Dawn painted the Annex courtyard in pale gold the next morning. Evan awoke not to the rustling bamboo and birdsong of the Emerald Canopy, but to the distant, muffled sounds of a waking academy – the tramp of student feet, the low hum of magical wards, the faint chime of bells marking the hour. A schedule and a stack of orientation materials lay neatly on his desk, delivered silently during the night.
His first class: Elemental Resonance Theory - Fundamentals. Location: The Aquamarine Hall, Water Wing.
Navigating the Institute was daunting. The scale was immense, the architecture a bewildering blend of soaring grandeur and labyrinthine corridors. Students flowed in purposeful streams, their robes a kaleidoscope of colors denoting their disciplines: deep blue for Water Mages, fiery red for Pyromancers, earthy brown for Geomancers, vibrant green for Druids, and the rarer hues like Sharon's pale blue-silver for advanced theoretical studies. Evan, in his simple white robe, felt starkly out of place. Zander, a silent shadow beside him, drew even more intense stares – a mixture of curiosity, apprehension, and outright fear. His sheer presence was an anomaly in the scholarly environment.
They found the Aquamarine Hall – a large, domed chamber lined with blue-veined marble. Water flowed in intricate channels along the walls, and the air shimmered with cool humidity. Rows of tiered seats faced a central dais where a stern-faced Water Mage in deep blue robes, Professor Aris Thorne, was already beginning his lecture.
"Resonance," Professor Thorne intoned, his voice amplified by subtle magic, "is the cornerstone of elemental manipulation. It is the sympathetic vibration between the mage's internal mana matrix and the ambient elemental forces. To command water, one must first become its frequency..."
Evan found a seat near the back, Zander standing impassively against the wall nearby, his presence causing a noticeable bubble of empty space around them. Evan listened intently, comparing Thorne's teachings to Quentin's. The core concept – vibration, resonance – felt familiar, yet the execution was fundamentally different. Thorne spoke of quantifiable mana frequencies, elemental matrices, and precise somatic gestures to attune oneself. Quentin spoke of the heart's song, the spirit's harmony, and the innate resonance of music with the world's pulse.
"Practical demonstration," Thorne announced. He gestured, and a sphere of water coalesced above his palm, swirling and shaping itself into intricate patterns. "Observe the mana flow. Feel the harmonic alignment." He released the water, which splashed back into a basin. "Now, initiate candidates, attempt a basic cohesion. Focus your mana, resonate with the water element."
Students around Evan concentrated. Some managed faint ripples in the basins before them. Others produced trembling droplets. Evan watched, his Innocent Heart Core humming softly. He understood the theory, but his path wasn't about forcing mana into alignment. It was about finding the existing resonance, the song water already sang.
He closed his eyes, reaching inward. Instead of forcing his will, he sought the feeling of water – its fluidity, its depth, its reflective calm. He recalled the melody of 'Green Waters', the piece Quentin had first taught him. He didn't play it physically; he resonated with its essence within his core. He extended his hand, palm open, not pushing energy, but inviting harmony.
A small sphere of water, clearer and calmer than those around him, effortlessly rose from his basin. It hovered, perfectly spherical, reflecting the chamber's light with serene purity. It required no visible strain, no complex gestures. It simply was.
A ripple of surprise went through the nearby students. Professor Thorne, noticing the anomaly, paused his pacing. His sharp eyes fixed on Evan and the unnaturally still, clear water sphere. "You," he pointed. "Explain your technique. Your mana signature is... indistinct."
Evan opened his eyes, letting the water sphere gently descend. "I sought its resonance, Professor. Its inherent song."
"Song?" Thorne frowned, perplexed. "This is elemental manipulation, not bardic performance. Demonstrate the standard mana channeling."
Evan hesitated. He could try to mimic the forceful channeling, but it felt alien, counter to his cultivation. "My path, Professor... it focuses on spiritual resonance rather than direct mana projection."
Thorne's frown deepened. "Unorthodox methods lead to instability. Master the fundamentals first. Again. Channel your mana."
Before Evan could respond, a cold, familiar voice cut in from the doorway. "Indeed, Professor Thorne. Discipline and adherence to proven methodology are paramount."
Vice-Headmaster Oliviera stood there, his dark blue robes stark against the aquamarine hall. His gaze swept over Evan like frost. "This candidate," he stated, his voice dripping with disdain, "arrives with dubious credentials and a cultivation path bordering on mysticism. His 'demonstration' yesterday was a parlor trick, amplified by who knows what artifact or instability. He lacks the fundamental mana signature required for true elemental mastery." He gestured dismissively towards Evan. "His presence in a core elemental theory class is an insult to the Institute's standards. He should be relegated to remedial studies or, better yet, dismissed pending verification of his... peculiarities."
Anger, cold and sharp, flared within Evan. The humiliation in Polis, the isolation in the Annex, now this public denigration. The Innocent Heart Core vibrated, not with discord, but with a focused intensity. He met Oliviera's gaze, his own dark eyes burning with quiet defiance. "My cultivation is valid, Vice-Headmaster. Commander Cassio recognized it."
"Cassio is a warrior, not an Archmage!" Oliviera snapped. "He was likely deceived by theatrics! Prove your worth now, boy, by conventional means, or be removed!"
The challenge hung in the air. The entire class was silent, watching the confrontation. Professor Thorne looked uncomfortable, caught between Oliviera's authority and the strange, undeniable calm of Evan's water sphere moments before.
Evan knew forcing conventional mana channeling would likely fail, reinforcing Oliviera's point. But yielding was not an option. He needed to demonstrate his power, his true power, in a way Oliviera couldn't dismiss. He looked at the basin of water before him. He thought of the relentless pressure, the doubt, the need to carve his own space.
He closed his eyes again. This time, he didn't seek calm. He sought the resonance of force, of unyielding will, of the pressure he felt bearing down on him. He recalled the driving rhythm of Zander's presence, the thunderous power he'd witnessed in the Proving Grounds. He channeled not the melody of 'Green Waters', but the raw, commanding power he'd used to fell the bandit with a word – amplified, focused through the lens of his Innocent Heart Core and directed into the concept of water as pressure, as an unstoppable wave.
He placed his hands on the edge of the basin. He didn't shout. He resonated. A deep, subsonic hum vibrated from his core, inaudible to most but palpable in the air. The water in his basin didn't rise. It compressed. It flattened, then surged upwards not as a sphere, but as a dense, high-velocity jet, razor-sharp and ice-cold, aimed not at anyone, but at a sturdy practice dummy across the room.
SHHHHHHKKK!
The water jet struck the dummy's reinforced torso with the force of a battering ram. Ice crystals exploded outwards on impact. The dummy, designed to withstand elemental bolts, shattered. Wooden splinters and chunks of enchanted padding flew across the dais. The jet continued, punching a deep, steaming hole in the stone wall behind the dummy before dissipating with a hiss.
Silence. Utter, stunned silence. Water dripped from the gaping hole in the wall. Ice crystals glittered on the floor. The shattered dummy lay in ruins. Professor Thorne stared, mouth agape. The students recoiled in shock. Oliviera's face was a mask of pure, incredulous fury.
Evan lowered his hands, breathing steadily. The subsonic hum faded. He met Oliviera's livid gaze. "Is that conventional enough, Vice-Headmaster?"
Before Oliviera could explode, before Thorne could react, a new sound filled the Aquamarine Hall. Not the sound of dripping water or shocked whispers, but a deep, resonant, and utterly alien chime. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, vibrating through the stone, the water, the very air. It was ancient, powerful, and carried an unmistakable sense of profound recognition.
Simultaneously, intricate, glowing patterns – complex, interlocking geometric designs far older and more profound than the standard protective runes – flared to life across the walls, floor, and ceiling of the Aquamarine Hall. They pulsed with a soft, golden light, resonating in harmony with the deep chime.
"What in the Founder's name...?" Professor Thorne whispered, staring at the glowing patterns in awe.
Sharon appeared at the doorway, her sharp eyes wide with shock, then blazing with intense, almost feverish excitement as she took in the scene – the shattered dummy, the hole in the wall, the pulsing ancient runes, and Evan standing calmly amidst it all. "Source Resonance..." she breathed, the words barely audible but laden with profound significance. "The Founders' Sigils... they awakened!"
Oliviera stood frozen, his fury momentarily eclipsed by sheer, dumbfounded shock. He looked from the glowing sigils to Evan, his face pale. The impossible had happened. The boy hadn't just demonstrated power; he had triggered the Institute's deepest, most ancient defenses – defenses linked to its mythical founders.
The deep chime faded slowly, leaving the glowing sigils pulsing softly. The silence that followed was charged with awe, confusion, and the dawning realization that Evan Young was far more than an unorthodox candidate. He was a catalyst, a key that had just unlocked something profound and long dormant within the heart of the Milan Institute.
Sharon stepped fully into the room, her gaze fixed on Evan with unnerving intensity. "Evan Young," she said, her voice tight with suppressed excitement. "You will come with me. Immediately. The Headmaster... and the Starry Dome... await." The implications hung heavy in the air, far weightier than any shattered practice dummy. Evan's journey within the Institute had just taken a monumental, unforeseen turn.