Chapter 1 - The Academy
This story was originally written in Spanish.This English version has been translated with AI assistance and reviewed by the author. It may contain minor imperfections.
It was a cold morning, like many others at that time of year in the Austral Academy.
Frank was tired. The days were harsh, but the monotony was the worst part.
There was barely any time to rest or eat properly. That had been his life for almost two years now.
Sometimes, he found himself remembering how things used to be back in his village.
It wasn’t a grand place. There were no towering buildings like those of the academy or the nearby city.
But it was home.
It lay further south, near a range of mountains almost always covered in snow, surrounded by forests and small rivers.
Frank hadn’t been born in the city near the Austral Academy. He grew up farther south, in a small valley at the edge of the mountains, where farmland ended and the forests began.
The place didn’t have a proper name. Most people simply called it “the valley.” He wasn’t even sure if that was its real name.
It was little more than a handful of wooden houses scattered along a dirt road that cut through the fields.
There were barns with crooked fences worn down by time, and watermills that creaked slowly whenever the wind descended from the mountains.
Life there followed a different rhythm.
In spring, the valley turned green. Streams rushed down from the peaks as the snow melted, crossing the fields between rocks and roots, bringing cold, clear water that everyone in the community relied on.
In summer, the crops sustained the village, providing food, some trade, and, of course, their contributions to the Republic.
But winter was when everything changed.
Snow fell from the mountains and covered everything in silence.
Roofs, roads, bare trees.
The streams kept flowing beneath layers of transparent ice, and the air was so cold that every breath turned to mist.
Frank had always loved that season.
There was something about the cold that made him feel alive.
He was an only child, but he had never truly felt alone.
His uncles and cousins lived just a few houses away, and in such a small place, the community functioned almost like a single large family.
Harvests were shared. So were problems.
Whenever someone needed help repairing a barn or gathering crops before a storm, everyone showed up.
Evenings usually ended around a long table, with warm food, old stories, and laughter that could be heard from the road.
It was a simple place.
But for Frank, it had always been enough.
He hadn’t had many friends, but the ones he did have were close.
Real friends, he thought.
John and Rebecca were his age, and that was why they were now going through this difficult stage of life together.
It had all started nearly two years ago, the year he turned twelve.
A difficult moment for every citizen of the Republic.
The moment when you began the process of becoming an invoker.
The moment when you left your home behind.
If you were lucky, it might only be for a short time.
If you were unlucky... you might never return.
Or worse.
You might come back changed.
The Austral Academy was built of gray stone—tall and severe, more like a fortress than a school.
Which made sense, considering its true purpose was far more military than academic.
But what caught Frank’s attention the most wasn’t the walls.
It was the symbol.
It was everywhere.
On doors—not just the main ones, but even those separating smaller rooms.
On the many banners that waved above the pillars.
On metal plates scattered throughout the entire complex.
A white sun, its long, sharp rays extending from a dark circle at its center.
Its light didn’t feel warm or natural.
The rays were rigid, straight... like spears pointing in every direction.
Many called it the Sun of the Republic.
Others, in hushed voices, called it the Eye.
From a distance, it looked exactly like one—an enormous eye watching everything beneath it.
When the wind moved the banners in the central courtyard, the symbol repeated itself again and again.
As if the academy itself were surrounded by silent gazes.
Reminding everyone of the same thing:
The Republic was always watching.
In truth, he had arrived almost two years ago.
And yet, time had become strange.
Sometimes it felt like he had been there forever.
Other times, it all seemed like a distant, blurred nightmare.
Frank snapped out of his thoughts.
Instructor Morton had returned to the line of students waiting for the next training session to begin.
The memories faded.
Reality rushed back in.
He had been there for almost two years... and he was the only one who still hadn’t managed to summon his spirit.
Everyone else had done it.
Even students from later groups were already complete.
Something was wrong with him.
There was no doubt about it.
And that was bad.
The rules were clear.
Every child, upon turning twelve, had to be trained under the supervision of the Ministry of the Republic to summon their totem animal—or spirit, as it was more commonly called.
There, they would learn to use it properly and within the permitted limits before being assigned their role in society.
If you were fortunate enough to receive a powerful spirit, you could remain within the Republic’s service and train as a Guardian.
If not... you would be sent to a farm or a factory.
Most likely back to your place of origin, to work and contribute to the people.
But what happened to those who failed to summon within the official two-year period?
Frank didn’t have time to think about it.
Rebecca nudged him lightly.
He looked at her.
She tilted her head slightly, signaling that Instructor Morton was walking straight toward them.
“Will today be the day, Frank?” Morton said, staring directly into his eyes with a cruel smile.
“Or should I report to the Ministry that we have a child who cannot become an adult?”
Frank went pale.
He was tall for his age, though thin.
His hair was brown, and he still lacked any real facial hair, which made him look younger than some of the others.
“It’ll probably be a dirt frog!” one of the students shouted.
Laughter exploded across the group.
Even Morton let out a chuckle.
After that, Morton announced that the day’s training would focus on endurance.
Perhaps, he suggested, that might help Frank finally awaken his abilities.
“Not again!” several students groaned.
And so they began running the twelve kilometers toward the mountain hill.
As they passed Frank, many of them looked at him with hostility.
Some even shoved him as they started the grueling exercise he had unintentionally brought upon them.
John moved closer to Frank.
Not so much to comfort him—but to protect him.
He was shorter, but far more solidly built.
One of the strongest in the group.
No one would mess with Frank while he was around.
And his boar spirit was something to fear.
Even as a young one, it was already large, and its earth affinity made it a formidable tank.
“Relax, Frank,” he said calmly.
“Your moment will come. Worrying won’t help. You need to stand your ground against these idiots.”
“It’s not elemental combat training, but building strength never hurts,” Rebecca added as she ran beside them.
“A strong body is essential to becoming a good invoker.”
She’s right, Frank thought.
Rebecca wasn’t the strongest or the fastest, but she had always stood out for her intelligence.
And for knowing exactly what to say when he needed it most.
After all, she was a Water Deer.
Yes... a strong body matters.
Maybe this will help.
The morning didn’t end with the run.
After climbing the hill, they still had to fight in close combat before returning to the academy.
And that was only the beginning of the day.
After a quick lunch—which, after such effort, tasted far better than a simple plate of rice and chicken had any right to—came Totemology.
The class covered the classification of totems, their interaction with elements, and the history of notable invokers, among other topics.
Frank knew it was important.
But how could he care about any of it...
if he didn’t even have a spirit?
