The afternoon sun filtered through the curved skylights of Semesta Academy, spilling ribbons of light across marble halls that hummed with voices.
Classes had ended for the day, yet the campus didn’t rest. Seniors moved through corridors with measured confidence while the new Form 1 students — barely thirteen — hurried aside, whispering greetings and small bows.

At the heart of the academy rose the Semesta Library, a living monument of glass and stone that pulsed faintly with energy.

The Library of Five Rings

From the outside, the library spiraled like a tower of thought, each level narrowing above the last.
Inside, it felt like stepping into a cathedral built for knowledge itself.

Five circular tiers ascended toward the dome, connected by translucent walkways of light. Each ring mirrored a school form — Form 1 at the base, Form 5 at the summit — symbolizing the climb from ignorance to mastery.

Thousands of volumes hovered beside crystalline consoles; digital scrolls floated in mid-air, adjusting brightness to whoever read them. Bio-luminescent trees lined the study gardens, shedding gentle blue glow. Overhead, the dome projected a shifting star map that changed with every hour, constellations breathing in and out like slow light.

Whispering drones drifted between aisles, their blended voices forming a calm refrain:
“Silence sustains memory. Order sustains learning.”

Tom Anderson stepped inside and paused. The hum met his skin like a pulse; he could feel the resonance woven through the structure, as if the building itself were listening.

Clusters of new students crowded around holo-desks. Among them, upper-form students in colored crests moved like constellations among stars — silver for Form 3, crimson for Form 4, gold for Form 5.

Near the central ring stood a girl who drew every glance.
Long dark hair tied with a white ribbon, posture straight, expression calm yet commanding. Her badge shimmered with gold filigree: Serena Mendes — Vice President, Student Council.

A younger boy hurried to her side, arms full of books nearly his own height.
“S-Sis! I got the archives you wanted!”

Serena’s sternness softened. “Thank you, Niko. And breathe — you’re shaking the data-chips.”

Tom watched from a distance. Freshmen bowed when Serena passed. Respect for seniors wasn’t a rule here; it was oxygen.
Even hierarchy had resonance.

Farther ahead, a cluster of Form 4 students lounged by the pillars, crimson crests flashing. Their laughter carried like static. At the center sat Lau Pena, tall and broad-shouldered, the gold emblem of Disciplinary Head gleaming on his chest. Even the drones adjusted their paths when his gaze shifted.

Echoes of Conflict

Tom wandered between aisles, fingertips brushing floating titles: Energy Compression Physics. Resonant Psychobiology. Chronal Stability Theory.
Knowledge that once felt instinctive now read like nostalgia.

A noise drew him forward.
Two Form 3 students had cornered a trembling boy in green-trim Form 2.
“You borrowed from the wrong shelf again,” one sneered. “Upper tiers aren’t for Adepts.”

“I-It was empty below, I just—”
A shove. Pages scattered like feathers.

Before Tom could move, a calm voice cut through the tension.

“That’s enough.”

Serena Mendes stepped into view, Niko close behind. Even Lau Pena glanced down from the balcony.

The bullies froze. “Vice President Mendes, we were just—”

“Leaving,” she said. Her tone didn’t rise, yet the air obeyed.

They retreated, muttering. Niko knelt to gather the pages. “Here,” he said softly to the Form 2 boy.

Tom watched, eyes narrowing—not in judgment, but in reflection.
Hierarchy breeds order, he mused, but pride poisons both.

Raven Dorn

As the crowd dispersed, another student approached — lean, silver-crested, data-pad in hand.
“Mendes handled that fast,” he noted, typing. “Makes my job easier.”

Tom recognized him: Raven Dorn, the Library Prefect, famous for knowing every regulation by heart.

Raven glanced up. “You’re the one who naps here, right? Try not to snore. The drones complain.”

Tom’s lips curved. “I’ll whisper.”

“Good.” Raven tapped his pad and walked on, leaving Tom oddly at ease amid the quiet hum.

Peace Among Shelves

He found his corner near the lower spiral garden — a nook between floating shelves where sunlight spilled through pale leaves.
He stretched out on the bench, one arm behind his head, and let the rhythm of the library align with his breathing.

Within moments, thought and dream blurred.

Framework complete… all material accounted except Octanium… warehouse loss minimal…

His lips moved unconsciously. A faint pulse rippled through the floor, making nearby drones stutter mid-flight before stabilizing.

At another table, Jenny looked up from her notes. “He’s doing it again,” she whispered.

Zachary grinned. “Sleep-talk Anderson. Probably reciting equations.”

Jenny smiled, though her curiosity lingered. The air around Tom felt different — quiet water with hidden depth.

“He looks too relaxed,” she muttered.
“As long as he doesn’t fall behind,” Zachary replied.

Shadows of Power

Above the first tier, Lau Pena leaned on the railing, watching.
“Freshmen get too comfortable,” he said to the seniors beside him. “Respect is earned.”

One gestured toward the Form 2 boy Serena had defended. “He’s easy prey.”

Lau’s eyes narrowed. “Not here. Too many witnesses. Wait for field drills.”

Serena, arranging archives nearby, caught fragments of their talk. Her jaw tightened, but she stayed silent. The Council needed proof, and Lau never left any.

Niko tugged at her sleeve. “Sis, don’t worry. Mr. Ooi says the academy’s fair.”

Serena smiled faintly. “Fairness depends on who holds the scale.”

Jenny’s Discovery

Evening settled; students drifted away until only Jenny remained, copying notes beside the sleeping Tom.
Sunlight faded into gold across the dome’s constellations.

Tom murmured again — soft, deliberate.

“Monitor the network… check the firewall… expect hostile or hidden breach…”

Jenny froze. Those weren’t random words. They sounded like orders.

A flicker of light flashed across the ceiling — gone in an instant.

She leaned closer. “Tom?”

No reply. Only calm breathing.

She gathered her books, whispering to herself, “He reads too many simulations.”
Still… why did it sound real?

The Library Listens

When the doors sealed behind her, a librarian drone floated near Tom’s bench.
Sensors flickered red.

“Anomaly detected. Frequency — unregistered. Source — unknown.”

Data streamed upward to the central archive.
Hidden subroutines logged it as Echo 00642, paused … then filed it under Low Priority Noise.

Lights dimmed.
Tom shifted in half-sleep and murmured, “Keep sleeping, First World.”

Serena and the Scale of Order

On the top tier, Serena closed the disciplinary ledger. The library lay empty except for the hum of drones and her brother napping on a couch below.

Her gaze traced the rings of the tower — circles of students, power, ambition.
“Five forms,” she whispered. “Five steps to heaven… or five steps to ruin.”

She touched her council badge, its gold warm under her palm. Tomorrow’s hearing would address more bullying reports — Lau Pena’s group again.

Nightfall

By midnight, the Semesta Library returned to stillness.
The dome above rearranged its stars into constellations unseen on any chart.

Tom’s eyes opened once — gold glinting beneath the calm. He watched the shifting stars and whispered a line meant for no ear in this world.

“They’re watching. Interesting.”

Then he closed his eyes, and the library — vast, humming, alive — kept his secret.

End of Chapter 18 – Library of Echoes