The Skyland has a proper name, as it turns out.

  During one of our early sessions, Sky explained the geography of this floating realm. It's called the Citlalli Continent—a collection of six islands suspended above the world below. Each island belongs to one of the Luminaries, positioned directly above one of Sphere's six surface continents. At the center, larger than all the others, sits the capital island where celestial society gathers for important matters.

  This island—Athushar's island—oversees the Ybará continent far below. From certain vantage points, if the clouds part just right, I can see hints of land beneath us. Green and brown and blue, impossibly distant.

  It's been several days since I arrived in this world.

  I've stopped counting exactly. Time moves differently here—not in a magical sense, but in the way that routine makes days blur together. Wake up. Train. Eat. Train more. Sleep. Repeat.

  The wonder hasn't faded entirely. I still catch myself staring at the seven suns as they rise in sequence, each one cresting the horizon at a slightly different angle. I still feel my breath catch when the wind shifts and I glimpse a Tempest Wyvern soaring beneath the island—massive, serpentine, its scales catching light like scattered jewels.

  "They distribute cores," Sky explained the first time I saw one. "Even the sky requires balance."

  A dragon with a job. Only in this world.

  But alongside the wonder, there's something else now. Something I didn't expect.

  Boredom.

  My training has settled into a rotation.

  Combat training with Cobalt, one of Athushar's offspring. Cobalt is... intense. The celestial's form is denser than the others I've met, with sharper angles and a deeper blue glow that pulses when agitated. Which is often.

  "Again," Cobalt says whenever I fail a drill. Which is also often.

  If Earth had celestial PE teachers, they would be Cobalt. Straightforward, demanding, and somehow still encouraging underneath the bluntness. I've learned basic stances, simple defensive maneuvers, and how to fall without hurting myself—a skill I've used more than I'd like to admit.

  Mental training with Sky, who has shifted from general guidance to something more focused. We work on sensing cores, yes, but also on what Sky calls "psychological maintenance."

  "An unstable mind creates unstable Materia," Sky told me. "Before you can shape the world, you must be able to shape yourself."

  Translation: they want to make sure I'm not a liability before they send me down to the surface.

  I can't blame them for that.

  And then there's Materia training with Teal.

  Teal is different from the other celestials I've met. Where Athushar is reserved and Sky is measured, Teal is... enthusiastic. Passionate. The celestial's form leans more feminine than the others, though I'm still not entirely sure how celestial gender works—or if it works at all.

  What I am sure of is that Teal talks. A lot.

  "Yuuki, you must understand that Materia is not merely manipulation," Teal said during our last session, drifting in circles around me as I tried to concentrate. "It is expression. Philosophy made manifest. The way you shape water reflects the way you think about fluidity. The way you call fire speaks to your relationship with transformation. When you merge elements—"

  AI, are you getting this?

  ? Every word. ?

  Good. Because I stopped listening.

  ? That is unfortunate. Teal's explanation of elemental merging is genuinely fascinating. Did you know that combining the cores of water and air can create— ?

  AI. Please.

  ? You are missing valuable information, Yuuki. ?

  And you're starting to sound like Teal.

  ? ...I will take that as a compliment. ?

  Despite my complaints, I have learned things. Materia isn't just "borrowing" elements, as I initially understood it. With enough skill, you can merge cores—combine water and earth to create mud, blend fire and air to intensify flames, fuse multiple elements into entirely new substances.

  It's chemistry. Magical chemistry.

  The science part of my brain finds this fascinating. The rest of me finds it exhausting.

  The truth is, I'm burning out.

  Back on Earth, whenever studying got too heavy, I had escapes. I'd drag my friends to the mall. We'd have sleepovers where we'd talk about nothing until 3 AM. I'd wander through the city just to see something different.

  Here, everything is the same.

  The same golden trees. The same yellow grass. The same small pond outside the cottage. The same rotation of training sessions with the same celestials in the same locations.

  I know I should be grateful. I'm alive—somehow. I'm learning skills that would be impossible on Earth. I'm being cared for by beings who have no obligation to help me beyond duty.

  But I'm also trapped on a floating island with no one my own age, no entertainment, and no way to just... be a person for a while.

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  I want to go somewhere, I thought one evening, lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling. Anywhere. Just to see something new.

  The routine has changed my body, at least.

  I noticed it a few days in—the way my arms didn't ache as much after Cobalt's drills. The way I could hold a meditation stance longer without my legs cramping. My breathing during core-sensing exercises became steadier, deeper.

  I'm not transformed or anything dramatic. But I'm... harder than I was. More present in my own skin.

  Dying and getting reborn in another world is apparently great for fitness, I thought dryly. Someone should market that.

  The celestials have a family structure I'm still trying to understand.

  Athushar's offspring—Cobalt, Teal, Sky, and others I've glimpsed but not formally met—live in a larger dwelling near the island's center. A proper celestial home, Sky called it. I haven't visited; there's been no time between training sessions.

  Athushar, meanwhile, lives alone in this small cottage.

  "I prefer solitude," Athushar said when I asked. "Quiet allows for contemplation. My offspring are... not quiet."

  Cobalt and Teal being loud? Shocking.

  I've also wondered about celestial reproduction. Based on what I know of biology, some species can reproduce without a partner—parthenogenesis. Is that how Athushar had offspring? Is Athushar female in some sense?

  I decided not to ask. Some questions are better left unexplored.

  What I have explored is the food.

  Athushar forages—or perhaps "cultivates" is more accurate—various fruits from the island's golden trees. My favorite is a spherical fruit with a golden exterior, mango-like interior, and an avocado-shaped seed. Sweet and salty at once, with a watermelon's texture.

  One evening, I showed Athushar how to make juice from it.

  "You crush the flesh," I explained, demonstrating with a wooden tool Athushar had provided. "Then strain out the pulp. Add water if it's too thick. And if you have ice..."

  Athushar watched with what I interpreted as interest.

  "Ice can be provided," the celestial said. "Just wield the water from the pond and cold wind outside and merged it to create ice."

  Wow, a visual presentation.

  The next day, we had iced fruit juice.

  Athushar, I discovered, has a preference for cold drinks.

  Who knew celestials had taste preferences?

  These small discoveries have made Athushar feel less alien to me. Less like a cosmic guide and more like a very unusual roommate.

  Little did I know that my wish for something different would come true the very next morning.

  I woke to find Athushar already present—not drifting through the cottage on morning tasks, but seated in the chair across from the couch. Waiting.

  "Athushar?" My voice came out rough with sleep.

  "You are awake. Good. We must discuss something of importance."

  I sat up immediately, shaking off the drowsiness. Athushar's tone was the same measured cadence as always, but there was a weight to the words that made my stomach tighten.

  Important topic. That can't be good.

  I moved to sit across from the celestial, the morning light filtering through the windows in pale gold shafts.

  "You have wondered, I assume, why we train you in survival and knowledge of Sphere," Athushar began.

  "I figured it was so I could take care of myself when I leave the island," I said. "And maybe... so you could evaluate whether I'd cause problems?"

  "Perceptive." Athushar's form shifted slightly—approval, maybe. "It is indeed both. We prepare you for independence, yes. But we must also assess whether you are suited for it."

  There it is.

  "Assess how?"

  "There is a gathering called the Prism. All six Luminaries convene to discuss matters of significance. Otherworlders, when they appear, are among those matters."

  I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the morning air.

  "So I have to... appear before all six Luminaries?"

  "You will be presented. Observed. Questioned, perhaps." Athushar paused. "Your character will be judged."

  Judged by six ancient celestial beings. No pressure.

  "What happens if I... pass? Whatever passing means?"

  "You are granted autonomy. Freedom to descend to the surface and live as you choose, with certain provisions and guidance."

  "And if I fail?"

  The question hung in the air.

  "Then you will be subjected to the Trial of Survival," Athushar said. "A test designed to determine whether your presence in Sphere would pose unacceptable risk."

  A test I definitely don't want to take.

  "What does that involve?"

  "That is not relevant at present." Athushar's tone carried a finality that discouraged further questions. "What matters now is preparation. The Prism convenes soon. We depart today."

  I blinked.

  "Today?"

  "Yes. We will travel to the capital. You will be housed in the Blue House—my formal residence there—until the gathering."

  Wait. Slow down.

  "Athushar, this is—you're just telling me this now? I don't get time to prepare? To think about it?"

  "Preparation has been ongoing since your arrival," Athushar said. "Every training session, every lesson, every conversation—all of it has been preparation. You are more ready than you realize."

  That's not reassuring.

  ? Yuuki. Remain calm. ?

  Easy for you to say.

  ? This is significant, but not necessarily threatening. The Luminaries have a duty to guide otherworlders. That implies they want you to succeed, not fail. ?

  Unless they decide I'm a risk.

  ? Then we ensure they do not decide that. We need more information about what this gathering entails. Ask questions. ?

  Right. Right.

  I took a breath.

  "Athushar. What should I expect? What will they ask me? What are they looking for?"

  "The specifics vary. Each Luminary has their own concerns, their own methods of assessment." Athushar rose from the chair—or rather, drifted upward. "I will explain more as we travel. For now, we must prepare to depart. Your appearance will need to be addressed."

  "My appearance?"

  "You cannot appear before the Prism in borrowed fabric." Was that amusement in Athushar's voice? Hard to tell. "The Blue House has proper garments. Come."

  We cleaned the cottage quickly—or rather, I cleaned while Athushar observed and occasionally directed. Then we walked out the back, past the small pond, into the golden forest.

  The morning was beautiful, as always. Four suns had risen, casting overlapping shadows that shifted as we moved. The wind carried that faint sweet scent I'd come to associate with this island. Lesser spirits drifted among the trees, their soft glow dimmed by daylight.

  But I couldn't enjoy it the way I usually did.

  AI, this feels like a major event. We need to be ready for anything.

  ? Agreed. Once we have more information about the Prism's format, we can develop contingencies. For now, observe everything. The Blue House, the other Luminaries, the capital itself—all of it is data. ?

  Data. Right. I can do data.

  ? Also, Yuuki— ?

  Yeah?

  ? Regardless of how this unfolds, you are not facing it alone. ?

  That helped. A little.

  We walked for longer than I expected. The island was larger than my daily routine had suggested—most of my time had been spent within a small radius of the cottage, the training grounds, and the pond.

  Now I saw more. Clusters of golden trees gave way to open meadows of yellow grass. Rock formations jutted from the earth, their surfaces etched with patterns I didn't recognize. At one point, we passed a stream that flowed upward, defying gravity before curving back down in a gentle arc.

  This world makes no sense.

  I love it.

  Then, rising above the treeline ahead, I saw it.

  The Blue House.

  "Simple name" was my first thought. My second thought was that whoever named it had a gift for understatement.

  The structure was massive—a series of interconnected spires that seemed to grow from the island itself, their surfaces the same luminous blue as Athushar's form. They twisted toward the sky in organic spirals, like frozen flames or crystallized water caught mid-flow. Windows—if that's what they were—glinted at irregular intervals, catching the light of the four risen suns and scattering it in patterns that moved across the ground.

  The golden trees framed it perfectly, their leaves rustling in the wind, clouds drifting past the highest spires.

  So this is where we're going.

  I felt very small.

  I felt very uncertain.

  But also—underneath the anxiety, underneath the fear—I felt something else.

  This is what I wanted, I realized. Something new. Something different.

  Be careful what you wish for, I guess.

  ? Are you ready? ?

  No. But let's go anyway.

  I took a breath, squared my shoulders, and followed Athushar toward the Blue House.