I awoke to what I could only imagine a drowning man might feel when pulled from the water too late—gasping for air, overwhelmed by cold. Rolling onto my side, I was gripped by an icy chill, a hollow coldness that seeped into the very core of my body. In the span of a single, shaky breath, I began vomiting, expelling a strange light blue substance that I knew to be cryogenic fluid.
The violent retching gradually subsided, though the sensation lingered—a mix of nausea and disorientation. My mind was still clouded from the long sleep, the fog of cryostasis hanging heavily over my thoughts. Struggling to focus, I glanced around, trying to make sense of my surroundings. The sterile, metallic walls of a medical bay came into view. Faint voices buzzed in the distance, their words jumbled in my ears as if submerged underwater.
I caught fragments of conversation—medical personnel, judging by the hurried tones and clipped instructions. "Prince Samuel, can you hear us?" a voice called from above, cutting through the haze. "Please try to speak. We must ensure all the cryogenic fluid is out of your system."
"I'm alright," I whispered, though the words felt hollow, a lie spoken out of necessity. In truth, my limbs felt heavy, my chest tight, and my head pounded with each throb of my pulse. But I knew this was expected—cryosleep always took a toll, and I had been warned about the side effects.
Hours later, after what felt like endless medical scans and tests, the doctors finally cleared me. They assured both me and my guards that I had no signs of cryogenic sickness, a rare but dangerous condition where the body fails to endure cryosleep properly, leading to ruptured blood vessels or worse. I was fortunate, they said. My body had handled the cryostasis remarkably well over the decade-long period of cold sleep, though I wasn't sure I believed them.
Later that evening, I found myself in my allocated quarters aboard the Lunar Wind. The room, though spacious, felt cold and impersonal compared to my chambers back at the family estate. It was utilitarian—functional but lacking the warmth of home. There was a large bed against one wall and a modest sitting area with enough seating for four people. A small viewing port dominated the opposite wall, offering a glimpse into the vast expanse of space.
Through the window, I watched the distant stars, pinpricks of light scattered across the infinite blackness. One star in particular caught my eye—a bright, burning sphere much closer than the others, glowing with a distinct yellow-orange hue.
"Aetheris," a raspy voice broke the silence, pulling me from my reverie.
I turned sharply to find an elderly man standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the low light of the corridor. He was cloaked in scholarly robes, the rich fabric draping his thin frame like a shroud, and his eyes, sharp and knowing, gleamed with the weight of untold knowledge.
" Aetheris, the main stair of this specific solar system, has six habitable planets and twelve moons located within the Orion Spur. It's amazing what the Great Houses can accomplish when they work together. Back in my youth, this galaxy was completely unhibital, but through mass terraforming, we have turned all of this into an academy for the youth."
I noticed the emblem above the man's heart inlaid within his robes—a masterfully crafted symbol depicting a tree intertwined with intricate roots and branches encircled by concentric circles. Instinctively, I recognized it as the mark of a Savant.
Given that the Institute of Enlightenment was founded in 80,793 S.S. and we now find ourselves in 98,325 S.S., he must have been born at least 17,000 years old. A significant portion of that time must have been spent in cryostasis, as Savants cannot live that long, I thought.
"It is a profound honour to meet you, Proctor," I said, my voice tinged with genuine excitement. "I never anticipated encountering a Savant Proctor of the Institute of Enlightenment aboard the Lunar Wind."
" I wasn't planning to be aboard the Lunar Wind, your highness," he said in a slow but firm voice. "But with the current conflicts within the Orion spur and Perseus arm, the Great Houses have decided to increase security within this sector to ensure that the Institute of Enlightenment is safeguarded adequately from the current affairs."
I was well-versed in the current political landscape of the Great Houses, which governed the Dominion of Stars across the Orion Spur and Perseus Arm. These six Houses held tremendous power within their territories, controlling vast star systems and governing countless civilizations. Yet, despite their dominance in this sector of the galaxy, much of the cosmos remained an untamed frontier. The Milky Way was barely charted compared to the infinite reaches of the universe beyond, leaving vast regions of space unexplored and unknown.
As the Great Houses pushed their expansion beyond the Orion Spur and Perseus Arm, they encountered resistance from hostile species, many of whom had long established themselves in distant star systems. These species, fiercely territorial, viewed the encroachment of the Great Houses as a direct threat. Skirmishes and conflicts became increasingly common as these alien civilizations sought to defend their regions from the perceived invasion of outsiders.
"Well, it's reassuring to know the Great Houses are taking precautions," I said, though a hint of skepticism crept into my voice. "But I find it peculiar that they all agreed so quickly."
I knew the truth behind their so-called alliance. On paper, the Great Houses were united, presenting a facade of cooperation and mutual interest. In reality, their unity was fragile, a mere formality born out of necessity. Beneath the surface, they harboured centuries of grudges and rivalries. Each House despised the others, and if not for the constant threat of external forces pressing on their borders, they'd likely be at war with one another.
My conversation with what I came to know as Proctor Kealor concluded an hour later, leaving me thoughtful but eager for a good night's rest. Tomorrow promised to be a significant day, and I knew I needed to be well-rested.
The following day, the shuttle rattled violently around me as it descended through the atmosphere toward Feabo. The largest of the six planets in this solar system, Feabo's vastness was undeniable. With a circumference of 207,972 kilometers, it held the prestigious Institute of Enlightenment—a sanctuary of knowledge and learning. Its three significant landmasses were untouched by civilization, thanks to the Institute's strict prohibition on colonization, ensuring that the planet remained pristine for the benefit of its students. The landscape below was wild and unspoiled, teeming with diverse wildlife that thrived in the absence of human interference.
As the shuttle touched down on the landing pad with a soft jolt, I unfastened my harness and rose from my seat. My legs were still slightly stiff from the journey, but I stretched them as I approached the rear exit ramp. The door hissed open, revealing the sprawling grounds of the lower section of the Institute in the distance—an architectural marvel nestled within the untouched wilderness of Feabo.
As my guards escorted me through the sea of onlookers, I felt the weight of countless eyes observing my every move. We navigated through the crowd with a deliberate pace, their whispers fading as I focused on the imposing structure ahead—a massive archway, towering over the plaza like a gate to another world. The arch represented the beginning of the entrance exam for the Aetheris Institute of Enlightenment, a place that demanded nothing less than excellence from its applicants.
This institute had a reputation for admitting only the best of the best. With a population spread across the stars, they needed a method to identify those who were worthy and had sufficient luck. The entrance exam was designed to cut through the masses, leaving only the most capable minds to continue forward. It was a test not just of intelligence but of endurance, resolve, and the ability to think under extreme pressure.
I took a deep breath, feeling the gravity of the moment. Beyond this arch lay a challenge that would test me like nothing before.
As I made my way through the massive archaic arch, I left my royal guards behind because, at this point, I was within the confines of the academy, and they didn't allow for any outside forces.
The entrance exam wasn't as simple as it first appeared. On the surface, reaching the academy seemed like a straightforward task. However, the reality was far more complex. The academy sat 30,000 feet above sea level, perched high atop a distant peak. The journey to get there was fraught with danger and uncertainty, where even the air grew thin and treacherous as you ascended.
While the wild, untamed landscape posed its share of threats—creatures with instincts as sharp as their teeth—the greatest danger came from the other candidates. It was every man for himself. The rules allowed—no, encouraged—competitors to attack one another, with violence and betrayal almost expected. Since none of us were officially students yet, the institute turned a blind eye to these brutal encounters. Survival, by any means necessary, was part of the test.
But it wasn't just about fending off human threats. The beasts and Alien races that roamed the path to the academy were no less deadly. You had to stay alert at all times, ready to outsmart predators both human and animal. The climb demanded not just physical strength, but an ability to adapt quickly and think on your feet.
Reaching the academy was more than proving your worth—it was a test of your survival instinct.
Nightfall crept upon me as I neared a hidden alcove beneath a cascading waterfall. The sound of rushing water echoed in the fading light, a brief respite from the treacherous ascent. All day, I had carefully paced myself, ascending the mountain with a deliberate, cautious approach. Along the way, I encountered a pair of Velrath—majestic yet fearsome creatures that roamed this wilderness. Their form was reminiscent of ancient tigers from Earth, but they possessed distinct, alien features that made them even more terrifying: sleek, metallic fur that shimmered under the light, and glowing, amber eyes that seemed to pierce the dark.
Though I managed to avoid a direct confrontation, the mere sight of them left my muscles tense with adrenaline.
As I entered the alcove, I let out a slow breath and slumped against the algae-covered stone wall, my body aching from the day's exertion. The cool mist from the waterfall dampened my face and veil, offering a moment of calm in an otherwise brutal ordeal. My fingers brushed against the mossy surface behind me as I tried to find comfort, knowing full well that rest here would be brief. The ascent was far from over, and the dangers of the mountain would only grow with the coming night.