Leaving the Headmistress's office, Michael stepped back into the strange garden sky—and came face to face with his greatest nemesis.
The griffin.
He froze, his stomach dropping. In the rush of everything that had just happened, he'd completely forgotten the damn thing was still there. Its sapphire eyes gleamed in the light, unblinking, its marble beak tilted just enough to make him sure it was watching.
Michael swallowed loudly. "Right… still here."
Keeping his eyes fixed anywhere but on the statue, he crept across the gravel path toward the staircase door. Every step felt like a challenge, as if the griffin might spring to life at the faintest sound. He didn't dare breathe until his hand closed on the door handle.
The instant it shut behind him, he sagged against the pale stone wall, letting out a long, shaky sigh of relief.
"Never again."
Only then did it hit him, Headmistress Halden hadn't told him anything about where his dorm was, or when his classes started.
Michael groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "This is just great."
There was no way he was going back through that garden with the griffin staring holes through him, which left only one option. Squaring his shoulders, he muttered, "The clerk isn't half as terrifying as that statue…" and started back down the spiral stairs.
"Oh! Just Michael. Still alive and in one piece," the quirky clerk said the moment Michael stepped into the office again, his quill scratching across parchment without so much as a glance up.
Michael shifted awkwardly in front of the desk, fidgeting with his sleeves while trying to figure out how to ask without sounding stupid.
The clerk finally set his quill down with a heavy sigh and peered over his glasses. "What?"
Michael cleared his throat. "Well… It's like this. Headmistress Halden said I'd be assigned a roommate and start introductory classes tomorrow morning, but—"
"Buuuut you forgot to ask her for any actual details." The clerk finished for him, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "I thought you were the efficient kind, Just Michael."
Michael flushed. "I—"
"Here." With a flick of his wrist, the clerk summoned a stack of papers onto the desk. "Pamphlets. Schedule. Map of the campus. All the boring things you should have left with in the first place. Try not to lose them."
He pushed the papers across the desk, then held out his free hand. "Now, give me your hand so I can assign you a rune. That will unlock your dormitory room. Without it, you'll be sleeping in the courtyard—and trust me, the statues aren't nearly as polite as the griffin."
Michael's eyes widened. "Wait, the what—?"
"Hand." The clerk wiggled his fingers impatiently.
Michael knew better than to ask questions. The griffin was proof enough of that. If the clerk said the other statues weren't "polite," Michael wasn't about to find out the hard way.
All he could do now was to be careful of the statues in this place, that, and hand his trembling palm over the desk so this ordeal could finally be over.
The clerk took his hand with the casual air of someone stamping documents. "This won't hurt, so hold still...*cough* won't hurt much"
Before Michael could react, the man traced a quick rune across his skin with the quill tip. The ink flared bright blue, sinking into Michael's flesh before fading to a faint silver shimmer just beneath the skin.
"There," the clerk said, already returning to his paperwork. "Dorm access granted, in the first-year wing, third floor and room… ah—thirty-seven. And please don't forget it."
Michael flexed his hand, staring at the mark, that was slowly dissipating. It felt warm, humming faintly under his skin. "That's it?"
"That's it, Oh! Try not to lose the hand too." The clerk smirked without looking up.
Michael rolled his eyes but said nothing, slipping out the door with his new papers in hand.
Once the boy's footsteps faded, the clerk finally glanced up, eyes following the shadow that trailed behind him. "Didn't even flinch when I marked him," he murmured. His quill hovered for a moment, as though tempted to write something down. "What in the world has that kid been through?"
But not one to meddle in others' affairs, he dipped the quill again and went back to scratching across the old parchment.
Once back outside, Michael unfolded the map the clerk had given him and traced the route with his finger. Luckily, the dorms weren't far, five minutes at most.
When he reached the building, he stopped short. Compared to the academy's sweeping spires and Gothic stonework, the dormitory looked… ordinary. Almost disappointingly so. Brown brick walls, small square windows, and plain oak doors.
It didn't match the rest of the academy at all, more like something built centuries later, tacked on for efficiency rather than beauty.
Two heavy oak doors loomed at the entrance, their surface polished smooth from years of use. The only thing tying the building back to the rest of the academy was a dozen statues. The statues depicted sets of soldiers wearing different weapons: Sword and Shield, Greatsword, Bow, Staff, Dagger, and Knuckles.
Michael groaned under his breath. "Why are there so many statues? And do they all move? Is this some kind of sick hobby around here?"
The stony gazes seemed to follow him as he made his way up the steps, and the memory of the griffin's screech prickled across his skin. With even more questions buzzing in his head than when he'd first arrived, he let out a heavy sigh.
"Yeah… totally normal school," he muttered, pushing the doors open and heading inside.
"Thirty-three… thirty-five… thirty-seven." Michael stopped in front of the door, double-checking the number. "This should be my room… I think. If I remember correctly, well, I guess it wouldn't open if I didn't have the right rune."
He twisted the doorknob. Immediately, he felt a faint tug on his hand where the clerk's rune had been etched, and the door swung open without resistance.
Michael gasped.
The room on the other side couldn't possibly fit inside the dorm building he'd seen from outside. The space was enormous—far larger than the cramped stretch of hallway or the narrow windows suggested.
He stepped in cautiously. The first area resembled a living room, complete with a tea set resting neatly on a low table. Beyond it stood a kitchen with a strange assortment of appliances, most of which Michael didn't recognize. The only familiar thing was what looked like a fridge.
To his left, he found a training room with padded mats, a wooden practice dummy that seemed to watch him back, racks of weights, and other exercise equipment. Next to it was a small study with two desks, each fitted with brass lamps in an old, elegant design.
There were two bedrooms at the far end. One door stood ajar, its interior empty and neatly prepared; the other was firmly shut. Michael decided not to test his luck by barging into what must belong to his roommate.
His room was simple but comfortable: a bed already made, a set of neatly folded school uniforms laid across it, and a small stack of books on the desk. He picked one up and skimmed the title.
Foundations of Mana: An Introduction.
Michael dropped it back onto the desk with a sigh. "Great. Homework before I even start class."
Still, he couldn't help but lie on his bed and feel a sense of belonging as if this school wasn't only strange and terrifying. He finally has a place to breathe, feel safe and ground himself.
His eyelids grew heavy, the steady ticking still faint in his ears. Within moments, sleep claimed him.