Certain phrases had an unexpected impact when uttered before a group of young people. When these words were combined with images, it was like igniting a spark in the darkness, awakening a primal longing to be part of something greater.
Joining the academy wasn't merely a test of courage for some. Most held the weight of expectations from their loved ones. While others felt it was their only chance to push through life.
Asdras felt his hand burn more than before. It happened early, and now seeing Stencil's power and short speech made his blood boil in excitement, and that was something else for him.
Excitement was like a foreign territory for Asdras. With his past shrouded in fog and his thoughts often tangled in confusion, it was difficult for him to experience such intense emotions. However, seeing the raw power of this world kindled an unexplored desire in him. He felt a pull towards it, an urge to understand and command this power himself.
A swift clearing of his throat was all it took for Stencil to hush the murmuring crowd.
"Listen up, lads and lasses. I know it's like being tossed into a whirlwind. Some of you just got your first peek at the true might of this world. I get it, and if wishes were horses, we'd all be riding. We'd take our sweet time letting you digest this feast of knowledge, but time's a luxury we don't have."
"See those fancy rectangles etched in the ground? I need each one of you to plant yourselves down on one in the lotus pose."
As they sat, Stencil signaled for each student that was on the edges of the main square.
"Now, each of you will receive an ars stone," he said, pulling out an ember-colored pebble from his pocket and holding it up for them to see. "This little sparkler here is going to make this day unforgettable — for better or worse. Now, some of you might be scratching your heads about these stones or wondering what in hell 'awakening' is all about. But that's alright; it's been planned that way."
As each individual held an ars stone, Stencil carefully studied their expressions. He was approaching his forties, a milestone that held significant meaning for him. His life was divided into distinct decades: a careless boy in the first ten years, followed by relentless studying and research into his late twenties that shaped him into a competent teacher. The constant bustle in his classroom indicated to the previous headmaster that a suitable successor had been found.
From that point forward, Stencil initiated the awakening process twice annually. Each time, he would echo the advice he received before accepting this position.
"Mark my words, Stencil, it ain't gonna be a walk in the park. You'll see their grins, the fire in their eyes. You spot that, and for a wee moment you might forget this wretched place we're stuck in, might even feel a bit of joy. But remember this, lad: in the jail, joy is just despair dolled up; it's a poor excuse to deal with this life. In here, we can't grasp what true happiness is."
For five years, he adhered to the routine, heeding the elder's advice. It felt like a never-ending loop that taught him to value simplicity over elaborate descriptions and wordplay. This understanding made his path and the path of those who would experience this awakening much more straightforward.
"Three things," he said, raising his fingers for effect.
"First, not everyone who can wake will wake. It's a bitter pill to swallow, I know. Before the awakening begins, the stone in your hands will come alive. If it melts into a liquid, then you've got a shot at this. On the other hand, if it crumbles into dust, then it's just not in the cards for you, and you'll be known as dreamers."
"For those of you who end up being dreamers, lend me your ears. It might sting at first, but remember this: awakening is no cakewalk, and there's a high chance it could kill you outright. And don't worry about your place in the academy; we've got special spots for dreamers. Some of them even get more resources and attention than a man like me could ever hope for."
"Two. It's impossible to know when many of you will awaken or die. It might not be what you want to hear, but it's all on your shoulders — your heritage and good ol' luck. And trust me when I say this — sometimes fortune tips the scales more than we'd care to admit."
"Now, I can't spill too much. Each journey is as different as chalk and cheese for every one of you. Which brings me to the third and final point."
"Ars! That mysterious force pulls all the strings around here. Like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands; everyone's had a go, but no one quite manages it. And our so-called theories? It always seems so incomplete that it generates more doubts than answers."
"For the dreamers, the world and meaning of Ars will be strange things to think about. And that's because the brain of a dreamer is different from that of an awakened one. So, it's impossible to reason about it without the necessary tools. You can even hear someone talk about it for a straight day or read all the books we have and still understand nothing of it."
"And here's something to chew on before we dive deeper. Every little thing we do has an intent behind it — talking, moving, or mingling with others. We carry our experiences and emotions like invisible backpacks. They shape us and, in turn, color our perception of the world. So tread lightly and choose your actions wisely."
Stencil concluded his speech with a subdued chuckle. As he gazed upon their faces, he let out a sigh. He couldn't help but speculate how many of these faces would join his world and how many would perish from it.
He looked around. Everyone now held an ars stone in their grasp. A handful inspected it keenly but others nearly lost grip on it out of sheer terror. Yet, the blend of fear and anticipation quickened their grip, causing them to hold onto it tightly.
For a moment, he halted his thoughts, wondering if happenings like these were meant to be threads in the vast design of time. If so, what path had led these young ones to this point in their lives? What maze of choices and consequences would it reveal before them?
A headache started to creep in. Despite his desire to probe deeper into these thoughts, he realized his unpreparedness for such deep contemplation at this juncture. So, he regulated his breathing and fixed his gaze firmly ahead, readying himself to conclude his speech.
"For each one holding the stones, follow these steps. First, close your eyes and still your hearts."
From Stencil, the esteemed vice director, to his diligent assistant and eager students; every soul in the academy appeared captivated by his words. They were not merely following orders; they were adhering to a call that resonated deep within their beings.
Their obedience was not born out of fear or subjugation. It was not because he wielded any extraordinary power over them or commanded some mystical force that dictated the course of their lives. Instead, they followed his words for reasons far beyond human comprehension, as if an invisible cosmic force whispered in their ears, persuading them that this was the path they were destined to tread.
"Take the sharp edge of the stone," he instructed, "and carve a small cut into your wrist. Hold the stone just before your blood begins to flow."
The pain was peculiar and intense, yet not entirely physical or psychological. They felt a jolt, as if waking a dormant part of their brain. However, this sensation was foreign; it seemed out-of-place within their mind's confines.
This sensation felt intrusive, like an external entity had made its way into their being. Yet there was something oddly comforting about it — a sense of deja vu that made some crave its presence. The stone's fluid seeped into their bloodstream, stirring something primal within them.
For some individuals though, this feeling gradually dissipated into oblivion. It felt like a missed opportunity — something that should have belonged to them but was cruelly snatched away.
Although the change happened quickly on a personal level, it was slow when viewed against the backdrop of time. A significant number embraced this new feeling with joy and anticipation — like they'd found purpose in life.
But for a select few, it was as if reality had been stripped of its vitality — colors appeared duller, and sounds rang out with a hollow resonance as if they were detached from the tangible world.
"Now, awake!"