A Moonstone?

The morning sun sliced through the arched glass window of Room 314. The light spilled across the stone tiles of the western residential tower, drawing pale lines that chased away the remnants of the night.

Cecilia awakened with a sharp, sudden blink. The silver-plated key she had recovered from the brass lockbox the night before sat quietly on the bedside table, catching the gold glare of the early sky.

For a split second, her empty mind reached backward for the familiar scent of dried pine and her grandmother's wood-burning stove, but the crisp, clean linen of the mattress instantly snapped her back to reality.

She was at Lumen Academy.

She sat up aggressively, her bright blue eyes tracking the space around her. She was entirely alone. The opposite bed, which once held a resting weight of long blonde hair facing the stone wall just hours prior, was completely empty, the sheets folded back with a practiced, rigid precision.

Moving by instinct, Cecilia bolted into the private washroom to get herself ready. She quickly slid her arms into her official uniform, feeling the familiar, structured weight of the Imperial Blue enchanted linen coat-dress settle over her shoulders.

She snapped the double-breasted gold buttons into place across her chest, adjusted the formal collar with its crisp Alabaster White piping, and cinched the slim leather belt tightly at her natural waist.

She brushed her teeth, then, standing before the polished brass mirror, she picked up her hairbrush, dragging it through the exceptional length of her rich brown hair until it flowed smoothly down her back.

Yet, as the bristles clicked rhythmically against the strands, her hand slowed.

A sudden, lingering weight pressed against her ribs, a strange sensation that she was forgetting something critical.

Her thumb absentmindedly traced the Opal necklace tucked securely beneath her high white collar, its internal galaxy of shifting red, blue, and violet colors resting warmly against her skin.

Brushing finished, she left the bathroom and stepped out of her room into the residential sector.

The Alabaster Darks was breathtakingly beautiful in the morning light. The corridors were a masterclass in architectural wealth, built entirely from pale stone that smelled faintly of expensive lavender starch and polished timber.

Every single door frame she passed was flanked by a fluted stone pedestal housing a statue of Celestia the owl, each bird standing completely motionless with its emerald-glass eyes tracking the empty halls.

As she drifted further down the gallery, she passed the beautiful dorm kitchen. It was a massive, open space lined with dark mahogany counters and filled with very expensive kitchen appliances crafted from brilliant, runic-etched steel that gleamed under the sun.
She had walked all around the building, admiring the beauty of everything around her.

Yet, as her boots clicked against the tiles, the silence of the wing began to grow heavier.

She hadn't passed a single first-year student.

There was no rustle of paper permits, no chatter of nervous Lapidaries-in-training, no footsteps echoing from the stairwells.

The entire sector was completely, unnaturally bare.

An uneasy feeling went up her spine.

Cecilia quickened her pace, sprinting down the stone staircase until she broke into the grand main lobby of the residential tower.

Her blue eyes immediately darted toward the massive, antique iron clock mounted above the central archway.

The hands read exactly 9:13 AM.

The world around her seemed to freeze. Instantly, the whimsical but terrifyingly resonant voice of Principal Vaeloria Sinclair replayed within the tunnels of her mind, echoing with a sharp, authoritative weight: “First thing in the morning, at exactly nine o'clock, you will head directly to The Crescent Hall... Do not be late.”

“Oh no, no, no!”

Panic exploded through her chest like a sudden gale.

Cecilia charged through the front entrance doors, tumbling out into the open courtyard under the bright sun.

Her eyes scanned the massive campus, her mind completely blanking on where to go.

She ran straight to the nearest fluted pedestal, her hands gripping the marble edge as she thrust her face directly into the face of the guide bird.

“Celestia! Celestia! Please tell me where the Crescent Hall is! I'm so late! Which spire is it?”

The emerald pupils of the owl shifted down with a slow, mechanical precision. “The evaluation chamber known as the Crescent Hall is located on the second level of the primary academic spire, young wanderer. Follow the eastern terrace past the great archive.”

“Thank you!”

Cecilia didn't wait for the bird to finish. Her feet tore across the floor, but the distance between the residential wing and the academic sector was too far to go on foot in a panic.

Moving by pure, second-nature reflex, her hand plunged into the heavy leather pouch at her waist. Her fingers went past the other training stones and snatched a high-grade Diamond.

She funneled a rapid, fluid current of her massive Alké pool into the Sky Stone. The crystal instantly responded, emitting a pale, stable light that flowed through her fingers.

With effortless grace, Cecilia expanded upon the light with her touch.

The heavy pull of gravity grew distant, and her bare feet, now secured tightly within her boots, lifted off the ground.

She launched herself forward into the air, skimming over the tops of the manicured hedges and soaring across the eastern terrace as a floor blur.

She reached the massive, arched doors of the academic spire within seconds, dropping smoothly back to the floorboards as she killed the frequency, sliding the Diamond back into her pouch.

Her heart was hammering violently against her ribs as she stood before The Crescent Hall.

Hoping to minimize the damage, Cecilia reached for the heavy iron handle. She cracked the door open a couple inches, attempting to sneak into the back of the lecture hall without drawing a single eye.

She slid her short frame through the gap, crouching low behind the rising rows of seats.

“...This precision Līthostēr is a part of the five that are spread out through the world,” a sharp, crystalline voice echoed down from the center of the amphitheater floor. It was a voice Cecilia recognized instantly. Professor Nieva Crevasse was pacing around the center pedestal, her long, wild white hair catching the interior lights as she gestured toward a massive crystal. “The Moonstone is an anchor for academic evaluation...”

Crouched low, her long brown hair trailing over her knees, Cecilia began scanning the steeply stepped tiered rows for any open seat near the exit. She slid her boots along the carpet, moving inch by inch—

SNAP.

The temperature in the rear gallery dropped to an immediate, freezing sub-zero. Before Cecilia could take another step, a jagged, wall of solid, translucent Sapphire Ice erupted violently from the floorboards right in front of her nose, completely blocking her path with a concussive thud.

“Ow,” she says, butt to the floor as she rubs her face.

“...it’s seen as one of the most valuable Līthostēr, just like time is seen as one of the most valuable things,” Professor Nieva’s voice continued smoothly from below, though her icy eyes were now tracking a little bird. “Would you agree with my assessment, Miss Voss-Thorne?”

The entire room went dead silent. Hundreds of heads snapped backward simultaneously, their gazes locking onto the rear row.

Cecilia shot up like a startled animal, her cheeks burning with an immediate, deep pink flush. She nervously scratched the back of her head, her fingers twisting through her hair. “Yes... um... it is. Very valuable, Professor.”

“You're late,” Nieva said simply, her unhinged smile playing on the corners of her lips as she leaned her tall frame against the central railing.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot to check the clock, and the kitchen was so pretty, and I—”

“Come to the front,” Nieva interrupted, her sharp voice cutting through the apology before Cecilia could finish the sentence.

“We were just about to begin an important small lecture regarding the properties of the evaluation stone. And since you have graced us with your presence at nearly fifteen minutes past the hour... why don't you start it for us?”

The monolithic ice wall dissolved into a harmless cloud of glittering frost, leaving the path clear.

Cecilia swallowed hard, her legs feeling incredibly heavy within her boots as she began the long descent down the center stairs.

As she stepped onto the central floor, the weight of the room slammed into her with the force of an elemental spell.

It was a deep, suffocating pain.

Wherever she looked, hundreds of eyes were piercing right through her uniform.

Cold.

Judgmental.

The students in the tiered rows came from the wealthiest aristocratic houses in Astraea, and their gazes carried a sharp, collective judgment that seemed to dissect her very lineage.

She could hear the quiet, venomous whispers rustling through the tiers like dry leaves.

“Who is she?”

“To be late on selection day... how disrespectful.”

“Look at her boots; she doesn't even have an aristocratic crest.”

The pressure felt like a physical weight pressing against her skull, making her chest tighten as she realized she was completely exposed in front of the entire assembly.

Desperate to escape the piercing gazes, Cecilia forced her eyes away from the crowd, turning her focus entirely toward the professor to discover what she was supposed to say.

Professor Nieva gestured with her leather-gloved hand toward the massive, Līthostēr resting on top of the central stone pedestal.

“What is that?” Nieva asked, her crystalline voice holding the room captive. “Tell the class in detail, Miss Voss-Thorne.”

Cecilia took a deep breath, forcing her nerves downward as she desperately tried to retreat into her normal, child-like persona.

She cleared her mind, blocking out the weight of the eyes, and reached deep into her memory.

She searched through the hours she had spent buried on the floor of her grandmother’s study, mapping the massive leather-bound manuals explaining Līthostēr behavior.

“It’s a Moonstone,” Cecilia began, her voice still carrying a slight, nervous tremor as she spoke to the floor. “It’s... um... it’s a specialized stone used strictly for Alké detection and capacity evaluation. When you step up, you’ll channel all your Raw Alké into its core to gauge your tier. But the Moonstone doesn't actually take or consume the energy... so you won't get fatigued or fall to Gaia’s Law while casting.”

“That is true,” Professor Nieva nodded, her icy eyes widening with a hint of approval. “An accurate technical reading. But what does channeling your Alké actually do to the stone’s frequency, Cecilia?”

As her mind anchored onto the technical theory, the visual memory of the manuals flooded her mind.

The anxiety in her chest began to fade, replaced by that starry-eyed infatuation she always felt when thinking about the sheer beauty of glowing crystals.

Her voice smoothed out, losing its stutter as her imagination painted the colors in the empty air.

“Depending on the exact volume of Raw Alké you introduce, the Moonstone shifts through a progressive scale of seven distinct colors,” Cecilia explained, her blue eyes lighting up with genuine wonder.

“If it turns a Pale Blue as beautiful and soft as the morning sky, it means you possess Faint Alké,” her hands flying into the air as she does a light spin.

“A Soft Green like fresh spring grass means you have Low Alké,” she continues, hugging herself.

“After that is a Gold Yellow that glows as bright as the midday sun, which means you have Moderate Alké,” she lets out excitedly, trying to imitate a campfire. “Oh, oh, and if you have more, it turns a Bright Orange like a roaring campfire, meaning your capacity is High Alké.”

“Then it fires into a Crimson Red as deep as an ember, meaning your Alké is Very High. Next is a Violet light that looks like a twilight cloud, meaning you possess Extreme Alké,” she then pauses to think, bringing a hand to her chin, then says, “And finally, if your pool is overwhelming, it turns a pure, White that completely blinds the room.”

“Good job, Cecilia,” Professor Nieva said with a sharp giggle, her long Victorian skirt swishing as she pulled out a clipboard. “You may take an open seat in the lower tier. But do try to be on time in the future. Being late always carries consequences, no matter the setting.”

Cecilia bolted toward the nearest open seat near the bottom row, her shoulders dropping in relief as she slid onto the polished wood, her boots swinging slightly as she tried to disappear into the environment.

“Alright now, students,” Nieva announced, her silver-threaded hair catching the light as she tapped her clipboard.

“I will now call you up one at a time in alphabetical order of your last names. Once your Alké level is registered by the central stone, you will be handed an official selection slip bearing the name of your assigned professor. Class begins every day at exactly nine o'clock. Do not make Miss Voss-Thorne's performance a habit.”

✦ ✦ ✦

The evaluation began with a mechanical efficiency. Professor Nieva began reading names from her chart, her voice ringing clearly across the curved amphitheater of The Crescent Hall.

Student after student descended the stepped rows to place their hands upon the central pedestal. The massive Moonstone responded precisely to each infusion, cycling through the lower margins of the scale.

The vast majority of the first-years registered within the Soft Green or Golden Yellow tiers, their capacities marking them as standard low-level Lapidaries or the average army men. A few notable heirs from secondary knight houses managed to push the crystal into a stable Deeper Golden Yellow, drawing polite nods from the proctors' line along the stage.

“B’iorn D Goldstar!” Nieva called out.

The entire atmosphere of the Crescent Hall shifted violently in an instant.

A sudden wave of high-pitched whispers and eager giggles exploded from the clusters of female students scattered across the upper tiers.

“Oh my god, it’s him!”

“He’s so confident... look at how he walks!”

“He’s so handsome... those freckles are adorable!”

Cecilia turned her head to watch the new candidate descend the stairs.

B'iorn was on the shorter side compared to the towering military guards, but he was still noticeably taller than most of the girls in the room.

He carried a dark skin complexion accented beautifully by a scattering of dark freckles across his nose, paired with faded yellow-red eyes that radiated unchecked arrogance.

His most striking feature was a mass of frizzy, tightly curled orange hair that bounced with every stride.

The girls around the room continued to fawn over him as he sauntered down the center aisle, completely soaking in the attention with a wide, confident smirk.

“Watch the stone, Lurella,” B'iorn called out, his loud, hyperactive nature cutting through the academic seriousness of the room.

He reached the central floor, stepping up to the pedestal with zero hesitation. With a dramatic flourish of his arm, he slammed his palm flat against the smooth surface of the Moonstone, funneling a heavy, aggressive pulse of Alké directly into the core.

Humm-flash!

The crystal violently absorbed the input. The light skyrocketed past the blue and green margins, skipping the yellow entirely before bursting into a vibrant, roaring Bright Orange that illuminated his orange curls in a fiery aura.

The room erupted into a frenzy of excited gasps and loud cheers from his fawning audience.

“Incredible! High capacity!”

“I heard his family has three gold mines in the southern ridges! Of course he gets this level.”

“He's amazing! Is he number twenty, right?”

B'iorn puffed out his chest, his arrogance shining through as he snatched his selection slip from the proctor with a cocky wink towards the seat Lurella was sitting, walking back to his seat with a loud, swaggering stride that showed he completely believed he owned the room.

Professor Nieva’s unhinged smile never wavered as she checked the next line on her clipboard. “Quiet down. Moving on…”

More regular students went after B’iorn; he seemed to have put high expectations on the freshman class. As students walked up, more and more nervous.

“Vivienne Solvane.”

Cecilia’s expression instantly locked in, her blue eyes widening as she leaned forward against the wooden bench.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Vivienne!

It was the quiet, yellow-eyed girl from the Great Archive, the one who had dual-wielded her toxic foil sword against an actual military General outside the massive white walls.

Cecilia was intensely interested in her evaluation; having witnessed the breathtaking precision of her Citrine light and Tsavorite corrosion, she knew Vivienne possessed an incredible, elegant level of skill.

Vivienne walked down the stepped rows with a breathtaking elegance, her yellow eyes fixed entirely on the pedestal.

Her posture was the complete opposite of B'iorn’s; she moved with a quiet, reserved discipline, her tailored uniform fitting her flawlessly without a single loose thread.

She reached the center, gently placing her delicate palm against the Moonstone.

The crystal thrummed with a precise, clean frequency.

The color shifted smoothly, settling into a stable, deeply vibrant Gold Yellow that glowed with the clarity of a dawn sun.

It was a perfect Moderate tier.

Vivienne accepted her slip with a polite, dignified bow and retreated to her seat, her quiet gaze briefly meeting Cecilia’s stunned blue eyes with a small, knowing nod.

“Lurella Von-Steph Harold!” Nieva's voice rang out, sharper this time.

A heavy, deliberate step echoed from the top gallery, and the temperature of the room seemed to shift under a sudden influx of hostile energy.

Descending the stairs was a tall young lady with long, spiky blonde hair that trailed wildly past her shoulders, her eyes split between grey and red.

She commanded the attention of every single person in the room before she even stepped onto the floor.

Her uniform was a custom-made masterpiece; she had completely removed the standard academy buttons, replacing them with raw, un-infused Garnet Līthostērs that gleamed with an unstable, chaotic violet sheen against the Imperial Blue fabric.

“Ohohohoho!”

A loud, piercing, and incredibly bratty princess laugh erupted from her lips, echoing off the high walls of the Crescent Hall as she looked down her nose at the other first-years.

Her loudness easily rivaled B'iorn’s hyperactive nature, but it was laced with a deep, unyielding ego and immense pride.

“Step aside, commoners,” Lurella scoffed, her fingers brushing against the Garnets at her chest as she approached the pedestal.

“Let a true noble show you what real power looks like.”

She extended her hand, her long fingers slamming against the Moonstone with a violent, crushing surge of her Raw Alké pool.

CRACK-BOOM!

The Moonstone didn't just glow; it violently detonated with light.

The energy surged through the color scale like a breaking dam, bypassing the lower tiers entirely before flaring into a deep, heavy, and terrifyingly dark Crimson Red that flooded the entire amphitheater in a bloody aura.

It was a High tier of devastation, marking her as an elite combat vanguard if she so chose to be one.

The same bratty, arrogant laugh burst from her throat as she watched the crimson light pulse.

“Ohohoho! High Crimson Red! Exactly as dictated by my bloodline! Try to match that, you pathetic lot!”

She snatched her selection slip with an immense ego, glaring at the remaining students with an unyielding pride before tossing her spiky hair and strutting back to her bench.

Nieva’s icy eyes dropped to the next name on her chart.

The room grew still once more.

“Cecilia Voss-Thorne. Step forward.”

✦ ✦ ✦

The transition was entirely different this time. There were no eager whispers from fawning fan girls, no arrogant declarations of noble bloodlines, and no dramatic flair.

The Crescent Hall fell into a heavy, expectant silence as Cecilia rose from her bench.

Her heart immediately began to hammer against her ribs with a frantic, desperate velocity.

Her blue eyes fixed on the central stone pedestal, the pale marble steps looking miles away as her boots carried her down onto the amphitheater floor.

She was completely nervous, her hands trembling slightly against the sides of her coat-dress.

She reached the dead center of the room, standing completely alone before the massive Moonstone.

She froze.

A long, agonizing pause stretched through the silence of the amphitheater as she simply stood there, staring into the cloudy facets of the device.

The weight of hundreds of watching eyes pressed against her back, waiting for the late student to fail.

Taking one final, deep breath, Cecilia slowly moved her hand forward.

Her small fingers descended, pressing flat against the smooth, cold surface of the Moonstone crystal.

Humm...

Deep within her chest, her massive, volatile reservoir of Alké responded instantly to the touch.

But it didn't flow like a controlled stream; it surged forward like a cataclysmic, broken dam, a roaring torrent of untamed power exploding directly into the machine.

The Moonstone went completely haywire.

Flash-ZING!

The crystal didn't just scale; it began to cycle through the color tiers at a terrifying, hyper-accelerated speed.

It flashed pale blue, snapped into soft green, shot through gold yellow, violently flared bright orange, slammed into crimson red, blinded the room in violet, and ignited into pure white within the span of a single second.

But it didn't stop at White.

BOOM!

The entire Crescent Hall was violently consumed by an overwhelming, spectacular explosion of Iridescent light.

A blinding, multi-colored spectrum of shifting red, deep blue, shimmering gold, and brilliant violet erupted simultaneously from the core of the stone, painting the pale marble walls in a shattered, swirling rainbow of cosmic energy.

The radiant force hummed with a terrifying, ancient frequency that shook the glass windows of the spire.

Professor Nieva Crevasse froze solid in place, her unhinged smile completely vanishing from her face for the very first time.

She stared at the swirling, cosmic spectrum, her clipboard slipping slightly in her leather-gloved fingers.

She looked completely confused, her brilliant mind utterly failing to decode the phenomenon. There was absolutely zero historical documentation for such a color.

“What... what is this?” Nieva muttered, her crystalline voice turning tight with sudden bewilderment as she tapped the side of the pedestal.

“The machine’s internal frequency matrix is... it's looping. This must be a mechanical failure. A system alignment error.”

She snapped her head up, her icy eyes locking onto Cecilia. “Release your hold, Miss Voss-Thorne. Settle your core and try again. The stone's resonance must have glitched on your initial input.”

Cecilia pulled her hand back, the blinding iridescent colors instantly vanishing, returning the room to its dim, standard light.

Her chest was heaving, a strange, ghostly echo of a burning amber palace flickering through her blank mind before vanishing.

She swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she extended her hand a second time, pressing her palm back onto the stone.

She felt the roaring tide of Alké wanting to scream into the crystal again.

No, no! she thought, remembering her grandmother's lessons about controlling the amount you put in. Less! Put less inside!

She began forcefully clamping down on her own internal pool, holding the reins with a desperate, crushing focus as she dialed back the input.

She put less and less Alké into the stone, completely choking off the flow until the roaring reservoir inside her chest was reduced to a microscopic trickle.

The Moonstone pulsed one final time. The cosmic colors failed to manifest, and the crystal settled into a dim, stagnant, and completely unawakened Pale Blue.

The silence of the amphitheater was instantly shattered as the entire class burst into a violent storm of mocking whispers, fingers pointing, and critical giggles.

“Pale Blue? Are you kidding me?”

“Faint Alké! That’s the lowest tier possible!”

“That’s the most common color for basic civilians and peasants! Why is she even here?”

“She must be a nepotism baby...”

“Look at her... completely talentless. She’s just a commoner who got lucky.”

The venomous words rained down from the tiered rows like a hail of sharp ice shards, pinning her as the weakest, most pathetic student in the entire first-year alignment.

Lurella’s bratty, arrogant princess laugh echoed from the upper benches, filled with supreme ego, while B'iorn let out a loud, mocking snicker from his seat.

Cecilia didn't say a single word. She stood perfectly still at the pedestal, her face entirely blank as the proctor extended a silver-plated slip toward her fingers.

She grabbed the selection slip with the professor's name printed on it, but she didn't even look down at the ink.

Her thumb simply creased the edge of the paper as she turned around, walking back up the steps of the amphitheater with a slow, quiet stride.

She slid back onto her open bench near the door, keeping her head low as the evaluation process dragged on for the remaining names.

When Professor Nieva finally called for the official dismissal, the students flooded out of the Crescent Hall in a loud, bustling pack, leaving Cecilia to exit the spire at the very rear.

Deep down inside her chest, she wasn't actually bothered by how much Alké the stone had shown.

She knew what she had felt, she knew the terrifying, overwhelming roar of that iridescent galaxy was real, and something about the pale blue reading didn't seem mechanically right.

But as she walked down the sunlit marble terrace alone, the heavy, mocking words of the students kept echoing through her mind.

The collective judgment, the critical stares, and the sharp whispers of “commoner” and “weakling” were deeply getting to her, pressing against her cheerful persona like a cold, suffocating shadow.

She stood alone against the high railing of the balcony, her boots still, her fingers tightly clutching the hidden Opal necklace beneath her uniform as the first true trial of Lumen Academy officially began.