The Sabharangam Castle shimmered like a sunrise, golden silk threads forming its spires, blue harmonics rippling softly through its interior walls. Pinkish frames lined the corridors, each holding the likeness of a long-gone prodigy or a professor who once shaped Mounagiri's fate.
The air smelled of rain, hibiscus, and warm soil from the nearby lake, where rose petals drifted like scattered memories.
Inside, the grand hall buzzed with the chaos of youth.
Cradle Section children - the youngest threads of the academy ran about in dizzying laughter, playing tag, hiding behind thread pillars, imitating heroes they'd seen in murals. A few tried to jump and catch floating light-motes, only to tumble into each other's arms, giggling.
Across the lower wings, Craft Section students arm-wrestled on silk mats, their threads pulsing faint orange and green. Some played hand cricket with rolled parchment balls, shouting bets and nicknames that echoed across the golden ceiling.
High above, on the top gallery, the Forge and Peak Sections sat watching. A few leaned against the rails, headphones on, humming soft tunes. Some meditated, eyes closed, threads quiet and centered. Others chatted in clusters, pointing at the little ones below and laughing about their own childhood trials.
Then a hush rippled.
Tamara, Tom, and Kodo entered the top gallery. A few heads turned, some faces stiffened, and others turned away. The memory of the incident still hung unspoken, the rushed Kazan announcement, the whispers that it all began because of them.
Tamara met those eyes without flinching, though her golden threads shimmered restlessly. Beside her, Kodo's presence was steady, calm white threads rising like soft breath.
He leaned close and murmured, "It's okay, Tamara. I'm here now… like you were before. Let's just do well in the trial." Her stormline softened.
Tom grinned and nudged Kodo. "You're learning to sound like a hero now, huh?"Tamara laughed. Kodo flushed scarlet.
At the far corner, unseen by most, Eiroh stood, half-shrouded by the column's shadow. His crimson-black threads coiled silently, pulsing like caged lightning. Tamara sensed it instantly. Her threads flared golden, then steadied as Kodo's calm presence anchored her again. Neither spoke. They both knew he was watching.
Down below, the Mounagiri Kazan Trial Weavers, senior students who volunteered, moved across the hall, hanging glowing banners and adjusting the resonance seals. The banners shimmered with the words: KAZAN — WEAVE YOUR DESTINY. Soon, the hall would fall silent.
The bell of Sabharangam tolled only once that morning. Yet, its single note stretched across every corridor, every courtyard, every trembling thread in the hearts of Mounagiri's children. The air shimmered. Thousands of threads, blue, green, gold, violet — rose like quiet dawnfire, spiraling through the air.
The great doors of Sabharangam parted with a low hum, and the hall of golden threads fell into perfect stillness. From the entrance, the Madhabucho of Mounagiri, followed by the Headmistress and senior faculty, stepped into the shimmering light.
Every whisper vanished. Every thread stilled.
Trailing behind them were the Inimainashi Sisters, their robes glowing faint green and gold as they took their positions — some near the Cradle Section, where the youngest waited with wide eyes; others by the Craft Section, their calm presence steadying restless students.
The oldest of the Sisters walked to the top gallery, standing with the Forge and Peak Sections, where the air already felt heavier, charged with quiet pride and expectation.
Below, the Mounagiri Kazan Trial Weavers, student volunteers, guided a young representative to the stage, holding a garland of rose and hibiscus flowers tied with delicate green threads. He bowed and placed it gently around the Madhabucho's shoulders, the petals glowing softly against the golden light.
The Madhabucho smiled, tired but warm, and stepped toward the podium at the center of the hall.
His voice echoed through the still air: "Dear students, this Kazan Trial is not merely an exam. It is a reflection, a chance to meet a better version of yourselves."
He paused, eyes moving across the rows of students.
"I know many of you are unsettled by the urgency of its conduct. But unforeseen storms demand unpredictable decisions. And yet, despite everything, the Mounagiri Kazan Weavers and our dedicated teachers have made this trial possible."
He bowed his head slightly, guilt flickering across his face, a brief, honest gesture of apology. For a moment, the hall seemed to hold its breath, as if willing to lift his head back up.
Then he straightened and spoke again, voice clear and sure: "I do not doubt that this trial will be held in safety, peace, and perseverance. Give your best. But above all , cherish this moment. Enjoy the trial, and let your threads speak your truth."
A surge of applause rolled through the Sabharangam. Threads glowed in waves, blue, gold, green — rippling like auroras under the high ceiling.
At last, the Madhabucho reached forward and lit the Thread Lantern placed upon the podium. The flame caught, rising in strands of gold and white, illuminating every corner of the hall. The Kazan Trials had officially begun.
The Headmistress stepped up to the podium, her threads shimmering faintly.
"The first segment of the Kazan Trial will begin — Cradle Section B." Murmurs and giggles rippled through the lower rows as the Inimainashi Sisters rose from their seats.
"All teachers, please accompany the children to the Cradle Trial Arena," the Headmistress continued. Soon, the youngest students were gathered, small, bright faces, clutching thread-bear dolls and charms as the Sisters organized them into gentle lines.
They led them down the luminous corridor to a wide room glowing with a soft pink-green hue. The air smelled faintly of flowers and bell-metal. Butterflies shimmered through the air; Spindles of light, releasing spark trails as if to cheer them on.
"Cradle B Trial, begin," the announcer said warmly."
Children will enter one by one and take their places in the trial circle."