Kaelen sat cross-legged on the floor of his workshop, his breathing steady but shallow as he focused on the faint glow of the green crystal in his palm. The air around him was thick with the subtle hum of Noxflare energy, a silent rhythm that pulsed through his veins and whispered possibilities he could barely comprehend. He’d spent days honing himself for this moment, but the weight of the task ahead pressed heavily on his shoulders.
The Bastion wasn’t just a school; it was a proving ground for the best and brightest in Lumina Nocte. Every Radiant who walked its halls carried the burden of expectation, and every Glimmer who managed to scrape their way inside did so with sheer brilliance and cunning. To fool them would require nothing short of perfection.
“Focus,” Kaelen muttered, staring at the crystal. “You don’t have time for doubt.”
The green stone vibrated softly, its glow intensifying as Kaelen willed its energy to flow through him. The goal was simple in theory: manipulate the Noxflare to create the faintest pull on the tools scattered around him. Telekinesis. The Radiants used it so casually, as if it were second nature, while the Dimmers and Forgotten could only look on with envy.
For Kaelen, it was an uphill battle. The power was there—he could feel it—but shaping it, channeling it, was like trying to sculpt water with his bare hands.
He stretched out a hand toward a wrench lying a few feet away. The glow of the green crystal spread down his arm, shimmering faintly in the dim light of the room. He gritted his teeth, pouring his will into the motion. The wrench trembled, then jerked violently, skidding across the floor before clattering against the wall.
“Damn it,” Kaelen hissed, letting the crystal's glow fade. His muscles ached, the exertion more taxing than he’d expected. He’d read that the Noxflare fed on the user’s physical and mental energy, and now he understood why even Radiants struggled to maintain prolonged use.
But Kaelen wasn’t a Radiant. He needed to be something else. Something never seen. Once he entered the halls of the Bastion he needed to stand out beyond the Radiant children. Beyond their visions of what should be and would be.
His gaze shifted to the two blue crystals sitting on the workbench. The green alone wasn’t enough. He needed the clarity, the sharpness, that only the blue stones could provide. Rising to his feet, Kaelen crossed the room and picked them up, one in each hand. Their cool, pulsing energy seeped into him almost immediately, sharpening the edges of his thoughts like a whetstone to a blade. Colors seemed brighter, sounds clearer. The world slowed, and his mind raced to fill the gaps.
He turned back to the wrench and dropped into a crouch, the green crystal glowing faintly in his pocket. The energy it emitted felt different now—more precise, more malleable. He stretched out his hand again, this time with a quiet confidence that hadn’t been there moments before.
The wrench rose smoothly into the air, hovering inches above the ground. Kaelen exhaled slowly, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Finally,” he murmured.
He spent hours like this, pushing himself further with each attempt. The wrench was followed by a screwdriver, then a handful of bolts, until finally, Kaelen had the tools spinning in a slow, synchronized orbit around him. Sweat dripped down his temple, but he barely noticed, his mind too consumed by the thrill of mastery.
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By the time he stopped, the workshop was a mess, but Kaelen felt an unfamiliar sense of accomplishment. He wasn’t just imitating the Radiants now—he was surpassing them. He couldn’t fall short of their expectations; every instinct told him to surpass everything the rumors told him of the Bastion. The Bastion wouldn’t just be a place to hide in plain sight; it could be the key to everything.
---
That night, Kaelen sat hunched over a stack of stolen books and borrowed notes, his mind still alight with the residual clarity of the blue crystals. Renik had outdone himself, delivering a trove of materials detailing the customs, habits, and mannerisms of the Glimmers and Radiants. Kaelen flipped through the pages with feverish determination, absorbing every scrap of information.
The Glimmers, he learned, occupied a strange liminal space within society. They weren’t Radiants, but their intelligence and resourcefulness earned them a grudging respect. They dressed well, carried themselves with quiet confidence, and spoke with an eloquence that masked their desperation to climb higher. Kaelen would have to embody that same desperation—just enough to sell the act, but not so much as to attract suspicion.
Then there were the Radiants. Arrogant, aloof, and utterly convinced of their superiority, they walked through life as if the world existed solely for their benefit. Kaelen studied their speech patterns, their mannerisms, their subtle gestures of disdain. It was a world he’d never been part of, but one he was determined to infiltrate.
He stood and crossed the room to a cracked mirror propped against the wall. His reflection stared back at him, disheveled and weary, a far cry from the polished image he’d need to project.
“A moonie exchange student,” he muttered, rolling the phrase around in his mouth. The colonies on the moons were considered backwaters by the Radiants, their residents barely a step above the Glimmers. It was the perfect cover—unassuming, yet just credible enough to grant him entry.
Kaelen ran a hand through his hair, taming it into something more presentable. He straightened his posture, mimicking the casual confidence he’d seen in the Radiants during his rare glimpses of them.
“I’ll need better clothes,” he muttered. “Something modest, but not too modest. A moonie wouldn’t dress like a Forgotten, but they wouldn’t wear spiresilk either.”
He turned back to his notes, scribbling down ideas and details. The dialect, the etiquette, the unspoken rules of social hierarchy—it was all there, a puzzle waiting to be assembled. By the time Kaelen looked up, the faint light of dawn was creeping through the cracks in the workshop walls. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but his mind was alight with possibility.
---
Over the next few days, Kaelen refined his disguise, practicing his speech and mannerisms until they felt like second nature. He worked tirelessly to perfect his use of the green crystal, training himself to manipulate the Noxflare with a precision that bordered on unnatural. The blue stones amplified his efforts, pushing his mind to new heights of clarity and focus.
By the time Renik returned with a bundle of clothes and a fake identity card, Kaelen was a different man. His movements were smoother, his speech more refined. He’d even picked up a faint accent, a subtle touch that would sell the illusion of his origins.
Renik whistled low, looking Kaelen up and down. “Damn, you clean up nice. Almost didn’t recognize you.”
Kaelen smirked, adjusting the collar of his new jacket. “Let’s hope the Bastion feels the same way.”
“You sure you’re ready for this?” Renik asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious.
Kaelen nodded; his gaze steely. “More than ready. This is the only way forward.”
As he slipped the green crystal into his pocket and slung the bag of blue stones over his shoulder, Kaelen felt a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. The Bastion was a gamble, but it was one he was willing to take.
He was no longer the boy born into the shadows of the Forgotten. He was a moonie exchange student, a Glimmer on the rise, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And he was ready to change everything.