Kiran breathed heavily as he rushed out of his last class of the day, his head hung low in exhaustion.

  Today had been particularly gruelling.

  It had begun at dawn with Runic Theory, where Elder Pane had spent three hours drilling them on the precise angles that were needed for advanced defensive runes.

  That was followed by Resonance Control, where they’d practiced maintaining multiple energy channels at the same time, half of the class had collapsed from the strain.

  After that, they had lunch, but the break didn’t last long, they were soon at Combat Applications. That class always left him battered, bruised, and covered in cuts and abrasions.

  Then, he had to endure Celestial Studies, where he sat quietly and scribbled down every detail of every shift in the red sun's light while the rest of the class dissected each shift.

  But worst of all had been the final class of the day – Spiritual Resonance.

  Elder Aria had forced them to sit perfectly still for four hours while she evaluated their posture, breath control, and ability to connect to the red sun. Three students lost consciousness due to the intensity of the exercise, and one student bled from the corners of his eyes when his resonance slipped.

  The academy's healers rushed the bleeding student to the medical chambers, but everyone knew what happened to initiates whose stability fails. By tomorrow, the Failure Garden will have a new resident.

  "And that isn’t all I have to do," Kiran said to himself, rubbing his temples where a headache had begun to form. “Now it’s time for my own practice.”

  The examination at the end of the month hung over each initiate like a sword of death. Initiates who did not show sufficient improvement would suffer consequences far more severe than merely being expelled.

  After all, the Failure Garden was more than a metaphor.

  But it hadn’t always been this way.

  When Kiran had arrived at the academy two years ago, his family's influence allowed him to secure an apprenticeship under Elder Moth, one of the most respected instructors at the academy.

  However, his persistent refusal to develop an appreciation for the more violent aspects of their art eventually exhausted the elder's patience. After six months of attempting to shape Kiran into a worthy Skybound Warrior, Elder Moth had officially severed the apprenticeship.

  His family's response still burned within him.

  There were no words of encouragement, no assurances that he would find another path.

  Instead, his father's face hardened with disappointment, and his mother avoided looking at him. The generous stipend his family paid was significantly reduced to a minimal amount to allow them to maintain appearances.

  The message was unmistakable: he was on his own.

  A dark thought crept into Kiran's mind and for a fleeting instant, his eyes blazed crimson.

  What a perfect coincidence that the graduation ceremony's requirement for a novice to slaughter their own family applied only to commoner initiates. Of course, the nobles who invented the tradition made an exception for themselves. The image of his father's shocked expression as Kiran finally showed him what true power looked like was... chillingly satisfying.

  Kiran violently shook his head. This was the influence of the red sun, not him.

  While others may desire the power the red sun offers, Kiran had witnessed firsthand the effect that power could have on individuals. The memory of his older brother's warped grin as he “tested” his newfound abilities on the household staff continues to haunt him.

  Many of his classmates considered Kiran's cautious approach to be cowardice, however, Kiran viewed it as practical. How many of his fellow initiates were resting in the Failure Garden, their bodies converted into crystalline warnings? Too many to count.

  Lost in his dark thoughts, Kiran did not notice the group ahead of him until he ran into someone.

  The impact caused him to stumble backwards, landing roughly on the polished crystal floor.

  Kiran gazed upward to see Zoren, the fifth son of House Zoren, looking at him with obvious disdain.

  "Well, well," Zoren drawled, his perfectly coiffed blond hair reflecting the red sunlight filtering in from the windows. "Look what we have here. If it isn't the disappointment of House Tovel. Tell me, Kiran, do your parents still pretend you don't exist, or have they finally removed you from the family records altogether?"

  Kiran refused to meet Zoren's gaze, instead mumbling a weak apology as he attempted to rise, but a heavy boot landed squarely on his chest and pinned him back down.

  "I asked you a question," Zoren said softly, the menace in his tone caused Kiran to shiver uncomfortably. The crimson light in the young noble’s eyes was far too intense for comfort.

  "They... they have not disowned me," Kiran stuttered, clearly embarrassed by the shake in his voice.

  Two years ago, Kiran would have met Zoren's glare with an equal measure of contempt.

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  The fifth son of a minor house would not have earned his attention.

  However, things have changed since then. Zoren had reached the pinnacle of Rank 1, and he achieved that through means Kiran preferred not to speculate about.

  Meanwhile, Kiran remained stalled in the mid-stages, hindered by his own inability to fully immerse himself in the red sun's power.

  "Not yet," one of Zoren's companions chuckled. "But after the exam? When you fail again? Even the great House Tovel won't be able to ignore that embarrassment."

  "Speaking of embarrassment," Zoren said, finally lifting his boot off of Kiran's chest. "Did you hear about our new celebrity? The 'Natural' that Elder Molric took in?" His smile was too wide, showing too many teeth. "A commoner with impressive natural talent... does that not lead us to wonder about the actual value of noble lineage?"

  Kiran's heart sank. He had been there to watch the new initiate perform on the resonance platforms. But more importantly, Kiran had heard about how Zoren had been searching for the Natural, ranting about the "necessity of preserving hierarchical order" and "teaching respect."

  "I have not met him," Kiran said hastily, possibly too hastily.

  "Really?” Zoren's eyes narrowed. “Because Hal claims to have seen you talking with him in the meditation chamber." he bent down, bringing his face extremely close to Kiran's. "Are you lying to me? Protecting some commoner who doesn't know his place?"

  "No, I didn't lie..." Kiran's denials were abruptly cut short by a swift kick to his ribcage.

  It was not from Zoren. He preferred not to sully his hands.

  It was from one of his ever-present followers.

  "Do you know what I think?" Zoren laughed, standing up and brushing non-existent dirt from his pristine robes. "I think you are sympathetic to him. The failed noble and the pretentious commoner; both of you refuse to recognize your proper place." He shook his head. "Honestly, it's quite pathetic."

  Another kick connected with Kiran's side, knocking the air out of his lungs.

  He curled up defensively, attempting to shield himself as more blows rained down on him.

  The kicks stopped after a minute or so.

  "Somebody is coming," one of Zoren's followers whispered frantically. "We should leave."

  "Yeah, it’s forbidden to fight outside of designated areas," another follower chimed in hesitantly, although everyone in attendance understood that rule only applied if you were caught.

  Kiran heard Zoren clicking his tongue in disappointment. "Well, lucky day for you, Tovel. But I will make sure to pay you a proper visit the next time I'm in the mood."

  The retreating footsteps of Zoren and his entourage echoed down the hallways. The corridors emptied rapidly once the confrontation commenced — other initiates suddenly had better places to be when Zoren was in one of his moods.

  No witnesses meant there were no reports to file.

  Kiran remained motionless on the ground for several moments before slowly regaining his footing, wincing in discomfort as his ribs protested the movement. Though Kiran was sure that none of the injuries from Zoren’s minions resulted in broken bones, the fact that Zoren's minions were only allowed to inflict injury that could not be visibly seen explained why they did not use the red sun’s powers; it left an unmistakable mark.

  Stumbling through the motions, trying to maintain some semblance of standing while his mind wandered back to Zoren’s reaction towards the Natural, Kiran realized that Zoren’s anger toward the Natural was intensely personal and far deeper than his typical nonchalant malevolence. It wasn’t just about preserving the social order; there was something about the Natural’s presence that deeply offended Zoren.

  Kiran remembered his brief encounter with the Natural in the meditation room. They hadn't even had time to speak before the senior disciples intervened and told them to remain silent. There was something distinct about the Natural however. A quiet self-assurance that stood out from the typical mix of arrogance from the nobles and fear from the commoners.

  “Perhaps I should warn him,” Kiran thought to himself, leaning heavily against the wall as he regained his composure. He knew how torturous it was to be the target of Zoren’s wrath. The Natural possessed abilities beyond what most people could imagine; however, the Natural was an inexperienced player in the complex game of Academy politics and had no family name to protect him...

  And Elder Molric…Kirin couldn’t help chuckling softly.

  Everyone knew that the elder was far more concerned with developing his oddball scientific theories than with instructing his students.

  Elder Molric choosing the Natural as a disciple came as a shock to the entire Academy, but it carried very little weight in protecting the Natural. The elder would probably completely forget that he had a disciple as soon as an interesting research project came along.

  Maybe this was simply Kiran’s way of exacting revenge on Zoren by substituting the Natural for Kiran’s own desire to seek revenge. But regardless of the motivation behind Kiran’s actions, didn’t it make sense for Kiran to warn an unaware newcomer of the potential dangers that awaited him?

  His thoughts were interrupted by voices calling down the hall.

  One of them, maniacally enthusiastic, was easily recognizable.

  “Your approach to learning is certainly innovative,” Elder Molric said with great enthusiasm. “Most of our initiates are direct descendants of prominent Skybound families. As such, they have spent years studying theoretical concepts before entering the Academy, which means they almost always enter with preconceived notions.”

  Kiran watched as they turned the corner. Elder Molric was gesturing wildly as he spoke while the Natural was listening intently. That was an unusual scene. Kiran had never seen the elder so captivated by one of his students before.

  As Kiran prepared to say hello, Elder Molric’s gaze fell upon him.

  The elder smiled, and Kiran felt a shiver run down his spine.

  “Come here,” Elder Molric whispered softly.

  His words were heavy with an emotion that went beyond simple language.

  Kiran felt the fabric of reality bend around him, as though space itself had formed a vortex with Elder Molric at its center. Kiran’s body began to move on its own, propelled by an unstoppable force.

  It was unlike anything Kiran had ever experienced in his time at the academy.

  The sensation was similar to being both stretched and compressed simultaneously, as though Kiran was being drawn into a void. Each and every atom of Kiran’s body screamed in anguish as he was reshaped, and for a terrifying instant, Kiran was convinced he was dying.

  And then it was over.

  Kiran stumbled, barely maintaining his balance as he suddenly materialized in front of Elder Molric. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a series of incoherent sounds.

  “Perfect timing!” Elder Molric exclaimed, slapping his hands together excitedly, like a child who has received a new toy. The elder shifted his focus to the Natural, a glint in his eye that approached insanity.

  “I’ve got you a practice partner,” Elder Molric exclaimed with a grin. “Please, do try to keep him alive; the Council gets rather upset when initiates are killed. All those noble families complaining about their children…” Elder Molric let out a dramatic sigh. “In my time, accidental deaths were signs of proper instruction!”

  Kiran darted back and forth between Elder Molric's ecstatic face and the Natural's face. The Natural's expression was unreadable, however, there was a spark of recognition in his eyes.

  "Now then," Elder Molric said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Let's start. Tomas needs to practice his new runes, and you, young Tovel, require assistance in... pretty much everything. Your resonance is atrocious." Elder Molric shook his head. "I cannot understand how you've remained at Rank 1 this long without imploding. Although, I suppose there’s still time for that!”

  "What have I gotten myself into?" Kiran wondered, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow as he realized that Elder Molric's reputation for being simply eccentric might have been understating the truth considerably.

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