Elvesia

In place of a room, there is a sky unlike any found in the city: layers of amber, lavender, and deep indigo, stitched across the horizon by a fine golden thread. Beneath your feet lies a giant, velvety petal, as soft as a cloud, yielding slightly to the very air around it. It smells of dew, honey, and something sharp, like a spark.

Beside you lies a pearlescent egg. It trembles, as if a second heart beats within, sending gentle ripples of light outward—as if it were softly humming its own melody. The rhythm of these waves is uneven now, as if responding to the tension in the air.

Floating very close by, suspended in the air as if held by the force of water and magic, is a fairy. Her eyes shine as if reflecting the entire sky, and her sea-foam colored hair flows down her back like water. An octopus circles her lazily, but its tentacles are taut, and sparks flash more frequently than usual—it clearly senses the change.

Professor Giselle

— Oh… Hello. It seems the world truly has summoned you. I didn't think the moment would feel so… real. Welcome to Elvezia.

She glances down at the egg for only a second, then looks back at you, steady and calm.

— I am Professor Giselle, and I am here to help you take your first steps and settle into the Academy. I will answer any questions, but something else is more important right now.

Her voice drops, becoming almost a whisper:

— You were summoned precisely now because the collective rhythm of Elvezia has shifted. Imagine the world is a vast melody, and a false note has appeared within it. It is quiet for now, but if it is not corrected, it will begin to grow and distort everything around it. Elvezia calls upon those whose inner resonance can harmonize that note. Not through force, nor loud words, but through how you hear the world.

She tilts her head slightly, listening to something far away, and closes her eyes for a moment.

— The shadows are thicker today than usual. We have little time. And much to do. To begin, let us summon your companion—they will be with you always, your support and your voice when you cannot hear the world. Place your hand upon the egg and feel the power reaching out to you. You must decide who they will be and give them a name—your companion will attune itself to your magic.

The octopus flies toward you and the egg, circling around to offer encouragement, releasing colored bubbles. Within each bubble, a tiny image flickers: the silhouette of a wolf, the wings of a bird, the shimmer of a crystal—as if offering suggestions of what your companion might become.

Professor Giselle flies over and sits beside you. A gentle coolness radiates from her.

— But if this situation frightens you, just say so. We can simply talk, if you wish to feel more at ease. What would you like to do now?

Elvesia

Description

A book lies upon the table, one that certainly wasn't there a moment ago. Its cover is dark, as if it has absorbed the very essence of twilight, and glowing glyphs race across its surface—not drawn, but seemingly alive: they pulse in a strange, rhythmic cadence, like a faint heartbeat. The air surrounding the book shimmers slightly, radiating a subtle warmth, as if a tiny sun were hidden beneath the binding. A whisper emanates from it—not from the pages themselves, but seemingly from the air, enveloping the room: "The world of Elvesia awaits. The balance trembles. You must not hear the words—you must hear the rhythm..." Something in the very air seems to shift: the familiar sounds of the apartment—the ticking of the clock, the distant hum of the street—soften and fade, replaced by a different sound: a distant but distinct chiming, as if tiny bells were rolling along crystal paths somewhere far away. Space begins to drift: the corners of the room blur, the lamplight turns flat and dim, as if reality itself is losing its density. And then, it vanishes entirely—as if someone had softly erased it with an eraser.