t stopped grinning ever since they had stepped into the courtyard.

She walked with a bounce in her step, her eyes drinking in everything—the wind-churned banners above them, the slate-paved walkways slick with rainfall from a storm that had already passed, and the statues of past Stormbinders lining the walls like thunder in waiting. Joobin followed a few paces behind, less outwardly giddy, but just as wide-eyed.

In front of them strode Yerim, leading the group with all the grace of a conductor who had only met her orchestra ten minutes ago and was already halfway through the crescendo.

“Right,” Yerim said, spinning on one heel without warning, nearly taking out a first year who wasn’t paying attention. “Tour time! Don’t get lost, don’t touch anything that glows, and try not to step on any Thunderhawks or Skyhawks unless you really want to spend the rest of the week in the infirmary.”

A girl near the back raised her hand. “Do Skyhawks really eat—”

Shriek.

A blur of wings swept down from the eaves of the eastern dormitory tower. Talons gleamed in the light, wind buffeted the group, and by the time anyone blinked, a long-tailed avian beast, almost the size of a small Skyship, had landed on a nearby perch.  It folded its translucent wings, and lightning seemed to spark from within.  It glowered down at them with a look that screamed I have fought gods and eaten worse.

“Yes,” Yerim said cheerfully, pointing at the magnificent creature. “Skyhawks can and do eat humans.  They prefer not to.” She waved at the creature like it was an old friend.  “This one is called Zephyrax.  He won’t eat you unless you really annoy him.  Try not to annoy him.”

The massive hawk shook its head, lightning crawling along its beak, with a quiet rumbling coming from somewhere in its throat.

“It’s like a massive sky puppy… with wings and feathers,” said Yeonji, her voice in awe.  “I’m going to make friends with it one day…”

Joobin would normally scoff at such nonsense.  But somehow, she didn’t doubt Yeonji would do exactly that someday.  Meanwhile, most of the group collectively edged a little closer to the middle of the path.

The first stop on Yerim’s tour was the academy’s central dining chamber.

Yeonji’s jaw dropped.  Again.

Vaulted ceilings soared overhead, each one etched with living murals that shifted as the light changed. Storms rolled across the surface, chased by dragons woven of wind and lightning. Long tables lined the floor, most were empty, but some were filled with students eating.  One group seemed to be tossing a spark of lightning between them, like it was a game.  The room carried the echo of a thousand conversations, jokes, and arguments past.

At the far end of the room was a raised dais with a pedestal and tables, reserved for the Stormbinders and honoured guests.

“This place is huge,” someone whispered.

Yerim grinned. “This is the Storm’s Hearth, where you will take most of your meals.  You don’t have to eat here of course, and a lot of students don’t.  Tables are roughly set out by year, but like a lot of things at Zenith, you’ll find that doesn’t really last long past the opening ceremony or official events.  You can sit wherever you like.”

She turned toward the group, raising one hand like she was giving a toast.

“Welcome to the storm.”

There was a beat of silence before someone coughed in slight embarrassment.

Yerim just laughed, embarrassment not a word that she vaguely recognised. “What?” she laughed. “You thought you were signing up for tea and quiet reading? This is Zenith. We do things loud, we do things fast, and half the time, we make them up as we go.  Like my speeches.”

Yeonji beamed whilst Joobin just blinked.

The next stop was the classrooms, where they would learn to become fully fledged Zenith Hunters. Unlike the neat stone-and-oak corridors Joobin had imagined from reading old Academy journals, Zenith’s classrooms looked like they’d been plucked from twenty different ideas of “normal” and then fused together in a lightning strike.

One room floated. Literally. “This is where you learn to fly,” beamed Yerim.

Another was suspended inside a storm globe — with thunder and lightning constantly crackling above it.

“Wait,” Joobin said quietly. “Are all the classrooms like this?”

Yerim didn’t even look back. “Some of them are normal.  You’ll learn the basics in those.  Even in Zenith, you still need to learn some knowledge about magic and combat.  But most of them… are like this.”

She turned back to the group, her arm spreading out to take in the room.

“We prefer to learn by doing here though. You’ll learn more magic in your first month here than most people learn in a year at other academies. And you’ll also probably cry. A lot. Sometimes from the bruises. Sometimes from the drills. Sometimes because the Stormbinders think everyone should know how to punch, and how to take a punch.”

She clasped her hands together.

“You’ll be dropped off a tower with a good luck spell and told to land without breaking anything important. Mostly your neck.”

She paused as the group of Sparks stared at her, open mouthed.

“I’m kidding,” she added quickly. “Mostly. But you will earn every scar and every moment you survive here. It will ask more of you than you think you can give. It’ll break you a little. But it also builds. It builds people who are strong, who are kind, who understand that magic and strength and emotion aren’t meant to be separate things. And if you’re really lucky? You’ll come out the other side with friends who’d walk into a lightning storm with you.”

There was a pause, before Yerim smirked. “And if you’re unlucky… well, we have great healers.”

Someone in the group laughed. Then someone else. And soon the entire crowd was giggling, not from the joke, but from the high, humming energy of it all.

They moved through the courtyards, sprawling and lively with students, many of them throwing welcomes or good-natured jeers at the first years and Yerim.

“Shut it Ryujin,” shouted back Yerim to one of them, a grin on her face.  “Meet me at the Hall of Storms later, and we’ll see which of us is the baby-sitter!”

Around them, Students streaked past, laughing as they raced across rooftops and through narrow channels carved between towers. Two students crashed into each other in a burst of magical wind, and both walked away dusting off their cloaks, trading barbed compliments.

Yerim just laughed.

There were storm hounds chasing conjured lightning orbs, and open-air garden where students meditated under storm clouds that only rained on them when they got the answer wrong.

It was Chaos.

Glorious, vibrant chaos.

And finally, the centrepiece of the academy.  The main arena. The sparring hall.  As they approached, the rhythmic booms they’d heard early crashed through the air, each impact sending a static charge through the air.

“This,” said Yerim, her voice almost dreamy sounding, “is the Field of Tempests.  Here, you will spar other students and conjured creatures, testing everything you have learned.”  She spun around, giddy and lost in happiness.  “You’ll fight duels of honour, drama, and one-upmanship.  This, my little Sparks, is Zenith at its most honest.”

Yeonji was staggered at the sheer size of the place.  It was vast and shaped like a coliseum.  It buzzed with magic and energy, with platforms floating and rotating mid-air, where students would fight across them as a test of spatial awareness.  The whole arena was open to the sky, where thunderheads gathered like spectators. Elevated walkways encircled the edges, lined with students watching or shouting encouragement.

As Yerim’s group entered from the east wing, another crowd emerged from the west, causing Yerim to smile even harder.

Hyunjin was leading her group, and now she was wearing her hair tied up, whilst her uniform was loose, sleeves rolled past her elbows like she was always ten seconds from jumping into a fight. She was smiling now, and gave Yerim a mock-salute, which Yerim responded to by rolling her eyes fondly.

“Look who’s late,” Hyunjin said.

“We’re perfectly timed,” Yerim countered. “You’re just early.”

They smirked at each other, the kind of sibling rivalry that had clearly survived six years of shared classrooms and magical duels.

Yeonji noticed Eunchae standing in the middle of two other girls, and they gave each other a smile and a wave, their eyes both wild and wide, reflecting each other’s excitement.

Below them, in the arena, a group of four students circled each other.

One held a wooden training sword in their hand, whilst another was laughing as lightning danced across their palms. The third and fourth students were moving like a blur, their bodies disappearing and appearing as they crashed together, before breaking apart.

Yeonji grabbed Joobin’s sleeve. “Are they—?”

“Training,” Joobin breathed.

Yerim leaned over the railing and grinned.

“Welcome,” she said softly, more serious now. “To what we do.”

________________________________________

The Field of Tempests thrummed like a heart.

High above the stone floor, the two groups of first years leaned against the railing, wide-eyed, faces flushed with wind and adrenaline. All around her, murmurs rose, filled with excitement, awe, and disbelief, as dust spun wildly on the sparring floor below.

Down below, the air shimmered. Dust whipped into the air in brief cyclones as spells collided — bursts of force, of pressure, of barely-controlled intent — thunderous and elegant in equal measure.

BOOM.

A ripple of wind magic detonated across the sparring floor, sending dust spiraling. Two figures broke from the haze like arrows fired in opposite directions. One was laughing. The other was screaming rom sheer, gleeful effort.

Yeonji had never seen anything like it.

Yerim stood beside her, one hand on the rail, bouncing slightly on her toes like a proud older sibling watching baby dragons finally breathe fire.

“Perfect timing,” she grinned. “Say hello to some of our Arclites.”

“Arclites?” asked Yeonji, her eyes never leaving the arena floor.

Yerim smiled. “I forget some of you won’t know the basic structure of Zenith.  You’ll learn later.  But Arclites are second year students.  These four,” she waved down to the four fighting, “are just starting their second year today.” 

On the arena floor, the four students were moving like living stormfronts. The tallest of the four surged forward, her blunt-edged training sword slashing in a wide arc that created a pressure of air that forced one of the other girls to vault sideways to avoid the blast. Her footwork was precise, almost dance-like, as she pivoted on her heel and redirected momentum with a practiced twirl. Her face, thought Yeonji, was so expressive, and it screamed joy and amusement as she fought.

“The tall one is Jiwoo. She will laugh if you get hurt and laugh harder if she gets hurt.  She will trip over her own feet one second and then be utterly brilliant the next.  She’ll be very good someday,” Yerim muttered, “if she ever learns to focus.”

The girl beside her was a tangle of movement and laughter.  She had a short staff gripped in both hands as she leapt into the fray with a bellow of challenge.  She leapt toward one of the other girls, her staff flashing in a wicked arc.

Yeonji fully expected the girl to get hit, but somehow, she caught the blow with the shaft of her spear, twisting her body sideways and ducking low to launch a burst of compressed air from her palm. The spell shoved the other girl flying back, causing Jiwoo to burst out laughing.  The girl was up on her feet in a second, bouncing on her toes, grin plastered wide, ready to fly back into the battle.

“That one,” chuckled Yerim, “is Yubin. She is wild and unpredictable in a fight.  She might even be a little mad, but she is hard to stop when she gets going.”

“Jiwoo,” bellowed Yerim, down at the arena. “Stop laughing at Yubin and pay attention to the fight or you will…”  she didn’t get to finish, as the fourth girl in the arena bowled into the side of her, sending them both crashing to the floor in a massive impact. 

Yerim facepalmed. “Or that will happen.”  She sighed, almost fondly.  “Yubin, you’re supposed to be watching her back!”

Jiwoo just laughed as she flipped to her feet, whilst Yubin shouted back up towards Yerim. “She can watch her own back; I’m trying not to die to motor mouth over here.”

Yubin was gesturing to the girl she had attacked a few seconds ago, and hadn’t stopped talking ever since the first years had started watching.  “Yubin Unnie, you’re not taking me seriously enough.  Do you know that is how you die, by underestimating someone in a fight?  One of the fourth years ended up in the infirmary last week because they thought I was weak, and then I had to teach him a lesson in not judging a cover by its book. No wait, that’s not right.  I meant judging a book by its cover.  And he did judge me, and then I had to show him…”

Hyunjin had stepped up beside Yerim and addressed the group.  “The motor mouth that never shuts up is Soomin.  She is the bane of most of the Stormbinders, but if she learned to shut up for more than a second at a time, she has potential.”  Then she cupped her mouth, roaring down at the arena, “Soomin shut up and fight, or I’ll come down there myself and shut you up.”

“Yes, Hyunjin Unnie,” the girl, Soomin, squeaked back up at the stands.  Jiwoo laughed again, forever amused by everything.

“She talks almost as fast as you, Yeonji…” murmured Joobin, still wide eyed at the spectacle before her.

The fourth and final girl had gotten to her feet after crashing into Yubin, striking a pose as she dusted herself off. She looked up at the group of first years, throwing them a finger heart and a wink, which caused Yerim to giggle and Hyunjin to groan.

“That idiot,” stated Hyunjin, “is Hayeon.  She is far too charming for her own good, and if you’re female, she will flirt with you. She knows how to handle herself in a fight though.”

“Hayeon,” shouted Hyunjin.  “You flirt with me again and I will throw you off the edge of the academy and I will laugh as you fall to your death. Now, go kick Yubin’s ass.”

“Aye boss,” laughed Hayeon, dropping into stance.

There was a moment of stillness before the four leapt towards each other, blasts of lightning and concussive air crashing in a massive shockwave that blasted through the arena.

“This is… second-year level?” Joobin murmured beside Yeonji, voice low with disbelief.

Hyunjin laughed. “Second-year Zenith level,” she stated.

From the stands, it looked like chaos.

No formations. No callouts. No predictable rhythm.

But the more Yeonji watched, the more she realised that there was method to the madness. Everything was reaction, momentum, reading the field and moving.

The arena itself was layered with old wards, carved into the walls and floor to absorb shock, mute concussive force, and redirect wild spells away from the spectators. But even with the safeguards, the magic was loud.

Jiwoo baited and spun, drawing attention. Yubin crashed in behind with power and explosive bursts of kinetic force. Hayeon weaved between them like a knife in water, targeting weak spots with precise efficiency, while Soomin played defence, her spear twirling, walls of air forming around her free hand like rippling beads of energy.

“This is unreal,” Joobin breathed beside her, hands gripping the railing so tightly her knuckles went white. “It’s just a spar…”

“Zenith doesn’t care about it just being a spar, Spark Joobin,” Yerim said from their side. “We tend to treat sparring as the best way to learn an actual fight.  That way… you’re less likely to die on your first mission.”

Yeonji blinked, almost afraid to look away. “Are they trying to win or kill each other?”

Yerim and Hyunjin both smirked at that. “A little of both. That’s how you learn here.”

Soomin, meanwhile, had started firing spells like arrows, bursts of kinetic force launched from her hand, each one timed to intercept movement rather than target a person. She wasn’t trying to hit Yubin; she was trying to herd her into a position where Hayeon could take her down.

And it was working.

Until it wasn’t.

Yubin grinned, faked left, and with a burst of air at her feet, she charged straight at Soomin, catching Soomin off-guard. The two collided in a tangle of limbs and shouting, the two of them rolling until Soomin used her legs to kick Yubin halfway across the ring.

“Oof,” Yerim winced. “That’ll bruise.”

“I want to be them,” Yeonji whispered. “That’s why I came here.”

Joobin didn’t speak, but she was smiling now. A rare, real smile that made her look younger than she was.  It also made her look hopeful. Hungry.  Wild.  Just like Zenith was.

Yerim clapped once. “Alright, Sparks. Listen up!”

The first years straightened as she turned to them, her voice booming now, sharpened by training and magically enhanced lungs.

“That?” she said, gesturing down at the chaos below. “That’s Zenith. It’s not clean. It’s not orderly. It’s not about waiting your turn and playing fair.”

The wind shifted as Jiwoo leapt off a conjured gust, spinning twice mid-air before crashing down between Hayeon and Soomin with a crack of static.

“You learn to move fast. Think faster. You learn to trust your gut. Because hesitation? That’ll get you face-planted into the floor.”

Yubin shouted as she flung a bolt of lightning at Soomin, who threw her own lightning spell in reply.  The two spells collided mid arena, erupting in a blast that turned the whole arena white, with shards of lightning flying in every direction.

“You will fail. Spectacularly,” Yerim said. “You will get hit. You will eat dirt. You will fall out of the sky — a lot.”

Hayeon and Jiwoo were now locked in a furious flurry of blows, hand to hand, feet to feet, every connecting blow sending small kinetic blasts outward that rattled the first years' boots through the floor.

“But every time you get back up?” Yerim grinned. “You’ll be a little more Zenith than before.”

“Is… every class like this?” Eunchae asked quietly.

Yerim glanced over her shoulder and winked. “Oh, sweet summer Spark. That’s just sparring for fun.  The real classes are way more than this.”

Down below, the match was reaching its crescendo.

The second years had long since abandoned any semblance of formation. It was now a full-on, wild, improvisational brawl. A storm with four centres, shifting with every heartbeat. Jiwoo blocked two attacks at once. Yubin hit the ground rolling, bounced back with a grin and a flying knee. Soomin fired a bolt of wind magic that ricocheted off the warded floor and exploded harmlessly in the air above the arena.

Then, Hayeon and Yubin collided mid-spin, hands locked together, their eyes burning with passion and determination to win. Jiwoo leapt into the air, before crashing down into the arena like a bullet.  As she hit the ground, a concussive wave swept out, lifting the other three from their feet. 

It should have sent them crashing, but they used their momentum and the air itself to right themselves mid-flight, landing in ready stances.

After that, the four of them came to some silent agreement, finally disengaging.  They were breathing hard, sweating harder and smiling like maniacs.

Hyunjin gave a slow clap.

“Not bad,” she said, loud enough to be heard.

Hayeon dropped onto the ground, arms spread wide. “Jiwoo cheats.”

“Your face cheats,” Jiwoo said brightly.

“I blacked out for like five seconds,” Yubin announced, limping over to Soomin.

Soomin just shook her head, hair damp with sweat. “That’s because you used an air burst to fly through my concussive blasts. Again.”

“Totally worth it,” said Yubin.

Hyunjin sighed. “You’ll all be dead by year three.”

Soomin gave a small bow. “We’ll try harder tomorrow, Hyunjin Unnie.  Promise.”

Yerim snorted. “Brats.” But she looked proud.

As the second years laughed and bumped fists and congratulated each other for the good hits, Yeonji knew one thing for sure.

She wanted this.  All of this madness and momentum.  The magic that felt like possibility and coming home.

________________________________________

The air still tasted of ozone and static as the fight ended.

“And with the fight being over, our extremely professional, entirely comprehensive, and definitely curriculum-approved tour of Zenith Academy is over,” Yerim declared with a sweeping bow, one foot propped dramatically on a bench, hands flared wide like a performer taking their final curtain call.

The Sparks burst into a round of chaotic, confused applause, even those that had been part of Hyunjin’s group.

Yeonji joined in with a whoop. Joobin clapped too, though slower, her gaze still flickering toward the training arena, where the last of the second years were filtering out.

“Unbelievable,” someone whispered behind her.

“No kidding,” Yeonji murmured.

“That’s what we’re aiming for,” Yerim said brightly, overhearing them. “Or y’know, not dying in your first year. That’s always nice too.”

But before she could herd the group toward the dorms, Hyunjin’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Yerim, we’re ending the tour now?”

It wasn’t a shout, but a challenge dressed in the sing-song tone of someone who had said it a thousand times before. 

Yerim turned slowly, her smile sharpening like a blade.

Hyunjin stood across from Yerim, sleeves rolled to her elbows, a gust of wind already playing at her boots like an eager hound. She was retying her hair back, with wild strands of hair whipped loose by the storm coiling at her shoulders.

“Oh, come on,” Yerim said brightly. “I was going to be responsible today.”

Hyunjin smirked. “You can be responsible after I wipe the floor with you.”

The first years didn’t need to be told to step back. They felt the shift in the air, the hush before a downpour. Even the rest of the students that had been watching the earlier spar had gone still, suddenly very, very interested in what came next.

Yerim sighed dramatically, then kicked off her boots.

“I suppose I have to protect my honour. Tragic, really.”

The sisters descended to the floor in opposite arcs, wind lifting around them like cloaks woven from pressure and force.

A Tempest and a Storm Rider.

Sister against sister.

The air itself trembled.

“Wait,” Joobin whispered to Yeonji as they peered down from the railing. “Are they actually going to—?”

Hyunjin rolled her shoulders, the faint shimmer of magic rippling through her arms. Her hair lifted in the rising static, and the faint scent of rain filled the room. “Gauntlets only.  No holding back, first to twenty clean strikes wins, same as last time.”

“You lasted twenty strikes last time?” Yerim asked sweetly. “Adorable.”

As if that was a signal, both Hyunjin and Yerim raised their arms, and the storm answered.

The arena came alive.

From Hyunjin’s forearms down, magic took shape.  Slowly at first, but picking up speed, like stormlight condensed into metal. Gauntlets formed, piece by piece, overlapping plates of wind-forged steel that glowed faintly along their edges, lightning arcing between the joints. Veins of runic light crawled up their skin, matching rhythm to the steady beat of their hearts.

For Yerim, spikes of lightning leapt from the sky, fizzling in the air before being drawn to Yerim’s hand like serpents. She caught them mid-air, and from their crackling, blinding light, forged them into her own gauntlets.

Hyunjin’s were heavier, braced for power and reinforced greaves that hummed with pressure. Yerim’s were smaller, and sleeker, built for speed, bracers and knuckle-guards crackling with raw voltage, etched in arcane script. They pulsed in time with her heartbeat, fingers flexing with arcs of white-blue current.

Wind whipped around them, teasing loose strands of hair into halos. Above, thunder rolled.

Yerim moved first. There was no countdown and no mercy.

Just motion — faster than sight, faster than sense. She blurred forward, lightning discharging in her wake like a thunderclap, her gauntlets igniting in an arc of white light as she swung a wide hook toward her sister.

Hyunjin caught the blow between her fists, and the sound was thunderous.

The collision sent a shockwave racing through the arena, dust and sand lifting in a ring around them. Lightning crawled across the floor, striking the warding sigils etched into the stone. The wards flared, struggling to contain them.

Yerim pushed harder, lightning sparking between their clashing gauntlets.

Hyunjin’s grin widened. “You’re still predictable, Yerim-ah.”

She twisted, redirected Yerim’s force, and swept a low kick that sent her sister spinning backward. Yerim caught herself with a burst of air, boots skidding across the floor in a spray of sparks.

“Oh, that’s cute,” Yerim said, laughing breathlessly. “You’ve been practicing, Hyunjin-ie.”

Hyunjin straightened, rolling her neck. “You haven’t.”

Then they were both moving again. Hyunjin surged forward, her gauntlets thrumming with built-up pressure. Each strike landed with a percussive boom, air exploding outward with every hit. Yerim ducked beneath a punch, electricity wreathing her arms, her movements too fast to track. She struck twice in quick succession—once to the ribs, once to the jaw—sending Hyunjin flying into the air.

Yerim leapt after her, but Hyunjin flipped mid-air, a burst of air sending her flying forward and under Yerim’s guard.  She struck Yerim square in the chest, sending her cratering into the arena floor.  Yerim was back on her feet immediately, raising both arms in a cross to block as Hyunjin came flying in.

They traded blows like lightning and thunder, relentless, seamless, instinctive.

Every strike created sound, every dodge left light, and every breath carried the rhythm of the storm.

Wind curled around Hyunjin’s legs, propelling her upward again, as she vaulted into the air, somersaulted once, and came crashing down with both fists clasped together.

Yerim met her halfway, punching upward, and their gauntlets collided, the impact rippling across the room.

Light swallowed sound. Sound devoured thought. For a single second, there was only the storm. The stands shook. Static danced across the railings. For a heartbeat, no one breathed.

To the untrained eye, it was chaos, but to Yeonji, it was revelation.

Storm magic wasn’t about control. It was about riding the storm, becoming one with momentum, seizing every second as if it were your last and making it count.

The two women moved with the casual ferocity of people who had danced this dance a hundred times and who knew every feint, every breath, and fought not to dominate, but to push.

She watched as Yerim cartwheeled backwards, then as she landed, she raised both hands into the air.  A second later, a cataclysmic storm of lightning smashed into the arena where Hyunjin was standing.  Hyunjin raised her own arms, a barrier of air and lightning forming around her.  As the lightning storm hit it, it flashed bright, reflecting some blasts around the arena, whilst she bore the brunt of it.  As she did, she cast her own spell in retaliation, a mini tornado forming right above Yerim’s head, before it struck downwards. 

The blast caught Yerim, sending her spinning and tumbling into the side of the arena, cracking the concrete stands as she smashed into them.  Yeonji thought that would surely have ended the fight, but Yerim laughed even as she hit the ground, before rolling to her feet.  Blood trickled from a cut on her temple, but she was smiling wider than Yeonji had seen, and the wind was whipping around her wildly.  She paused for a heartbeat at most, before launching herself at Hyunjin again.

How the hell is she still moving after that, thought Yeonji. 

This time Yerim came in low — sliding on a wave of air, her storm-gloves alive with fury. She skidded beneath Hyunjin’s overhead swing, sweeping her legs around, taking Hyunjin off her feet.  As Hyunjin was falling, Yerim reached out to grab Hyunjin’s leg, before spinning them both around, and launching Hyunjin into the arena, at the same exact spot she had crashed into just a few seconds before.

The impact was thunderous, sending new cracks spidering along the wall. But just like Yerim, Hyunjin was on her feet immediately, grinning like a wildcat.

“Your footwork still sucks!” Yerim shouted.

“Your face still sucks!” Hyunjin hollered back.

Their magic clashed again, as wind howled and lightning shattered across invisible shields.

The spar was so wild, that a support beam cracked and had to be re-stabilized mid-fight by a wide-eyed instructor.

In the arena, there was another flash of lightning that blinded everyone, followed by another shockwave that washed over the spectators. When their vision eventually cleared, Hyunjin and Yerim were standing at opposite ends of the arena—panting, laughing, alive.

Their hair was damp with sweat and mist. Lightning still danced lazily between their gauntlets, unwilling to leave.

Hyunjin tilted her head. “Not too bad for being the younger sister.”

Yerim wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, laughing with unrestrained glee. “Admit it, unnie. I totally had you.”

Hyunjin barked out a laugh. “Please. You couldn’t handle me on your best day.”

Hyunjin lunged again, but this time, Yerim didn’t meet her head-on. She sidestepped, caught Hyunjin’s wrist, and redirected her entire charge with a twist of air that slammed the Tempest flat on her back.

The spectators cheered and wolf whistled, as Hyunjin blinked up at her sister, then burst into laughter. “Okay. Fine. You win this one.”

Yerim grinned down, offering a hand. “You say that every time.”

“And I mean it less every time.”

They clasped hands, lightning and wind intertwining briefly before fading. The gauntlets dissolved into silver mist, returning to the ether from which they’d come.

On the balcony, Yeonji was speechless. Her whole body was buzzing—not from fear, not even from adrenaline, but from wonder. As she looked around, she could see that Joobin felt exactly the same.

“That’s what they can do?” she whispered.

Joobin nodded, eyes still wide. “That’s what we’re supposed to learn.”

Yerim turned back toward the rows of first-years, hands on her hips and grin wide enough to outshine the torches. “That was a friendly look at what you might become, if you live long enough. We are Zenith. We are the storm. You don’t control it, you become it. Remember that, and maybe you’ll survive long enough to see me beat my sister again.”

Hyunjin’s laugh followed her. “In your dreams!”

Yerim winked, spinning on her heel. “Dreams are where the thunder starts.”

________________________________________

By the time the spar had ended, it was nearly time for the official opening of the year.  Hyunjin and Yerim led the new students to the Storm’s Hearth, the storm outside had gentled to a steady rain, drumming against the high glass of the ceiling. The entire hall glowed faintly, lit by a thousand suspended spheres of light.  Each one a captured lightning spark that floated just below the vaulted dome.

The sound of a hundred conversations filled the air: laughter, shouts, boots scraping on stone, the low hum of magic woven into everything.

Zenith’s heart was alive.

Yeonji followed the stream of first years into the long chamber, her footsteps echoing along with a multitude of others on the floor. The air smelled of ozone, scorched air, and spiced bread. Enormous tables stretched across the hall, each one holding a year of the academy.  Students wore variations of Zenith’s colours — grey, blue, and silver.

Some of the older students glowed with confidence, energy thrumming just beneath their skin, and they wore the official cloaks of their rank, where the teachers, the Stormbinders, had the Zenith crest fastened to their chest or shoulders.

At the far end of the hall, on the raised dais, sat the Stormbinders. Yeonji recognized the instructors who had met them earlier that day, Eunbi and Yuqi. A whole host of other instructors were present, and Yerim had mentioned that there would also be some tempest graduates, and council members in attendance — each distinct, each powerful.

Yeonji found a seat at the table, Joobin shuffling in beside her.  Across from her, Eunchae was sitting chatting to a couple of other girls. The two of them greeted each other enthusiastically, thrumming with the excitement that the hall carried. 

And at the center, of the dais, was a seat carved from a single mass of translucent storm glass, with a figure Yeonji didn’t recognise. 

“Who’s that sitting on the fancy seat?” asked Yeonji to the table. 

One of the girls beside Eunchae answered, her voice high with excitement.  “That’s the leader of Zenith Academy, Grand Tempest Choi Sooyoung. She’s scary and brilliant and my hero!”

Yeonji nodded in vague acknowledgement, her eyes looking at Sooyoung.  The woman was tall and slim, with short brown hair and her eyes the colour of a coming storm. Her uniform was simple, unadorned save for the sigil of Zenith on the breast.  She surveyed the hall, then with a grunt and a smile, she rose to her feet, the hall hushing as she did.

“Students,” Sooyoung said, her voice carrying like thunder softened by distance. “Welcome home.”

Even the air seemed to listen.

“I am Grand Tempest Sooyoung. For those of you returning, you know what I expect — which is to say, not much, and yet everything.”

A ripple of laughter rolled through the upper years.

“For those of you new to our halls — congratulations. You have survived the journey, the tests, and the worst paperwork in the Free Highlands. You have earned your place here. What happens next is entirely up to you.”

She let the words hang a moment, as the weight of them settled into the crowd of students.

“Zenith does not teach order,” Sooyoung continued. “We teach survival. We teach momentum. You will stumble, you will fall, you will bleed, and you will curse every instructor in this room—”

Yuqi raised her hand with a mock bow, earning more laughter.

“—and then you will stand again, stronger, sharper, faster. That is the way of the storm. It does not wait for you. It does not pity you. It simply moves. Your task is to learn how to move with it.”

A murmur of pride and excitement rolled through the hall.

“As for rules,” Sooyoung said, smiling faintly, “there are only three.”

She held up a hand, ticking them off one by one.

“First. Don’t die. It’s inconvenient for everyone.

Second. Don’t destroy the Academy. We just rebuilt the north tower again.

And third...” she paused, eyes glinting, “...if you’re going to break the first two, make it spectacular.”

The hall roared with laughter and applause.

“With that, I will leave you to your food. Enjoy.”

Yeonji couldn’t stop grinning. Joobin was clapping too, though a little hesitantly, her expression a mix of wonder and disbelief.

Platters of food appeared with a faint hum and fizz of lightning.  There were roast meats, glimmering bread rolls still steaming, and crystal goblets of water that sparked faintly whenever someone reached for them.

With the speech over, Eunchae jumped straight in to introducing the two girls that she was sitting with. “Yeonji, hi!  This is Kyujin and Leeseo! They are my roommates!”

Kyujin was already mid-bite into something flaky and golden, but she grinned with food still in her cheek. Her hair was a little wild, her posture relaxed and sprawling like she already belonged here. “Hi,” she mumbled, then swallowed. “Did you see that sparring match? It was so cool, right?”

Leeseo gave a nod in greeting, only a little more composed than the other two. She had the calm confidence of someone who didn’t need to shout to be heard, but the faint gleam in her eyes, and the high tone of her voice gave away her excitement. “It felt like we were watching legends,” she said. “I thought the arena was going to collapse.”

“I thought we were going to collapse,” Eunchae added, laughing. “I couldn’t breathe half the time.”

Yeonji introduced herself, then Joobin to the group, throwing a friendly arm around her shoulder as she did. “This is Joobin, my new roommate and the second coolest person at the table after me!”

That made the rest of them scoff good-naturedly, whilst others around them insisted that they were the coolest person at the table.

“Second coolest?” Joobin said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t realise there was a ranking system.”

“Oh, there’s always a ranking system,” Eunchae said, grinning. “It just changes depending on who’s talking.”

Kyujin leaned across the table, conspiratorial. “Well, if we’re ranking by volume, then my bet is on Yeonji winning. If it’s chaos? That’s me.”

“You?” Yeonji asked, half-laughing. “You seem pretty normal so far.”

Kyujin swallowed another mouthful and smiled. “Give it five minutes.”

Leeseo snorted into her drink. “We’re doomed.”

Eunchae pretended to take notes on an invisible scroll. “Okay, so that’s chaos distribution settled. I call dibs on being the funny one.”

“That’s adorable,” Yeonji said. “Truly inspiring.”

Eunchae threw a piece of bread at her. It arced perfectly and Yeonji caught it in her mouth, triumphant.

“See?” Yeonji said around a mouthful of bread. “Peak Zenith material.”

“Peak something,” Joobin murmured, but she was smiling now, the kind of small, unguarded smile that softened her whole face.

They laughed, and just for a moment, the tension of the day melted away. Around them, the older years swapped stories, tables clattering with plates, bursts of magic flashing in small, harmless displays. Someone down the hall made their goblet float in a small orbit; another conjured bolts of energy in the shape of a dragon. Nobody stopped them. Nobody ever did here.

When the plates finally cleared themselves and the lights dimmed, Headmaster Sooyoung raised their hand one last time.

“Rest well, everyone. Tomorrow, the year begins. Which means you’re going to be tired. And sore. And occasionally questioning your life choices.”

She smiled, faintly, taking the string out of her next words. “May the storm show you all some mercy. Because we will not.”

Thunder rumbled above the hall, faint and approving.