Yumé was utterly spellbound by the sight before him.
Everywhere he looked, there were faces and forms unlike any he had ever known.
— They're all so different… he whispered.
— Yes, they are, Siddhartha replied with calm assurance. But don't worry. You'll find your place here soon enough. Come, we are going to meet the headmaster.
— And what should I expect from him?
— Nothing more than a kind man. But remember this, Yumé: you must not reveal to anyone that you come from Barsova, not even to the headmaster. Your identity must remain a secret. We will create a false past for you, a name to cloak your origin.
— Will I have to change my name?
— No, not at all. Rest easy.
As they walked, Yumé's gaze refused to settle. Every corner of this place teemed with strangeness, yet he could sense a harmony within it. Here, differences did not divide; they bound. It was the very opposite of the world he had left behind.
They stepped onto a circular platform. Siddhartha laid his hand upon a crystal sphere set into its heart. With a resonant hum, the platform lifted, rising smoothly to the third floor. Before them stretched a long corridor, ending in a grand door. Upon its arch was carved in golden letters: Headmaster.
— Here we are, Siddhartha said softly.
He knocked. A deep, commanding voice bade them enter.
The office seemed unremarkable—wooden shelves, parchment, and a heavy desk. But Yumé's eyes widened the moment they fell upon the man behind it. The headmaster was a giant of a man, perhaps in his forties, with long black hair braided neatly down his back, brows thick as iron, and a frame of solid muscle. Yet above all, it was his size that defied belief: he towered nearly three meters tall.
How… how can anyone be so tall? Yumé thought, unable to conceal his awe.
— Welcome, said the headmaster, his voice a thunderous echo. Please, sit. The king has spoken of you. You must be Yumé Sova, yes?
Sova? Yumé blinked. That old man must have invented it… But I've never had a family name. Why not?
— Yes, that's me, he replied calmly.
— Well met, Yumé. I was told you come from the distant province of Numélé. It is the first time we welcome one of your people here. I know that your folk are rooted in their land, seldom traveling, unfamiliar with our customs—or even with the use of Prana. But fear not. We are here to teach you. Since you arrive after the close of registrations, you will share a room. Do not be concerned, the chambers are vast enough. Here are your keys—room 324. Settle yourself. Your roommate is likely in class now, but I shall place you in his course as well. It will make things easier. Meanwhile, I will see to the formalities with Siddhartha.
— I'll join you soon, Yumé, said Siddhartha.
— Very well, answered the boy, before rising and leaving.
Once the door closed, the headmaster leaned back, his expression hardening.
— Tell me, Siddhartha… is the king scheming again?
— Of course not, Siddhartha replied steadily. He has always sought to guide the young toward their destiny.
— Hmm. Perhaps so. You, Atsui, and Billy are proof enough of that.
He paused, then asked:
— And who will share Yumé's chamber?
— Another newcomer. His name is Warui. But… he is a peculiar one.
Yumé reached the third floor and unlocked his door.
The room was breathtaking. Light streamed through towering windows. Frescoes and patterns adorned the walls and ceiling. At one side stood a wide bunk bed, the wood polished and sturdy.
He slipped off his shoes and fell onto the lower bed. The mattress embraced him with softness unknown in the orphanage.
Yes… I think I could be happy here, he thought, closing his eyes with relief.
Then, a cold hand clamped around his throat.
He twisted, choking, and froze. Beside him stood a boy of his age, with straight brown hair falling to his shoulders, fine-boned features, and eyes the color of deep sapphire. Their brilliance was as mesmerizing as they were unsettling.
Where… where did he come from?! Yumé thought in shock. I swear the room was empty a moment ago!
— What are you doing on my bed, in my chamber? the boy asked, his tone colder than steel.
— And who the hell do you think you are?! Yumé spat, fury flashing. His fists and eyes glimmered with sudden light.
In the corridor, Siddhartha and the headmaster advanced, still speaking quietly.
— Torsa's reputation seems unchanged, Siddhartha mused. I am certain Yumé will find his place here.
— This boy… he seems spirited. Do you think he might cause us trouble?
— Do not worry. There is no ris—
BOOOOM!
The explosion tore through the air. The chamber door splintered into pieces, and two figures were hurled into the hallway. They struck the ground, rolled, and rose at once to face each other. Yumé, fists blazing with radiant light, and Warui, shadows of black smoke curling from his body.
A crowd of students gathered in an instant, their voices a roar of excitement.
The headmaster stood frozen, his massive arms slack at his sides, eyes wide with disbelief. Beside him, Siddhartha pressed a weary hand to his brow, gazing at the ceiling as if appealing to the heavens.
— Well, he murmured at last, this boy will surely surprise us many times yet.
He shook his head, half in resignation, half in amusement.
— That's what I call a smashing entrance.