Chapter One: [Dream-Filled Nights]

"…meet…" a sharp sound nudged at the edge of my dream — rhythmic, relentless.

"Mngh… too early," I groaned, already regretting staying up so late on a school night. My neck ached.

"Ugh… what the hell?" I muttered, spotting the book wedged beneath my pillow.

Of course. I must've fallen asleep reading again. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the fragments of the dream. Usually, it was him — that man's voice, always just out of reach. But this time, I heard something new.
I couldn't quite remember the words. But it was a woman's voice. Soft. Endearing. Like she was speaking to me. As I left, I paused at the door and glanced at the book again.

"I might need something to keep me occupied," I whispered.

I'd read it countless times, yet somehow… I always got lost in it. It was like the book was speaking to me. The story itself felt more real than my own.

The train station was packed. Tearing my eyes from the pages for just a moment, I scanned the back of the car for my usual seat— still empty. I sat down and immediately picked up where I left off. My commute was long, and reading kept me awake. As the train drew near my stop, I closed the book to glance outside. The sky was always painted with a dark haze… but today, the shadow was deeper than usual.

Hovertrains sped above and below our heads, and some were suspended on glimmering rails of light. Beneath them, signs pulsed with filtered color. Buildings stood like polished monoliths, powered by lines of energy drawn from the same source as our Echoes. The threads of energy are harvested and looped back into a grid in the sky. The artificial light feels dull on our faces, no warmth is brought with it. Stories of worlds lit by a sun fascinated me, nevertheless Lumeira had no sun, only what it built to replace it.

"Oh, right — we share the same classes this year," I mumbled, fishing for a pocket mirror from my bag to check my hair.
"What? How…?"

The mirror was cracked. I hadn't dropped it, and it was fine yesterday. It split in the glass' center and covered it like a web, reflecting my warped self. It didn't make sense. But for some reason, it felt like a warning. My chest tightened for a moment, the same tightness I'd felt last year. But I shook it off.

Not today.

I didn't have a clue how it happened, so I decided that it wasn't worth worrying about. Clutching the book to my chest, I stepped off the train and headed for the school gate.

"Alira! Good morning," a familiar voice called out to me. "You're earlier than usual."

"Good morning, Eryx. I figured I better not be late for the entrance ceremony," I replied.

He nudged me to walk with him, wearing his usual smile. It was a perfect smile — the one everyone loved. The one that never quite reached his gray-blue eyes. "Good call. It's still weird to already be in our third year. Have you thought about what you'll do after graduation?"

I replied hesitantly, trying not to sound shaken by his question. "I have actually…"

"You're not exactly glowing. But fine, I'll leave it alone — for now," he said with a grin.

I matched his pace. "Thanks, Eryx."

Eryx and I have been friends since we came to Concordia Academy. His popularity made it clear he was meant to be at a private institution like this. He was handsome, smart, and a good fighter. But his Echo mastery was on another level entirely — he always stood at the top of our grade. I knew that I wanted to become an Invoker and join the war — especially now that the king is recruiting more people. But I didn't know how to break the news to Eryx.

The war had always felt distant, even though it shaped everything. We didn't fight on battlefields or in cities. We fought inside spaces that existed in between worlds — places that not everyone was allowed to see. Creatures we called Delos were born from a strange energy we barely understood — wild and violent. They harbored an intense hate for humanity, killing us mercilessly.

They couldn't be killed by normal weapons. The only way to fight them was with Echoes — the manifestations of one's deepest self. That's what it meant to be an Invoker. They were people whose identities were powerful enough — or fractured enough — to be turned into weapons. Concordia Academy is infamous for birthing new Invokers to fight in the war. No one seemed to know where our abilities came from, nor did they seem to care. But those questions stayed with me, even as the morning moved on.

The school's entrance was packed with students and staff members. Families gathered to take pictures of their kids, lecturing them on where to stand and how to pose. It was getting more and more crowded, and Eryx looked a bit displeased. He grabbed my hand and led me through a path behind the main building. It was darker there. Quieter.

"My head was starting to hurt," he said, taking a seat down near the flowers.

"You're starting to like this garden more than me," I teased.

He chuckled softly. "Maybe. I've only come here with you, though. This old garden… I'm surprised more people don't know about it."

"It's in a weird spot," I said. "You'd have to go out of your way to come here. I just happened to stumble across it one day."

My fingers brushed against the petals. The flowers were pretty, but they weren't the only reason I liked to spend time here. A large window of a small office sat overhead — dusty, covered in cobwebs.

Eryx stood up and took a peek inside. "It's getting harder to see. There's so much dust."

"It hasn't been used since we got here," I said. "Maybe longer than that."

My eyes drifted to the window again. There was something about the room — the way the light settled inside it, though it was never turned on. The strange way that the desk sat perpendicular to the window, like a student in the corner of a classroom. A desk, two chairs, and one window. The study probably wasn't big enough for Concordia to offer to accomplished professors.

I couldn't explain why, but it felt like I'd been in it once. I knew I'd never been inside, but something about it always made me pause —like it knew me. Places like that were everywhere in Lumeira — beautiful, forgotten. Only left to collect dust. I wondered how many of those places still remembered the people who passed by them. Eryx and I sat quietly, resting near the flowers until it was time to leave. When the voices from the front started to fade, we got up and headed back.

After making our way through the courtyard and passing The Faceless statue, we arrived at the auditorium.

"I need to get ready for my speech. Talk later, yeah?" Eryx said, and I nodded.

I went inside and took my seat among the other third-year students. It felt strange to be in our final year at Concordia. Spending the majority of my time here studying and training, I hadn't made many friends besides Eryx. It didn't bother me, though. I wanted to be ready to join the war effort as soon as I graduated. Now that time is near — and I was starting to get nervous. I gripped my book close.

I've had this book since I was a little girl. One of the caregivers at the orphanage found it one day and gave it to me as a gift. Even before I could read, I felt comforted just holding it — like it belonged to me and nobody else. A titleless novel without an author; an ordinary story about a curious man and his journey to become a scholar. It was no more special than a children's book, yet it felt personal. Whenever I was immersed in it, I felt a sense of familiarity — like I had been the one who went around researching lost civilisations. In that sense, it resembled a diary more than a storybook.

"Look! It's the class president!"

High whispers signaled that Eryx was about to begin his speech. The room fell silent when he took his spot at the podium. He spoke with confidence, immediately gaining the audience's attention. His position as class president was well-deserved — he always rose to meet Concordia's standard. In comparison, I was nowhere near as smart or skilled in combat. I didn't understand why he waited for me every morning — why he was my friend — when we were so far apart. Maybe he waits because he sees something I haven't found in myself yet. Or maybe he waits because we're two sides of the same coin.

"Does he..?"

My heart stumbled over the thought, stupid and sudden. I dropped my gaze to the book, pretending to examine it — anything to avoid looking at him for a moment. I've liked Eryx since we came to Concordia, but I can't seem to admit it. I'm unsure if I can justify my romantic feelings. Strangely, I feel the same sense of familiarity with my book and Eryx. When the incident happened, he was the only person I could rely on. Maybe that's why I like him. These baseless feelings kept me silent — I didn't want to ruin our friendship.

Reaching his hand out toward our section with a smile, Eryx finished his speech. "Fellow third years! To another… our final year!"

The crowd was filled with excitement and cheered as he stepped off the stage. I couldn't help but smile too, knowing that our hard work would soon pay off. Eryx came over and took the empty seat beside mine.

"How was that? Did I look cool up there?" he asked, elbowing me playfully.

We shared a quiet laugh when I noticed something — another person sitting with the faculty members. I hadn't seen him anywhere before, and he didn't look like a professor.

I nudged Eryx. "Who is that man? The one sitting on the far left of the professors?"

"Oh, him? That's…" he paused, scratching the back of his neck. "That's Zauren. You know, the strongest Invoker. He's a bit intense. He doesn't just train new soldiers, he forces their growth."

"You mean he's going to teach us too? Is that why he's here?" I looked back at Zauren. He sat straight up with his arms crossed. With his head down, he was staring intently at the ground — like he was lost in thought. He looked like the world around him didn't exist — or he didn't care if it did. I wanted to look away. But my eyes didn't respond. It was hard to see from this distance. I blinked and looked over at Eryx. He and the rest of the third year students were standing.

"Daydreaming again? Let's go, we've been dismissed," he said.

I stood up quickly. "Sorry."

Following the other students to the exit, I glanced back at the stage. The faculty members were still there, but Zauren was nowhere to be seen. Judging from his demeanor during the ceremony, he probably didn't want to waste more time sitting around. With classes being on hold until tomorrow, our peers probably felt the same as they all began returning home.

I tapped Eryx's shoulder. "Hey… that man, Zauren. Is he going to be an instructor here?"

"Surprising, right?" he replied. "I knew Concordia had some connections, but getting to learn from a top-shot like him — even temporarily — is next level."

"Do you know what he'll be teaching?" I asked.

"Echo combat, of course. He doesn't seem like the type of guy to have us crack open books," he joked.

Even before hearing his answer, I had a feeling that'd be the case. Concordia had a reputation for bringing in esteemed guests, providing its students with an environment to truly grow. But still… I couldn't shake this feeling of déjà vu.

I spoke softly, hoping Eryx would catch the hint. "I think I'll sign up for his class too…"

"You will?" Eryx blinked, worry rising in his voice. "Alira, you heard me, right? It's a combat course."

His reaction was understandable. The classes that focus on combat and training were mostly filled with guys. It was hard to find girls interested in taking up arms in the spiritual domains, the burden wasn't exactly appealing. Though, that wasn't the case now. With the demand for new Invokers ever increasing, the king began encouraging everyone to take up arms. There was still a stigma against having women join the war, but it's become considerably more diverse.

There was something else, however, that stirred Eryx's reaction. Last year, I actually had taken a combat course. As the only girl in the class, I dealt with ridiculing stares from my male peers. Some even took the time to express their displeasure with my presence in the class.

"Who knew they let girls in this class?"

"Right, what was the school thinking? How are we supposed to train with her?"

Their concern wasn't just because I was a woman, I also wasn't proficient at using my Echo. Sparring with me wouldn't be the best use of my classmates' time. I didn't let their words stop me, I had already steeled my resolve to fight. Then that happened-

My body tightened and the air felt heavier. Their voices rang in my head. "Since there's no use sparring with you, why not be useful another way?"

Their laughs sent a shiver down my spine. My chest clenched. Sweat chilled my skin.

No — breathe. Just breathe. I couldn't.

My body had forgotten how. It was only a joke to them. To me, it was a reminder of how powerless I had been. Lumeira prides itself in the power of identity, and they made it clear that I didn't have my own. I wanted to cry.

My voice was weak, words couldn't rise past my throat. "Aaaah…"

Eryx was speaking. He had already turned to face me, his eyes flickered with concern before I could say anything, but I couldn't focus on a word he said. I felt nauseous and the cold began to drain the sensation in my legs. I fell to the floor, following the teardrops that spilled just before. I clenched the ground, trying to feel the world outside of my own thoughts.

Please — not again.

"Alira, what's wrong? You're turning pale," he said, kneeling beside me. "It's okay, calm down. You're okay. Listen to me, breathe out hard. On the count of three."

His words reached me and I did what he said. After some time, I was able to calm down and catch my breath. He brought me some water and we sat quietly on a bench for some time. I felt guilty for causing Eryx to worry over me. Still shaky, I apologized and told him that I'd go home. He offered to stay with me until we made it to the station but I asked for some time alone. He nodded and left.

The day was still young, and the gym hadn't closed yet. I needed something to clear my mind — training always helped. The campus had emptied out quickly. It was quiet enough that my footsteps felt loud. I figured I was alone… until I reached the gym doors. Something pressed against my senses with a heavy force — someone was inside. I peeked through the door.

"Zauren…" I whispered.

The same man from the entrance ceremony. He was seated in the center of the room, surrounded by the wreckage of broken training dummies — scorched metal and bent limbs. That many broken dummies had to be from multiple simulations. But he wasn't panting. He wasn't even flushed. He had the same look on his face from the ceremony – the same stillness. The presence I felt earlier, it was him.

As if he sensed me staring, he looked up. And we locked eyes.

I flinched. I wanted to look away, but my eyes didn't respond. There wasn't a crowd of people between us, nor did the distance blur my view. Just silence and our gazes. His eyes were red. Not a dull red or rusted-brown — a crimson color like heat rising from below still water. It was only a single moment that passed between us, but it felt like several.

Something in that still, silent moment reached me. Then, without a word, he stood and walked toward the exit.

He didn't so much as glance at me when he walked past. The cold air from outside disappeared when the door clicked shut behind him. My eyes trailed the room again —the simulation's glow dimmed, leaving only an empty room as the wreckage he left behind faded. I didn't get to see how he fought, but his energy still polluted the room's air. He was strong. That was how a professional carried themselves — their confidence spoke louder than anything they could've said.

My hands trembled slightly — not from fear, but from excitement. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My drive to get stronger was even higher now. I hurried over to the changing room and borrowed a pair of clean training gear.

"Okay… let's see if anything's changed," I murmured, tapping the sequence into the control panel with steady fingers.

The simulation training was designed to help Invokers get combat practice outside of the domains. It wasn't as useful as sparring matches with other Invokers, but it helped. My lack of fighting ability makes it hard to train with anyone else, so I spend most of my time fighting against dummies until I drop.

I finalized my settings. "Start in one minute… last for five."

My usual routine. I'd repeat this sequence for the whole session. I walked over to the center of the room, and closed my eyes. Echoes reflect who you are, they take form based on your deepest self. I needed to find out who that was — who I was. I held my hand outward and focused.

Where did I come from?

Who do I want to be?

Who am I? If I know everything, and if I forget it all.

As if my body responded to those questions, a familiar sensation filled my limbs. I opened my eyes, and white sparks danced frantically in the palm of my hand. The chaotic way they moved slowed and they began to take form.

A handle — sleek and thin. Then a blade.

I gripped the handle tight, bracing myself.
The countdown reached zero. The simulation began. Dummies emerged, their movements rigid and unnatural. I charged forward, blade in hand. My form was sloppy. I could feel it. Every swing lacked the weight I needed in the domains, my footing stumbled under the pressure. I got hit more times than I landed blows. But I didn't stop, and I ran it again. And again. I trained until my muscles gave out and my hands refused to hold still.

I wasn't strong. Not yet. But I needed to change. I could feel it — not in the damage I took, but the way I stood afterward. When I made it back to the train, I sat quietly the whole ride home.

By the time I had returned, I mostly regained my usual composure — the train ride home gave me more time to calm down. But my fingers still trembled slightly at my book's spine. The walks home from the station never appealed to me much; the darkness that consumed the sky never felt welcoming. I hurried back to my apartment. Third year students had the option to live alone instead of the shared housing on campus. My home was a small and comforting place to stay that was offered to scholarship students. The apartment was modest — quiet, forgettable. But it didn't ask questions. That made it home.

In order for Concordia to recruit the best, they often ran initiative programs to find hidden talents despite background. I was one of those students — as was Eryx. He and I came from the same orphanage, and that's why people assume we're close. That reason didn't suffice, however, considering we rarely spoke with one another when we were kids. We were just two people who lived in the same place for a while. I believe our first real encounter happened when we were both accepted for the program.

A kind lady who'd later become our teacher welcomed us. "Congratulations, Alira and Eryx. You two will be spending the next three years building your futures at Concordia Academy."

Our eyes met, and from that moment on we grew closer. Despite how much our personalities differed, we both carried the same hollow past. Students without names and an absence of history, we clung together because we had no one else. We never learned where we came from — and we fell victim to relentless bullying for not knowing.

Eryx would try to create stories where his parents died as heroes in battle. He most likely felt ashamed of the lack of substance in his life and wanted to defend himself. I admired his ability to perform a past — to create a place for himself. His ambition burned brightly even now. Eryx climbed to even greater heights, and proved himself to everyone below. Though, he always looks unsatisfied.

I never tried to fabricate my story. Inspired by the book I was given, I too set goals for my future. Those same children would tease me for loving it so much. Maybe they were right to do so. Still, in a world full of unanswered questions, it was the first thing that truly felt mine.

"Aaaahhh…what a long day."

The rest of the day went by quite fast, and I headed to bed early to prepare for the long year ahead. Classes began tomorrow. I didn't plan to exert myself as hard as I did today, but my breakdown earlier reminded me that I needed to work harder. I cuddled the book close in the warmth of my blanket. Closing my eyes, I let out an eager smile. One reason, of course, was the near harvest of all my labor. But part of me — a much quieter part — hoped for something else entirely.

I turned off the lights in my room. And like the sky, they seemed darker than usual. But I still whispered into the darkness. And drifted into dreams.

"I hope I see him again tonight…"