When the counter reached zero, the world suddenly became much quieter. For a moment, it was as if the world had gone dark. Then all of a sudden, the sound returned, and with it, Phaistos saw a landscape he would surely never forget.
He stood on a path paved with white bricks. What was peculiar was that the bricks did not seem to have been cut as if they were perfect from birth.
This path was lined with green spaces filled with all kinds of trees and shrubs. Some were adorned with their traditional green color, but others seemed to have come out of a fairy tale. He could see colors such as white, red, and even purple. This pile of colors should have created a ridiculous scene, but instead, they seemed to fit together perfectly. The circus scene had transformed into the most noble of paintings.
In the sky, he could see stars in broad daylight. These stars twinkled in different colors. He felt a connection to three of them. The first was a bright white that seemed to be able to soothe all the troubles of the world. The second was the purest blue one could find. Phaistos's gaze seemed to reflect in this vast celestial body. The last one, however, was of a color almost impossible to describe. It seemed a dull yellow like sand, but the color seemed to change continuously.
Despite the fantastic landscapes stretching as far as the eye could see, nothing could eclipse the central element of this masterpiece.
The Ætherion Academy stood majestically atop a hill surrounded by enchanted forests and crystalline rivers. Its imposing towers, built of ancient stone and adorned with protective gargoyles, seemed to touch the sky. Some could swear they had seen them move. The academy's walls were covered in magical ivy that glowed gently at night, adding a mystical touch to the whole.
At the main entrance, large wooden doors, reinforced with wrought iron and engraved with ancient runes, welcomed students and visitors. A paved alley, lined with statues of dragons and griffins, led to a vast reception hall where an immense mural depicting the heroic exploits of the academy's founders stood.
Further on, one could see spaceships flying towards the stars or disappearing as if by magic in another direction.
As Phaistos's eyes and brain did not know where to look, he began to notice the people around him. Everywhere he looked, he could see people with very different characteristics. It ranged from strange clothes to skin colors he had never seen before. Some even had additional organs.
Phaistos recognized no one who seemed to come from the same regions as he did. It was even more ridiculous for him to try to recognize someone from a foreign country. Their language and customs were completely unknown to him. However, he hoped not to be alone to experience all this.
As stress was about to overwhelm him, Phaistos heard a voice pressing on his mind. "Cross the door." This voice resonated in his head. Doubt began to take place in his mind. He was afraid of this power, he was not comfortable entering a place filled with people stronger than him. As soon as he thought of withdrawing, the presence in his mind seemed offended. It increased the pressure on his mind.
"I will only repeat myself once, cross this door." He could see that all those who had not started walking like him had pale faces. He understood that all dissenters suffered from this voice. He then began to walk for fear of what else might happen.
With difficulty, he managed to cross the door. As soon as he passed the door, the pain in his mind disappeared. Only a dull ache remained, a vestige of the suffering he had just endured. But he remained alert, he could perfectly sense that the person he heard was not trying to harm him. This could only mean that if he actively tried, he would be dead in the blink of an eye.
"The gods are truly above mortals," panted Phaistos.
The inside of the building was as splendid as what he had glimpsed from his previous point of view. The room was entirely made of white marble. It was adorned with runes, finely sculpted bas-reliefs depicting mythological scenes, and intertwined floral motifs. Majestic columns rose to the ceiling, supporting a vault decorated with shimmering frescoes illustrating the exploits of ancient heroes.
In the center of the room stood a crystal fountain, from which sparkling water seemed to dance under the light of blown glass chandeliers. The walls were dotted with niches housing bronze statues, each representing a deity or illustrious figure from history. The floor, in mosaic, formed a complex pattern of geometric shapes and bright colors, inviting contemplation and serenity.
Sumptuous tapestries, woven with gold and silver threads, hung along the walls, recounting epic legends and tales of bravery. Finely chiseled oil lamps diffused a soft and soothing light, creating an atmosphere of calm and majesty. The air was filled with a subtle scent of myrrh and incense, adding a sacred dimension to this place already steeped in mystery and beauty.
In the center of this room stood a man who seemed to be a living paradox. His alabaster white beard and hair seemed to indicate advanced age, but his tonic body recalled that of a young knight ready to brandish his lance. Suddenly, he made a simple hand-raising gesture, and all the noises in the room ceased.
If Phaistos had been speaking, he would have noticed that his mouth could no longer move. However, the initial shock given to him by the splendor of these places prevented him from uttering a single word.
The man began to speak: "You are all here because you have passed the academy's entrance exam. But I must warn you that you are not all equal among yourselves. Indeed, some here come from worlds that know magic, or there are those who have a talent that will leave most of you in the dust. I would like to warn you that it is pointless to be satisfied with your results, you will soon discover that our academy is very strict about your level. However, know that in the end, everyone starts at the bottom of the ladder when it comes to magic. Climbing to the top of it will depend only on you."
The man did not even give the young people time to assimilate the situation before continuing his speech: "You will now be divided into different groups. These groups have been thought out so that each of you can feel comfortable and grow as serenely as possible. The only criterion that has been taken into account is your home world. Your teachers will explain in more detail why this has an impact. From now on, you will be sent to your classroom. As a final warning, I will tell you this: the first exam takes place in a month. Work if you want to stay."
The man took a sort of translucent ball from his pocket that seemed to contain some darkness within. The man chanted a number of terms that vaguely reminded Phaistos of the words he used when casting one of his own spells. [Teleportation]
Phaistos felt the same sensation as when he had made his comings and goings between the white test room and Earth. He understood that this must be a spell to move people.
Phaistos found himself in a classroom built of a black material. The benches were arranged in rows of 5. On some of them, there were only one or two people, but in the majority of them, all the seats were taken. Phaistos was in one of these groups. Phaistos was on the far right of his bench, and he decided to lean his head to observe his companions. Next to him was a young man with eyes that were slanted backward. His hair was jet black and tied in a bun. His clothes seemed very exotic but evoked a simple yet refined elegance. What caught Phaistos's eye was the sword sheathed at his side.
In the next seat was a girl with tanned skin. Her hair, tied with a turban and her green eyes sparkling with intelligence, gave her a mysterious touch. She wore a loose robe that did not seem to hinder her movements. Phaistos thought she must live in a hot environment to protect herself in this way.
In the seat next to that was a boy with dark skin wearing nothing but a loincloth. He had dark eyes and hair. On his back was a spear that, judging by the blood dripping from it, had just tasted blood. Phaistos deduced that this boy did not wear clothes because of this. He also did not ignore the well-sculpted muscles of his comrade. He seemed to be a formidable physical opponent.
Finally, on the last seat, sat a girl whose complexion would have been considered sickly in his village. Yet, it gave her the aura of a princess. Nevertheless, he would not be swayed by this. He had met her blue eyes, which indicated a leader's demeanor. He felt that if he made one wrong move, he might lose his head.
The five young individuals looked at each other silently, all seemingly interested in their companions, but no one made the first move. They decided to remain calm until the arrival of their instructor.