Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (110/?)

I should’ve seen it coming.

The constantly cloudy skies, the suspiciously overcast weather.

I’d just assumed that the Nexus was simply suffering from a chronic case of British weather prior to the introduction of the weather control network. 

I made a calculated assessment.

But boy, am I bad at math. 

… 

The world around me faded into the background.

Noises became muffled.

Conversations sounded distant. 

Explosions barely broke through the mental barrier that was forming between all senses save for sight.

As my eyes remained transfixed not at the brilliant fireworks displays nor the zipping of upper-yearsmen on fantastical beasts, but instead… on the backdrop they all seemingly ignored.

The starless skies.

And the single moon that hovered ominously overhead. 

My body suddenly felt hazy, as my mind raced to find a way out of what was clearly a dream.

I needed to wake up.

No.

“I need to think.” I forced out, breaking through the growing mental fugue and the dissociation threatening to tear me from the fabric of the present.

Breaking from the fundamental systemic incongruency that shook me to my core. 

“Think Emma, think.” I continued, my eyes frantically darting back and forth, attempting to dissect the impossible sight before me, whilst a thousand divergent thoughts started taking up almost all of my available headspace. “There’s at least a moon, but no stars.”

“Dyson sphere? Dead universe? Boötes Void-type situation? Black domain? Home star proximity? A Nightfall scenario? Near-Big Rip? Simulation—” I quickly stopped myself, course correcting with a single breath.

“No, no. Too crazy, too far. This is reality. This has to be some sort of…” I took another breath, turning towards the EVI, right as Thacea’s stern gaze and an urgent tug forced me out of my  reverie. However, not a single one of the hundreds of prying eyes from the crowds managed to make a dent on my newfound infatuation, as my body slowly entered autopilot once more; my mind easily slipping back into eccentric postulations of an equally eccentric world. 

“Okay, okay… training. Differential analysis and inference. Analyze. Categorize, then hypothesize. Stop with the scatter-brained, stop with the panic. Pull back from fundamental systemic incongruency.” I chastised myself, forcing myself to take long steady breaths, each of which managed to calm me down somewhat until I was faced with the sky once more.

“Alright, no stars. Correction, it’s not that there are no stars. It’s just that there’s no stars visible or detectable.” I forced myself onto a more grounded mindset, channeling Dr. Mekis and the rest of the science team as I attempted to temper the manic imagination-inclined side of myself. “All observable data is fallible. All observable data is prone to observer-bias and extraneous environmental factors. Alright. Okay. Let's start differential analysis.” 

The EVI immediately responded by creating a translucent floating mind-map on my HUD, with two distinct root nodes sitting idly and standing by. 

“Two broad categories. One — there are no stars visible due to observer limitations. Either due to some unknown atmospheric phenomenon, anomalous light interaction, the stars themselves being too far away, or the typical Nexian magical shenanigans. Fringe explanations could include something physically blocking our line of sight… like a dyson sphere or shellworld.” I paused, shaking my head. “No, shellworld doesn’t make sense. If it was, then we wouldn’t see the moon.” I reasoned, before moving forward. “Astrophysics explanations that’d make Dr. Mekis cry could include the fact that we might just be further along in time. Maybe the Nexus’ universe is so far into its expansion and life cycle that everything that is observable from this vantage point has slipped past the cosmological horizon?”

The first root node was promptly filled, with my hypotheses branching off from it in a tree-structure diagram, various branches and child-nodes forming to represent my ideas.

“Two — there are no stars visible simply because there are none.” I declared with a shaky voice, the EVI responding by filling in that second root node. However, instead of continuing like I did the first category, I hesitated, as the implications behind such a conclusion were… astronomical. “This could be due to… heck… I don’t know… a dead universe? Maybe we’re in an extremely mature universe that’s reached the degeneration era? Or maybe… we’re in a literal pocket dimension that exists without stars?” I pondered what I said for a moment, before denying it outright. “No, that’s absolutely insane.” 

Branches and child-nodes formed after each and every statement, though it was that last one that now remained blinking, the EVI double-checking if I even wanted it there.

I felt that child-node staring back at me with incredulity, as if Dr. Mekis himself and the rest of the science team were there on the other side of the virtual workspace ready to counter my hypothesis.

“It could though.” I countered verbally, talking to myself now. “Entirely new dimension, entirely fantastical rulesets…” I pondered, the two sides of myself standing at odds beneath a starless sky. 

The fantasy-obsessed child within me told me to just accept it as the prime hypothesis.

While the ‘new’ Emma that’d been molded by a desire to leave fantasy behind following my move to Acela, wanted nothing more than to science the shit out of this impossible sight.

“We’ll get back to that one.” I compromised. “But first, I just realized that a third category might be in order.” I ordered, prompting the EVI to generate a third root-node.

“Third — malicious intent. This could all just be a big game of deception on behalf of the Nexus. We can’t put it past them after all. They already did the big starless sky reveal, what’s to say there’s not layers to this?” 

A nanosecond later, and the third tree diagram was branched out. This was followed by a beep, as the EVI circled back to the pocket dimension hypothesis.

“Query. Kill process: unfinished child-node?”

I thought about it for a minute. However, just before I could respond, we eventually found ourselves arriving at the entrance to the banquet hall. To which Thacea quickly regarded me with a worried expression.

“Emma, are you feeling well?”

“Yes—”

“Are you sure—”

“No, don’t kill child.” I replied.

Though this reply was made before I could properly hit mute.

Leading to a rather awkward scene where Thacea, Thalmin, Ilunor, and everyone else gathered near the entrance to the stadium’s banquet hall, all stared at me with varying levels of concern. 

“Oh erm, I meant to say, wow, I really killed it in this event! This whole thing was child’s play, haha!” I attempted to ‘fix’ the situation. 

However this only ended up with even more perplexed looks and outright worried stares.

“Well crap…” I sighed inwardly with a ‘click’ of the mute button.

=====

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. New Gymnasium. Banquet Hall. Local Time: 1920 Hours.

Emma

With some quick thinking on behalf of Ilunor and an attempt to defuse the situation as a ‘newrealmer’s eccentric approach to the theatre of life’, we made our way inside the banquet hall, where the professors seemed to be busy talking amidst themselves atop of an elevated stage. 

“Hey Thacea, do you think we can talk about—”

“Shush earthrealmer! Isn’t one faux pas quite enough?!” Ilunor chastised. 

And upon seeing how packed the room was, I had to give Ilunor some credit.

Focus on wrapping up the event, then, go all out later.  

The whole room was arranged into four distinct quadrants, with four equally-long banquet tables occupying the middle of each of these sections.

A passing glance was all that was needed to confirm that this delineation was, in fact, done in order to divide up the houses; as even the tablecloths and waiters’ outfits were color-coded to match the four houses.

Moreover, the upper years dressed in their house colors, were also present at each table. However, the turnout of each house seemed to once again vastly differ, supporting the idea of the ‘stratified house prestige’ theory, which was doubly confirmed with a passing conversation with Ilunor.

“Yes, earthrealmer. Despite what the official stance may be, there is an open understanding that there exists a clear and tangible divide between the prestige of each house.”

“So what’s the actual game here? Like, what are the benefits or disadvantages of house affiliation? I mean, I’m guessing there’s always networking, but there’s gotta be more to it than that, right?” I shot back, to which Ilunor leveled back a surprisingly straightforward answer.

“You underestimate the value of networking, Cadet Emma Booker. For it grants you connections that extend far beyond your graduation. Life-long alliances may be forged in the hallowed house halls, and the futures of entire realms may be decided should the right relations be kindled. This is in addition to the unique academic opportunities within the best of houses. Moreover, each house also grants you access to the physical manifestation of this club-like exclusivity.”

“So… common rooms?” 

“House Towers, earthrealmer.” Ilunor finally leveled out a frustrated sigh. “I knew you’d find it in yourself to debase this rich tradition with commoner drivel.” The Vunerian chastised, before continuing as he was. “It is within these House Towers that you are granted access to exclusive libraries of annotated course materials and unique insight passed down through the years. Entire exams have been memorized, alongside assessments, such that successive years can enjoy the boons of senior guidance. There is also the matter of additional ‘benefits’ including first-choice in many academy activities, as well as a direct line of communication to the House Professor. But of course, there is also the house cup which—” 

“May I have your attention, please!” The Dean proclaimed, his voice carried by magic reverberated throughout the room. “First years! Please line up in front of the stage! It is time for the final act of the House Choosing Ceremony!” The man smiled warmly, though once again, made it known just with a passive glance — that I was firmly on his shit-list.

Thankfully however, the terms of my malicious compliance seemed to be unbroken, as I’d yet to have been thrown into some dungeon cell.

“Let it be known that all of you have performed admirably in my eyes.” The dean paused, singling out the few groups that had some clear drama during their performances. “Even amongst those who may have not been able to express the fullest extent of your capabilities—” His eyes landed on the ‘portal’ group, each of them giving sheepish smiles back in response. “—and amongst those who push the boundaries of acceptable decorum—” He turned towards the group who literally killed a man just to revive them. “—your efforts in demonstrating your abilities are commendable. However, effort is only part of the rubric in today’s activities. So please understand that these scores, whilst not representative of your capabilities by the end of your academic career, will still come to dictate the peers you call your house fellows.” 

The man went on and on following that, going deep into the history of the houses, their achievements, and the achievements of their alumni. 

It quickly became clear to me what Ilunor meant by networking now, as it was clear that many housemates tended to form alliances of some sort following their graduation and their ascent to their respective thrones.

Moreover, it also became clear to me that time seemed to have somehow corrupted the system.

Because at first, the choosing seemed to genuinely be based on personal preference. With many first-choice groups deciding upon the lesser gray-and-white House Vikzhura instead of the de-facto ‘first-rate’ maroon-and-orange House Shiqath. 

Whatever sociological phenomenon was at play here, it was clear that nowadays, things were in their pragmatic era, as the achievements of only House Shiqath seemed to be read off in the last thirty minutes of the dean’s lengthy speech.

Though at the very end of it, the man actually opened up the opportunity for questions.

Which I quickly took advantage of, as I aimed to shoot him a question best answered from the horse’s mouth.

“Professor, if I may?” I asked politely.

“Yes, Cadet Emma Booker?” The man responded with the same two-faced smile he wore.

“I’d like to ask a question unrelated to the houses.” I began, garnering a tentative nod from the man, as he shot me a ‘don’t test me’ glare. “You mentioned that the end of the House Choosing Ceremony meant the removal of the ‘removal of all blinds’ as part of the ‘holdovers’ of the Grace Period. I just wanted to ask what the purpose was in obscuring the skies in the first place?”

The question garnered a decidedly neutral reaction from the man, though there was that glint of relief, as if he was expecting the question to be another library-card moment. 

“Simple, Cadet Emma Booker. The clouded skies were merely a quality of life measure. The Nexus understands that the grandeur of the grand tapestry may be too intense for many, and indeed, the lack of the ugly specks which pollute said canvas may also cause unease in some. As such, the blinds of the sky were put into place to further ease adjacent realmers into the overwhelming grandeur of the Nexus.” 

That question… brought up even more questions than answers, though it at least gave me a bearing as to the supposed ‘reasoning’ behind it.

“If I may further—”

“No you may not.” The Dean interjected warmly, though with a stern undertone that prompted me to abandon the questioning, at least for now. “For it is time to both choose and feast!” He continued in what I could only describe as a ‘grandfatherly’ way. “As it is my honor to award the highest scoring peer group the honors of first-choice! Ahem!” He cleared his throat, gesturing proudly towards none other than—

“Lord Qiv’Ratom! Your peer group has demonstrated an exemplary display of not just magic, but the ability to synergize each and every one of your peer members’ unique personal strengths! As many groups have demonstrated today, the mere act of simply collaborating on a mutual effort is not enough to prove magical synergy. Instead, it is playing to individual strengths, and using those strengths to work towards a mutual end, that truly defines synergy. For that, I award you the highest points out of today’s ceremony — 939 points, out of a possible total of 1000.”  

The entire room went into an uproarious series of applause, save for the members of the third and fourth houses who all seemed to simply exist in varying states of disinterest. 

“As is tradition, you may have first-pick of your house.” The dean continued after the applause died down, gesturing to the assembled four houses.

The man put on a show of thought, as if he even needed to consider what group he was about to choose.

“I choose… House Shiqath!” The gorn-like lizardman proclaimed proudly, garnering the applause of the aforementioned maroon and orange house, whose table was now fervently clinking champagne glasses in a series of toasts.

Vanavan, still donning the wizard hat bearing his house colors, opened up the mystery mini-chest to reveal a whole assortment of pins bearing a series of house-colored gems arranged to mimic the house sigil — a manticore. 

And in a display resembling the knighting of a knight, Qiv and the rest of his group knelt down, as Vanavan began applying the small pins onto the front of their school uniform cloaks.

“Lord Qiv’Ratom, and fellows, do you solemnly swear to uphold the principles of House Shiqath, to forever carry with you the burdens of His Eternal Majesty’s first champion, and to slay any false gods should they arise?”

“I do, Professor Vanavan.” They all spoke in unison, rising up to meet the professor with proud and cocky smiles. 

“House Shiqath! We once again have the privilege and honor of welcoming first-choice students! Three cheers for our continued excellence!” Another elf, dark-purple in skin tone similar to Mal’tory, proclaimed proudly from way down the table. 

“Hip hip!” He shouted loudly.

“Hooray!” The entire table shouted back

“Hip hip!”

“Hooray!”

“Hip Hip!”

“Hooray!” 

The drawn out nature of the whole affair was not lost on me, and neither was it lost on the gang as even Ilunor began pouting.

Though it probably had something to do with where we were bound to land on the scores, more than the time we were currently wasting. 

Qiv and the rest of his group took their seats along the empty portion of the elongated bench, several servants quickly coming to pour both champagne and some nondescript red and purple soup.

The feasting soon began for the four, as the Dean continued on.

“To the second-choice, I call upon Lord Auris Ping!” He began, causing Ping’s expressions to shift from what I could only describe as a frustrated pout, to a prideful smirk. 

Second-place probably wasn’t what he was expecting.

But clearly, getting second-pick was at least something. 

“Despite the lack of synergy amongst your peers, I could still see raw potential and unbridled power overcoming personal grievances to bring about a spectacular display of goal-driven theatrics! Your peers, whilst not masters of the magics you chose, still forced their way into a decidedly impressive show. I would recommend however that you incorporate each of their personal strengths next time. However, as it stands, your ambition and potential grants you the title of second amongst peers!” 

The dean’s words prompted Ping to bow deeply, the man still respecting authority as much as he seemed to hate the results of it.

“You may pick your house, Lord Ping.” The Dean urged.

However, unlike Qiv’s little display Ping didn’t seem to even entertain the ‘theatre’ of choice.

“I choose House Shiqath!” He proclaimed, garnering yet more clinking and toasts from the house, and the same song and dance from Vanavan.

What transpired following Ping’s knighting and subsequent seating was a whole lot of nothing however.

As group—

“House Shiqath!”

—after group—

“I believe House Shiqath to be our destiny!”

—after group—

“House Shiqath, professor!”

—continued the song and dance.

Until finally, things finally changed.

After a second point, House Shiqath’s ranks were finally full.

And so, the second-best house was up next for the same pattern of ‘choice’.

“House Finthorun.” Lord Gumigo spoke with an affirmative nod, garnering a series of gator-style high fives from his gator troupe.

Articord promptly welcomed the man, as the similar knighting ritual to House Shiqath’s followed.

“Do you, Lord Gumigo, swear to uphold the principles of House Finthorun, to maintain the foundations of this Academy, to uphold legacy and history to the best of your abilities, and to sacrifice all in the construction of a bastion of security for all that was and all that will be?” Articord spoke with his signature prideful tone of voice. 

“Yes, professor.” Gumigo responded.

This prompted the fox-like professor to begin pinning House Finthorun’s pin onto the gator’s cloak — a simple yet elegant silver and bronze pendant shaped in the form of a gryphon. 

A few familiar faces likewise landed in House Finthorun. 

This included the tortle-like-turtle, and a few familiar faces from the student’s lounge.

About half the year group had been whittled down after a good hour.

Following that, Ilunor’s features grew increasingly nervous, the man watching as the first-choice for the third-best group, House Thun’Yandaris, took their seats to a happy-go-lucky Chiska.

I could see his slitted pupils slowly constricting with each and every call.

As group—

“House Thun’Yandaris!”

—after group—

“I’d go for House Thun’Yandaris!”

—after group—

“House Thun’Yandaris it is!”

—started filling the ranks of the green and blue house.

This all eventually came to a head to the last four seats on the House’s bench.

As the Vunerian held his breath, gripping his fists tight by his side, his eyes now clenched shut as the Dean began the final meaningful call of the night.

“May Lord Rularia’s group please step forward!” He proclaimed warmly.

=====

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. New Gymnasium. Banquet Hall. Local Time: 2045 Hours.

Ilunor

Life.

I felt life-giving mana reentering my worn and desiccated soul.

The Dean’s call, despite its obvious falsehoods of sincerity, at least brought with it an authority which meant respite for our ramshackled troupe.

I was genuinely furious that he hadn’t called us sooner.

Especially when considering the absolute paltry performances on display today.

However, I understood the impartiality when it came to assessing those with the bare minimum of magic, and those that had no magic whatsoever… save for a simple nullification of spells.

Which, while as impressive as it was, was still the bare minimum to the rubric no doubt.

Still, this call put us ahead of more than a handful of peer groups.

And to that end, I found myself at least minimally satisfied.

I took to the stage with a polite smile, and a pride welling deep within my noble chest.

“Lord Rularia, your group has demonstrated a unique combination of martial and artistic prowess. It is also clear that each of you have likewise played to your strengths, which must be applauded. However, this focus on the arts over a serious display of advanced magic, in addition to the lack of participation of one of your group members, forces the faculty into a position where the acknowledgement of the arts comes at odds with the objective results of your scoring. As a result, we award you 593 points out of a total of 1000.” The Dean concluded, garnering a stalwart reaction from me.

Though deep within, my mind seethed.

As a hundred different insults sweltered beneath the ire of a raging dragon.

You uncultured swine! 

You ignoble clod!

You’re merely a barbarian donning velvet!

Is the Academy not called the Academy of the Magical ARTS?!

“You may choose your house, Lord Rularia.” He continued, merely adding fuel to the growing flames of my frustrations, prompting me to turn to the… less than ideal choice.

The felinor’s table.

I could already see many faces of those who would otherwise be beneath my magical potential.

Moreover, I could also see the tired and despondent faces of those who were caught between worlds.

Not good enough to be best or second best.

Yet not pathetic enough to make it to last place.

The middle children.

The thought pained me.

For reasons more personal than I wished to admit. 

I immediately severed that thought, for the irony it brought upon my life was unbearable.

“I choose House Thun’Yandaris.” I announced with a reserved breath, prompting a series of soft claps from the house in question.

Though this admittedly did increase in noise and frequency as we approached, Professor Chiska being the primary instigator behind this false excitement.

“Lord Ilunor Rularia, and fellows, do you all accept the oaths of this House? To be true to yourselves, and to follow the path you believe is right? To be vigilant against that which is evil? And to strive for excellence, even in the face of your own perceived mundanity?” 

I held my breath, tensing, as I allowed what was formerly a completely foreign thought to enter my mind.

Be happy with what you have. For you could have lost it all.

“Yes, Professor Chiska.” I spoke in unison with the rest of this sad troupe.

=====

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. New Gymnasium. Banquet Hall. Local Time: 2135 Hours.

Emma

There was only one conversation throughout that entire dinner.

And it was primarily a yap-off between our group and Chiska. 

The rest of the table seemed entirely aloof, with only a few curious gazes coming my way. 

Stranger still, it was Houses Shiqath and Finthorun’s upper yearsmen who seemed more laser-focused on me, as they constantly looked over their shoulders, whispering under magical privacy screens amongst themselves and their new housemates. 

I’d attempted to raise the issue regarding the stars with Chiska. 

Though a combined effort between Thacea and Ilunor quickly brought those attempts to a halt. 

… 

15 Minutes Later. 

En Route to the Dorms.

…

“I never could have imagined that Etholin would be placed right behind us.” I began, a clear twinge of remorse coloring my voice. 

“The man is magically weak, Cadet Emma Booker. His family, his holdings, and indeed his entire way of life exists because of the strength of Nexian magic and the peace and certainty it brings. This has made him and his house soft, complacent to the security of the world. He eschews the  responsibilities inherent to a noble — namely the honing of one’s magical potential — for more worldly endeavors such as trade, statecraft, and commerce.” 

“But shouldn’t the Nexus want nobles with those skills?” I countered.

“You misunderstand me, Cadet Emma Booker. What I’m saying is that the man is using the pursuit of the worldly as an excuse for his responsibilities to the magical. Any noble worth their mettle should be mastering both magic and worldly endeavors. Lord Esila… is dangerously favoring one, and leaving what makes him noble foolishly neglected.” The Vunerian surmised.

All throughout the long walk back to the dorms, I tried to keep the topic honed in on anything but the stars. 

Which was easy for the first leg of it, since there was a lot from the event to unpack.

However, the closer we got to our room, the antsier I became. 

As each window, each open-air hallway, and each slit carved into the wall became yet another spectacle to gawk at. 

This partly reminded me of how it felt like visiting Acela from Valley Hill for the first time. 

The light pollution, despite being mitigated through policy, simply overpowered most of the stars. 

That experience should’ve softened the blow of the Nexus’ starless skies.

But it didn’t.

As the cognitive dissonance between the sheer ruralness of Transgracia, combined with the complete darkness of the skies, made for an incongruent picture that just did not compute in my head.

If there had been something even remotely similar to an Acelan skyline nearby, then sure, that would slide.

But with an endless expanse of greenery punctuated by a few rural settlements, with no significant glow to speak of, the scenery reminded me of an even less developed Valley Hill. 

And Valley Hill always had a brilliant night sky to frame it. 

The Nexus, however, didn’t.

Not even one tiny speck of light.

All that existed here was darkness. Darkness without the warm glow of city lights.

This all came to a head as we finally arrived at the dorms.

As I unloaded all of my questions.

=====

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon’s Heart Tower. Level .Living Room. Local Time: 2150 Hours.

Emma

“Alright, are we all settled in?” I asked, just as I got everyone seated. 

“Could any of you tell me exactly what the heck is going on out there?!” I pointed vigorously out the window. “What’s with the lack of stars? What’s with the void of a sky?” 

This question… prompted everyone in the group to peer over towards the nearest window, each of them seemingly captivated by something that I wasn’t seeing.

“If you mean the canvas to the grand tapestry, Cadet Emma Booker, then yes I can certainly see the ‘void’ you speak of. However, what I see, and what I’ve always seen from my earliest memories, is a brilliant display of His Eternal Light.” Ilunor responded first, garnering a cock of my head, as Thacea quickly chimed in to fill the gap.

“Do you recall our conversations regarding manastreams, Emma?” 

“Yes, I do.” I nodded, before the realization hit me. “Wait, don’t tell me…”

“Indeed, earthrealmer.” Ilunor smiled. “You lack the ability to visualize what all of us have the privilege of seeing — a brilliant display of colorful light, dancing amidst a darkened canvas, like a banner fluttering in a gale storm. Purple, pink, green, yellow, and every color you can imagine, waltzing in an eternally dark ballroom.” 

I fell silent upon that revelation, as I once again felt a gut punch pulling the wind right out of my sails.

I was the only person in the room who couldn’t see color.

Frustration, followed by a pang of sadness, wracked me.

However, just as quickly as those feelings hit me, so too did I manage to ground myself.

Just because I lacked it, didn’t mean I was lesser for it.

These weren’t limitations, but just obstacles to overcome.

Project Wand Step for Mankind was going to help in this regard.

But even without it? I could exist well and fine without manasight.

I took a moment to pause, bringing up a tablet as I brought up some stock footage of both the Aurora Borealis and Aurora Australis.

“So something along these lines?” I asked the group.

“Yes.” Ilunor nodded. “But much, much more vibrant, and less… dead.” The Vunerian concluded. 

“And without those stars in the backdrop too, I’m imagining.” I promptly added.

“Naturally, earthrealmer.” Ilunor acknowledged smugly.

“Right. Okay. This provides some vital context for the Dean’s responses earlier this evening then.” I sighed. “So these… magical auroras are a Nexian thing then.” I paused, garnering nods from Thacea and Thalmin. “Alright, good to know. But the important question aside from the fancy light show is this — what the heck’s going on with the lack of stars? I’ve come up with a few theories, but I’d like to hear it from—”

“They’re dead, earthrealmer.” Ilunor responded proudly.

“I… I’m sorry?”

“I know this may be hard to understand, and indeed your terminology is somewhat off for this, so I’ll explain as simply as I can. These ‘stars’ you speak of? Each speck of light in the night sky that once polluted our grand canvas? They were once gods? Minor, major, and everything in between. His Eternal Majesty defeated them, consumed them. And once he did, their presence in the tapestry above diminished along with their wretched lives.” 

I paused at that, trying to wrack my head around Ilunor’s explanation as I attempted to wrangle together a new hypothesis.

Is he being metaphorical?

Is the Nexus perhaps just that late into its cosmic timeline?

Maybe this is a religious explanation for the disappearance of stars due to universal expansion?

No, it can’t be. The timescales don’t add up. The Nexus hasn’t existed for that long, it takes billions of years between seeing stars and losing sight of them if we’re going by the expansion theory. 

So is this actually literal?

“Ilunor.” I began with a sigh, getting straight to the point. “What do you actually know about stars?” 

This caught the Vunerian off guard, as he narrowed his eyes towards me. “Are you calling me daft—”

“No, Ilunor, I’m genuinely asking here. No pettiness, no jabs, nothing.” I spoke earnestly. “I want you to tell me what you know about stars.”

“I understand that they are different in other realms.” The Vunerian shrugged. “But in the Nexus, these specks of light you speak of were once godly manifestations of immense balls of mana, all hanging overhead, taunting mortals with their infinite power. Their destruction led to the creation of His Majesty’s Light alongside the sun and the moon. A reminder of the death of the gods, and the freeing of mana.” 

I chewed this concept for a few moments, allowing myself to take that extra step into genuinely believing the man for once.

“Right. So how high up were these balls of mana?”

“How should I know, earthrealmer? I’m not a historian!” Ilunor shot back defensively. 

“Right, okay. So, next question then. You know that stars do exist in adjacent realms, correct?”

“Yes.”

“So… how would you explain those—”

“Ah! You would believe me a fool, Cadet Emma Booker!” The Vunerian slammed back with a ‘gotcha’ moment. “As I stated before, ‘stars’ as you call them, are different in realms beyond the Nexus. For they are imperfections — tears in an otherwise seamless canvas.” 

I paused, realizing that right there, was where we both hit our respective Fundamental Systemic Incongruencies.

I quickly turned to Thacea and Thalmin, but moreso the latter, as I’d yet to dive deep into the lupinor’s understanding on the matter.

“Thalmin?”

“If you’re asking me for what I assume the stars to be, Emma, then I cannot tell you. What I do know, however, is that they’re useful tools for navigation. Through careful and calculated surveying, we figured out the finite nature of our world. The stars are useful in this regard, but I am not a scholar learn-ed in such a far-removed field of study.”

I quickly turned to Thacea, but not before Ilunor and Thalmin interjected.

The latter, starting with a concerned tone of voice. “Emma… are you claiming to know something we don’t regarding the stars above the adjacent realms?”

The former, however, approached me with a scowl and an unamused tone of voice. “You seem troubled by perfection, earthrealmer. I understand your need to feel better about the finite limits of your realm. However, discussing stars will not net you the satisfaction you seek. Prince Thalmin is correct, in that these ‘stars’ serve only to grant you insight into the navigation of your finite realms. What else is there to discuss about them? Why are you so seemingly infatuated with our lack of them?” 

I took a moment to regard both of their concerns, before letting out a long sigh.

“It’s because I want to know what the Nexus is and more importantly — what lies beyond it. You claim it to be an infinitely expanding plain of existence? Sure, okay. But seeing your starless skies prompted me to figure out what lies above it.”

“Above it?” Ilunor cocked his head, followed by Thalmin in rapid succession.

“The… space above an adjacent realm. The… abyss of darkness that hangs above.” I began, only to have Thacea chime in.

“The oceans of stars.” The princess parroted, pulling my words verbatim from our earlier interactions with the library. 

“Nothing hangs above, earthrealmer.” Ilunor shot back incredulously. “I am certain the same goes for adjacent realms. You speak as if you know what lies ‘above’, as if you’ve actually touched the tapestry itself!” 

“I mean, we’ve studied it for millenia and we—”

“And through manaless means you’re claiming to have somehow reached it?”

I took a moment to pause, leveling my eyes towards the Vunerian. “I’ll do you one better, Ilunor. We haven’t just ‘reached’ the tapestry. We’ve ripped right through it.” 

This caused the Vunerian to pause, his now light-blue scales growing even paler. “Oh, have you now?” He spoke through a derisive chuckle. “Next thing you’ll be claiming you’ve actually visited these so-called specks of light—”

“We have.” I responded bluntly.

That answer… finally drained the last of the Vunerian’s color, as Thalmin’s features darkened in equal measures.

“I think it’s time we talked about our mastery over the skies, the heavens, and the nature of the void which hangs above.”