The graduation party was held on the upper garden tier of the Sector-5 Recreation Spire, a rare piece of open sky real estate even among the wealthy. Vines coiled around curved steel beams, artificial stars projected across the dome above, and pulse-sound speakers floated overhead like glowing fireflies, syncing music to the rhythm of the crowd's mood bands.
By the time Emric arrived, the space was alive with sound and shimmer.
He stepped off the sky-rail alone.
Most students had already clustered into groups, uniforms discarded for partywear—glossy fabrics, kinetic lights, and even a few short-range phase scarves that shifted opacity based on movement.
He kept it simple. Black collared shirt, dark slacks, clean lines. Nothing reactive. Nothing synthetic. Just him.
He scanned the crowd until he spotted Lio posted up near a drink station, sipping something that pulsed gold under the glass.
"You came," Lio said, raising his cup in salute. "Didn't expect it."
"I invited Karya."
Lio's eyes sparkled. "So you are capable of initiative."
"Don't make it weird."
"You made it weird the second you waited six years to ask her anywhere."
Before Emric could reply, a hush fell over the nearby group.
Karya had arrived.
Her dress—if it could be called that—was an asymmetric weave of shimmering threads, layered over a base of living fabric that adjusted with her movements. Her sync-band now pulsed a deep violet, its glow woven across her wrist and halfway up her forearm in a sigil pattern.
"She awakened," Lio murmured.
Not just awakened—she'd undergone the induced ceremony.
Elite-class sync symbols were unmistakable.
Emric's stomach twisted.
She crossed the space with the same grace as always—but something about her gait had changed. Subtle. More assured. Eyes sharper, as if she was processing more than the visible.
She reached them and smiled.
"Hi."
"You look…" Emric started, then stopped himself.
Karya tilted her head. "Different?"
"I was going to say radiant."
For a moment, they were just two people in the crowd again. Then Lio clapped his hands.
"Well, I'm gonna give you two some room before the awkward tension collapses the dome. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Then we're safe," Emric said.
Lio vanished into the blur of music and color.
Karya shifted closer, looking out across the party. "It's loud."
"It's supposed to be."
"Still feels strange. I expected to feel… more."
"After the ceremony?" Emric asked.
Karya nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I awakened. The metrics confirmed it. High-tier, Arcanist class." She tapped the sync band on her wrist, its soft pulse verifying her words. "But I don't feel any different."
"No surge of power? Enlightenment?" Emric teased.
She gave a faint, lopsided smile. "I scorched half the courtyard. They had to bring in three suppressors."
Emric laughed softly, a bit of awe in his voice. "So that was you."
"They're probably still rebuilding that fountain," she added dryly. "It wasn't subtle. Arcanist awakenings never are."
"You don't sound too happy about it."
"I don't know." Her eyes drifted upward to the glowing drones flitting across the open dome of the party tier. "Maybe I expected too much. You grow up thinking awakening will fix something—snap everything into focus. But I woke up in a clinic bed with two burns on my arm and a message blinking on my sync band. 'Arcanist. Elite-tier.' That was it."
Emric's fingers fidgeted against the rim of his cup. "You're an Elite. Top percentile. That's what people dream about."
"I know. But it didn't change how I felt about myself." She let out a small breath. "Is that normal?"
Emric shrugged. "How would I know? I'm still unawakened, remember?"
That drew a quiet laugh from her. "Right."
The silence stretched—not awkward, just… heavy. She shifted closer. The subtle heat from her shoulder brushed against his.
Emric's pulse ticked up. He didn't know if it was the closeness, the rhythm of the music thumping in his chest, or the way her eyes lingered on his for just a second too long.
To break the moment, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the synth-quartz chip.
"I never got to thank you properly," he said. "For this."
Karya's expression softened. "I figured you'd like it. You and your pre-Dissolution junk."
"It's not junk," he said, turning it over in his hand. "It's old tech. Built to last. You can tell just by the grain in the quartz—it wasn't printed. It was etched."
She rolled her eyes. "You sound like my grandfather."
Emric chuckled. "He must've been a man of culture."
"Or just old."
He glanced down again, thumb brushing the chip's edge. "I haven't played it yet."
"I kind of thought you would the moment I gave it to you."
He hesitated. "I was waiting. Don't know why."
Something flickered between them then—a fragile tension not quite spoken. The music below dulled to a background hum, the lights cast softer glows against the curved glass canopy. Karya didn't look away this time. She tilted her head slightly, eyes half-lidded, lips parted just enough to—
Emric's heart jumped. Panic and anticipation collided in his chest.
He looked down again, gripping the chip tightly. "You know," he said quickly, "maybe it's got some forgotten war-era data. Or maybe it's just a corrupted archive. Either way…"
His voice trailed off.
And then it happened.
A sensation.
No lights. No visions. No voices.
Just a jolt—like a cold ripple running through his spine. Sudden. Invasive. Deep.
For one second, it felt like something was about to click into place—some memory, some understanding, right at the edge of recognition.
But it slipped.
Gone before he could catch it.
He blinked, exhaling sharply.
His wristband pulsed suddenly—soft and irregular.
[Unclassified Neural Activity Detected | Anomaly Flagged]
The display blinked, then went blank.
Karya caught it. "Emric?"
He straightened, masking it with a forced smile. "Probably just the altitude. Head rush."
She watched him for a second longer than necessary. He hated how easily she saw through his lies.
But she let it go.
Instead, she stepped closer again, her voice quieter now. "You're always waiting for something. Maybe it's time to stop."
His throat tightened.
And then, a sharp siren sliced through the rooftop noise.
All heads turned upward as the city-wide system overlay cut in.
A woman's face appeared on the dome above them—neutral expression, dressed in Reclamation blue.
"All confirmed graduates of Sector-5's 2079 cohort: You are hereby summoned to Academy Induction Week. Transport begins tomorrow at 0600 hours. Coordinates and gate access have been transmitted to your sync bands. This is a binding summons. Delay will forfeit placement. Glory to the Reclamation."
The feed cut. Music resumed. But the mood had shifted—colder, tighter.
Karya's voice came softly beside him. "It's real now."
Emric nodded, still gripping the chip in his hand.
Whatever that moment was—it had passed.
But something had stirred.
Not from the quartz. Not from any broadcast.
From him.