His echoing and rippling foot-steps flooded across the notion of time. Khonsu stepped atop another of his residence's innumerable, floating surfaces, perusing the paintings hooked onto his door.

"Your death was a tragic one." He mellifluously murmured to himself, swiping a smooth, silky finger across the painting of a pale and imperious visage. Khonsu tapped the picture-frame, sighing. "What a shame..."

I listened to the clanging and cacophonous falsettos or sopranos of my class-mates. I perambulated through the academy's sempiternal corridor, coasting myself into professor Krwn's class-room.

"Morning. Mr. Gloomy." Saue lazily smirked, lounging on top of his pallid and pale cloud-cushion. He slouched into his personal-chair, flicking his sketch-pad onto another page. "You're not late? Baffling."

"Oh, shut up." I blandly grouched back, settling into my own, flinty school-seat. The raucous, vociferous voices from my school-mates bothered me - as I reposed my head onto my desk. "I was studying."

"Oh, graduation tests, eh?" He pensively retorted, a sarcastic and lackadaisical grin decorating itself on his languid features. Saue pressed two fingers onto his cloud-cushion, creating himself a pen. "You going to the upper-schools?"

"Nah, upper-schools suck." Upper-schools were another type of academy where graduated students could be taught higher levels - or versions - of their spells. "I want to be a mage, nothing less."

"Depressing." Saue unsympathetically riposted, designing an illustration of his own, calloused face on the sketch-book. He clicked his fingers, his cloud-hand brushing the flesh of his back. "What's your vocation? Motivation?"

Vocation? Oh, my career-plan.

"Live life." I casually chuckled, raising my pulseless skull from the mahogany-painted table. I inspected the murals painted across professor Krwn's class-room; humming. "A career-plan..."

"Live life? A monotonous, boring commitment, then?" Saue bemusedly groaned to himself; unimpressed. He brushed his summoned pen across the material of his sketch-pad, suspiring. "What a shame, Vasura, a shame."

"I mean. Karasuu, Wukong, and I are going to rent out an apartment for ourselves."

"Another bewildering notion regarding you." Saue listlessly yawned, slumping back into the fabric of his cloud-cushion. He tapped the button of his azure-decorated pen, laughing. "Still, you must love it. Adore the feeling."

"The feeling?" I incredulously murmured, my soprano flummoxed and baffled. I stretched my muscles, detecting a throb of natural-mana from Saue: who flourished his pen until it crumbled. "What feeling?"

"The feeling of solitude..."

Raiqen and I settled into the bench of Spectral-Academy's personal-park. I scanned the timeless and capacious sector, unclipping the top of my water-bottle.

"Damn, over 7 years, huh?" Raiqen insouciantly murmured, gulping in a slice of his stolen chocolate-cake. He glanced at either isolated students or partners who were canoodling. "My dad's getting me into an upper-school."

"What's the call for?" I lazily retorted, hauling the water-bottle onto my bemused tongue. I swallowed in an intake of my beverage, flicking the lid back onto its top, sighing. "Some philosophical discussion?"

"I ain't philosophical, at all." He dryly groused to himself, seizing in a deluge of summoned crisps through his entertained lips. Raiqen flicked the packet of food into his [Centre], lounging onto the bench. "You're an orphan?"

"Indeed." I monotonously riposted, slinging my bottle of water into the gulf of a sapphire-striped bin. Interesting design. I swiped three of my fingers through its arm-rests, humming. "Raised in an orphanage for a few years."

Raiqen chuckled to himself in a gruff, gravelly falsetto, grappling onto the plate atop his lap. He flung it towards me - as I parried his stolen-tool, fragmenting the platter into uncountable smithereens. "You're skilled, Vasura."

"Now, for why I called you." Raiqen languidly grinned, stretching the essence of his skin itself. He canted his sempiternal skull, coasting an ebony-box from his [Centre], yawning. "A gift for a good buddy."

"Thanks?" I bewilderedly murmured, scattering and hooking the box into my own little-dimension of storage. I peered over to Raiqen: who seized his pocket-watch, groaning. "Something up?"

"Professor Qwoin wants me to help him create an elixir." He idly dismissed, flinging his pocket-watch back into the slit of his obsidian-trousers. Raiqen sauntered onto the sector's smooth, eternal path; unbothered. "See ya!"

"Later."

I reposed myself onto another section of the bench, inspecting the concrete of my school's personal-territory. I adored the feeling of isolation, huh? Still, I was unperturbed by Saue's observations of me and my personality.

"Yo, Gaia." I grouchily suspired, channelling a ripple of mana into my fingers' flesh. I summoned a [Tendril-Of-The-Deceased] - watching it crumble the scattered fragments of the plate. "You wanna rob me of my connector?"

"Maybe." Gaia haughtily grinned, settling onto the discarded sector of the academy's bench. She brushed her hand across her pale and white hair, her ebony irises themselves frolicking. "Come on. Smile or something."

"You could grin less." I blandly smirked back, lounging into the material of the mahogany-decorated bench. I perused her imperious features, feeling flecks of warmth in her mana. "Stop exerting your magic over me."

"Sure." She casually shrugged, dissolving the sizzling, boiling pulsation of her presence. Gaia was, indeed, a baffling and flummoxing individual. Still, she was a sociable or disgruntling entity. "Oh, Vasurai?"

Vasurai? Osiris and Gaia favoured calling me by another version of my name.

"Hm?"

"What dimensions are interesting for you?"

"Expany. Hell. And Rusteed." I languidly riposted, straightening myself up. I climbed onto my feet, ambling onto the sector's smoothened out path. "Devils sound sick."

"They are sick."

"Indeed-"

I peered back over to the sector's gargantuan bench - noting of the traces of some type of spell for transportation. I blandly smirked to myself, strolling towards the fountain section of the academy's campus.

The school was being pitiful about school-tasks, home-work, combat-training, and tests, for most of us would be graduating or transferring into upper-schools - where their skills would be prospering; growing.

I voyaged across the fountain-section's crimson-designed path - identifying Wukong: who heaved up a sandwich onto his bemusing or baffling lips. He glanced towards me, flicking a crumb onto the concrete.

My feet themselves stepped forward - aiming for the little, outside cafeteria table the fountain-section carried - until Wukong gazed back to Lilih and Osiris; they were discussing something regarding lineage or genetics.

"Best not to bother them." I casually cerebrated, reposing myself onto another chair at the cafeteria. I seized a classic novel from my sapphire-decorated pouch, perusing its descriptive-illustrations. "Interesting."

The story was written by an obscured, obfuscated author. They used a bemusing pen-name for the publication of this antique book. The-Phantom. It was a successful, popular novel for innumerable years.

Still, the book's popularity and reputation crumbled - becoming another echo of mana inside the [Mana-Currents]. I flittered the book onto its 48th page, inspecting the story itself, humming. "Life and death are illusions, huh?"

Foolish.

I coasted myself into my divided dormitory-room, settling atop the sanguine sofa. I glanced at the couch Karasuu slept on, clicking the button for the entertainment-crystal.

My fingers pulsated into my pocket-dimension, summoning me a carton of frosty-flavoured milk-chocolate. I flicked the top, gulping in a ripple of appetizing beverage. "What programme to watch?"

Entertainment-crystals utilized a head-inspection spell to produce a programme from an individual's imagination. Still, the programme would exclusively be advertised on channels if a person approved of the imaginative-idea.

Hell, some people created companies where they featured their own programmes on entertainment-crystals, garnering innumerable amounts of money and social - or, seldom, political - power.

I checked over the alarm-clock on top of Karasuu's sofa's arm-rests. The time was 4:00 - PM. My sources - being me - dictated the time Spectral-Academy ended was 2:30 - PM, for people in graduating classes.

I yawned to myself in a gruff and gravelly soprano, slinging the entertainment-crystal onto a programme of the anomalies of dimensions themselves. I slouched into the sofa's fabric; interested.

Osiris stepped across the mahogany-painted corridor of Spectral-Academy, brushing a slim and taunt finger over his pale, ageless visage. He sauntered into an office, peering towards Professor Solea: who chuckled.

His features themselves writhed - feeling the warmth of the five candles on top of the professor's sweltering desk. Osiris snapped his fingers; as a glacial-zephyr drifted onto his torrid flesh.

"Oh, good night for you. Mr. Osail." Solea gently murmured, seizing one of his sizzling, boiling candles. He flourished it, crumbling the wax into fragments of scattered magical-energy. "I apologize for the warmth."

"It's fine, professor." Osiris wanly riposted, his falsetto unimpressed and pitiless. He reposed himself onto the office's chair, his crimson irises inspecting Solea's throbbing candles. "What are they for? It's hot outside."

"I adore the warmth. Mr. Osail." Professor Solea gruffly laughed, tipping the frames of his antique and timeless glasses back atop his visage. He tapped the fragment of mana, humming. "Now, what's your plan?"

"Return to my dimension, Heaying." He blandly retorted, flicking another icy-zephyr across the aerosphere of the sector. Osiris felt the echo of distorted-air wash through his features, sighing. "Why are you interested?"

"Oh, no. I gave this discussion to all of my students." Solea softly dismissed, stretching open his crimson-decorated desk's drawer. He brushed his white stubble, grappling onto a letter. "And some advice for them all."

"Thank you, professor." Osiris politely drawled, clipping the letter into the abyss of his [Centre]. He scattered the paper into his pocket-dimension, straightening up atop his chair. "Is this all? Professor Solea?"

"Perhaps, Osiris." The professor mellifluently chuckled, a rare and ageless smile painting itself over his eternal face. Solea peered into the drawer, swiping a gentle finger across his desk. "Still, I'm concerned for you."

"Me?"

"Oh, indeed." Solea casually rumbled, disconnecting the frames of his azure-glasses from his head. He seized a tissue, tapping it at the material of his visors. "I heard from Khonsu another of your relative's died."

"That's private information, professor." Osiris pitilessly mumbled; unperturbed. He stepped from the office-chair, striding out of the sector - as he stepped into the corridor, sighing. "I prefer my solitude and privacy."

"We all prefer it, all of us."

Osiris sauntered into the fountain-section of Spectral-Academy, glancing at the night of the welkin. He slipped his hands into his sapphire-slacks' pockets, coasting himself onto an outside table and chair.

"What a chilly night this is, eh?" Saue lazily chuckled, lounging onto another of the table's chairs. His azure irises perused the eternal murals painted on the fountain's pedestal, humming. "Professor Solea called you, hm?"

"He called me." Osiris lackadaisically groused, slumping into the seats of the outside cafeteria's desk. He suspired to himself, gazing over to Saue's sketch-book's innumerable illustrations. "Your hobby must be fun."

"Yep, drawing's a difficult hobby. Still, it's fun." He languidly riposted, brushing his pen across the blank, rippling paper. Saue's cloud-fingers summoned him a smoothie from his [Centre], crumbling. "And worth the trouble."

"Could you draw something for me?"

"Sure. What's the image?" Saue insouciantly interrogated, swallowing in an intake of his vanilla-smoothie. He scattered the bottle into his pocket-dimension, flicking his sketch-pad. "I'm all for helping my class-mates."

"Draw me a person."

"Vague." 

"A person who is immutable. A person who cares for none, yet cares for it all."

"Obscured, still." He casually laughed, swiping his crimson-painted pen across the paper of his sketch-pad. Saue's cloud seized him onto the top of it - as he floated forward, over the fountain-section's path. "Wait a week. Okay?"

"Wait, would you?"

"Huh?"

Osiris stepped onto the same path Saue's cloud was hovering on top of. He glanced towards the sketch-pad's illustration of purple and sanguine irises, humming. "What's your plan for post-graduation?"

"Study runes and sigil spells." Saue listlessly murmured, his cloud's material growing him two, pale eye-patches. He slumped into his mana-created cushion, drifting across the smooth, torrid lane. "Nothing less."

"Indeed, Saue." Osiris blandly grouched to himself, sauntering back onto another of the innumerable paths. He stepped towards the dormitories, climbing the steps into his personal-sector. "My dimension, huh?"

Keen eyes watched.