A Friend And A Professor?

Cecilia sat completely alone in the deepest alcove of the Great Archive.

She tried to read, desperate to move her mind onto the pages of a folklore book, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t focus.

The heavy silence of the miles-long bookshelves did nothing to protect her.

Even though she was entirely alone in the shadows, she couldn’t help but think judging eyes were hiding all around her, repeating those whispers of “commoner” and “weakling” from the Crescent Hall.

She also couldn’t help but think about the Covenant Lurella forced her into.

It was getting darker outside, the twilight fading into a deep, heavy blackness, and she just couldn’t stand the suffocating thought of what was around her anymore.

Defeated, she grabbed a few random books to read later, tucked them tightly against her uniform, and made her way back to the western tower of the residential wing.

She arrived at Room 314, her hands slightly trembling as she slid the key into the door. She quietly cracked the heavy timber door open, stepping inside with minimal, hushed movements, entirely unaware of whether her roommate was back in the room or not.

Moving by pure instinct in the dim space, she crept toward her side of the chamber and quietly placed her heavy bundle of books onto the polished wooden desk. Then, turning around to survey the opposite side of the room, her bright blue eyes went completely wide.

Sitting elegantly on the mattress opposite her was a girl she was incredibly familiar with.

Framed by the soft amber illumination of the room, the girl was dressed in comfortable silk nightwear, her distinct light blonde pigtails and black bows resting neatly over her shoulders as she held a novel.

It was Vivienne Solvane.

Cecilia's downcast mood instantly shattered, replaced by a sudden surge of her hyperactive, child-like mischief.

She felt a comfort in this blonde-haired girl and was happy to see she was her roommate.

Forgetting her boots entirely, she stealthily sneaked right up behind Vivienne’s shoulder, leaning her face close to the text to read a line out loud in a dramatic whisper.

“‘The Princess gently moved her lips down the Maid's body—’”

SLAM!

In fear, Vivienne violently slammed the romance novel closed.

Her movement was completely frantic, her face flushing a catastrophic shade of pink as she desperately tried to tuck the book beneath her blankets to hide the cover from view.

Her head turned slowly, yet incredibly nervously, toward the voice.

“Oh... thank the gods it's just you, Cecilia,” Vivienne breathed, a long, trembling sigh of relief leaving her chest as she finally got a good look at her visitor and calmed her racing heart down.

“I had completely forgotten that Miss Alenor makes such risqué writings!” Cecilia teased, a massive, playful smirk breaking across her flawless face as she bounced on her heels. “It really surprises me that you read such books, Vivienne. You seemed like the perfect type to be into sweet, romantic things... but not this romantic.”

Vivienne’s yellow eyes darted away, the blush spreading up to the tips of her ears as she nervously adjusted her nightwear collar. “It’s... it’s really not what it looks like. The historical narrative is simply fantastic; she builds the world so well. It’s not as though I’m personally interested in... in such heavy things.”

“Very well, though there’s absolutely no shame in liking what you like,” Cecilia giggled happily, nudging her shoulder before retreating back to her own side of the room.

She sat down at her wooden desk and opened one of her books. But the playful bubble of excitement vanished just as quickly as it had arrived.

Across the room, Vivienne noticed she couldn’t seem to focus on her novel. Her yellow eyes kept drifting away from the pages, and she kinda just stared across the space at Cecilia. It wasn't a look of judgment or malice, but one of deep curiosity and quiet concern. She tracked the drop in Cecilia’s shoulders and the way her bright blue eyes had turned hollow.

“Hey... um... Cecilia,” Vivienne called out softly, her refined voice breaking the silence.

Cecilia turned her head to face her, forcing a quick, cheerful tilt to her chin. “Yes? Something the matter, roomie?”

“I’m... I’m just a bit worried about you, that's all,” Vivienne admitted, her fingers lightly tapping the spine of her hidden book.

Cecilia blinked. “About what?”

“Well... with everything that happened earlier today inside the Crescent Hall,” Vivienne said gently, her yellow eyes holding an intense clarity. “You just look incredibly down, even though you try so hard to hide it behind your child-like side. Are you really okay?”

The smile on Cecilia’s face faltered for a fraction of a second before locking back into place, her voice dropping into a practiced, defensive lightness. “I’m perfectly fine! Just tired from walking around all day, that’s all.”

Recognizing the barrier, Vivienne didn’t push any further. She simply reopened her book, pretending to read a bit more to give her space.

Cecilia turned back to her desk, but her child-like persona completely dissolved into the dark.

She didn’t read.

She just sat there at the desk, her fingers resting flat against the parchment.

She didn’t turn a single page of her book, her mind completely trapped as she thought about the mocking laughter of Lurella and the cruel labels the other students had pinned on her.

Vivienne watched her from across the room, knowing with certainty that she was lying.

After some time had crawled past, Cecilia quietly gathered her clothes and went into the private bathroom to clean off, washing away the stress of the evaluation.

When she finished, she changed into her loose nightwear and lay down in bed, pulling the blankets tightly around her shoulders.

Seeing her roommate settle in, Vivienne reached out toward the stone wall beside her mattress. Mounted to the frame was a small brass lantern casing holding a cloudy piece of low-grade Citrine.

It was the standard light fixture of the academy, one Cecilia was very fond of, having spent her childhood watching her grandmother handle identical Dawn Līthostēr back at the mountain cabin, always infatuated by how a tiny pulse of Alké could convince a stone to banish the dark.

Vivienne lightly cut her Alké feed to the casing, and the swirling yellow frequency smoothly died, plunging the chamber into the cool silver light of the moon.

Vivienne didn't want to disturb Cecilia, so she lay down onto her pillow, planning to go to sleep as well.

But as she stared across the room, she couldn't help but get increasingly worried because of the heavy, pained look still frozen on Cecilia's face in the moonlight.

The silence stretched between them for a long minute until Vivienne finally spoke up again, her voice quiet.

“I know you said you are fine,” Vivienne murmured into the dark. “But you should know... I know you aren’t weak. I know that from the precision you used when you helped me in the archive, how you manipulated that Emerald to lift yourself. You didn't show a single ounce of sluggishness.”

Cecilia’s eyes opened in the dark, her gaze staring blankly at the stone wall, since she faced away from Vivienne.

Vivienne shifted slightly beneath her blankets, her yellow eyes shining with a deep conviction. “So... if no one else in this entire academy will stand beside a Blue tier... I will.”

Cecilia didn’t say anything right away.

She closed her eyes tightly, a small, genuine warmth finally returning to her core as she clutched the hidden Opal necklace beneath her collar.

“Thank you, Vivienne,” Cecilia whispered softly into the quiet room. “Have a good night.”

“Good night, Cecilia,” Vivienne replied.

And under the quiet, shining stars of Astraea, Cecilia finally let her restless mind go still, drifting into a peaceful sleep, happy by her very first friend.

✦ ✦ ✦

The silver light of dawn had barely come through the window frame when Cecilia’s blue eyes flickered open.

Driven by the lingering panic of yesterday's tardiness, she threw off her blankets, slipped her bare feet onto the cool stone floor, and cracked the door of Room 314 open just wide enough to poke her head out into the quiet corridor.

She looked directly at the fluted stone pedestal standing watch beside her door frame, where Celestia the owl sat like an eternal, unblinking statue.

“Celestia,” Cecilia whispered, her voice a mix of morning grogginess and nervous energy. “Could you please tell me the exact time?”

The owl’s emerald-glass pupils rotated downward with a slow, grinding click. “It is currently eight-eleven in the morning, young wanderer. You have forty-nine minutes before seminars.”

“Eight-eleven... okay, I have time. Thank the gods,” Cecilia let out a long, dramatic sigh of relief, offering the statue a sleepy but appreciative look. “You're a lifesaver, Celestia.”

“No problem, Miss Voss-Thorne,” the bird replied deadpan, returning to its frozen stillness as Cecilia retreated back into her quarters.

Stepping back into the main bedroom, she noticed she wasn't the only one awake.

Standing before the polished brass mirror on the opposite wall was Vivienne Solvane. The quiet girl was already fully dressed in her pristine uniform.

The only thing left incomplete was her hair.

Cecilia quietly closed the door and stayed near the door, completely captivated by the slow, meticulously thoughtful way Vivienne was moving.

Vivienne held a crisp black ribbon between her slender fingers, wrapping the fabric around one of her light blonde pigtails with a practiced, mathematical focus.

Her hands didn't rush.

She moved like she was touching something sacred, carefully pulling the loops until she tied the ribbon into a perfect bow, one that was flawlessly identical in size, angle, and symmetry to the one on the opposite side of her head.

Every motion was executed with a deep weight, giving off the immediate impression that these strands of hair carried a meaning far greater than simple vanity.

Cecilia waited patiently, keeping her feet perfectly still until Vivienne finally smoothed down the tail of the ribbon, ensuring she wouldn't mess up her focus.

“Morning,” Cecilia said cheerfully, stepping forward with an innate warmth.

“Morning,” Vivienne replied softly, her eyes catching Cecilia’s reflection in the mirror as her hands lingered on her pigtails.

“Your hair is beautiful,” Cecilia stated bluntly, her eyes sparkling with that child-like admiration she always gave to pretty things. “Even though it’s a completely different color... the texture and the way you take care of it really reminds me of my grandmother's.”

A sudden, faint blush dusted Vivienne’s cheeks, her reserved expression softening into a flustered look as she quickly dropped her hands to her lap. “Thank... thank you, Cecilia.”

“You seem like you’ve been up for a while. Do you always get up early?” Cecilia asked, tilting her head curiously as she leaned against her desk.

“Yes,” Vivienne murmured, her fingers automatically rising back up to gently trace the edge of the black bow, ensuring not a single strand was out of alignment. “I spend a great deal of my morning time strictly on my hair.”

“Is there any specific reason?” Cecilia blinked, her innocent curiosity taking over the space.

Vivienne’s gaze dropped down to the polished wood of the vanity, her hands slowing into a gentle, protective caress against her blonde locks.

“My mother used to absolutely love my hair. Whenever she would get the chance between her assignments, she would sit behind me and braid it for hours. She seemed to love the color... though, just like my father, I never actually saw them much around the estate.”

Cecilia’s breath caught in her throat. Her face instantly fell into a heavy, apologetic pout, her mind flashing to her parents, ones she had never seen or even heard of outside of small things her grandmother would say.

She opened her mouth, about to try and apologize for clumsily bringing up such a sensitive family topic.

But Vivienne noticed the shift in her roommate's blue eyes.

She quickly spoke up, her refined voice steady and deliberate to cut off the apology before Cecilia could stumble over her words.

“I understand why they weren’t home much, Cecilia. You don't need to look down,” Vivienne explained softly, her eyes reflecting a mature, quiet acceptance.

“It was out of duty, that’s all. Typically, those who serve within the higher ranks of the Astraean Army are allowed to return to their families whenever they wish, when there is no active war. But both of my parents are Aegists.”

“Aegists?” Cecilia repeated the foreign word, her mind tracking the term.

“My father won’t tell me the exact details of what happened on the front line,” Vivienne continued, her voice dropping into a hushed, reverent whisper as her fingers gently smoothed down a strand of her blonde hair. “But during their final deployment years ago, my mother lost the entirety of her memories due to Gaia’s Law. Her core survived, but her mind was left entirely blank. To answer your question... nowadays, whenever she touches my hair, it seems like it's the only thing in the world that briefly brings her back to her old self. A ghost of recognition. So, I take care of it. Though... I’m fully aware it won’t ever bring her true memories back.”

The room went quiet for a long moment, the slow, thoughtful rhythm of Vivienne's hands against her ribbons acting as a silent monument to her mother's lost soul.

Vivienne broke the gravity of the moment with a quiet nod, turning around to face Cecilia. “You should get ready soon. Class won’t wait for you, unlike; the Alké evaluation.”

“Right! The uniform!”

Cecilia scrambled toward her wardrobe, grabbing the uniform and heading to the bathroom.

After doing everything she needed to, she pulled the coat-dress over her shoulders. But as she snapped the gold buttons into place and cinched her slim leather belt, her child-like focus began to violently wander.

The heavy weight of Vivienne’s story echoed deep within her mind. Aegists... memory loss from Alké exhaustion... It felt terrifyingly close to the phantom shadows she kept searching for within her own erased history.

Right as she finished sliding into her boots, an intense, insatiable urge to understand took hold of her legs.

She had enough time left before nine o'clock. Instead of heading straight to the spire classrooms, Cecilia bolted out of her dorm and sprinted down the corridor, her long brown hair flying behind her as she targeted the one place that held all the answers: The Great Archive.

She pushed through the colossal iron-rimmed double doors, her boots clicking softly against the carpet as she navigated the endless rows of books. Her mind flashed back to the gate, tracking the cold, crystalline words the white-haired professor had spoken to her:

“History is very important for a Lapidary.”

Determined, Cecilia ran down the aisles of the military and historical sections, her fingers tearing through listings until she found a heavy, leather-bound volume detailing the structural classifications of the Astraean forces.

She hauled the book onto a reading desk, flipping the heavy parchment pages until her eyes locked onto the designation.

According to the ancient texts, Aegists were classified as a specialized, elite band of Lapidaries whose sole, purpose was to function as a Lapidary’s Protector.

They were highly trained guardians meant to protect units from threats on the battlefield, traditionally operating in highly disciplined, synchronized groups of exactly three.

Cecilia scanned further down the faded ink, her breath catching as the historical timeline shifted into a darker territory.

A couple of years ago, following the conclusion of the continental war against the Demon King, a terrifying geopolitical fracture had erupted. A radical, militant faction of high-tier Lapidaries emerging directly from the church kingdom of Helngaia had mobilized across the territories.

They called themselves Lustral; these holy executioners began to systematically hunt down and brutally kill any Lapidaries who weren't formally trained or registered under the strict jurisdiction of the church.

The text noted that no official political or theological reason was ever discovered for the purge. Some secular historians believed the Lustral executed outsiders purely for a sadistic, unchecked amusement. Others harbored a far more terrifying theory: that the soul of the fallen Demon King had covertly possessed the internal core of the church’s grand leader, using the holy office to systematically weaken humanity's defenses from within.

To counter this catastrophic holy slaughter, the Kingdom of Astraea had officially commissioned the Aegist network. And sitting right at the root of the historical record, the manual displayed the lineage of the network's legendary creator.

The founder of the Aegist vanguard was a high-tier master with the distinct, historical last name of Solvane.

Cecilia’s blue eyes widened to their limits as she stared at the text. Vivienne's family... they literally built the shields of the kingdom.

Suddenly, a loud rustle of fabric and the collective scraping of chairs shattered her focus.

Cecilia abruptly pulled her head out of the heavy book, blinking under the archive lights as she noticed the other students in the neighboring alcoves had started to gather their things and leave the library in a hurried, disciplined queue.

Her eyes darted to the clock tower visible through the high glass window. It was nearly nine.

Not wanting to take a single dangerous chance with Professor Nieva’s strict boundaries a second time, Cecilia slammed the historical book shut, slid it back into its slot, and bolted out of the Great Archive.

Her flat white boots beat a rapid tempo against the floor as she sped toward the academic spire, ready to face whatever was waiting for her inside Class 1.

✦ ✦ ✦

Cecilia arrived with plenty of time to spare, her boots stepping into Class 1 at precisely ten minutes before nine.

The heavy panic of yesterday had completely cleared from her shoulders, but the moment she crossed the door frame, the ambient noise of the classroom instantly died out.

Every single pair of eyes in the room turned toward her, their cold, scrutinizing gazes shifting to lock right onto her uniform.

Scanning the semi-circular incline of the tiered rows, she spotted the familiar black hair bows and light blonde pigtails of her roommate near the top gallery.

Vivienne was already sitting quietly, her silver-titled romance novel open on her lap.

Hoping to find a safe sanctuary, Cecilia began making her way up the stepped aisles toward the empty seat resting right next to her.

As she walked up, the aristocratic eyes of the elite freshmen pierced straight through her back, accompanied by the familiar, venomous rustle of critical whispers.

Then, a sharp, arrogant voice cut through the tension from the opposite side of the room.

“You must be in the wrong classroom, peasant,” Lurella Von-Steph Harold scoffed loudly, her long, spiky blonde hair tossing as she leaned back against her polished desk.

B’iorn D Goldstar sat directly next to her, his arms crossed loosely over his unbuttoned tunic as a wide, mocking smirk stretched across his freckled nose. Lurella glared down her nose, her eyes tracking Cecilia's ascending boots.

“This specific room is reserved for people who actually possess a future in Astraea. Not some wannabe child who is larping like they are strong.”

Cecilia tried to pay no mind to the insult, keeping her eyes locked onto her destination as she slid into the bench.

Vivienne, who had seamlessly moved her bag to let Cecilia sit beside her, didn't offer a loud defense.

Instead, she reached out with a quiet understanding, gently placing her palm along Cecilia's arm, rubbing it softly to soothe her trembling shoulders and anchor her child-like focus against the heat of the room.

Before Lurella could throw another jab, the front doors of the classroom swung shut with a heavy, concussive click.

Professor Nieva Crevasse walked into the room.

Her sleek, floor-length black coat brushed against the stone tiles as she strode toward her desk, her long, wild white hair shifting like frozen frost over her corset. Her voice rang out with a sharp, immediate clarity.

“Is that any way to talk to a classmate, Miss Harold?”

An immediate, sharp wave of hushed gasps violently exploded throughout the tiered rows.

“So she really is in our class...”

“Why? She’s a Pale Blue tier...”

“How did a civilian get assigned to Class 1? It makes no sense...”

Professor Nieva spoke again, her voice holding an unhinged, delightful cheer that instantly crushed the students' chatter into a dead silence.

“Your words mean absolutely nothing within these walls. Talk amongst yourselves all you want, but the reality is that the vast majority of you sitting here are entirely weak. Being selected for my class means nothing. I only choose individuals who possess the potential to not become Leía. Though... I highly doubt any of you actually know what that word means.”

She stopped behind her desk, her icy gaze widening as she waited to see if a single hand would rise from the benches.

The wealthy heirs looked at each other nervously, their expensive postures freezing under her evaluating look, but no one gave an answer.

Cecilia stared down at the polished wood of her desk, her mind working rapidly.

The strange, foreign term echoed through her thoughts until it suddenly connected with the historical texts she had been reading through just minutes ago.

She remembered the military logs explaining the dark, holy hunts of the church executioners.

Cecilia raised her hand, her child-like tone breaking through the quiet room. “A Lapidary that is killed by a Lustral.”

“Correct,” Nieva nodded, her unhinged smile expanding across her face as she tapped her clipboard.

“I see someone has actually done their proper research. It is very important for a Lapidary, after all.”

The professor reached down onto the grand desk, picking up a massive, exceptionally thick textbook lined with silver-threaded binding.

She held it aloft, her branching ice cracks flaring with a faint blue luminescent light beneath the skin of her jaw.

“How many of you routinely read books?” Nieva asked the assembly.

A couple of students scattered throughout the middle rows reluctantly raised their hands.

“And how many of you knew you could project the book's written words into moving pictures using Alké?” Nieva pressed, her voice rising.

This time, there were absolutely no hands.

Sitting near the top gallery, Cecilia felt a strange, ghostly echo of familiarity ripple through her core, a deep sensation that this concept was entirely true, yet she couldn't remember ever seeing it executed firsthand.

Without a word of explanation, Professor Nieva funneled a precise, fluid current of Alké directly into the heavy volume.

Humm-flash.

An immediate, vibrant luminescence poured from her fingertips. A soft, glowing light began to seep out directly from the seam.

As Nieva read the introductory sentences aloud, a series of glowing, lifelike pictures began to manifest in the empty space above the parchment, showing moving figures and historical settings that danced under the classroom lights.

But the moment her lips stopped moving and she fell silent, the moving pictures instantly froze, suspended like a line of glass statues.

“Vathýs are authors who publish their work with a tiny piece of low-grade Citrine embedded directly into the central binding fabric,” Nieva explained smoothly, her leather-gloved finger tracing the glowing light.

“There are currently only ten of these authors known within the territories. You can only gain this prestigious status either through a direct apprenticeship or by winning over the ancient spirit of any Great Archive, Vivl. Simply putting a piece of Citrine into a spine will never give you results; it is necessary to speak to Vivl to bind the imagination to the text.”

She flipped the page of the massive textbook, the parchment scratching loudly as she targeted a random section she seemed to know incredibly well.

“This specific textbook was personally crafted and edited by Principal Vaeloria Sinclair herself,” Nieva stated, her voice full of certainty.

“The entire history of the world, the mechanics of the human body, the pathways of the mind... everything you can find scattered across the miles of shelves in the Great Archive is documented right inside here. She manually edits these twenty unique copies every four years, specifically for the freshman students who sit within Class 1. You are the lucky freshmen who get to keep this volume until your graduation concludes.”

The professor leaned forward over her desk, her sharp eyes scanning the rows of wide-eyed teenagers.

“Though all books in the archive are somewhere in this text, there is a catch,” Nieva said, smiling ominously. “Unless you have the text completely memorized, or you possess another standard copy, you cannot read the words casually with the human eye. The text is far too microscopic. So, you will still have to physically go to the Great Archive to read the books for your daily studies.”

She funneled another sudden wave of her Alké into the seam of the book, the central spine flaring with a bright, warm yellow light that cast a fresh wave of moving pictures across the blackboard.

“Now,” Nieva announced, her unhinged cheer returning as the images of ancient, glowing Līthostērs began to dance in the air. “Let us learn the history of Lapidaries.”