“I-I’m….slippinggg!!” yelled Keldon, feeling the blood leave his fingers as he desperately hung onto Devra who pounced across the fields of the Cloud Sector.

  He desperately clutched his hands around the tiny holster which had been obviously crafted for a woman. His knuckles were white as Baron Volldsteen threw his head back and let loose a whoop and a laugh. His braids blew in the wind as Devra hopped over a bush, poising for a leap.

  Then for a moment, just as Keldon thought he was finally able to catch his breath, Devra pounced. He slipped from his seat as the baron whipped around, pulling Keldon behind him as Keldon clung onto his waist.

  “Normally, only my wife gets to hold me like this. But I doubt she’d be concerned about you seducing me away from her,” said Volldsteen.

  “T-trust me, I wouldn’t dare,” said Keldon, squeezing his thighs to grip onto Devra.

  “Hm. Not sure if I should be insulted,” said Volldsteen.

  Finally, as Devra strode across a flat meadow of red grass, Keldon steadied himself. He settled into as comfortable a position as he could riding a twenty-foot-long man-eating metal cat.

  He looked at the back of the FleshHunter's head as Devra glanced back over her shoulder with a cold feline eye. The look in her eye made it seem like she were considering whether or not eating Keldon would be worth the trouble.

  Keldon shivered, turning his attention forward.

  But as he learned to ignore the fact that he was probably riding a human-murdering beast, the more he was able to appreciate the view around them. Unlike in the Hissings where Nature had been manicured by human hands, the manors in the Cloud sector were molded into the landscape. One manor was surrounded almost entirely by blooming gardens of purples and blues. Another a maroon and black whose fields were roamed almost exclusively by one variant species of capybara.

  Devra bounded up the incline of a cliff, reaching the top and soaring into the air as finally, the spire of the Grand Academy came into sight.

  Keldon’s eyes sparkled, staring at his future in the eyes. Even with the nerves slamming into his chest, he couldn’t help but let a smile crawl across his face as he admired the carved golden arches and prosperous lands that made up the academy.

  But as Devra jumped across the grassy fields, a small pillar of light caught Keldon’s attention.

  Leading from a small side path at the Grand Academy to the base of a cliff-edge, there was an elevated platform that had been carved from the stone where figures in mahogany robes worshipped at the base of an intimidating statue. They knelt with their foreheads touching the earth. And when Devra drew closer to the Grand Academy, a spark of annoyance tainted Keldon’s trip of wonder.

  Carved in white marble was a Divine WarAngel that Keldon didn’t recognize slaying an eight-armed aberrant beast. The WarAngel’s features were carved to be gentle as her stained silver sword tore through the torso of the Aberrant. To him, however, it looked like she was reveling in the extermination of the creature’s life, holding her lofty head up in pride.

  “Staring hard there. You worship?” asked Volldsteen.

  “No,” said Keldon. “I mean, some people are. I can’t. I’ve just never been the religious kind. No offense if you are,”

  “None taken. They do good for Kharburn, but they can be tough to love. Though, no love for any of the Eight either I take it,” asked   Volldsteen.

  “I haven’t really thought about them much.”

  “I’m sure they think about you.”

  “I think I’ve had enough forces of nature thinking about me for a lifeTIMEEE-,” yelled Keldon.

  He suddenly found himself plummeting as Devra dove off a cliff, landing on the ground as the saddle slammed against his ass, most likely adding to the list of bruises he’d accumulated in the last couple of weeks.

  Keldon rubbed his ass as Devra pounced closer and closer to the outer ring of workers that surrounded the gates of the Academy. As the late-night stragglers and caravan servants went about their business, the thundering of Devra's paws against the grass caught their attention. They turned their heads, only to see the menacing FleshHunter charging at top speed as they clambered to get out of the way.

  “Woah there girl, just to the gates!” said Baron Volldsteen.

  Devra slammed her paws into the earth as her claws raked across stone. It caused an ear-piercing screech to ring through the air as those around covered their ears and winced.

  “Haha, sorry about the sudden entrance everyone. I’m in a bit of a rush,” said Baron Volldsteen, leaping off Devra’s back.

  A pit sank in Keldon’s stomach, expecting dark glares and bruised pride from the crowd around them. However, much to his surprise, the two of them were met with chuckles and laughter as nobles and workers alike waved in nonchalance.

  “I’d rather have a party invitation than an apology!” called out a servant in jest.

  For a second, the square was quiet. But then, Baron Volldsteen holstered his hands to his hips, letting out a boisterous laugh.

  “Depends, are you new-blood, or do you think you’re better than everyone else?” said Baron Volldsteen, prompting a burst of laughter from the crowd.

  “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night,” said Baron Volldsteen, waving to the crowd. With a few waves, the crowd went back to attending their own business, occasionally stealing glances at Keldon out of the corner of their eyes.

  The baron reached out his hand, helping Keldon down from Devra’s back.

  “That should tide them over, for now. Let’s hurry before they really want an invitation,” said Baron Volldsteen.

  With a whistle and a flick of the hand, the Baron waved Devra away as the FleshHunter turned around, pouncing into the dark of the night.

  Keldon turned away from Devra as his attention was stolen from him by the immaculate architecture of the Grand Academy. There was a classical beauty to the symmetrical designs of the buildings. Magnificent ancient buildings with ivory towers of stone held steadfast as luminescent field birds perched atop the lanternlights that lit the yellow brick streets, adding colorful beauty to the atmosphere of the nigh-

  “Stop it, you’ve still got things to do,” thought Keldon, shaking his head.

  “So, where to?” asked Keldon.

  A smile crept across Baron Volldsteen’s face. He beckoned Keldon to follow him. Waving a final goodbye to the crowd, he strode around the corner where a square of empty tables and overfilled billboards preceded an fiteen-foot wide km\set of steps that led up to an enormous stone hall. On top of the building was a sign that read “Seer’s haven”.

  The baron walked straight ahead, strutting towards a short, bearded elderly man who was hunched over a table, scribbling notes by orblight in the dark.

  The baron sauntered up to the table, taking out his checkbook and flipping it open as he tore out a slip of paper and pushed it gently forward to the old man.

  “Late evening isn’t it, Head Officiator,” said Baron Volldsteen.

  “Sleep is for blessed, Volldsteen,” said the Head Officiator, taking the slip of paper without looking up from the scribbling of his notes.

  “Never change Garth, never change,” said Baron Volldsteen. “Anyhow, I’d like to sponsor this young man for an Elite Exam. How many Magister’s slots have yet to be filled?”

  “Two,”

  “Better than none. He’ll take it.”

  “Name?”

  “Keldon err…-” said Baron Volldsteen, turning to Keldon.

  “Astria is my last name,” said Keldon.

  “A good last name,” said Garth, piping up.

  Baron Volldsteen laughed and smacked his hand against Keldon’s back. “Hah! Would you look at that, you got a compliment from Grumpy Garth.”

  “Shall escort you out by the ear Volldsteen? Again,” said Garth.

  While Garth and Volldsteen traded banter, Keldon peered over the table. His eyes wandered to Garth’s notebook as his curiosity got the best of him. But no matter how hard he stared, his eyes weren’t able to focus on the page’s words.

  Keldon squinted his eyes. Nope. He shook his head, rubbing his face as he looked around him. Strange, he was still able to see everything clearly around him, but when he looked back to Garth’s writing, the letters were almost swirling on the page.

  “Keep staring if you want. Not happening son,” said Garth.

  Keldon snapped his eyes away from Garth’s writing. He looked away as he felt heat on his cheeks.

  “Alright. That should do it. Just follow the signs to the waiting room down the long pretentious hall,” said Garth.

  “Wonderful, just send the rest of the paperwork to Bethany. She’ll be around sometime in the afternoon. She has some kind of ‘appointment’ with an old friend in the morning. Whatever that means,” said Baron Volldsteen.

  Garth nodded as Baron Volldsteen started up the steps, motioning for Keldon to follow. Reaching the top of the steps, he placed his heavy hand on Keldon’s shoulders as the Baron looked at him with a twinkle in his eyes.

  “That’s that then. Best of luck to you. And remember, a single defeat doesn’t lose you the war,” said Baron Volldsteen.

  However, despite the baron’s best wishes, he couldn’t help but feel sparks of anger inside him. Did he seem too weak to have a chance? The thought of his weakness made him bitter.

  “Well, sure. Fair enough, I guess. Thanks again for everything,” said Keldon.

  “Always a pleasure to be of help. Bethany will be outside with a cart when you’re done. I’ve got to go back to review meeting documents, otherwise, Lillian will have me by the ba-…throat,”

  “Right… okay, I’ll see you back at the manor then.”

  “We’ll have breakfast in the morning. Farewell for now,” said Baron Volldsteen. He turned around, descending the steps as he put his fingers to his lips to produce an ear-piercing whistle. Far in the distance, Keldon heard the yowling of Devra as a familiar commotion rang out from the front of the gates where they’d been just a short while ago.

  He turned around, entering the Stone Hall as the whistling of wind against the chimes echoed against the tapping of his hollow steps against stone floor. Walking down the winding hallways, Keldon found himself disagreeing with Garth’s descriptions of the pretentiousness of the Hall. He followed the signs and arows and passed tens of oak doors, but reaching the main queue line, his jaw dropped. There, hanging on the solemn walls of the Seer's haven, he saw the dozens of gold-bordered paintings of famous scholars. Keldon was even surprised he recognized a few.

  “There’s Magister Oliver! And Magister Volo! Oh wow, is that Magister Chomlyn?!”

  Walking through the long still hallways, Keldon hopped over rows of soft white cord which formed queuing lines for the hundreds, if not thousands of examinants.

  “I wonder how many of them failed,” thought Keldon, ducking under another set of white cords.

  Eventually, he reached the end of the queue line where a female guard leaned casually against a large door. Strands of hair had fallen out from the neat bun on her head as she rested a polearm on her shoulders while her head bobbed from exhaustion.

  “Excuse me- “said Keldon.

  The lady looked up with a yawn, shifting her attention to Keldon. She stretched her arms to the sky with a satisfied groan, posturing to attention as she lazily drew her hand to a salute.

  “Welcome knowledge hunter to the grand academy whether you be from near or far and where destinies intertwine by the grace of science and magic and… well, you get the point. Let me just be upfront. Don’t take out your skill orb until prompted to by the examiner. Don’t pick fights with other examiners. Follow the academic code. Don’t be stupid. Alright, good luck,” said the female guard, opening the door and waving Keldon quickly into the room.

  And before he could get another word in, Keldon felt her hand nudge him into the room as the door slammed shut behind him.

  “Wait, I- “said Keldon.

  “What family are you from?” said an unfamiliar voice.

  The hairs on the back of his neck pricked upwards as he slowly turned his head around, seeing a dozen or so other examinants and feeling a thousand pounds had been dropped on his shoulders. He pivoted on his heels as he felt his stomach knot into a ball. He came to the slow realization that now, every eye in the room rested on him.