Situated as it was in the heart of a grand valley, the sheer size of the Heavenly School was not readily apparent until they were directly in its shadow. Blocks of stone as large as houses made up the superstructure, and the central atrium soared hundreds of feet into the air, exposing the halls of its upper levels with balconies. There were twelve long tables arranged in a circle around a central dai, and arranged beside each of the tables were groups of students dressed in robes that corresponded to their spiritual hue.

Everyone who was accepted into the academy was sorted according to their color affinity, as each color had a branch of the school dedicated to its exclusive cultivation. Some of this was superstition, as merely being in the presence of a given visible color didn’t necessarily mean mana of that color was present, but there were scripts worked into the construction of the academy itself that transformed this central spire into a magical nexus, and each branch into something akin to a high-magic zone for those who had the appropriate affinity.

Furui led the twelve onto the dais as the rest of the student body, clearly having been warned of their imminent arrival, stood at attention. They stood with their left hands held palm up just under the right side of their chests, a standard rest position for the academy, putting the tattoos on their arms on prominent display. The teachers had adopted the same stance, making their advanced status plain for all to see. Four or five stars each, with the exception of Master Furui.

He was the most powerful cultivator Sunwhisper had ever been in the presence of, but the signs of his evolution were subtle. An eagle had come to perch on his shoulder as they came under the shadow of the school, and most of the instructors had animal companions of their own. The brown feathers blending with his long hair, along with his oversized eyes, were the tells of his deepening relationship with his beast.

Master Furui turned suddenly on his heels, presenting his own forearm in the same manner as the others, and the twelve applicants adopted the same stance.

“This is a single step upon an endless road,” he said, voice pitched low, but carried on a pulse of mana to fill the hall. “As cultivators, we grow accustomed to seeing ourselves as being above the press and churn of mortality, but that is not the truth. You are here because of your talent, your dedication, and your dao, the path that none but those who walk it can know. There is no guarantee that any of you will ever earn the partnership of a sacred beast, but this school will not abandon you as long as you do not abandon your path.”

He looked at each of them, his huge, dark eyes as unreadable as those of his beast. “We call ourselves pure artists, cultivators, immortals. If you become a graduate of this academy, you will be one in truth, recognized by the Starfox guild, the Azai clan, and anyone with eyes to see the marks upon your arms. But that word, immortal, is a strange one. A pure artist who has advanced so far may live a thousand years. The head of our clan is one such.” He paused, taking a moment to consider the atrium and the slowly diminishing space above. The whole structure was a grand spire, so the atrium narrowed to a single point, a tower becoming a tunnel when viewed from the bottom of the space.

Behind the master of the school, Sunwhisper examined the faces of the teachers and administrators gathered before them on the dais. Raibu, the man with a trailing mustache who had promised safe passage for their beasts, was not there. Makoto Shishio, however, was.

Sunwhisper knew him by description, and from a painting that had been provided for them during their stay with Yuyu. He had a square jaw, and a mouth thinned by derision. Handsome and dark haired, he was confident in his stance even by the standards of cultivators, and he looked past the new arrivals rather than at them. Sunwhisper watched him to see if his gaze lingered on the women in their group, Janna in particular, but as far as he saw, it didn’t. His beast was not with him.

Master Furui lowered his huge eyes once more, picking up the narrative where he had left off. “The sacred truth of this world is pain. Pain of struggle. Pain of death. Becoming an immortal does not free you from pain, even though it distances you from some of the weaknesses of the body which mortals associate with suffering. Free of disease, free of the ravages of time, we must stress and strain ourselves to experience the pain that will further our development.

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It is pain and struggle that allow us to stretch our souls to the point of breaking, expanding them into something new and great. But every soul has a boundary it cannot go beyond, and some of you will find that limit here. There is no shame in the failure that comes from stretching one’s soul beyond recovery. Those who lose themselves that way are one part of the cost of advancement for the rest.

Meditation may appear peaceful from the outside, but it is a war within ourselves, a war that can never be won. Coming to this school is but a single step on a road that is without end, and every step will be painful, but the reward is equal to the pain that was paid in attaining it.”

He balled his left hand into a fist, and fire sprang up around it. The flame split into two lines that arced until they met again, forming a circle of burning radiance beginning with his hand. The energy solidified, hardening into something truer than any steel while maintaining its orange color. A mana forged charkram.

“The truth of the world is pain, and the only master recognized by that truth is power. You have come here seeking strength, and some of you will find it. But not one of you will ever escape the cycles of creation and destruction that compose the world and our place in it. Do not expect mercy from the world. Fight for your place. Fight for your ambition, and know that when you are done with fighting, the world will be done with you. There is no other way.” He paused once more.

“It would be better for you to leave this place now than to go on while refusing to accept this simple truth. Whatever trials you have overcome to reach this moment were but a prelude to what is to come. If you understand what I have said, and you are ready to take it into your heart, then step forward, and receive your colors.”

No one hesitated, not even Sunwhisper, though as he listened to the old master speak he could not help but think how wrong he was. Pain was certainly a fact of existence, but to reduce all reality to a single concept, especially one as limited as that, was a failure of philosophy. It struck him that a belief system which denied the possibility of life without pain was one that had mistaken hopelessness for revelation, and cynicism for insight. Furui’s speech was in part an exercise in drama, and it was possible that he did not hold the statements he had made as axiomatic in his heart of hearts. Regardless, the point was made. There was struggle ahead, and struggle would make all true cultivators strong.

An older student came forward bearing bundles of robes. Each branch of the school was made to wear its respective color, and Sunwhisper noted that his was the only yellow set among the twelve. There were two distinct shades of red, one crimson, the other muddied. Which dyes could be used to represent the two hidden colors, infrared and ultraviolet, had no doubt been the subject of much debate in the early days of the academy. The muddy robes went to Inu, meaning that affinity was for infrared. She was so distracted, perhaps still concerned about being reunited with her dog, that she barely acknowledged what she was being given.

Janna’s were silver silk, possibly the finest of the entire group. The quality of the materials varied from color to color, with brown being the toughest and cheapest, hardly better than burlap. Inja and Ken both received a pair of those. Inja, still wearing a damp loincloth, appeared genuinely grateful, whereas the man with seven swords only sneered. The crimson robes went to Empiti, who raised them for both his brothers to see. Both of them were given saffron sets.

Sunwhisper accepted his own with a bow.

“Gold unto gold,” the student who had been tasked with distributing the uniforms was wearing blue himself, “may you find wisdom and win glory for your branch.”

It was over soon after that, and the new arrivals were expected to join the tables assigned by their freshly awarded affiliation.

Sunwhisper smiled at Janna, and she returned it.

“Fortune be with you, brother,” she said.

“And also with you.” Students were not forbidden from socializing with the other branches, but they would be living and eating and training with those who shared their color affinity. Janna and Sunwhisper would have to create their own opportunities to exchange information going forward. Still, the plan was going as well as they could have asked for. They were both in place, and their target had no reason to suspect anything of them. Sunwhisper was actually excited.

He had come a long way in a short time, and class was about to begin.