The air rippled around his figure, and Ema immediately felt a new, massive, and precisely structured mind of a Tensor plunge into the network. The teacher took over part of the searing, unstable load, fused his cold will with Tomáš's, and together they threw their weight against the walls of the collapsing structure.
"Don't let it go! Shape it!" Šimr yelled, sweat dripping from his forehead.
Ema pushed into it with all her might. Stand! It has to stand!
And then, the tension broke.
"Done," the teacher exhaled into the sudden, suffocating silence. His hands were shaking.
Ema opened her eyes. She gasped for breath. Her cheeks were wet with tears. A short distance away, Tomáš of the Přemyslids was leaning with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily, his shirt soaked clean through. He raised his head and gave Ema a long look. Now he knew with absolute certainty who had been driving that absurd mass of raw energy the entire time, nearly frying their brains. He wasn't glaring at her with arrogance, but with pure, guarded fascination.
Before them, in the middle of the concrete floor, stood a massive, roughly hewn temple made of freshly fired, blackened clay. It looked like a monumental, dreamlike ruin. The walls were twisted, the pillars massive and menacingly asymmetrical—clear evidence of an immense power lacking control. Deep cracks ran along the walls, glowing heat still shimmering within them. And on the archway above the heavy entrance, subtle but unmistakable, a motif was etched into the hardening mass: black, thorny vines weaving through an asymmetrical circle.
A deathly silence fell over the hall, broken only by the groans of students slowly picking themselves up off the ground. Nobody was laughing. Ema stared at the warped temple. She felt a piece of her pain for her lost family in it, a piece of her sorrow for Viktor, and a piece of that bottomless darkness sleeping inside her. The corners of her mouth began to lift. She smiled broadly and genuinely.
This is what it means to be an Architect, she thought. To take your deepest pain and build something out of it that can stand in the world.
Vector Šimr, with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, walked slowly between the pillars of the dark temple. He stopped in the middle of the monumental ruin, took off his fogged glasses, and looked at Ema. For a split second, his gaze flicked to the sign of the thorn above the entrance, then quickly darted away.
"Look at this," he swept a trembling arm wide. "What you created today is proof of what we carry inside us." He lowered his voice. "Power is an immense responsibility. An Architect shouldn't build just because they can. They should build to mend what has broken in our world. On a global scale, we can rewrite world events. Individual power can be practically limitless. But remember today... the merging of multiple minds will always overcome the strength of an individual."
He stopped and looked Ema straight in the eyes with a chilling seriousness. "That is why the Department can be so important for you. It's not just a school full of regulations. It is an anchor that keeps you in reality when your own immeasurable power tries to drag you into the dark."
Ema swallowed. An anchor. Her thoughts inevitably drifted to Viktor. He was so incredibly strong. He could do things she hadn't even dreamed of. But he was alone. What kind of weight is he carrying? it occurred to her. He was like a rock, but even a rock eventually erodes when the waves keep pounding it and it has nothing to lean against.
"Isolation spells nothing good for an Architect," Šimr continued, his voice sounding a warning as he inspected the dark, radiating temple. "Whoever is alone for too long loses perspective. And when a being with the power to alter reality succumbs to despair... it can threaten the whole world. The universe does not need lonely, broken gods. It needs a community."
"But beware," he raised a finger. "The connection of emotions must harmonize. If you connect with someone whose internal frequency conflicts with yours—if pure intent mixes with untamed darkness—the result will not be what you planned. Instead of a sanctuary, you will build a monument of ruin."
Silence reigned in the hall. The students stared at the cracked, glowing walls of the temple, pondering his words. Ema realized that Friedrich's obsession with power and her desire for freedom could never have created anything worth saving. Together, they would have only created hell.
Šimr sighed and nodded. "I am proud of you. For today, you have shown what you are capable of." He put his glasses back on, and his tone shifted back to pragmatic and academic. "But do not rest on your laurels. Today, you were safe. I guided you, I stepped in when needed. It was calm here."
He leaned closer to them. "It's one thing to be guided by instructions in the quiet of a hall. It's quite another to be out there, under pressure. When you have to act alone or synchronize in a flash as a group while your life is on the line. Out there, every second decides whether someone lives or dies. There is no time to search for an emotion there. You have to be the emotion."
He let the words hang in the air to sink in. Then he clapped his hands. "We are done for today. Let your heads cool down; tomorrow we will work on structure and fine control."
He smiled, a little warmer this time, and the crushing weight of the moment dissipated. "And now, get out of here and hit the showers. And for the rest of the day..." he nodded toward Ema and the other freshmen, "...give each other a proper welcome. Show them that the Department isn't just about drills, but about the family we choose for ourselves."
With that, he turned and marched toward the exit, his gray coat billowing behind him.
The moment the elevator doors closed behind him, the formation dissolved. The sacred, terrifying atmosphere vanished, replaced by the chaos of normal teenagers who had just had a massive weight lifted off their chests. "Holy crap, that was insane!" exhaled the freckled Libor, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Did you feel that pressure near the end? I thought my head was going to explode!"
A petite girl with short red hair stepped up to Ema and offered her hand. "I'm Lenka," she said, her eyes holding a mix of respect and slight terror. "And I hope I never piss you off in my life, girl. When you unleashed that anger of yours into the network, I suddenly felt like a crying little girl huddled in a corner again. Welcome to the club."
Beata immediately lunged at Ema and threw her arms around her shoulders. "You heard Šimr!" she grinned. "We're supposed to give you a proper welcome. And translated into student-speak, that means we're going to show you where to get the best pizza and beer in Olomouc. Trust me, after this mental workout, you're going to be hungry as a wolf."
Ema suddenly found herself in the middle of a huddle of bodies in black uniforms. She felt... light. After weeks of running and fear, she suddenly had people around her who shared the same burden.
"So what are we waiting for?!" Libor yelled, throwing his arms wide. "I'm so hungry I could eat the dirt off your temple of doom!"
The pub "U Ducha" (At the Ghost's) was exactly what Ema had imagined in her naive dreams of a normal life. It was in a cellar, walls made of exposed, damp brick, the tables massive, and the air thick with the combined smells of fried food, spilled beer, and loud conversation.
Ema sat squeezed into a corner booth between Beata and Libor. She had a pizza with extra cheese in front of her. It tasted much better than anything at the von Rieses'. It tasted like freedom.
"So, Ema," Tomáš leaned toward her across the table. He had ditched the school uniform and was now wearing a faded black t-shirt that sharply contrasted with his aristocratic lineage. He seemed completely relaxed and confident. "Where are you actually from? Your accent doesn't really fit Haná."
Ema froze for a second. She couldn't tell them the truth. She gripped her frosted glass of beer. "From Eastern Bohemia," she answered, trying to make it sound natural. "From this little town... near the mountains."
"Really?" Tomáš smiled. "My aunt has a cottage near Trutnov. We go skiing there in the winter when I don't have to be stuck at family gatherings. Beautiful region." Ema breathed a sigh of relief and nodded gratefully.
"Speaking of escaping family," Libor chimed in, stealing a handful of potato chips from a bowl. He clearly respected Tomáš, but they had known each other long enough to talk as equals. "Tomáš actually has his own band here."
"Really?" Ema raised her eyebrows in surprise, looking at the Přemyslid. Tomáš chuckled and leaned back against the booth. "We're called The Architects." Ema couldn't help but laugh. "How original." "Right?" he smiled at her. "We mostly play local clubs, kind of a harder nu-metal vibe. It's an absolutely great way to blow off steam after all that school shaping and etiquette."
"Ema and I are definitely coming!" Beata interjected with a mouthful of pizza. "I love those shows. Hearing a Přemyslid screaming into a microphone is just a once-in-a-lifetime experience." Then she leaned toward Ema and added conspiratorially, though loudly enough for everyone to hear: "But he doesn't just scream. He does these clean, high vocals too, and it's seriously awesome."
Tomáš rolled his eyes, but was clearly amused. "We're playing on Friday at The Drunken Raccoon. It's not exactly the nicest club in town, the floor is a bit sticky, but it has a great atmosphere." He swirled the beer in his hand and cast his gaze over the rest of the table. His natural charisma as a leader was effortless. "But enough about me and my screaming. What do the rest of the freshmen do in their free time?"
Anna of Vítkovice, the fragile girl with dark hair, shrugged. "I paint. Oil paintings, abstracts. It helps me with visualization when shaping." "I do historical fencing," announced Kryštof of Valdštejn proudly, taking a sip of beer. Klára of Pernštejn confessed to show jumping with horses, and Matyáš and Ondřej enthusiastically started explaining over each other how they grind competitive computer shooters late into the night.
"What about you, Ema?" Tomáš turned the attention back to her.
Ema laughed. "I... I used to skateboard."
A murmur of surprise rippled around the table. "Skateboarding? Badass," Libor nodded, slamming his palm on the table. "Underground sports, a metal band at The Drunken Raccoon... guys, this practically demands some serious drinking! Boss!" he waved at a passing waiter. "A round of slam tequilas! The freshmen need to be baptized!"
Soon, a row of shot glasses stood before them. The waiter brought a bottle of silver tequila and Sprite, pouring each glass half and half. "You know how to do this?" Tomáš asked Ema, handing her a glass and a stiff beer coaster. "Uhm... not exactly," Ema admitted.
"It's simple," Tomáš explained. "You cover it with the coaster. You slam it against the table as hard as you can. It fizzes up. And then you have to down it while it's still fizzing. It's like drinking a grenade."
"Got it," Ema said with determination. I'm an Architect. I managed to heat concrete into lava; I can handle a fizzy tequila.
Everyone raised their glasses. "Three, two, one... SLAM!"
The pub shook as more than a dozen glasses hit the solid wooden tabletops at once. Ema slammed hers too. The liquid inside exploded into a white foam. She quickly lifted the coaster and threw it back.
But the bubbles were faster than her swallowing reflex. The fizzy mix of alcohol and soda caught in her throat. Ema sputtered. She tried to hold it in heroically, but physics was relentless. The tequila shot right out of her nose.
She started coughing, her eyes instantly welling with tears; it burned like hell. A silence fell over the table that lasted about a second. And then, laughter erupted. It wasn't the cruel, mocking laughter she had feared so much at the von Rieses'. It was the genuine, roaring laughter of a group of friends who were just having a fantastic time. Beata patted her on the back, crying with laughter as she handed her a crumpled napkin.
"Nice one, Ema! Now that's what I call a dragon!" she laughed until she wheezed.
Ema wiped her wet nose and tearing eyes. Seeing their laughing faces, she couldn't hold back and started laughing too. "That was..." she gasped for breath, "...incredibly effective."
A few hours and several more rounds later, a thick haze of absolute contentment hovered over the table. Matyáš and Ondřej were asleep, their heads resting on empty pizza boxes; Libor was trying to explain to Anna why a guitar is better than a paintbrush, and Beata was animatedly telling Tomáš a story. Time flowed differently here than in the dark van or the golden cage of the chateau. It flowed lightly. Bearably. For Ema, it was a balm for the soul. Just being a normal girl in a pub with a tequila-burned throat. Being, at last, part of something that had nothing to do with monsters and the fate of the world.