The next day, after a long stretch of classes, Aiden, Adrian, and Sevan found themselves making their way to the Divination Tower. The tower was perched on one of the highest peaks of the academy, far removed from the heart of the school, and it loomed darkly against the grey sky. It was as if the tower had been designed to be as distant from the rest of the world as possible—hidden away, isolated, and enigmatic.
The tower's entrance was a stone archway, cold and intimidating. As they climbed the spiral stairs, the air grew cooler, and the faintest smell of old incense clung to the walls. The further they ascended, the darker the world around them seemed to become.
"This is creepy..." Jarek remarked, shifting uneasily as the first years ascended the stairs.
"Agree. I hear Professor Mopsus has a way with words." Peter replied.
"I hear he's senile, though. Did the teachers even think of putting him in retirement already?" Rupert added.
Adrian, Aiden and Sevan joined in the conversation with the boys while the girls decided to group themselves as well, talking more about the subject than the professor teaching.
Shiloh, as snarky as ever, would talk and give his unsolicited opinion from time to time.
The hallway narrowed, leading to the classroom, where the light dimmed in strange ways, as though the light itself hesitated to enter the space.
At the very top of the tower was the Divination classroom, a circular room with enormous windows that revealed the sprawling landscape of the academy. Yet the view was shrouded in the creeping mists, making the outside world appear distant and muted, as though it was stuck in an endless twilight.
Seated in the centre of the room was their professor, Mopsus.
He was a short, elderly man with wisps of white hair, a frail figure bent over a cane, his hands gnarled with age. His milky white eyes, devoid of pupils, gave off a faint, unsettling glow, indicating he was blind. His ability to "see" was purely based on an innate sense of the universe, or so the rumors went. He was known for his cryptic words and predictions, often delivered in a cryptic, raspy voice.
The first years hesitated at the door.
While they do know the man was blind, the feeling that he is watching them made them uncomfortable and fidgety.
Each table in the dimly lit room was round and crafted from dark mahogany, polished so smoothly that it reflected the faint glow of the crystal glass—or, as Mopsus insisted on calling them, crystal balls. The glass spheres were set atop delicate brass stands, engraved with intricate constellations and symbols that shimmered faintly in the flickering light of the torches lining the stone walls.
Though transparent, they seemed alive, swirling faintly with a pale blue luminescence that deepened into a murky silver when viewed from certain angles. The light within seemed to move like mist caught in an unseen wind, shifting and curling as if it held secrets waiting to be uncovered.
At the center of each table was a small brass plaque engraved with Mopsus's motto: Mopsus Sees All. Adrian had quietly pointed it out to Aiden and Sevan earlier, muttering sarcastically, "He probably had that made just to scare us."
The class settled into their seats, an air of nervous anticipation hanging over them. Mopsus began to speak, his words weaving a web of mysteries as he described the stars above and the secrets they held.
"Each of you," he said, his voice like a whisper carried on the wind, "is but a thread in the grand weave of the universe. The stars speak of your past, your present, and your future. And some of you... are destined for greatness. Others, for ruin."
Mopsus, the Divination professor, shuffled to the center of the room, leaning heavily on his cane.
"Divination," he began, his voice rasping, "is not for the faint of heart. To peer into the unknown is to risk seeing things you might wish to unsee." His cane tapped the stone floor as he continued, "But for those who dare... Mopsus sees all."
A ripple of unease spread through the class.
"Today," he announced, gesturing to the crystal spheres before them, "we will begin with the most ancient and straightforward tool of Divination—the crystal balls."
At the mention of balls, Adrian let out a muffled snort, quickly covering his mouth. Across the room, Jarek smirked, nudging Rupert, who struggled to stifle his laughter.
Mopsus, oblivious, continued. "These balls are not mere objects. No... They are a gateway. A bridge between the seen and the unseen, the known and the unknown. Through them, you will glimpse fragments of what is, what was, and what may yet come to pass. But only if you open your minds and allow the stars to speak through you."
Adrian leaned slightly toward Aiden and muttered, "I'm definitely not letting any stars speak through my balls."
Aiden bit his lip to suppress a laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. Sevan shot them both a warning glare, though even he couldn't help the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Mopsus seemed unaware of the murmured exchange and carried on, gesturing to the spheres. "Now, my young seers, place your hands gently upon your balls. Let them connect to your spirit."
This time, the snicker that escaped Adrian was audible, and it was joined by a muffled laugh from Jarek and Peter. Rupert, ever the troublemaker, leaned back in his chair with a sly grin.
"Professor, you're sure we're supposed to just touch the balls, right? Nothing more?"
The laughter that followed was barely stifled.
"Connect to your spirit?" Adrian muttered under his breath, leaning slightly toward Aiden. "I didn't realise this was that kind of class."
Aiden shook his head, hiding a grin. "Would you just focus for once?" he whispered back.
Rupert Lons Dalate, seated at the table beside them, snorted audibly. "I don't know, Aiden. Adrian's got a point. I'm not sure my spirit wants anything to do with these balls."
A ripple of stifled laughter moved through the room, and
Sevan let out an audible sigh, glaring at both Adrian and Rupert. "You two are going to get us all in trouble," he muttered, though the faintest hint of a smirk betrayed his own amusement.
Mopsus stopped pacing, turning his milky gaze in their general direction. "You mock what you do not understand," he said, his voice low and sharp. "But the stars are not kind to fools."
Adrian leaned back slightly, feigning innocence. "I wasn't mocking, Professor. Just... interpreting."
Mopsus gripped his crane tightly, his blind eyes narrowing. "Interpretation comes after understanding, boy," he snapped. "And you have no understanding yet."
Aiden shot Adrian a warning look, silently pleading with him to keep quiet for the rest of the lesson. Adrian gave a small shrug, clearly unrepentant, but he did remain silent as Mopsus continued.
"Now, place your hands upon the balls," Mopsus commanded, his voice rising slightly. "Gently, but firmly. Feel their energy. Let it flow into you. The stars speak only to those who listen."
The students hesitated, glancing nervously at one another before slowly reaching out to touch the crystal spheres on their tables. The glass was cool and smooth beneath their hands, and a faint, almost imperceptible vibration seemed to hum through the room.
"Close your eyes," Mopsus instructed. "Clear your mind. Let the balls guide you."
Adrian, unable to resist, muttered, "Pretty sure we're being guided straight into madness."
Rupert suppressed a laugh, while Jarek, sitting at another table, added, "Or detention."
Mopsus snapped his head toward the sound, his blind eyes narrowing. "Detention is the least of your concerns if you cannot take this seriously," he said darkly. "Now, silence. Focus. The stars demand your attention."
The room fell into an uneasy quiet once more as the students closed their eyes, their hands resting on the glowing spheres. The air seemed to grow heavier, charged with an energy that none of them could quite explain. Even Adrian, for all his jokes, felt a strange tension prickling at the edges of his senses.
Minutes passed, and Mopsus moved silently around the room, his crane tapping softly against the floor. "Tell me," he said finally, his voice softer now, almost hypnotic. "What do you see?"
The responses were hesitant at first. Most of the students mumbled that they saw nothing, their faces red with embarrassment.
Morrigan, always eager, raised her hand, instantly dropping it when she realized Professor Mopsus could not see. "I think I saw something, Professor!" she said. "It was... a shape, maybe? Like a wolf, or... or maybe a shadow?"
Mopsus paused beside her, his head tilting slightly as if listening to something only he could hear. "The beast within," he said softly. "Tame it, or it will devour you."
Morrigan blinked, her expression shifting from excitement to uncertainty. "Uh... right. Okay. Tame the beast. Got it."
At the next table, Rupert shook his head. "I don't see anything in my… balls, Professor. Just... glass."
Mopsus tapped his cane sharply against the floor. "Because you are not looking inward," he said. "Harden yourself, Rupert Lons Dalate. You will need to be unbreakable when the time comes."
Rupert frowned, clearly confused, but didn't argue.
One by one, Mopsus moved around the room, offering cryptic remarks to the few students who claimed to see anything at all. When he reached Shiloh, the boy hesitated before speaking. "I saw... a card, I think," he said finally. "The ace of spades."
Mopsus nodded slowly. "Your greatest weapon," he murmured. "But beware, for even the sharpest blade can cut the hand that wields it."
Shiloh frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the answer, but said nothing.
The room was deathly silent as Mopsus moved to Aiden's table. Aiden's hands trembled slightly as they rested on the sphere, his mind racing.
He didn't want to see anything. He didn't want to know. But the moment he closed his eyes, the image appeared: the tree, its branches stretching endlessly into the sky, its roots twisting deep into the earth, into darkness.
"The tree," Aiden whispered, his voice barely audible.
Mopsus stopped, his blind eyes seeming to pierce straight into him.
"Ah, Aiden Chase," he said softly, his voice echoing in Aiden's mind. "Your path runs deeper than you know. A memory from the oldest times. A promise unfulfilled. The tree sees all."
Aiden's eyes flew open, his heart pounding. He glanced around the room, but no one else seemed to have heard Mopsus speak his name.
The professor was already moving on, his voice rising once more as he began explaining the next part of the lesson.
"The stars reveal themselves differently to each of you," Mopsus said, addressing the class as a whole. "Some of you will see visions. Others, only shadows. But do not despair. The stars speak in their own time, through their own means."
Adrian leaned over to Aiden, his voice low. "What did you see?"
Aiden hesitated, his hands clenching tightly around the edge of the table. "Nothing," he lied. "Just... nothing."
Adrian frowned but didn't push. Meanwhile, Mopsus walked back to the center of the room. "And so we begin," he declared. "For the stars are watching, and Mopsus sees all."
And it was only after the class that the first years realized that Mopsus had referred to them by their names without any prior introduction.