“Imagine if we find something legendary!” Seraphina’s voice brimmed with excitement as she pulled Alessa and Thorne through the crowded hall, weaving around clusters of students toward the first workshop. “Like a relic no one’s touched in centuries.”
Alessa grinned.
“Legendary? Aiming high, huh? But hey, knowing our luck, we’ll probably end up with something mildly cursed.”
The idea of the workshops buzzed in her mind, the words of the announcement still echoing:
“Professor Lumiere will explore the fusion of celestial energy and technology—and how it could reshape our world.”
“Cursed or not,” Thorne chimed in, a glint in his eye, “Seraphina will paint us a solution!”
Seraphina laughed, though her smile was tinged with a faint edge of nervous energy. She wasn’t sure if it was the idea of finding something legendary, or the weight of expectation that came with it. Distracted, Seraphina barely registered the lingering gaze of a girl with long dark hair standing at the far end of the hall. Yet, something about the girl’s presence sent a subtle shiver down her spine—too quick to fully grasp, but impossible to ignore.
“Come on,” she urged, brushing away the doubt with a practiced grin. “Professor Lumiere’s workshop is about to start.”
Alessa snorted.
“Since when are you the punctual one?”
“Since today.” Seraphina flashed a grin, masking her nerves with enthusiasm. “Look at that!” She pointed to an orb on Professor Lumiere’s table, its surface radiating soft light, resembling a miniature galaxy. As she leaned in closer, she thought she caught a shadow flicker within it.
She blinked, trying to shake the image from her mind. “Weird,” she muttered.
“What’s weird?” Alessa asked, glancing at her.
“Nothing. Just... shadows playing in the light,” Seraphina said quickly.
Professor Lumiere, a tall, bespectacled figure, greeted the students warmly as they entered. Despite his groundbreaking, contemporary ideas, he looked as though he belonged in a different era. His weathered brown suit, rich but worn, seemed out of place in the high-tech, celestial classroom, with frayed edges that gave it a bit of character. Over it, he wore a long, flowing metallic coat.
“Welcome, everyone,” Lumiere’s voice rang out, rich and commanding. “Today, we’ll delve into the fusion of Lumina Arts and technology—an emerging field with boundless potential. Imagine a career crafting devices that harness cosmic energy to heal, create, or even protect Aetheria.”
He motioned toward a table where glowing runes lit up a crystal sphere, flanked by sleek, humming devices and liquid-filled vials that shifted in colour. His hand hovered over an orb, its surface swirling with starlight.
“This,” Lumiere said, his tone infused with quiet awe, “is a Nexus Sphere. It reacts to your energy and focus. With the right intent, you can shape it into anything.”
A hush fell over the room as the students leaned in, curiosity written across their faces.
“Watch.” Lumiere lifted the orb into the air, where it floated effortlessly above his palm, its glow brightening in response to his touch.
“As you can see,” he continued, “the Sphere mirrors your concentration. The more focused your mind, the more precise the result.”
He raised both hands, and the orb flickered, transforming into a delicate bird that stretched its wings before folding back into a sphere.
“This form is born of pure thought,” Lumiere explained. “The Nexus doesn’t just absorb your energy—it shapes it into something tangible.”
Alessa’s hand shot up, her voice sharp.
“Professor, if the Sphere responds to our energy, how do we control it when we’re not focused? Won’t it... drift?”
Lumiere’s gaze met hers, a flicker of approval in his eyes.
“Excellent question, Miss Alessa. The key is intent. Focus shapes the form, but your intent guides it. Think of it like programming a machine: without understanding the ‘why,’ no matter how skilled you are, the outcome will remain unpredictable.”
He gestured toward the orb again, which shifted seamlessly through various shapes: the bird morphed into spinning gears, which then wove into a luminous ribbon, drifting like a comet in the air.
“The possibilities are limitless,” Lumiere said, his voice filled with wonder. “Now, who’s ready to try their hand at one of my other devices?”
Seraphina’s pulse quickened. This wasn’t just about creating shapes or dazzling lights—it was about mastering the Lumina Arts, a skill that could shape her future as a true Luminary. The weight of the challenge pressed down on her, but underneath, a sharp thrill of anticipation sparked.
She took a breath, then stepped forward, her body already bracing for the thrill of trying something new. “May I?” she asked, her voice steadier than she expected.
Lumiere’s smile softened.
“Of course. Trust your instincts.”
Seraphina picked up the sleek, metallic device labeled "Flux Brush" from the nearby table. The moment her fingers closed around it, a faint hum of energy thrummed through her palm, familiar and steady. The pulse of it matched her heartbeat, grounding her in the moment.
She exhaled slowly, letting her mind focus. The images she'd glimpsed in fragments before—ancient trees with golden leaves shimmering under moonlight—became clearer. Warmth spread through her fingers, and the brush began to respond. A tree formed in the air before her: its trunk golden, its branches stretching in graceful symmetry.
Her breath slowed, her concentration sharp. The energy moved in perfect sync with her, flowing through the brush in steady waves, its rhythm almost like a conversation between them.
The gold deepened, and streaks of emerald and sapphire followed. The branches took shape, curling with delicate precision, each leaf unfurling towards the imagined light. She could feel their texture in her mind, their weight, their presence—alive, vibrant.
Her pulse quickened. The colours were more vivid than she’d ever imagined. The tree was real. It was happening. She was doing it.
But then, a tremor rippled through the flow. It was barely perceptible, a flicker of disruption—but it was enough to make her falter. The pattern wavered. Her grip on the Flux Brush tightened as she fought to steady the trembling energy in her palm.
"No, no, no…" she whispered, her breath shallow as she tried to focus. But the light began to splinter. The colours fractured into erratic waves, pulling apart the image she had so carefully shaped.
"No… stay…" she murmured, but the tree began to warp. Its branches twisted unnaturally, the golden hue bleeding into murky, uncertain shades. The once-smooth flow of light became jagged, broken, impossible to control.
Her pulse quickened, but the more she tried to focus, the further the magic slipped from her grasp. The tree unraveled faster, the shape distorting into a mess of erratic, chaotic bursts of colour.
“Oops…” she muttered, barely able to recognize the trembling sound of her own voice. The image she had worked so hard to form collapsed into a blur of fractured hues. The vibrant gold, green, and blue spiraled out of control, disintegrating into a kaleidoscope of confusion before her eyes.
Professor Lumiere cleared his throat, stepping back slightly, his tone diplomatic but a bit strained.
“Ah, very interesting, Seraphina. Let’s—let’s move on for now. You’ll get the hang of it.”
The words felt hollow, a kind of empty encouragement that only deepened the pit in her stomach. Seraphina fought to keep her composure, but the sting of failure gnawed at her. She felt the weight of the other students’ eyes on her—judgment, disappointment, maybe even pity. Not good enough.
Through the haze of her own self-doubt, Seraphina’s gaze flickered toward a figure standing at the edge of the room—Umbra. The girl’s long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her piercing eyes were fixed on Seraphina with a cool intensity. Umbra always seemed to hover on the periphery, observing but never engaging. Today was no different.
Seraphina’s breath caught in her throat as their eyes met. Umbra’s arms were crossed, her posture relaxed but somehow menacing, as if she were waiting for Seraphina to make a mistake. There was something predatory in the way she watched, her eyes narrowing just slightly, as if measuring Seraphina’s every movement.
A chill crept down Seraphina’s spine, the room around her suddenly feeling colder. Shadows seemed to stretch and deepen where Umbra stood, as though the very air warped in response to her presence. The faintest curve of Umbra’s lips hinted at a smile, but it was more an expression of judgment than encouragement.
Seraphina quickly dropped her gaze, a weight settling in her chest.
“Sorry,” she muttered, her voice thin and shaky, not wanting to acknowledge the failure. “I’ll do better next time.” She replaced the Flux Brush, her hands still trembling, and took a step back, retreating into the crowd
Alessa and Thorne exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable for a moment before Alessa’s lips curved into a reassuring smile.
“Hey, it’s okay. You were really close,” Alessa said, her voice light and comforting. “Just needs a bit more practice. Don’t worry about it. This is what the trial is for, right?”
Seraphina nodded, but Alessa’s words felt distant, as if they were muffled by the weight of her own thoughts. The effortless grace with which Alessa wielded the tools only highlighted Seraphina’s own struggle. The trial to become a Luminary wasn’t just about mastering her Lumina Arts —it was about proving her worth, proving she had the potential to shape the future of Aetheria. But here she was, falling short.
Her heart sank.
Thorne nudged her gently, his grin wide and sincere.
"Hey, you were right on track. Next time will be even better. This is just the beginning."
“Thanks,” she said, though the words didn’t come easily. She inhaled deeply, trying to push the doubts away, but they clung to her, heavy and persistent. If she couldn’t even paint with light, how could she hope to become a true Luminary?
They stepped out of Professor Lumiere’s workshop into the hall, the energy of the morning fading like sunlight behind clouds. The excitement from the other students seemed distant, muffled, as if Seraphina were standing just outside it all.
Alessa, however, radiated an electric energy, her confidence undiminished by the workshop's challenges. Seraphina could feel it—the effortless ease Alessa carried, the way she seemed to glide through the crowd, unshaken.
Seraphina’s stomach tightened. I should be happy for her, she thought. I want to be. But Alessa’s success was another reminder of how far behind she was. Not good enough, the thought echoed, sharper now.
Focus, Seraphina told herself. One mistake. You can still get there.
But deep down, she knew the road to mastery was more than just focus. It would take trust—something she wasn’t sure she had yet.
Alessa grinned back at her.
"Come on! Professor Astra’s illusion workshop is about to start!"
Seraphina forced a smile. She gripped the strap of her satchel, grounding herself, and nodded.
“Yeah, of course. Just… thinking.”
Alessa’s gaze sharpened, but she didn’t press. “You good, Seraphina?”
“I’m fine,” Seraphina said too quickly. She shook her head, trying to push the unease away. “Really.”
Alessa stayed close as they walked, her eyes watchful but silent. Thorne, ahead of them, slowed his pace and caught up with Seraphina. He flashed a mischievous grin and nudged her lightly. “Hey, you’ve got this,” he said, his voice lower but still warm. “We’re all just figuring it out. It’s not about getting it perfect, it’s about doing—and you’re doing.”
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Seraphina managed a tight nod, but the weight of her failure still hung heavy on her chest. She pressed her hands into her pockets, feeling the coolness of the air and trying to shake the tight knot inside.
“Ready to see me fail at illusions?” Thorne asked, his tone light. Seraphina smiled faintly, trying to push the lingering doubts away.
But inside, the pressure of the day pressed down, and the tightness in her chest only deepened.
When they stepped into Professor Astra’s classroom, the familiar sense of wonder washed over them. The room looked entirely different from the last time they’d visited—and different again from the time before that. Hazy streams of light swirled through the air, casting shadows that danced like stars, their patterns constantly changing. It felt like stepping into a dream, or perhaps a fragment of the cosmos itself.
Professor Astra stood at the centre of it all, her gaze steady and inscrutable. Her eyes glimmered with an unspoken wisdom as she regarded them. She wore a flowing blue gown of silken fabric that seemed to drift around her, weightless, held in place by some unseen force.
“Welcome, young luminaries,” she greeted them, her voice calm yet resonant, carrying an unspoken challenge. “Today, we’ll explore the art of cosmic illusions. These aren’t just tricks of the eye—they are layers of reality, capable of shaping perception and understanding. Imagine creating experiences that teach, that guide, that leave a lasting imprint on the mind. The creations you craft here on Enterprise Day could change Aetheria’s understanding of celestial influence.”
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the students.
“But an illusion is not merely a display of skill. It is a story—an experience. And the most impactful illusions are those that make others believe.”
Seraphina felt the weight of the professor’s words settle deep within her, stirring something both thrilling and terrifying. The idea of crafting an illusion so powerful, something that could bend perception itself, was daunting. But this was what it meant to become a luminary: to wield influence not through force, but through subtlety and mastery.
"To create an illusion," Professor Astra continued, her voice laced with an ethereal resonance, "is to tap into the very fabric of the cosmos. You must understand not just the celestial energies, but the intent behind your creation. Is it to enlighten? To deceive? To evoke emotion? The power of your illusion is shaped by its purpose. Without understanding its intent, it cannot come to life."
A faint smile flickered on Astra’s lips.
"The cosmos does not simply yield to anyone. It demands understanding. It tests your ability to read the currents of energy around you. To become a luminary, you must learn to manipulate these forces—not with force, but with nuance. Your illusions must feel real, be real to those who experience them."
The room hummed with subtle energy as students focused, their auras glowing faintly. One boy conjured a twisting vine, its iridescent petals unfolding to emit soft chimes that resonated like the hum of distant stars. Nearby, a girl with silver braids wove an illusion of moss-covered rocks, from which translucent moth-like creatures fluttered with wings glowing like whispers in the wind.
In another corner, a girl summoned a gravity-defying waterfall, its glittering liquid flowing upward. Small fish leapt through the stream, their iridescent scales flashing like rainbows caught in the light.
Seraphina’s pulse quickened as the room seemed to shift—morphing into a living, breathing world, crafted from the students' imagination and the cosmic energies they channeled. Each illusion was a piece of Aetheria’s soul, drawn from the depths of their creative potential.
Professor Astra’s voice broke the silence, soft but clear, her eyes scanning the room.
“These illusions are beautiful, but remember—they must carry meaning. They are not just reflections of nature; they are reflections of you. Bring your soul into your work, and make the world feel what you feel.”
Seraphina glanced over at Alessa. With a subtle gesture, Alessa conjured an image of Headmistress Magdalene, perfectly rendered down to the finest detail. The illusion stood before them, smiling warmly at the class and interacting with the other illusions—a vision so real it almost seemed like the Headmistress herself had materialized from the stars.
“Wow,” a voice from behind Seraphina whispered, “it’s like she’s really here.”
Thorne smirked.
“You’ve never seen the real Headmistress smile like that.”
Seraphina couldn’t help but smile despite herself. The easy banter lifted her spirits, if only for a moment. But watching Alessa still stung. Her friend’s illusion was flawless—effortless, a seamless blend of skill and intuition. Alessa was in her element, effortlessly tapping into a deeper connection with the cosmos.
Professor Astra approached Alessa, her sharp gaze softening with approval.
“Impressive. You didn’t just summon an image—you gave it weight. Presence. It feels... alive.” She nodded once, her praise clear. “Refine it. You’re on the right path.”
Seraphina’s chest tightened. Alessa was so naturally gifted, so effortlessly brilliant, while she could barely manage the basics. Her attempt at Astralcrafting had been a disaster. Was she even capable of creating anything at all? The thought clawed at her, persistent and bitter. Maybe this was her limit.
The workshop ended, and the trio gathered their things. Thorne was already slinging his instrument bag over his shoulder—a sleek, weathered leather piece, both functional and timeless, with faint golden embroidery curling like velumroot leaves across its edges. He adjusted the strap with an ease that seemed second nature, giving the others a glance.
“Next stop, Professor Sylvorel’s workshop. I’ve got a few ideas I’m eager to try,” he said, his voice light, filled with the kind of confidence Seraphina couldn’t seem to summon.
Seraphina forced a smile, her fingers absently tugging at her sleeve as they walked. Her gaze flickered ahead, restless, uncertain.
Beneath the smile, doubt lingered like a shadow. Why did it come so easily to Alessa? Even Thorne’s quiet confidence grated at her. What was wrong with me?
Her hands had trembled throughout the workshop. Her focus had slipped, her thoughts scattered like the unraveling patterns in her mind. The failure replayed itself in an endless loop: spiraling light, fraying energy, nothing solid to hold onto. What if I’m not strong enough?
She took a deep breath, pushing the fear away as best she could. No. Not this time.
But the ache didn’t go away. It lingered in her chest, heavy and relentless. The sense that she was always behind, always falling short. Would she ever catch up? Would she ever be enough?
As they passed through the hallway, her eyes flickered to a figure standing alone by the window, almost like a shadow against the sunlight. Umbra. Seraphina's stomach twisted. The other girl was always present but never truly there—a quiet observer, someone who didn't need to speak to make her presence known. The cool, predatory look in her eyes unsettled Seraphina, a quiet reminder of how much was at stake.
Umbra’s gaze met hers, sharp and appraising, before shifting away. There was no overt judgment in her expression—just an unspoken sense of superiority.
Seraphina’s heart raced, but she quickly looked away, a sudden urge to disappear overtaking her. Does she know? That nagging feeling of being watched pressed against her chest. She tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the next workshop.
As Alessa chattered excitedly ahead of her, Seraphina’s hands balled into fists at her sides. The pressure was almost too much. But no, she wouldn’t shrink away. Not this time.
Her heart still ached, but a quiet resolve began to take root. She would keep going, keep trying. The path wouldn’t be easy, and she didn’t know how to walk it yet. But she wouldn’t stop. Not now. Not after everything.
They made their way toward Lumina Gardens, where Professor Sylvorel’s music workshop was nestled in a grove of ethereal trees just beyond the academy walls. The air carried the scent of jasmine and damp earth, mixed with the soft sound of wind chimes and distant music. Leaves stirred in shades of silver and teal, moving gently in the breeze. A cool mist drifted between the trees, accompanied by the faint hum of unfamiliar melodies. The ground was soft with moss, each step leaving a slight imprint.
Unlike the sharp, sterile halls of the academy, this place felt ancient—alive with sound, scent, and a quiet, timeless presence.
Seraphina slowed her steps, trying to absorb the music and the beauty of the garden. The shimmer of leaves in the golden light caught her eye, but the knot in her chest lingered, tight and unrelenting. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping the peaceful melody might help calm the pressure, but it didn’t. The sound only seemed to deepen the weight of her thoughts.
Instruments of all kinds, some familiar and others utterly unique, were scattered across the grass. Their shapes seemed to blur in the mist, their presence both comforting and unsettling. Professor Sylvorel, tall and lithe with skin like dark bark and silver hair of twisting vines, greeted them with a nod.
For a brief moment, Seraphina considered stepping forward, moving closer to the music and the sense of calm the garden offered. But the knot in her chest tugged at her again, pulling her back into her mind. She tried to push it away, but it remained, a constant reminder of everything she felt she was falling short of.
Professor Sylvorel stood tall and lithe, his skin like dark bark and his silver hair winding like twisting vines. He greeted them with a silent nod, his presence as much a part of the garden as the trees themselves.
“Today, we listen to the symphony of nature,” he said, his voice flowing like the breeze through leaves. “Every leaf, every stone, hums with its own song.”
As the students gathered around, Sylvorel's tone softened, yet remained firm.
“Forget about Enterprise Day. Forget about products, prototypes, or any end goal. For now, we create simply because we must. For the joy of creation itself. Let the music of this garden flow freely—without judgment, without expectation.”
Seraphina felt the weight of his words—so simple, yet so profound. The idea that creation could be for its own sake, not for a goal, a mark of success, or validation. Could she just create, free from the weight of expectation? The thought felt almost foreign. Yet, in the quiet of the garden, with its pulse and rhythm, something inside her stirred. She wasn’t sure she was ready to let go of her doubts, but Sylvorel’s words seemed to hang in the air like an invitation.
Thorne set down his lute case and gravitated toward a peculiar wooden harp, its vine-like strings shimmering in the soft light. He plucked a string, letting the note hang in the air. As it resonated, the plants around them seemed to stir, petals unfurling in time with the melody.
“Listen to the rhythm of the garden,” Thorne murmured, his voice flowing with the music. His fingers danced along the harp, weaving a simple yet captivating tune.
One by one, students joined in: a girl with a flute sent delicate notes fluttering through the air, while a boy struck a steady beat on a drum. Together, they fell into rhythm, the music blending with the garden’s hum, the leaves, breeze, and ground pulsating in time with their song. Thorne moved with natural ease, guiding the group, syncing them with the pulse of the earth.
Seraphina stood apart, feeling the music call to her but never quite able to grasp it. She watched Alessa beside Thorne, eyes closed, swaying effortlessly as if the music flowed through her veins. Every motion seemed so smooth, so easy—and Seraphina ached with the longing to feel the same.
The final notes lingered in the air, and Thorne’s gaze met hers. He offered a small smile, but Seraphina felt a pang deep in her chest—like being left behind.
Professor Sylvorel nodded, his voice warm.
“You’ve tapped into nature’s song, Thorne. A rare gift.”
Thorne smiled again, fingers still tracing the harp’s frame.
“Thanks. I just listen to what nature wants to say... and make sure we’re all listening together.”
Seraphina felt a surge of pride for her friend, but there was something else—a hollow ache. Her gaze lingered on Thorne a moment longer than she intended before she forced herself to turn away.
Before she could speak, a voice cut through the silence: cold, smooth, and laced with an unsettling sharpness.
“Well, well,” Umbra’s voice rang out. “How charming.”
From between two shimmering trees, Umbra emerged, and Seraphina’s breath caught. It was her—the girl from earlier. Her presence seemed to swallow the light around her, and the flowers nearest her withered, as though recoiling from an unseen force. Even the shadows appeared to bend toward her, drawn to the darkness she exuded.
With skin like pale marble and hair flowing like liquid ink, Umbra was a vision of unsettling beauty—pale, haunting, almost otherworldly. Her black eyes fixed on them with a stillness that made Seraphina’s heart race. Even Thorne’s composure faltered for a moment.
Around them, the other students fell silent. Conversations ceased, and laughter died in the air, leaving an uncomfortable stillness. Some shifted nervously, others averted their eyes, pretending to busy themselves with their bags or instruments. It was as if Umbra's presence drained the very colour and sound from the world.
“I couldn’t help but observe your little performance earlier, Seraphina,” Umbra continued, her voice a soft, venomous purr. “Such a... fascinating attempt. Tell me, how do you intend to incorporate Professor Lumiere’s teachings on focus and intent into your work?”
Seraphina’s hands tightened around the strap of her satchel. The mention of Lumiere’s lesson—focus, intent—struck a chord deep within her. Her throat felt dry, and the weight of those words hung heavy on her chest. Focus... intent. She should have understood them. She had tried.
“I—I’m still working on it,” Seraphina stammered, the words faltering and weak, as though she couldn’t fully grasp what she was trying to say. They hung in the air, fragile, as if ready to be undone by the weight of Umbra’s unblinking gaze.
Umbra’s lips curled, her eyes glinting with something dark and knowing.
“I see. Working on it. Such a... noble effort. But Professor Lumiere's lessons demand more than just ‘working on it,’ don’t they?” Her gaze flicked to Seraphina’s trembling hands. “Intent. Control. Without them, you're simply... spinning your wheels.”
Alessa stepped forward, her voice steady and unshaken.
“Professor Lumiere said it himself —intent and focus are what turn the raw energy of creation into something real. It’s not about getting everything perfect on the first try. It’s about knowing what you want to achieve, and then putting your whole self into it.”
She glanced at Seraphina, offering a small but genuine smile.
“Seraphina’s learning to channel her intent. She’ll find her way, just like everyone else. We all do, in our own time.”
Umbra's smile curled, but it lacked warmth, a quiet mockery. She turned her attention to Alessa, then back to Seraphina.
“Of course. I’m just curious. What makes her so special? After all, you were all present when Headmistress Magdalene mentioned the Celestial Triumvirate. Each member of that group is... vital, isn’t that right?”
The implication hung heavy in the air, and Seraphina could feel the walls of her confidence start to crumble.
Before Seraphina could respond, Thorne spoke up, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable authority.
“We’re all learning. No need for comparisons.”
Umbra’s gaze shifted to him, calculating.
“Indeed,” she purred, her tone almost amused. “And some journeys are... more interesting than others.”
The sharp chime of the end-of-workshop bell rang out, cutting through the thick tension. Umbra’s lips curved into a thin, knowing smile.
“Well, I suppose our conversation is over. Best of luck with your celestial device,” she said, her tone dripping with insincerity. “I’m sure it’ll be… illuminating.”
Without another word, she dissolved into the shadows between the trees, leaving behind an unsettling silence, as though the very air had been drained of warmth.
Seraphina stood frozen for a moment, the sting of Umbra’s words lingering in her chest. Beside her, Alessa shifted uncomfortably, and Thorne’s gaze flicked to the spot where Umbra had disappeared, his expression tight with unspoken frustration.
“Come on,” Alessa murmured, breaking the silence. “We should go.”
Seraphina nodded, but her thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in Umbra’s cryptic tone and the gnawing sense that whatever game she was playing had only just begun.