The sky outside the Academy swirled in shades of ash and blue, the clouds drifting as if reluctant to pass through whatever unseen boundary wrapped around this day. Something different stirred in the foundation of the world. Something that couldn't be measured by strength, nor seen by mortal or divine eyes. It was not magic, nor force, nor essence.
It was truth.
Inside one of the lesser-known halls of the Academy—a structure older than the others, where walls whispered even when silent—students had gathered. Not many. Only those whose dreams had wandered too close to questions they couldn't explain. Most had been sent here because they were odd, unreadable, or difficult to categorize. That's how Aevion and Liora ended up among them.
They stood side by side in the vast, empty chamber.
There were no markings on the floor.
No tools. No instructions.
Just a man waiting.
He stood barefoot, draped in an ivory robe threaded with ink-black glyphs that crawled and faded as though ashamed to be seen. His eyes did not shimmer. They simply existed—far too old for the youth of his face.
"You've all touched forces with color," the man began, voice like silk dragged across stone. "But today, I will introduce you to something colorless. Something without form. Something that came before reality had rules."
His hand rose, palm open.
And then—
The room shifted.
Not like magic. Not like weight or time. But as though every particle of air and space had been reminded of something it had forgotten. Several students staggered, gasping, blinking as the walls seemed… distant. Uncertain.
Aevion, however, did not move.
Instead, he blinked once—and the room corrected itself for him.
Reality snapped into shape around him.
The man's gaze paused. "Interesting."
He did not explain.
Liora, standing beside Aevion, clutched her arm. "My skin just… it started feeling like it wasn't mine."
The man's voice was soft. "You were briefly disconnected from the world's acknowledgment of your being."
He looked around at the class, then back to Aevion.
"This is Veritas. The pulse that tells the stars where to burn, the oceans where to halt, and the soul where to remain bound. It is not something you use. It is something you either understand… or do not."
He turned away. "No one in this room will learn to command it. At most, you will glimpse it once, then spend the rest of your life running from what it showed you."
Except for one.
The moment the instructor walked away, Aevion let his eyes half-close.
There was no glow around him.
No surge of power.
But the moment he thought of shifting the direction of space—just slightly—one of the hanging lanterns in the room, bolted to solid stone, tilted ten degrees to the left without being touched.
Liora noticed.
She said nothing.
But her breath caught.
That night, Aevion sat alone on the roof of the dorms, legs crossed beneath him, the moonlight playing across the strands of his silver hair.
He raised one finger.
Not in defiance.
But in conversation.
Above him, the clouds parted—not by wind, not by magic, but by some forgotten agreement with the sky itself. The stars, once scattered in chaos, realigned into a symmetrical ring—then slowly dissolved, returning to their natural form.
He had asked them to return to their places.
And the cosmos had listened.
Not out of fear.
Not out of reverence.
But because they remembered him.
Something forgotten by history. A shadow of a will that once breathed beside the beginning of all things.
Aevion exhaled slowly.
He did not need to show anyone.
The act of knowing was enough.
He looked to his hand—the same one that would hold Vexiaris when it awakened, the same one that would carve truth from illusion, the same one that would eventually merge his grace, his stance, and his silence into something no concept could endure.
"Almost," he whispered.
He was getting close.
And the laws of all that is—could feel it.
The morning air was crisp as the students gathered in the grand hall, awaiting the day's lesson. The teacher's gaze swept across the group, eyes sharp yet calm. "Today, you will experience something different. This is not just a lesson—it's a journey to a place few have ever stepped foot in. The Library of the End."
A subtle murmur rippled through the students. The Library of the End was whispered about in legends—an infinite space beyond the bounds of normal reality, where knowledge stretched beyond time itself.
Without another word, the teacher raised his hand, and a shimmering rift began to tear open before them, swirling with hues of deep violet and endless black. "Step through the portal," he said, voice steady and sure.
One by one, the students crossed the threshold, a strange sensation washing over them as reality warped and twisted. When they emerged, they stood in a vast expanse of endless shelves stretching infinitely in all directions, books and scrolls glowing faintly in the dim light.
The teacher turned to face them once more, voice echoing softly in the silent expanse. "Today's lesson is simple. You will explore the knowledge here, learn to seek the truths hidden in these pages. Understanding what lies within this Library is the first step toward mastering forces beyond ordinary comprehension."
Aevion's eyes scanned the shelves with quiet intensity, feeling the weight of infinite knowledge pressing against his mind. He moved deliberately, fingers brushing over ancient tomes until a single book caught his attention. Bound in deep black leather, its title etched in silver letters—The Order of Null Origin.
He opened the book carefully. The pages spoke of a primordial force shaping all existence—a fundamental order governing the very fabric of reality, hidden in the depths beyond time and space. Aevion's mind churned as the words awakened something buried deep within him, stirring echoes of power and purpose that felt both ancient and immediate.
Around him, other students murmured their discoveries, but Aevion's gaze remained fixed on the cryptic text. Today's lesson was more than reading—it was the unveiling of a truth that could change everything.