The sterile silence of the Lunavia Medical Center was a torment. Not the absolute, placid silence of a starry night, but the deafening absence of the life that once filled the Academy's halls. The barely perceptible hum of medical machines seeped into Jake's consciousness, each beep, each whir, an echo of a tragedy that still hadn't faded. The sterile room reeked of disinfectant, a chemical odor that clung to the skin, to memory. The clinical white of the unblemished, cold walls accentuated the emptiness he felt deep within his soul. He opened his eyes, lids heavy, blinking the dim light into focus through the fog in his mind. His body felt numb, a numbness not of rest, but of exhaustion. It was as if he'd been drifting through the wreckage of a battle that, despite everything, wasn't over yet. The debris of what he'd lived through clung to him, invisible yet tangible.
A metallic, inflectionless voice emerged from a nearby terminal, shattering the oppressive stillness. "Patient 07C has regained consciousness. Activating neural stabilization protocol…" But Jake didn't hear that. Not really. The words crashed against a wall of fog in his mind. His attention, painfully, shifted to his right arm. The tribal mark was still there, a tattoo etched not with ink, but with pain and loss. It was darker than before, more vivid, almost pulsing beneath his skin. As if it beat in time with a broken heart.
And then, it all hit him. Not an avalanche, but a series of precise blows, each to a vulnerable point in his soul. Raven, the memory of her falling, the shine of her hair in a sun she would never see again. Aldrich, the professor, the mentor, vanishing in a maelstrom of fire and ash, his wisdom extinguished in an instant. Zephyr, the betrayal, the internal tear, as if his very existence had been designed to break him, to strip him of faith. And then, the flood: the blood on his hands, on his clothes, on the ground. The guilt coiling in his gut, a cold, venomous serpent. Impotence, the bitterest poison of all, knowing he couldn't do more, couldn't save them all. He brought a hand to his face, fingertips pressing against his closed eyelids, clenching his teeth until his jaw ached. "How did we get here…?" The question wasn't a search for an answer, but a lament, a choked cry in the abyss of his despair.
"Jake." The voice was soft, a caress on the open wound of his consciousness. He opened his eyes again. A nurse, with a serene face and compassionate eyes, watched him from the doorway. Her immaculate uniform seemed to radiate a calm Jake envied. "Director Reiss Vauren requests your presence. Your classmates are there too." Jake nodded, wordless. There was no energy for courtesy, for empty words. Every fiber of his being cried out for the rest the nightmare denied him. He rose, his body protesting with every movement, the physical pain a minor distraction compared to his spirit's agony. But despite the pain, despite the fatigue dragging him toward the abyss, he walked. Something larger than his own misery propelled him forward.
The Lunavia medical center was a labyrinthine, hidden structure. It was buried in the lower levels of the Institute of Internal Affairs, a bastion of power and secrecy. From the outside, no one, not even the most perceptive citizen of Solaria, would imagine that here, beneath the pulsating heart of the capital, the fates of entire generations of students, of the nation itself, were decided. It was a place daylight never reached, where decisions were made in the gloom of conference rooms, far from prying eyes.
The conference room was an imposing space. Large, cold, lined with polarized glass that reflected distorted images of the outside world and floating screens displaying data and graphics incomprehensible to the untrained eye. At the center of this theater of decisions, Reiss Vauren stood. He was more formal than usual, his posture rigid, his expression restrained, almost… empty. Recent events had etched lines of worry onto his face, erasing the familiar lightness Jake used to see in his director. Beside him, Aria greeted Jake with a slight nod, her normally expressive eyes veiled by a deep sadness. Sophia offered him a half-smile, one that carried the weight of contained emotions, a silent promise of support.
Jake entered, his eyes fixed on Reiss. It wasn't a look of outright reproach, but of scrutiny, a silent search for answers no one seemed to have. The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy air that clung to the throat.
"Good to see you on your feet," Reiss said, his voice barely a murmur, his gaze dropping for a second, as if eye contact were too heavy a burden. There was no relief in his tone, only a somber resignation.
Jake sat. He didn't respond. Words felt useless, trivial in the face of what they had endured.
Reiss took a deep breath, his chest expanding and contracting slowly. His voice, when he spoke again, was measured, almost diplomatic, as if he were reading an official statement instead of talking to his students. "Before anything else… I want to apologize. For not telling you everything. For not warning you about what was coming. The signs were there, but my blindness, my own faith in an obsolete system, cost us too much."
"There was no way to know," Jake murmured, his tone dry, devoid of any comfort. It was the truth, yes, but a truth that didn't lessen the pain. Knowledge wouldn't have prevented the catastrophe, only anticipated it.
"I'm not looking for forgiveness," Reiss insisted, his voice firmer now, with a hint of urgency. "But I want to be clear: it wasn't cowardice, nor indifference. It was a decision, mistaken perhaps, to protect the innocence that still remained at the Academy. A futile attempt to preserve what we thought we could still save."
Jake met his eyes for the first time, a brief, raw connection. "I know. You were there. You fought. They broke your ribs. I saw you bleed protecting first-years, those who hadn't yet felt the weight of war. I don't forget that." The image of Reiss, soaked in sweat and blood, fiercely defending the youngest, was seared into Jake's mind. He wasn't a cold bureaucrat; he was a wounded guardian. A dense, heavy silence settled in the room. A silence filled with fresh wounds, with invisible ghosts dancing in the air. Everyone in the room could feel the echo of explosions, the screams of the fallen, the smell of burnt metal.
"That said…" Reiss continued, breaking the spell of silence, his voice returning to its formal tone, as if trying to take refuge in the bureaucracy of procedure. "A reconstruction protocol has been activated at the Academy. Following the death of Professor Aldrich and other council members, Lunavia has suggested that the institution officially become an extension of the national technical research body. It would be incorporated into the Strategic Science Council of Solaria Nation." The way he said it, each word pronounced with calculated precision, only served to ignite a spark within Jake.
Jake narrowed his eyes, fatigue momentarily forgotten, replaced by a growing alarm. "An extension…? Of the Council? You're going to turn the Academy into a government satellite? Just another state office, stripped of its essence, its spirit of freedom?" The idea was anathema to everything the Academy had always represented.
"It would be a scientific academic unit," Reiss replied, his voice tinged with persuasion, trying to paint an attractive picture. "With infinitely greater resources, access to advanced defense, technological subsidies for research, a network of contacts spanning the entire continent. It would be the cradle of innovation, the nation's vanguard." The words, however, sounded hollow, a disguise for something far more sinister.
Jake straightened, his fists tightening on the table, the wood groaning beneath his knuckles. The calm he had tried to maintain vanished, replaced by a cold, righteous anger. "And what else? Uniforms? Mandatory military tactical training? Psychological exams to ensure our loyalty? An admissions list selected by bureaucrats from Lunavia, picking the 'suitable' ones according to their political interests? Will we lose our autonomy, our ability to choose our own path?" His voice, though not a shout, resonated with the force of an unshakeable conviction.
"It's not about that…" Reiss tried, a hint of frustration showing on his face.
"Then what is it about?" Jake's voice cracked like a whip. "Turning us into soldiers serving a nation they don't even recognize on world maps? Making us puppets of the very system that left us alone in Altamira, that allowed our friends to die without sending a single reinforcement, without a single call of support? Selling our independence for empty promises of security and resources?"
Reiss tensed, the self-control he'd maintained until now beginning to crack. "Jake, I lost friends too. I was there too. I bled with you. Don't give me that speech as if I was behind a desk watching Raven fall. I carried their bodies, I felt the heat of the explosions, the smell of burnt flesh. There isn't a single moment when I'm not tormented by the decisions I made, or the ones I didn't."
But Jake didn't back down. He moved toward him, the distance between them shortening, charged with explosive tension. He forcefully rolled up his right sleeve, revealing the tribal mark. He held up his forearm, offering it as irrefutable proof of his suffering. The tribal mark glowed with an unnatural light, a light that seemed to consume the darkness of the room. It pulsed, alive, like a burning ember embedded in his skin. "Do you know what this is? Do you really know, Reiss? It's not just a memory. It's a connection, a burden."
Reiss didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the mark, a mixture of recognition and fear in his gaze. He had seen the mark before, but never with such intensity, with such an aura of power and pain.
"This mark wasn't given by any Lunavia scientist. It's not an experiment, nor genetic manipulation. This mark…" Jake's voice broke, the pain finally surfacing in his words, "is the scar their screams left. All of them. Every single one. The echo of their fear, their desperation, their last breath. And I will not allow the Academy to become just another office for a handful of countries that don't even acknowledge our existence, that ignore us until they need our strength, our knowledge. We will not be their tool, their pawn on a board that isn't ours."
Sophia stood, her movement decisive, her gaze firm. "Jake's right. We've lost too much. Not to surrender what's left. Not to sacrifice what makes us unique, what defines us as the Academy we are. We can't let their narrow worldview consume us."
Aria followed, her eyes shining with a cold resolve. "The Academy must be reborn, yes, but not on their terms. It must re-emerge as an Autonomous Academic Institute of Lunavia. Combining science, health, innovation, the arts, philosophy… everything that makes us human. But never dependent on a political Council, never an appendage of a government that only sees us as an exploitable resource."
Jake took a deep breath, his companions' words a balm to his wounded soul. They were the echo of a fire still burning within him. "And when the new academic year begins, we will raise the Veil of the Eternal Flame once more. No one will see us. No one will touch us. We will be a beacon for those who survive, for those who have been stripped of their hope. A flame for those who dream of a different world, a refuge for those who seek truth beyond the borders of states." The vision, though still hazy, began to take shape in his mind.
"And that new Council," Sophia added, her voice strong and clear, "will not be formed by governments, by bureaucrats who care more about power than knowledge. It will be formed by the students themselves, by the professors, by those who have tasted the soil of the Academy and drunk from its wisdom. We will be the ones to decide our destiny."
"We will decide what is taught. What is protected. And to whom the torch of knowledge, of truth, of hope is given," Aria concluded, her voice a solemn promise. The unity of the three was unbreakable, an unstoppable force.
Reiss remained silent for a long moment. The air vibrated with the intensity of the confrontation. He looked at Jake, at Aria, at Sophia. He saw in their eyes not only the scar of trauma, but also the fire of an unshakeable determination. Finally, he nodded, his jaw tight, a mixture of resignation and perhaps, a spark of admiration in his eyes. "Alright. I understand your position, your… passion. But Solaria's High Commissioners are not easily convinced. They suggest any restructuring be done thirty days before the academic closure. If you fail to consolidate the new structure by then… my proposal will be implemented." The threat was clear; the sword of Damocles hung over them. It was an ultimatum, a test of their resolve.
Jake didn't hesitate. The answer left his lips with a certainty he didn't even know he possessed. "Thirty days is enough. One month." One month to redefine the Academy's future, to fight bureaucracy, to forge a new path.
Reiss raised an eyebrow, a slight curve to his lips, a shadow of his old mischievousness. "So sure? That's an ambitious deadline, even for you, with all the talent you possess."
"I'm not sure," Jake replied, honesty resonating in his words. "But I don't need to be. I have a fire you can't control. A flame that won't be extinguished by decrees or threats. It's the fire of loss, of injustice, but also of hope. And that fire is more powerful than any council or any army." His eyes blazed with a feverish intensity, a reflection of the mark on his arm.
Reiss looked at him, for the first time, not as a young, promising student, but as an equal. As a warrior who had survived the same battle, the same dark night. Their eyes met in mutual understanding. "Then let it burn. Your way."
And with that, the retention protocol was lifted. The door to freedom opened, but the burden Jake and his companions carried was heavier than ever. The countdown had begun. Thirty days loomed before them, a colossal challenge, a race against time and against the forces that wanted to shape their destiny. The future of the Academy, of generations to come, depended on their ability to transform pain into power, ashes into a new dawn.
Reiss watched the three young people leave the room, their steps firm despite their recent wounds. A subtle relief settled in his chest, mixed with a pang of hope he hadn't felt in a long time. He looked at the floating screens still displaying restructuring charts, the bureaucratic proposal he himself had presented. A bitter smile touched his lips. Jake was making the right decision. Though his youth sometimes made him impulsive, his spirit was pure and fierce, reminding Reiss of Solaria's true foundations. The foundations of the nation and its states weren't based on blind obedience to government controls. No, Solaria's essence, the true strength of its people, had always resided in autonomy, in the freedom of its communities to forge their own path, in the idea that organizations existed to work for society, not to subjugate it. He had forgotten that, or perhaps, desperation had blinded him. But Jake, with his uncontrollable fire, had reminded him. The kid understood what it meant to be from Solaria, more than many on the Council. Maybe, just maybe, this new dawn would bring more than mere survival.