They reached the crest of the hill as the sun began to fall behind the western cliffs, casting gold across the valley below. The wind was softer here—cooler, carrying the scent of stone, pine, and something electric.
Orion stopped walking.
Iris did too, wordlessly, as if she knew he needed a second.
And there it was.
The Star Academy.
It rose from the heart of the valley like it had been carved from starlight and memory—silver arches and dark towers stitched into the bones of the land, its domes reflecting the last light of day. Bridges hung between buildings like threads of light, and somewhere deep within, something pulsed. Ancient. Watching.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Orion's hand drifted to his sword's hilt. The crescent mark over his eye pulsed faintly, as if Selene were looking too.
"I thought it'd feel more…" he trailed off.
"More what?" Iris asked.
"I don't know. Triumphant. But it just feels like the start of another trial."
She snorted. "Because it is."
He looked at her.
She had a leaf stuck in her hair. Her braid was fraying. There were still faint bruises along her neck from the Trial. But she stood straight, chin up, like she was daring the Academy to try and undo what she'd survived.
"We made it," she said simply.
He nodded. "Together."
They started down the path toward the gate. The stone underfoot changed—smooth now, cut intentionally, inlaid with symbols that shifted slightly if you looked too long.
"Think they'll put us in the same house?" Iris asked.
Orion blinked. "You think they'll put me in a house at all?"
"They'd be fools not to."
He tried to smile, but something inside him twisted. The vision of Malek from the Trial still lingered, sharp as broken glass in his mind.
"I don't know what they'll do with me," he admitted. "Selene's not like the others. She wasn't passed down. She wasn't…expected."
Iris bumped his shoulder. "Good. Neither were you."
They walked in silence for a few more steps.
Ahead, the gate came into view—tall and seamless, made of obsidian laced with starmetal. Two towers flanked it. Guards stood at either side.
The bridge began just ahead.
"Ready?" Iris asked.
Orion looked down at his palm, where the Trial Keeper's mark still glowed faintly.
Then up at the sky—where no star was yet visible, but he felt Selene all the same.
"I think I have to be."
They stepped forward.
The bridge loomed ahead like something forgotten by time—arched high over a chasm of swirling silver mist, lit faintly by embedded starmetal veins that pulsed like veins beneath skin. Orion's boots crunched against the gravel as they neared, each step heavier with the knowledge that once they crossed, everything would change.
Two guards waited at the foot of the bridge.
Their armor gleamed, etched with sigils Orion didn't recognize: a serpent wound around a staff, and a sun with thirteen flares.
The older of the two stepped forward. "Halt."
Orion did. Iris came to a stop just behind him, hand resting casually—too casually—on her side where her rapier waited.
The guard's gaze lingered on Orion's face, then narrowed at the crescent mark that shimmered faintly across his eye.
"That's no minor star," the man muttered. "Selene?"
Orion didn't flinch. "Yes."
The man's brows furrowed. "An old one. Nearly forgotten."
"She wasn't forgotten," Orion said quietly. "She was waiting."
The second guard stepped in, less interested in poetry. "Proof of passage?"
Without speaking, Orion and Iris lifted their palms. The faint sigil left by the Trial Keeper glowed—a ring of constellations slowly spinning, visible only in certain light.
The guards exchanged a look.
"You may cross," the older one said. "But a word of warning."
Orion tilted his head.
The guard's tone sharpened. "Your mark will draw attention in the Academy. Not all of it welcome."
Then he turned to Iris, his voice lowering. "Watch who you stand beside. Some shadows stretch too long."
Iris didn't hesitate. "Then I'll cast my own."
The gates of the Star Academy were open—but guarded by silence more than steel. Towers twisted upward like spears piercing the clouds. Banners flickered in the wind, each stitched with the crests of old Houses, some of which Orion had only ever read about.
They crossed into the courtyard, among a slow-moving crowd of other new initiates. Some bore marks that shimmered gold or storm-blue, proud and pulsing. Others were harder to read—hidden, veiled, secretive.
That's when Orion felt it: eyes on him.
He looked up.
A balcony overlooked the courtyard. Upon it stood a boy—tall, draped in a deep blue coat lined with flame-gold trim. A House crest glinted on his chest: a stylized phoenix rising from a sunburst.
The boy leaned on the railing, expression bored.
Until he saw Orion.
Then he smiled. Sharp. Amused.
And just a little cruel.
He turned, said something to the girl beside him—who barely reacted—then looked back down with a tilt of the head, like someone examining a stray animal.
Iris followed Orion's gaze. "Who is that?"
"No idea," Orion said.
As if he heard them, the boy called out over the courtyard, loud enough to carry:
"Well, the wild ones made it after all."
A few heads turned. A few snickers followed.
Orion stiffened. Iris bristled.
The boy kept going. "Try not to trip over your own shadows. Some of us were born for this. Others…" He shrugged. "Well, they'll keep the corridors clean."
Orion didn't respond.
But in his chest, Selene stirred like a rising tide.
—-
The bridge behind them vanished into morning mist. Before them, the Star Academy rose like something carved from myth.
Spired towers stretched toward the sky, silver-veined stone glittering beneath the light of the sun, while soft arcs of crystal connected walkways suspended above cascading falls. At the center, a great amphitheater bloomed open, its white-marble steps descending like a chalice carved into the mountain itself.
Orion stood still at the threshold, wind stirring his cloak. He could feel Selene humming faintly in his chest.
We've arrived.
He and Iris were guided down the central path, along with dozens of other star-bearers—some older, most their age. The gates had opened for them all. Now they stood on the cusp of becoming something more.
Guards in shimmering starmetal armor lined the outer circle of the amphitheater. Beyond them, figures watched from high terraces—Academy masters, House leaders, and ranking students with glowing marks across their bodies. One girl's mark burned bright across her collarbone in the shape of twin wings.
They were already being evaluated.
The Head Keeper stepped into the center ring—an elder with a long silver staff crowned by a rotating, rune-etched sphere. When he raised it, the air shimmered.
"Welcome, bearers of starlight," his voice rang out, reverberating through stone and soul. "You stand at the Gate of Ascent. From this moment on, you are no longer wanderers. You are no longer untested."
The students stood silent, the weight of the moment pressing in.
"In the name of the stars that chose you, or the stars you have bound to your will—declare your presence."
There was no spoken answer.
Instead, one by one, marks began to glow.
It started with a boy with storm-gray hair—his chest igniting in a sigil of wind and lightning. Then another, her palms flaring with flame.
Orion felt Selene stir.
He took a breath.
And let go.
His mark shimmered to life across his eye—a crescent of silver-white, soft but sharp, like the edge of a blade in moonlight. A cold wind swept through the amphitheater. Eyes turned toward him.
Whispers stirred.
"Lunar?"
"Ancient star…"
He didn't flinch. Not this time.
Beside him, Iris lifted her chin, and her own mark burned bright across her forearm—a stylized rose in bloom, petals trailing with threads of quiet starlight.
The crowd fell quieter still.
Once all marks had ignited, the Head Keeper lowered his staff.
"You have been seen. You have been marked. Now, you will be tested. You will be broken and remade. You will be judged not only by us—but by the stars within you."
The platform at the center pulsed with light, symbols flickering into view—twelve sigils circling like constellations.
"Tomorrow, the Houses will call. Tonight, you rest beneath our sky."
Then the light dimmed, and the ceremony was over.
But the watching didn't stop.
Eyes followed them as they turned to leave. Some curious. Some hostile.
And one pair in particular—bronze-flecked, half-lidded with confidence—watched Orion with an almost lazy interest.
Lucien Caelion smiled from the shadows of the upper ring.
The bell's echo faded into the spires.
Orion exhaled slowly, eyes sweeping across the crowd of new initiates, all murmuring beneath the twin banners of the Academy. The ceremony was over. The stars had spoken—brief flashes above each student's head. Some had roared with light. Others had flickered with quiet promise.
His own had glowed like moonlight on glass.
He felt Iris beside him, her expression unreadable, until—
"Orion."
The voice was smooth, cut from silk and superiority.
A boy stepped in front of them, flanked by two others dressed in tailored deep-blue cloaks. His was trimmed in silver thread, bearing the insignia of a crescent-winged helm.
His hair was dark and tousled in that perfect, careless way, and his eyes—hazel flecked with bronze—swept over Orion like someone appraising a cracked sword.
"Lucien Caelion," he said, not offering a hand. "House Caelion. I thought I'd see you here. You're the one they whispered about in the Trial chamber."
Orion said nothing.
Lucien's gaze flicked to the crescent mark on Orion's eye. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Lunar. Huh." He clicked his tongue. "Didn't know relics were in fashion again."
Iris shifted, but before Orion could speak, Lucien turned his full attention to her.
"But you—you're Mara's, aren't you?" His tone shifted, softened into something falsely warm. "That was a beautiful flare during the ceremony. Controlled. Composed. A rarity."
"I manage," Iris said dryly.
Lucien took a step closer, ignoring Orion entirely now. "You don't have to tether yourself to obscurity. Houses like mine exist for a reason—legacy, strength, protection. Someone with your clarity would be wasted chasing after shadows."
Iris tilted her head. "You mean him."
Lucien didn't deny it. "He's a pretty enough myth. But myths break."
"I don't break," Orion said flatly.
Lucien turned, finally looking at him again. "Not yet."
He faced Iris again. "Just think about it. You could rise fast, with the right House behind you."
Iris stepped forward, just slightly in front of Orion now.
"I don't need your House," she said, voice calm but firm. "And I'm not looking to rise behind someone else's name."
Lucien blinked. Then laughed, not cruelly—just like she'd amused him.
"Suit yourself," he said. "But don't say no one offered you better."
He nodded to his companions, then to Orion with a ghost of a smirk.
"See you around, myth."
And then he was gone, disappearing into the churning mass of students being herded toward the House Drafting Pavilion.
Orion let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Iris turned to him, eyebrows raised. "You were going to punch him, weren't you?"
"Only a little."
She grinned. "Glad you didn't. Yet."
The ceremony left a silence in its wake—not empty, but heavy. Reverent.
Orion walked beside Iris down the winding stair that led away from the amphitheater's open heart. The stone beneath their boots shimmered faintly with embedded runes, catching morning light like stardust frozen in time.
Ahead, students funneled into branching paths—some led toward dormitories carved into the cliffside, others to spiraling towers that arched over waterfalls. Banners unfurled in the breeze, each bearing symbols that pulsed with soft, colored light.
Twelve in total.
Each a House.
A Keeper with a crystalline tablet stopped them at the base of the stairs. She wore no visible mark but had the presence of someone older than she looked.
"Forms," she said, handing them thin sheets that responded immediately to touch. Their names, star-marks, and provisional rankings etched into the page in flowing silver script.
"Submit these at the House Drafting Pavilion. You'll find it at the southern end of the lower circle. You'll have until sundown to make your choice—if a House doesn't call you first."
Iris frowned at hers. "What happens if none do?"
The Keeper only smiled. "Then you'll be placed. Stars willing, that won't happen."
She moved on without another word.
Orion turned the form over. His name gleamed at the top:
Orion – Lunar Mark – Unranked
No House emblem had appeared yet. A blank field shimmered where one might.
He folded it into his sleeve.
As they walked, the layout of the Academy began to take shape in his mind—its logic written in stone, sky, and starlight.
The central circle held the amphitheater and the administrative spires. Surrounding it in rings were the various Halls—dormitories, training arenas, libraries, and the House towers that rose like constellation points across the landscape. Between each ring were bridges, sky-paths, and narrow stairs that curved along waterfalls and cliffs.
It felt like walking through a star map made real.
Everything about it hummed with purpose.
"They built it to make us feel small," Iris murmured beside him.
Orion glanced her way.
She didn't look afraid. Just thoughtful. A little annoyed. She was holding her form like it had personally offended her.
"They want us to earn our place," she added. "Even if we already did."
He nodded.
Still ahead, through the arch of an open plaza, the House Drafting Pavilion came into view—a broad, circular structure built of pale marble and deep blue steel, roofed with mirrored glass that reflected the sky like a second heavens.
Students had begun to gather beneath its open-air canopy.
Orion felt Selene stir faintly again, her presence cool and quiet, as if watching.
He squared his shoulders and stepped toward it.
Whatever came next—they were ready.
The Pavilion was humming now.
Sigils spiraled through the air like slow-turning constellations, each one tied to a House name. Students were being pulled like comets into orbit, one by one, as the light above their heads shimmered into place.
Chosen.
And yet, Orion stood untouched.
Beside him, Iris remained still too. The light around her pulsed faintly, but no House crest had crowned her name.
Across the pavilion, he spotted Lucien Caelion in conversation with a ring of officials. His cloak rippled like ink, marked by that silver-stitched helm. Already surrounded. Already certain.
Orion's stomach tightened.
A voice announced another name—someone bonded to House Veilhart, then House Tyros, the cheers echoing off the domed glass.
Still no star above him.
Still nothing for Iris.
He glanced sideways, but she didn't look worried. Just steady.
"You think they're ignoring us on purpose?" he asked quietly.
Iris didn't look at him. "I think they're waiting to see who we'll be."
Before he could respond, the lights above them shifted.
A hush fell.
Then—
Two sigils lit up at once. Not from a House, but directly from the central dais.
The older students and Keepers stirred.
"Independent Claim."
The words echoed through the hall like a bell strike.
A symbol—not a crest, but a mark—formed above Orion's name: a silver crescent crossed by a single line of dusk-blue.
Then above Iris's: a spiral of stars with a pale eye in the center.
Not House-claimed. Not legacy-placed.
Self-bound.
Star-chosen.
Whispers rippled through the space. Some were impressed. Some uncertain. A few were openly disapproving.
But Orion didn't care. His chest ached like something had been cut loose and stitched back stronger.
He looked at Iris.
She smiled at him, her eyes bright. "Guess we're our own House now."
"Better than being Caelion's plus ones," he muttered.
They were herded out of the Pavilion beneath banners still pulsing with light. Some students laughed, their names freshly etched into lineage and legacy. Others walked quieter, unsure of what came next.
Orion was still watching the sigils fade when a robed Keeper approached him and Iris.
"Independent claimants," the man said with a thin, unreadable smile. "Follow me."
They trailed him through the arched walkways of the Academy, where crystal lanterns floated on air currents and staircases bent subtly as if reshaping themselves for their step. The buildings were carved from pale, veined stone—almost starmetal in texture—with long banners fluttering from spires high above.
Iris leaned toward him, whispering, "Why does this place feel like it's breathing?"
Orion wasn't sure. But she wasn't wrong.
The Keeper spoke as they walked, voice clipped but clear.
"There are Twelve Houses recognized within the Academy, each tied to a star legacy or clan line. Some hold inherited Stars. Others are known for shaping talents over generations. Houses have their own dormitories, training halls, private mentors, and seats in the Academy Council. You, of course, are not part of them."
He glanced back briefly, lips twitching as if amused. "Independent Houses are… rare. Most collapse within a year."
"We're not most," Iris said coolly.
The Keeper said nothing else.
They passed the central Tower of Convergence, where the inner ring students trained—those already ranked, already favored. Below it, broad fields spread out for open combat and ritual sparring. Paths curved toward libraries, elemental forges, meditation sanctuaries, and what looked like a miniaturized celestial observatory humming with quiet power.
But the Keeper led them to the northwestern corner of the Academy.
A smaller tower stood there—older, quieter, vines half-crawling up one side.
The Keeper gestured. "Dorms for unclaimed or independent initiates. You may outfit it to your needs. You'll find uniforms and forms for House naming and registration inside. You are to submit your title before dawn."
And then he was gone, robes sweeping like smoke behind him.
The door creaked open easily.
Inside was a wide, two-story space with tall windows and soft silver light pooling across polished stone. A small hearth sat dormant in the center. There were two sleeping alcoves, a writing desk, and a long table that looked built for strategies that hadn't been written yet.
Orion walked in slowly, running a hand along the window frame. It was cold to the touch.
"Not bad," Iris said, already tossing her satchel onto a chair. "Definitely haunted. Ten out of ten."
He smiled faintly, then moved to the desk where a sealed scroll waited. Across the top:
Independent House Registration
Below it:
Designate your House Name. All chosen titles are final.
Orion sat down.
Iris crossed her arms behind him. "We could go with something intimidating. Like House Nocturne. Or House Voidfang."
"We're not villains," he said dryly.
"Speak for yourself," she muttered.
He stared at the blank line for a long moment. Then picked up the pen.
House Selira.
Selene. Mara. Twinned legacies. Their stars.
Their own path.
Iris came around the table and smiled when she saw the name.
"House Selira," she said aloud. "I like it."
"We're not Caelion. We're not part of the inner rings. We're just—"
"Us," she finished.
The fire in the hearth sparked on.
Not magic. Just timing, maybe.
But Orion felt something settle in his chest.
This wasn't the end of the journey. Not even close.
But it was the beginning of something that was truly theirs.