## Chapter 1: The Day the Sky Opened
The summer after high school was supposed to be a pause. A breath between the storm of exams and whatever came next—college, work, escape. For her, it was supposed to be quiet. Maybe boring. She was ready for that. She didn't want anything strange. No more surprises.
But fate had other plans.
It started on an ordinary night. The kind that smelled of warm concrete and cut grass, with cicadas humming through the window screen. She couldn't sleep. Not from excitement—her university letter hadn't even come yet—but from a strange feeling. Like something was watching her. Or waiting.
So she got up. Walked to the balcony. And that's when she saw it.
Not a star. Not a plane. Just a crack—thin and gold—splitting the sky like glass under pressure.
The light wasn't just light. It was warm. Like standing too close to a fire you didn't start. Like someone whispering your name behind your eyes.
And then everything shattered.
---
When she woke, she was lying on stone.
Not tile. Not pavement. Stone—cut smooth and warm under her fingertips, glowing faintly blue in a world that wasn't her own.
Above her stretched a sky she didn't recognize. No stars, just slow-moving clouds illuminated by distant floating lanterns. Or islands.
The air was quiet, but not empty. Somewhere far off, she could hear wind chimes. Birds—or something like them—called in unfamiliar patterns.
She blinked hard. Once. Twice. Her body felt strange. Limbs too light. Ears too sharp.
She sat up too fast. Her head spun, and she winced at the flood of unfamiliar balance. Her breath caught—there was a weight behind her. Moving. A tail.
She reached up to her ears and felt fur. Soft, warm, sensitive.
This wasn't her body.
Her hands were a little bit smaller, but stronger. More calloused than she remembered.
She drew in a breath. The air tasted like copper and lavender.
And that's when she noticed the figure standing nearby.
He wasn't looking at her. Not at first. He had his hands in the pockets of a navy-blue coat, long and embroidered, and his hair caught the lantern-light like silver thread. He looked... sharp. Alert. Watchful.
Then he turned.
And narrowed his eyes.
"You're awake," he said. Calm. Measured. Not unfriendly—but distant, like someone trained to keep their emotions locked away. His posture never quite relaxed.
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
He studied her for a beat longer, then added, "You fell through a sky-rift. Uncommon, but not unheard of. You don't look injured."
She tried to sit straighter. "Where... where am I?"
He blinked. Just once, slowly. Then his brow crept up a fraction. "You're kidding, right? You're wearing the crest. Aetherion student. That's Irien. Or do fire-aspected students often wake up without knowing where they are?"
She blinked down. A silver-and-crystal brooch gleamed faintly on her coat—something she didn't remember owning. A flicker of flame pulsed gently inside it, matching the beat of her heart.
Her gaze dropped lower.
This wasn't her body.
But she could feel it—memories that weren't hers beginning to rise. The scent of smoke. The pull of fire. A uniform she somehow knew how to wear. Spells she'd never studied, but could almost name.
She was a student at Aetherion Academy.
A feline-blooded girl.
Fire-aspected.
Bal raised an eyebrow. "Lost your voice, flame-cat?"
She shook her head. "No, I just... I think I hit it. My head."
He made a sound—something between a sigh and a chuckle—and finally offered a hand.
"Bal," he said simply. No explanation. Just the name, and the firm grip of someone used to pulling people out of strange situations.
She hesitated.
But something in her moved. An instinct, perhaps. Something old.
She took his hand.
The warmth that surged through her fingers wasn't just physical. It was grounding.
He pulled her easily to her feet.
"There's a ceremony tonight," he said, turning to glance at the distant glow of towers in the sky. "Orientation for new students. You'll want to be there."
He said it like a fact, not a suggestion.
She glanced again at the sky, at the glowing chain-bridges between floating islands, and the surreal pulse of distant banners. The world shimmered.
"What is this place?" she asked again, more quietly.
Bal didn't even turn this time. "Aetherion, flame-cat. Unless your spatial magic is worse than it looks, you're already home."
Then he started walking.
She followed, still dazed. But somewhere behind her eyes, something had shifted. A heartbeat not her own.
*Welcome back,* a voice whispered.
She didn't know where it came from.
But it sounded like it had been waiting a long, long time.