The Great Hall of Ebonveil Academy felt less like a room and more like a cathedral dedicated to judgment.
Hundreds of new recruits stood in shivering lines beneath a vaulted ceiling that shifted like a living storm cloud. In the center of the hall, resting on a pedestal made of petrified wood, was the Scale of Souls. It was a massive, ivory-colored artifact carved from the rib of a fallen god, pulsing with a low, thrumming energy that made the air vibrate.
"When your name is called, place your hand upon the Scale," High Proctor Vane's voice boomed, echoing off the obsidian walls. "It will read the density of your bloodline. It will see your past, your future, and the color of your soul. If the Scale stays grey... you are a Blank. You will be sent to the Scrapyard."
A collective shiver ran through the students. The Scrapyard was where the "magically talentless" were sent a place of slave labor and slow death.
"Alistair Vane!"
The boy with the fiery crimson hair whom Lyra had seen earlier stepped forward. He walked with a swagger that spoke of noble blood and expensive tutors. When he pressed his palm to the Scale, the Hall went blindingly bright. A roar like a furnace erupted as the artifact turned a brilliant, Ruby Red.
"B-Rank!" the Instructor shouted. The red-haired students cheered, Alistair smirking as he was directed toward the high-tier dormitories.
"Mira Rose!"
The girl with the pink hair stepped up, her fingers trembling. As she touched the bone, a soft, Rose Quartz light filled the room. "C-Rank. Passable."
Mira exhaled, her knees nearly buckling with relief as she hurried to the safe side of the hall. She cast a worried glance back at Lyra, who was standing at the very back of the line, her black hair making her look like a shadow in a room full of light.
One by one, the ranks were called. Blue, Green, Silver, Gold. Every color was a badge of safety.
"The Anomaly," Vane's voice dropped, turning cold as a grave. "Lyra Nocturne. Step forward."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush bone. Hundreds of heads turned. The whispers started immediately sharp, biting sounds that filled the hall.
"Look at her. She looks like she crawled out of a chimney."
"I heard she's a Blank. Why is she even touching the Scale?"
"Total waste of a god-bone."
Lyra's boots clicked against the stone as she walked. Every step felt like a mile. High above, in the darkened VIP balcony, she felt a gaze so intense it felt like a physical weight on her shoulders. Kael Draven, the Academy's legendary top student, was watching. He didn't look bored like the others. He looked... expectant.
Lyra reached the Scale. It was freezing, the ivory surface covered in a thin layer of frost.
"Do it, girl," Vane hissed. "Prove you are a mistake so we can throw you out."
Lyra placed her hand on the Scale.
At first, the silence deepened. The artifact remained dull. Grey. Dead.
The laughter started as a ripple. "Scrapyard! Scrapyard! Scrapyard!" Alistair led the chant, his face twisted in a cruel grin.
But then, the temperature in the Hall dropped forty degrees in a single second.
The torches along the walls didn't just flicker their flames were sucked into the darkness. The shadows of every student in the room began to detach from their bodies, rising from the floor like ink in a bowl of water.
CRACK.
A hairline fracture appeared in the center of the God-Scale.
A sound like a thousand screaming crows filled the room. The Scale didn't glow red or gold. It turned a color that shouldn't exist in nature a Void Violet so deep it looked like a hole ripped in the universe.
The Instructor fell backward, his face turning the color of ash. "The resonance... it's off the charts. It's not measuring her power."
"Then what is it doing?" Alistair screamed, his flames sputtering out in fear.
The Instructor looked at the Scale, his teeth chattering. "It's not measuring her. It's begging her not to kill it."
The God-Scale shattered into a million bone fragments.
The silence that followed was absolute. Lyra stood in the center of the ruin, her black hair whipping around her face, her eyes glowing with a faint, hollow violet.
From the shadows of the balcony, Kael Draven finally stood up, a slow, predatory smile crossing his face.
"F-Rank?" Kael's voice carried through the silent hall like a bell. "No. She isn't a rank. She's an Extinction Event."