"Damian."

  The voice was distant. Beautiful. Familiar.

  Yet I couldn't for the life of me, remember who it belonged to.

  The voice continued, calling my name gently, like waking someone from peaceful sleep.

  "Damian."

  Louder now. But something was wrong with it. The tone shifted, becoming less melodic. Less perfect.

  "Damian!"

  Louder still. The beauty bled away, replaced by irritation and authority.

  "SOLMERE!"

  The voice screamed in my ears.

  I jerked awake.

  A classroom materialized around me - wooden desks arranged in ascending rows, tall windows letting in afternoon sunlight, chalkboard at the front covered in neat script. Students filled every seat, and every single one of them was staring at me.

  Some wore mocking expressions, lips curved in smirks barely contained. Others showed concern, eyebrows furrowed with worry. A few looked amused, as if watching someone else get in trouble was the highlight of their day.

  At the center of attention - mine and theirs - stood the professor.

  He was a thin man in his fifties, wearing a well-tailored uniform that marked him as senior faculty. A monocle perched on his right eye, magnifying it slightly and giving him a perpetually scrutinizing expression. His mustache was precisely trimmed, and his posture suggested someone who'd spent too many years standing at the front of classrooms.

  Someone who, unfortunately, was quite good at their job.

  "Did you sleep well, Mister Solmere?" His tone dripped with passive aggression.

  I straightened in my seat and gave a lazy salute. "Yes, sir."

  His eye twitched. The monocle caught the light, glinting.

  "Perhaps you can enlighten the class, then, since you clearly found my lecture insufficiently engaging." He clasped his hands behind his back. "What battle served as the decisive turning point in the War of Redemption?"

  I kept my expression neutral, not wanting to provoke him further. "The Battle of Titan's Gate, sir. The mountain range where the Old Emperor first descended." I paused, noting down some of the reverant expressions of the students. "It is said that his descent alone carved the mountain in two - the largest mountain range ever recorded on our continent."

  Several students clutched necklaces at their chests, whispering prayers at the mention of the Old Emperor.

  I continued, "There, he fought back the eldritch horrors and gods that had invaded our reality. The beginning of the War of Redemption, which lasted fifteen years."

  The professor nodded, grudgingly satisfied. "Indeed. Much to my dismay, you are correct. However, if you fall asleep in my class again, Mister Solmere, you may do so in the hallway. Am I understood?"

  "Yes, sir."

  He turned back to the chalkboard, picking up a piece of chalk. "As I was saying before Mister Solmere decided to use my lecture as a lullaby..." He began writing, the chalk scratching across the board in precise strokes. "On that pivotal day, the Almighty and His prophet - the Old Emperor - bestowed upon humanity one hundred and twenty Pathways of the Divine, all born from the Emperor's Pathway."

  He underlined the number.

  "Including the Emperor's own Pathway, inherited directly from the Almighty Himself, bringing the total to one hundred and twenty-one." He turned to face us, chalk still in hand. "The Emperor offered grace to a humanity that had abandoned the Almighty, whose faithlessness had caused the barrier between our reality and the Veil to deteriorate. The rifts opened. The horrors came through. And we paid the price for our hubris."

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  His gaze swept across the classroom, lingering on certain students.

  "But the Emperor did not wage this war alone. Twelve Apostles descended alongside Him - each granted the Eyes of Angels to challenge and seal the rifts of the Veil. Together with humanity's armies, they drove the eldritch horde back through rift after rift, battle after battle, year after year." He set the chalk down. "After fifteen years of war, humanity stood at the threshold of final victory. One rift remained - the largest, the source from which all others had spawned."

  He paused for effect, as students around the room soaked in the soap opera he had so cleverly constructed.

  "We were to be free at last." His expression darkened. "Until..." He pointed at a student in the front row. "Miss Caldwell, what happened next?"

  The girl shot to her feet, voice ringing with enthusiasm and barely contained spite. "The Apostles turned, sir! They betrayed the Emperor and humanity!"

  "Precisely." The professor's satisfaction was evident. "For reasons unknown to this day, the Twelve Apostles abandoned their sacred duty and turned against the Almighty who had granted them such power." He returned to the chalkboard, dividing it into three columns. "In doing so, they caused a schism among the Pathways themselves."

  He wrote in the first column:

  HERETICAL - 38 PATHWAYS

  "Thirty-eight Divine Pathways sided with the traitorous Apostles. These are now known as the Heretical Pathways - wielded by cults scattered across the continent, hunted by the Church and Inquisition alike."

  Second column:

  HOLY - 47 PATHWAYS

  "Forty-seven remained loyal to the Emperor. These are the Holy Pathways, carried with honor in the bloodlines of our noble houses. Blessed by the Church, sanctioned by the Empire."

  Third column:

  WANDERING - 35 PATHWAYS

  "And thirty-five chose neutrality, remaining uninvolved in the conflict. These became the Wandering Pathways - drifting into obscurity, lost to time, rarely manifesting in the modern age."

  His eyes slid to me. The look was pointed, deliberate.

  "Occasionally, though, their descendants do appear and manifest such pathways. Though lost to time, they may still be able to redeem themselves and their ancestors through service to the Empire, and in turn, humanity."

  I smiled slightly, keeping my expression pleasant as I waved in response to his thinly veiled stare.

  I'm getting the message loud and clear, sir. I don't need that glare as proof.

  "Despite the betrayal of the Heritics, and the cowardice of those who've wandered into nothingness," he continued, moving away from the board, "the Emperor prevailed. Through great sacrifice and at tremendous cost, He defeated the Apostles in single combat. Their Eyes of Heaven were torn from their skulls and cast into the final rift, sealing it permanently." He spread his hands. "Thus began the Golden Age of the First Empire. An era of peace, prosperity, and divine guidance that lasted three hundred years."

  A bell rang.

  The sound triggered immediate chaos - students shoving books into bags, pencils clattering into cases, chairs scraping against wood floors as everyone prepared to flee.

  The professor raised his voice, trying to speak over the noise. "This concludes our examination of Early Imperial History! Same time next week, we shall discuss the Fragmentation Period and the collapse of the First Empire. Following that, the Unification Wars and the rise of the current Imperial Dynasty. Read chapters fourteen through eighteen before-"

  His words were lost in the exodus. Students flooded toward the exits, conversations erupting the moment they cleared the doorway.

  I gathered my things slowly, letting the crowd thin so I wouldn't be forced to interact with my fellow peers.

  "Mister Solmere."

  I paused, one hand on my bag. "Sir?"

  The professor gestured for me to approach. His expression had shifted from irritated lecturer to something more complex - concern mixed with professional duty.

  I descended the stairs between the desk rows, stopping at the podium.

  "I understand you're young," he began, organizing his papers with precise movements. "And that young men your age often believe sleep is optional. Almighty knows I was the same - more concerned in my academics than my actual health. However, this behaviour reflects poorly on both of us. Your reputation precedes you, Mister Solmere, and I would prefer not to have it confirmed in my classroom."

  I nodded lightly, still smiling.

  I appreciate the sympathy, but I don't really have a choice, Professor.

  "Understood, sir. It won't happen again."

  "I've heard that before." He looked up, meeting my eyes over his monocle. "However, that's not why I asked you to remain. That was merely some elderly advice." He set his papers down. "The Dean has requested to see you."

  I blinked. "The Dean? Why?"

  "I haven't the faintest idea." He shook his head slightly. "The message was delivered this morning - you were to report to her office immediately following this lecture."

  "I see. Thank you, Professor."

  I turned to leave.

  "Solmere."

  I glanced back.

  The professor had removed his monocle, polishing it with a cloth. Without the magnifying lens, his eye looked tired. Human. "You should rest. Properly, I mean. Not in my classroom." He replaced the monocle. "I can see the exhaustion in your eyes. Whatever burden you're carrying, optional or not, it will crush you eventually if you don't allow yourself to recover."

  Something in his tone suggested he wasn't just talking about sleep.

  I smiled - the usual smile I carried. I appreciated the sentiment, but that was the extent of my concern with his words.

  "Thank you, Professor. I'll try."

  "See that you do."

  I climbed the stairs toward the exit, leaving him to his papers and empty classroom.

  The hallway outside was crowded with students moving between lectures, their conversations creating a wall of noise that washed over me like a wave.

  I merged into the flow, letting it carry me forward.

  The Dean wanted to see me.

  This can't be good.