The final, lingering note of 'Parting at Yang Guan' faded into a silence that felt deeper, heavier than before. Evan lifted his hands from the strings, the vibrant aura around him slowly dissipating. He opened his eyes, blinking slightly as he returned to the present moment. The chamber was utterly still. All eyes were fixed on him, filled with awe, confusion, and intense scrutiny.
Oliviera was the first to break the silence. His face was pale, his earlier disdain replaced by a storm of conflicting emotions – shock, disbelief, and a simmering frustration. "Impossible!" he sputtered, his voice hoarse. "That... resonance... that power projection... with a student-grade instrument? What trickery is this? What artifact are you concealing?" His gaze darted suspiciously around Evan, as if expecting to find a hidden amplifier.
Sharon stepped forward smoothly, her voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority. "Vice-Headmaster, there was no trickery. The energy signature was pure, emanating solely from the candidate and channeled through the instrument. It was... unprecedented." She turned her sharp gaze fully on Evan. "Evan Young. That resonance... it defies standard magical parameters. It bypassed elemental channels entirely, targeting the spirit directly. Explain the source of your cultivation."
Evan met her gaze, then Oliviera's furious one. He knew Quentin's warnings about secrecy. But he also knew he stood at the threshold of the Institute, and partial truth was necessary. "My teacher," Evan stated clearly, "is Quentin Shaw, Guild Master of the Arcadia Mage Guild. He guided me on a unique path. We call it the 'Innocent Heart Core'. It cultivates purity of spirit and resonance with music itself, rather than elemental forces."
"Quentin Shaw?" Oliviera scoffed, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. "An obscure Guild Master from a backwater kingdom? Preposterous! This 'Innocent Heart Core' sounds like mystical nonsense!"
"Yet the result is undeniable, Vice-Headmaster," interjected a deep, resonant voice. An elderly mage with a long white beard and robes adorned with intricate celestial patterns stepped forward. His eyes, wise and ancient, held a profound depth as they studied Evan. "I am Archmage Solan, Head of Theoretical Magic. That display... it resonated with the fundamental harmonics of the soul. It bypassed conscious defenses. It was pure Mental Magic of a potency and purity I have rarely witnessed, especially channeled through Zither Dao." He turned to Oliviera. "Traditional metrics fail here, Oliviera. This requires... specialized assessment."
Oliviera looked like he'd swallowed something sour. The support from Archmage Solan, a highly respected figure, undermined his authority. "Specialized assessment? Based on what? The whimsical claims of a boy and an unknown teacher?"
"Based on the evidence before our eyes and senses," Solan replied calmly but firmly. "The Talon's Grasp compels admission upon demonstration of exceptional potential. Potential," he emphasized, looking directly at Evan, "has been overwhelmingly demonstrated. The nature of that potential requires further study within the Institute's framework."
Sharon nodded in agreement. "Archmage Solan speaks wisely. The candidate has met the threshold for admission under the Talon's Grasp provision. Further evaluation of his unique cultivation can be conducted within the appropriate departments."
Oliviera glared, his jaw clenched. He knew he was outmaneuvered. The weight of Cassio's recommendation and the undeniable, if baffling, display of power left him little room. "Very well," he ground out, the words tasting like ash. "Admission is... granted. Under probationary status pending full evaluation of this... 'Innocent Heart Core'." He practically spat the term. "Sharon, see him processed. Assign him to the... appropriate accommodations." The dismissal in his tone was clear. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the chamber, his robes swirling.
A collective sigh of released tension seemed to go through the remaining faculty. Archmage Solan gave Evan a thoughtful nod before departing. Others followed, murmuring amongst themselves, casting curious glances back at Evan.
Sharon approached Evan, a genuine, if somewhat calculating, smile touching her lips. "Welcome to the Milan Institute, Evan Young. Your journey here was... eventful. Follow me." Her eyes flickered towards Zander, who hadn't moved from his position near the door. "And your... companion?"
"He stays with me," Evan stated firmly. "He is my sworn brother and guardian. Commander Cassio was aware of his presence."
Sharon's gaze lingered on Zander, taking in his imposing stillness, the latent power radiating from him, the unusual amethyst eyes. "Very well," she said after a moment. "The Institute has accommodations for... unique circumstances. Come."
She led them out of the Testing Chamber and through the labyrinthine corridors of the Administration Spire. They descended several levels, moving away from the grand halls towards more functional areas. The air grew slightly cooler, the architecture plainer. Finally, she stopped before a heavy wooden door marked "Custodian".
She knocked sharply. The door opened to reveal a stooped, elderly man with a wispy beard and kind, tired eyes, dressed in simple custodian's garb. "Master Fen," Sharon addressed him. "New student, Evan Young. Special circumstances. He requires quarters in the Annex. And space for his guardian." She gestured towards Zander.
Master Fen peered at Evan, then his eyes widened slightly as he took in Zander. A flicker of ancient wisdom, deep and knowing, passed through his gaze before settling back into mildness. "Ah, the Annex. Yes, yes. Follow me, young sirs." His voice was soft and raspy.
He led them down a narrow, dimly lit corridor, then through a heavy, unmarked door that opened onto a small, enclosed courtyard. On the far side stood a low, unassuming building built of weathered stone – the Annex. It looked neglected, covered in ivy, a stark contrast to the grandeur elsewhere.
"Rooms seven and eight are vacant," Master Fen said, producing a large, rusty key. "Bit dusty, but sound. Quiet too. You'll have peace here." He unlocked the door to room seven, revealing a spartan space: a simple bed, a desk, a chair, a small wardrobe. Room eight, adjoining, was identical. "The main refectory is back through the spire, down the Hall of Elements, left at the Alchemy wing... or you can find simpler fare near the East Gate market." He handed Evan the key. "Welcome, young master. Welcome, sir." He nodded respectfully to Zander before shuffling away.
Evan stepped into the small room. It was basic, clean, but carried the faint scent of disuse. It was a far cry from the Emerald Canopy, or even the grandeur he'd glimpsed elsewhere in the Institute. It felt... deliberately isolated.
Sharon lingered in the doorway. "The Annex houses those with... unconventional needs or backgrounds," she explained, her tone neutral. "It provides privacy. Your classes begin tomorrow. Your schedule and orientation materials will be delivered." She paused, her sharp eyes fixed on Evan. "Your performance today was remarkable, Evan Young. And deeply puzzling. The 'Innocent Heart Core'... I look forward to understanding it better." A hint of genuine curiosity, perhaps ambition, flickered in her gaze. "Rest well. Your true journey within these walls begins now." With a final, appraising glance at Zander, she turned and left.
Silence settled over the small room. Evan placed his simple guqin carefully on the desk. He looked out the small window at the quiet, ivy-covered courtyard of the Annex. He had gained entry. He stood within the hallowed halls of the Milan Institute. But the path ahead felt fraught with challenges: Oliviera's hostility, the scrutiny over his unique cultivation, the isolation of the Annex, and the daunting task of mastering his art without the Sovereigns. And beside him, always, was the enigma that was Zander, his silent strength a constant anchor.
He turned to his brother. "We made it, Zander."
Zander stood near the window, looking out not at the courtyard, but towards the distant spires of the Institute's main complex, his expression unreadable. "The beginning," he rumbled softly. "The test is passed. The hunt continues." His amethyst eyes held a distant focus, as if seeing challenges and shadows far beyond the quiet walls of the Annex.
Evan Young, Sovereign of Strings in waiting, had arrived. His melody within the grand symphony of the Milan Institute had just played its first, resonant note. The next movement promised to be far more complex.