In a desolate land filled with rocks and strange, unrecognizable things, a woman was running. In every direction there were only ruins of what could once have been called a civilization. The place was so devastated that even its creator would not have wanted to look at it now.
The woman kept running. She did not know why. Her breath was heavy, yet a strange emotion twisted inside her. It was not sadness, anger, or despair, but something far more disturbing—joy, perhaps. Even she could not tell.
Suddenly a shadow fell over her from behind, and she stopped. Looking down, she saw that her hands were covered in black—whether it was skin, armor, or some unknown material she could not tell.
Interesting, she thought.
The being behind her said something, but she could not understand the words. She tried to turn around, and before the vision faded, she caught a final glimpse of a pair of golden eyes.
They were so beautiful that even after she woke up, she still felt as though those eyes were watching her.
The woman was dreaming again.
Ever since she could remember, not a single night had passed without a dream. Over the years, she had grown accustomed to them and had even come to enjoy them. They felt like torn pages from countless books, scattered together without order. Piece by piece, she would try to fit them together, searching for hidden meanings or scenes that might inspire her.
Slowly, she sat up in bed.
The bed was round and covered with a strange material that resembled feathers, though it was much firmer to the touch. Long curtains surrounded it in a circle, rising all the way to the ceiling before disappearing into the shadows above.
Her room was spacious, with a remarkably high ceiling. Every corner reflected years of quiet dedication.
One wall was lined entirely with towering bookshelves, complete with elegant ladders that made it possible to reach the highest shelves. Another was occupied by an enormous desk covered with books, papers, and potted plants. Vines climbed across the stone wall, surrounding the only doorway that led onto the balcony.
Behind the bed hung dozens of sketches pinned to the wall. Most of them attempted to recreate scenes from her dreams, though anyone looking at them would quickly realize that the artist possessed far more imagination than talent.
The stone floor was almost completely hidden beneath a deep crimson carpet. Near the bed rested a travel bag beside a wooden chair. Folded neatly on it was a uniform: a black shirt embroidered with the Academy's emblem and a long skirt decorated with feather-like patterns. At first glance, they resembled the feathers of a phoenix, but their black and violet colors were unusual for her race.
The young woman walked over to the desk and picked up a pencil.
Without hesitation, she began sketching the golden eyes from her dream before their image could fade.
Several minutes later, she leaned back and admired the result.
On the paper was little more than a golden circle surrounded by uneven lines. To anyone else, it looked like meaningless scribbles.
She smiled anyway.
Painting had never been one of her talents.
After carefully rolling up the drawing, she placed it inside her bag together with dozens of similar sketches she had collected over the years.
Only then did she change into her uniform and prepare for the journey that would change her life.
Her name was Csendez.
She was a young phoenix—and the oldest of her generation.
Today, together with her siblings and relatives, she would leave home to begin her studies at the Academy.
The Academy was the most prestigious institution in the known universe.
Every noble race sent its younger generation there to study, build alliances, and prepare for the responsibilities that awaited them. It was more than a school—it was the place where the future leaders of countless civilizations first met.
The institution itself was funded by the Alocanai Council, formed with powerful beings from races respected throughout the universe for its neutrality. They believed that peace could never be achieved through power alone. Understanding, cooperation, and shared knowledge were just as important.
True peace had never existed.
Wars still erupted.
Old grudges remained.
Conflicts continued to shape the history of every race.
Yet, for now...
the universe was breathing.
And everyone hoped it would continue to do so.
As a phoenix, Csendez naturally admired beautiful things.
Gold had always fascinated her, and she loved fabrics that danced gracefully in the wind. Unlike most members of her race, however, she disliked bright, flamboyant colors. She preferred calm shades—black, silver, deep violet—colors that made many other phoenixes wonder if she truly belonged among them.
Her long black hair contrasted sharply with her pale skin, while her equally dark eyes carried a quiet, distant expression.
She wore a short black skirt embroidered with violet feathers, fitted trousers beneath it, and tall boots that reached just below her knees. Their flexible leather allowed her to move freely, while the claw-shaped tips reflected the proud heritage of her race.
Silver gloves covered her hands, leaving only her index and middle fingers exposed.
Her hair was tied neatly behind her head, falling almost to her hips.
Once she had finished adjusting her uniform, she picked up her travel bag and quietly stepped outside.
The corridor stretched endlessly before her.
Her family's residence had always felt enormous, and her room was located in one of its most isolated wings. Reaching the central hall required a long walk through elegant stone corridors decorated with banners, sculptures, and stained-glass windows that depicted the history of the phoenix race.
Normally, she enjoyed this walk.
Today, however...
her thoughts were elsewhere.
Perhaps she should have been reminiscing about the years she had spent here.
Perhaps she should have felt nervous.
Or excited.
Instead... her mind kept returning to those golden eyes.
By the time she reached the Grand Hall, every member of the younger generation had already arrived.
Quiet conversations filled the enormous chamber.
The older generation stood along the balconies of the second floor, observing the scene in dignified silence.
Gradually, the whispers faded.
Seven young phoenixes stepped forward into the center of the hall.
Csendez joined them.
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Then...
the sound of measured footsteps echoed across the marble floor.
Every phoenix instinctively lowered their head.
From the far end of the hall emerged a woman whose very presence demanded respect.
Her crimson hair flowed behind her like living flames.
Her posture was perfectly straight, and every movement carried the confidence of someone who had stood at the peak of her race for many centuries.
This was Mez Virág.
The current Head of the Phoenix Family.
She was known throughout the universe as a woman who valued actions far more than words.
Her yellow eyes slowly swept across the seven young phoenixes standing before her.
No one dared to meet her gaze.
After several long seconds, she finally spoke.
"Today marks the beginning of your journey. From this moment onward, each of you will carry not only your own name, but the name of every phoenix who came before you. For the next fifty years, the Academy will become your home. There, you will discover opportunities beyond your imagination. You will also encounter dangers beyond your understanding. Accept both. Grow stronger. Learn from every race you meet. But never forget who you are. A phoenix does not bow out of fear. We choose our own path."
After a short pause.
"We rise with dignity...and, if necessary,...we fall with honor."
She paused. A faint smile appeared on her face.
"May our ancestors watch over you. May the Good of Fire protect your journey. ÉljenTűz!"
The seven young phoenixes answered in perfect unison.
"Éljen Tűz!"
At that exact moment, the enormous magic circle engraved beneath their feet burst into crimson light. Ancient runes ignited one after another, filling the hall with a warm glow. The air itself seemed to tremble.
Then— they disappeared.