"The beginning of every new day begins with a pure breakfast. To commit to a new day of promise."
The first note of morning light arrived at the canopy of Eldrath Prime as though it were a quiet guest slipping into the world. In the uppermost tier of the Nexium Sanctuary—nestled high among the living terraces of bioluminescent vines and thundering aquafalls—the Voidwalker opened his eyes. The soft trickle of filtered water and the distant echo of shifting stone welcomed him back from sleep. For a moment, he lay in stillness, feeling the subtle pulse of Nexirial energy that saturated every living thing on this planet.
He rose on an impulse. Today was his first morning here, his first meal in the great Sanctuary canteen, and he was determined to make a good impression. Hastily, he dressed in the simple black tunic of a trainee Nexomancer—no insignia, no adornment, just a promise of potential. He followed the corridor's gentle curve, past walls etched with shifting glyphs of Prime Nexomancy. Blue sparks of light danced along the runes, a miniature demonstration of Eldrath magic at work even in mere decoration.
By the time he reached the canteen's outer alcove, Artemis Eldrath was already waiting. She stood beneath a great arch of living crystal foliage—emerald fronds intertwined with quartz—her dark hair pulled back to reveal calm, curious eyes. Although she was the daughter of Kallus Eldrath, her bearing was informal, almost playful.
"Good morning," she greeted, voice quiet yet bright. "You're just in time."
He forced a smile. "I overslept. The quarters were—comfortable."
Artemis laughed. "That they are. But breakfast waits for no one. Follow me."
They slipped inside the canteen together. In the gentle dawn glow, the great hall appeared as an empty amphitheater of possibility. Tables—each a sweeping slab of living wood, polished by centuries of patina—rowed outward like benches in a temple. Along one side, an immense serving station dominated the wall: a machine of polished silver and onyx, its surface overlaid with holographic food icons floating in mid-air. Each icon pulsed gently with a name, a color, a promise of taste: "Trelix Berry Compote," "Stellar Grain Porridge," "Synth-Quail Omelette," "Celestial Cream Buns." Every dish carried a small tag—an alphanumeric code that shimmered with shifting hues, the quantum provenance tag required by the Pan-Aculon Nutritional Accord.
Artemis tapped a glyph on the machine's black surface and the icons drifted toward them. "Here's life-hack number one," she said. "We're early. That means first pick. Kallus always says breakfast is more than just fuel and more of a negotiation with your senses."
He studied the options. "I've never seen a replicator of this size."
"It's not a replicator, strictly speaking," Artemis said. "It's part replicator, part polymerizer, part Prime Nexomancy conduit. The Guild worked with the Thalrex Trade caravans and the Imperial Nutritional Council to engineer it. Every ingredient you select gets assembled at the molecular level using localised Nexium reservoirs, stabilised by light-pattern seals—basic Prime Nexomancy constructs. If you look closely, you'll see runic filigrees where the light meets the plating." She pressed her fingers on a corner filigree. A faint geometric spiral glowed in blue-white effulgence, then faded.
"The Thalrex Trade ensures supply from worlds too remote for us to cultivate," she continued, eyes on his reaction. "Their caravans carry quantum-tagged grains, fruits, even xenotubers. The Imperium's Accord governs it all. No banned organisms, no risk of invasive xenocrops. Everything here is safe, ethical, inspected by nano-biosentinels. And if anything anomalous appears—like the Chrono-Spice contamination, or Void-Milk destabilisation—the Culinary Hazard Protocol locks it down immediately."
"It sounds like this has happened before," he added
"Well… yeah."
He nodded, impressed. "You do love your food politics."
Artemis shrugged. "I love my breakfast. And I'm one of the students who helped pilot the machine's ethical subroutines. Someone's got to read all the regulation updates. Besides, even we Nexomancers need our nutrition." She slid forward and tapped the "Stellar Grain Porridge" icon, then swiped to "Bioluminal Fruit Medley." The machine hummed, systems swinging into silent motion. Elsewhere, he selected a "Synth-Krell Omelette" and something called "Amaranthine Star-Wafers."
"Amaranthine Star-Wafers?" Artemis raised an eyebrow. "That's one of my father's favorites—an old generational recipe. Crunchy wafer spun from star-forged grains and sweetened with quantum-distilled nebula honey. Goes great with a half-litre of phosphor-tea." She swiped again and added the tea to her list.
Moments later, small trays glided out from beneath the machine, each nestled in a cradle of softly glowing white light. The provenance tags floated over his tray: THX-027-C (Stellar Grain Porridge), THX-334-B (Synth-Krell Omelette), THX-919-D (Amaranthine Star-Wafers). Each tag flickered with a miniscule holograph of its origin world, the date of production, the cargo manifest of the Thalrex trade route, and the imperial signature.
Artemis led him to a long table at the center of the hall. The benches were empty, waiting for the rush of students and scholars who'd flood in later. She ran her fingertips along the wood, where embedded quartz veins caught the dawn light like frozen lightning. They sat. Somewhere behind them, a thin cascade of water whispered against living roots.
He lifted a spoonful of Stellar Grain Porridge—gleaming pearls of pale lavender—into his mouth. Creamy, nutty, with a hint of star anise that melted into the sweetness. "Delicious."
Artemis tore off a shard of Star-Wafer and crunched. "Kallus says it reminds him of childhood mornings in the upper sanctuaries of Eldrath Prime: marble floors, lectures on dimensional energies, and his mother's secret stash of nebula honey." She paused, letting the nostalgia settle. "But enough about me. How are you feeling?"
He chewed thoughtfully. "Physically… fine. I didn't realise how hungry I was, honestly." He skewered a piece of omelette. "Mentally… overwhelmed. Training under Kallus will be intense. I've only scratched the surface of Nexomancy."
Artemis folded her hands across her tray. "Take your time. Fitting in here isn't just about mastering spells or learning the runes. It's about understanding the… ecosystem of Nexomancy. The Guild—our advisors, our scholars—they look for nuance. We aren't the brute-force house. We study. We anticipate. We strategise. And we… taste life." She gestured at his breakfast. "Breakfast is the perfect example. Across the Imperium, food embodies politics, culture, power. Who controls the trade routes—like the Thalrex dynasty—controls more than starch and protein. They control diplomacy, famine relief, influence."
He nodded, stirring the porridge. "So, by choosing what I eat, I'm… aligning myself."
"A little," she said, smiling. "Plus, it's fun. You'll see once we introduce you to the Spice-Labs of Praça Auris. You'll learn soon why some flavors are militant, some are pacifist, some downright existential. But for now, how do you find this?" She pointed at the bioluminal fruit—pearls of pale blue and violet, each morsel lighting up faintly as it warmed to contact.
He popped a sphere into his mouth: sweet, tart, with a glimmer of iodine that danced on his tongue. "Unforgettable."
She laughed. "That's synergy for you. Natural bio-luminescence complexed with Nexium stabilisation spells. Little pockets of living light, perfectly safe to ingest."
Their conversation drifted from meals to mappings—how the tributaries of Nexium flowed through Eldrath Prime's crust, how caves were laced with vein-nodes of energy, how scholars were racing to chart the leylines. The canteen filled slowly around them; other students arrived with muted greetings, scanning the machine, selecting their own breakfasts. Soft footsteps echoed on polished stone. A murmur of voices rose and fell like wind through leaves.
Eventually, Artemis leaned back, sipping her phosphor-tea—a gentle glow illumining her glass. "Tell me," she said, voice gentle, "how are you fitting in to the… universe around you?"
He hesitated. "I can't help but wonder so much: other dynasties, other traditions. I've met a few—of course—at the meeting on Celestara. But one… that Ilstra Luminara… she helped me with dimensional theory on my first day." He paused, noticing Artemis's gaze sharpen.
"Aha," she said, placing her cup on the table. "Vous aimez quelqu'un, Voidwalker? Someone from the House of Luminara?"
He frowned. "No! It's nothing like that. She's… brilliant. Generous with her time. She guided me through a knot of questions—nothing more."
Artemis leaned forward, lilac eyes gleaming. "You think so? Or do you call it generosity because you admire her?"
He sighed, cheeks heating. "I admire anyone who helps me. It's strategic—networking."
She snorted. "Strategic networking! Of course. We wouldn't want anyone to think—" She wagged a finger. "—that there's a hint of… something else. A susurration of… budding affection."
He rolled his eyes and smiled despite himself. "You and your jokes."
"Just making conversation," she said airily. Then her eyes went serious. "You're doing well, by the way."
He studied her. "I am?"
She nodded. "You're present. You ask questions. You pay attention to details—like how this machine's Nexomantic core recycles waste energy to feed the local flora. That shows you notice the world, not just the magic."
He felt a small thrill of pride. "Thank you."
She flipped a final Star-Wafer shard into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "All right. Time check. Kallus expects us for morning training in—" She glanced at a jewelled timepiece floating above the table—an artifact from the Nexomancer's Guild. "—seven minutes."
He shot to his feet. "Already?" He grabbed his empty tray and held it out.
She pushed it gently back into its lighted cradle. "Waste not, want not. The machine will sanitise and recycle the matter. Come on. Don't be late for the next step on your… strategic network."
He smiled and followed her out into the corridor. In the distance, he could see Kallus's staff carved with a spiral sigil of balance, waiting at the training hall's entrance. Behind him, the canteen doors slid shut. The morning sun of Eldrath Prime filtered in, and as they hurried on, he felt a warmth he couldn't explain. Not just the breakfast. Something else—perhaps the spark of possibility. Perhaps… the first tremors of something new in the Voidwalker's path.