Inside & Out Ch 17: Welcome The The Academy, Time Running Out!

(Charlotte)

The bus hissed to a stop in front of tall, iron gates engraved with the emblem of a winged eye. The words Asterion Sentinel Academy were carved beneath it, bold and almost glowing in the afternoon light.

I slung my bag over my shoulder, stepped down from the bus, and was immediately swallowed by the noise of a dozen other cadets doing the same. Everyone looked just as lost as I felt — eyes darting everywhere, shoulders tense, hands gripping luggage straps like they were lifelines.

It was strange, but seeing that nervousness on everyone else's faces made me feel... calmer. At least I wasn't the only one pretending to have it together.

The group began to move in a loose line toward the main courtyard. The academy itself rose in front of us — sleek towers of glass and metal intertwined with creeping ivy, old meeting new in a way that somehow worked. A soft hum of energy pulsed through the air. The ground beneath our feet wasn't plain stone but some kind of shimmering material that shifted faintly with color when the light hit it.

To our right, a massive training field spread out like a small city. Cadets ran laps in perfect formation, their boots pounding in rhythm. To the left, another group of students stood in a ring, their hands outstretched toward floating boulders that hovered several feet off the ground.

Some of the stones were huge — bigger than carriages — and yet they stayed suspended like they weighed nothing at all.

My breath caught as one of the cadets turned his hand and the rock twisted midair, rotating as smoothly as a leaf in the wind.

"Would I be able to do that?" I whispered under my breath.

No one answered. The thought stayed with me, though, sitting heavy in my chest — a strange mix of hope and fear.

The murmuring group came to a stop as someone approached from the front steps of the academy. An older man, maybe in his sixties, but still built like someone who could break a door in half if he felt like it. His white button-down shirt was crisp, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his black pants pressed and neat. His grey hair was slicked back, his posture perfect.

When he spoke, his voice carried easily across the courtyard — deep, commanding, the kind that silenced everyone instantly.

"Welcome to Asterion Academy," he said. "You are here for one reason and one reason only — to become Sentinels."

His eyes swept over us like a drill cutting through metal.

"My name is Instructor Halden Voss. I'll be overseeing your orientation and ensuring that each of you survives long enough to become something useful to this world."

A few nervous laughs scattered through the crowd, but Halden didn't smile. He let the silence stretch, his gaze hardening.

"Our job — my job — is to make sure you become what you were chosen to be. That means pushing you. Testing you. Some of you will fail. Some of you might wish you had. But by the end of your training, the ones who remain will stand among the protectors of this realm."

He paused then, a faint smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Let's hope all of you make it through the experience."

A shiver ran down my spine.

"Follow me," he barked, turning sharply toward the building. "Dorm assignments will be handled after intake. Do not wander. Do not lag behind."

The group shuffled into motion, boots scraping against the ground. I fell in step with them, glancing up at the academy doors ahead — tall and gleaming, etched with runes that pulsed faintly as we approached.

"I don't like the sound of that," I muttered to myself.

But I straightened my shoulders anyway and kept walking. I wasn't a quitter. Not even close.

⸻

(Kael)

The square was packed — a sea of blue uniforms pressed shoulder to shoulder, the murmur of a thousand voices swallowed up by the heavy air. Reds stood at every corner, their armor glinting under the lights. Above us, on a raised marble platform, stood the Yellows.

I didn't need anyone to tell me why they were here. There was only one reason a Yellow noble would dirty their boots in the blue district.

My father stood beside me, arms crossed, jaw tight. My mother's hand trembled slightly where it gripped her shawl. I could feel Breno's presence somewhere nearby, though I didn't look for him. Not yet.

One of the Yellows stepped forward, his robes trailing behind him like golden mist. His voice, smooth and cold, carried easily across the crowd.

"Citizens," he began, "the search for the Munari continues. The Emperor himself has decreed that no stone will be left unturned until the chosen partner is found."

A ripple of murmurs swept through the blues, but no one dared speak too loudly.

"As citizens of the goddess's body," the Yellow continued, "it is your duty to report any unusual occurrences, any unnatural activity, or anyone who displays energy beyond their classification. This is not a request — it is a command."

He gestured to another Yellow standing beside him, who spoke next — younger, but with the same condescending drawl. "We have already checked the noble houses," he said, "and even the red families. Yet the Munari remains hidden. We find it... unlikely that such a being would exist among you."

His words dripped with disdain, and my fists clenched at my sides.

"However," he added, "the Emperor insists that all districts be searched. Starting this week, we will begin inspections here — house by house, block by block. Each section will be examined thoroughly until we locate the Munari."

A man in the crowd — a blue worker with grease stains still on his sleeves — raised his voice. "How will you know when you've found them?"

The younger Yellow smiled thinly. "The Munari possesses a unique energy signature. We have devices capable of detecting such readings."

Someone else called out, "And what'll happen to them once you find them?"

The crowd quieted at that question. Even I felt my breath hitch.

The Yellow's smile didn't fade, but something colder slipped into his voice. "Even though most of you lack the capacity to understand the importance of the Munari, I assure you — they will not be harmed in any unreasonable way."

He paused.

"However," he continued, "there will be consequences for their failure to reveal themselves sooner. What those consequences will be... shall be determined by the Emperor himself."

The square erupted in whispers — anger, fear, disbelief — all tangled together in a rising wave. The Yellows exchanged glances, and the eldest among them raised a hand. The murmuring died almost instantly.

"This week," he declared, "we begin with Section A. Cooperate, and this will go smoothly. Resist, and it will not. I advise you all to do what you do best — obey."

The words hit like a slap.

And then they turned, stepping down from the pedestal as the red guards fell in behind them, their spears gleaming.

I stood frozen, staring after them, my pulse pounding in my ears. Around me, voices swelled again — confusion and outrage spilling into the air.

Then I saw Breno a few rows over, his face pale, eyes locked on me. The look he gave me said everything.

He knew what this meant.

So did I.

My time was running out.

I exhaled slowly, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "What am I going to do?"

The answer didn't come — just the echo of the crowd and the heavy silence that followed it.