CHAPTER 12: The Twelfth Fracture

Zurvan opened the portal back to the lower level — the same place where we had first encountered the five gods. The atmosphere was quieter now, more peaceful, like the storm had passed and left behind something still and waiting.

Zamaneh stood beside him, calm and composed, her presence as grounded as ever.

Saaya stepped forward, bowed with sincere respect, and thanked her. Zamaneh returned a warm smile, clearly pleased.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Come back anytime. I can’t wait to see how far your power goes. I only showed you the door — now it’s yours to open.”

Saaya lit up with a grin and, without hesitation, pulled Zamaneh into a tight hug. Zamaneh embraced her back, wordlessly acknowledging everything that had passed between them during their time training.

Off to the side, Zurvan and I watched them in quiet amusement. I turned to him, something heavy but grateful in my chest.

“Thank you,” I said. “For everything. I never imagined I’d meet a god who was kind... and patient.”

Zurvan responded with a familiar, almost fatherly gesture, draping his arm over my shoulder. “You’re more than welcome. Watching you grow has been a privilege. Just don’t forget what I taught you — that new ability of yours is powerful, but dangerous. Use it sparingly. Once or twice a day, no more.”

Saaya had clearly been eavesdropping. She drifted up beside me, her hands clasped behind her back, leaning in slightly with mischief in her eyes.

“What ability is that, Sukara?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, my face warming.

“Oh, it’s nothing special. Just something Zurvan helped me figure out.”

She edged a little closer, not bothering to hide her curiosity.

Before I could sink further into awkwardness, Zamaneh chuckled and cut in.

“You’ve picked up more than a few tricks yourself, Saaya. Give him a break.”

Saaya pouted and stepped back, arms folded in mock defeat. “Yeah, yeah. Fine.”

Zurvan cleared his throat, shifting back into his more formal tone. “All right. Like I said — the magic academy is across the world from here. I had Zamaneh contact the headmaster. They’ll be expecting two new students.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I thought she hated you. Why would she let us in?”

Zurvan smirked faintly. “She hates me. Not you. You’ll be fine.”

He pointed southeast. “The fastest route is in that direction.”

As he finished speaking, the ground beneath my feet began to hum — not violently like before, but with a calm resonance. A bright blue scalar ring flared to life beneath me, glowing softly as it rose behind my back. The air bent slightly around us. Saaya floated up alongside me, caught in the lift of the field.

Zurvan’s grin widened. “You’ve come a long way, kid. Your scalar signature is visible now. That blue ring behind you — it’s a mark of control and growth.”

Saaya’s eyes went wide as she looked at the halo forming at my back. “Whoa…”

Zamaneh waved from below with a smile. “Good luck, girl!”

Saaya flushed, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red. She snuck a glance at me, but I was already facing forward — eyes locked on the horizon, where the clouds parted and the sky shimmered in layers of gold and violet.

We rose higher, drifting just beneath the clouds. Below us, the landscape unfolded — floating islands connected by glowing bridges, cities suspended in the sky, and cars cutting clean lines through the air like streaks of light. It was like looking down on a world built from dreams.

I couldn’t help it — a grin spread across my face, bright and real. Saaya said nothing, just watched me for a while, quietly smiling at my reaction.

“All right,” I said finally, adjusting the scalar field with a flick of my hand.

Then, with a shift in pressure and a surge of controlled gravity, we shot southeast — two streaks of light vanishing into the clouds.

The next journey had already begun.

Far across the world, on the opposite side of the fracture, a girl stood atop the tallest spire of the magic academy. The campus stretched wide below her—towers, training fields, glowing ley lines—but she remained above it all, gazing into the horizon. A soft breeze brushed past as a quiet smile curved her lips.

“Finally… I can’t wait to see him again.”

The sky above the academy shimmered with drifting lights—residue from countless spells cast throughout the day. Spires of glass, stone, and arcane metal pierced the clouds, each one humming with a distinct magical frequency. Mana hung in the air like mist, saturating every breath.

Bridges woven from runes and light connected floating buildings, each one drifting with purpose. Students in cloaks and enchanted uniforms moved across levitating walkways, their voices muffled beneath the hum of ambient energy.

This was the Academy of Veyul—a stronghold of magic, legacy, and secrets.

Saaya floated beside me, her eyes wide with awe.

“So that’s the magic academy?” she asked.

I nodded, adjusting the scalar field around my body as we began our descent. “Looks more like a capital city wrapped in a mana storm.”

She smirked. “Think they’ll like us?”

“No,” I said flatly. “But that’s never stopped us before.”

As we descended, the halo-like scalar rings flaring behind us caught attention. Students turned. Whispered. Pointed. Some stepped aside, others simply stared.

We touched down on the outer edge of the courtyard. The stone beneath our feet pulsed faintly with welcome sigils—warm, but cautious. The air felt thick, like the entire academy was holding its breath.

We weren’t just new arrivals.

We were sparks landing in a powder keg.

And somewhere inside this place… someone was already watching.

A ripple passed through the space ahead—like heat distorting the air. A gate appeared, not of stone or steel, but of compressed mana and folded space. It opened with eerie silence.

A woman stepped through.

She looked to be in her late thirties, dressed in a tailored black suit with just a hint of flair. Her crimson hair was pulled into a high ponytail that fell like a streak of flame. A fitted skirt hugged her hips, paired with matte-black tights and heels that clicked softly against the courtyard stone.

Her eyes scanned the crowd—and landed on us with unsettling precision.

I stepped forward, steadying my voice. “We’re here to meet with the Headmaster. Zamaneh sent us.”

No response. No nod. No welcome.

She simply raised one hand.

The light dimmed. Shadows stretched. The pressure in the air thickened—like gravity itself was coiling around us. Then it appeared:

A swirling black sphere cracked open the sky above. Small, but impossibly dense. A singularity. A black hole.

It was falling fast.

“What the hell—?!” I shouted, taking a step back. The force bent the light around it. If it hit the ground, this entire courtyard would be gone.

Before I could act, Saaya stepped forward. No grand gesture. No spell chant.

She whispered something.

And the black hole unraveled.

Gone. As if it had never existed.

The sky cleared.

Silence settled.

I turned to her, stunned. “What… what did you just do?”

She gave me a sly glance. “You have your secrets,” she said with a soft smile. “And I have mine.”

She walked past me, her confidence unmistakable.

“You’re not the only one who got stronger.”

The woman stood still, watching Saaya with mild surprise. Her eyes narrowed—then softened into a faint smirk.

“Yeah. That’s definitely Zamaneh’s pupil.”

She approached, heels tapping on the stone. Students around us stared, stunned into silence.

“Apologies,” she said, her voice deep and deliberate. “That was extreme. But it was a test. I wanted to see how you’d handle immediate, mortal pressure.”

Saaya brushed it off with a grin. “It’s fine. We’ve seen worse.”

The woman turned her back. With a snap of her fingers, another portal opened—sleek and angular, formed from geometric mana sigils.

“Come. Let’s talk in my office. I’m the Headmaster. But you can call me Principal Lyra.”

She stepped through.

As Saaya and I followed her, the air shifted again—a subtle flicker, like someone breathing too close to your neck.

Far above, on a distant balcony, a figure stepped away from the ledge. Watching. Waiting.

“It’s really you, Sukara…” she whispered to herself.

Her eyes softened, a smile spreading slowly across her face.

“I’d recognize that stupid mole anywhere.”

Then she turned—still smiling—and vanished into the shadows.