"How did you like breakfast?" the man asked when we left the cafeteria.
"It was better than I thought, especially the pancakes," I said. "Why are you smiling?"
"It's nice to see someone enjoying the ordinary for once. People are quick to lose their child-like joy."
"Actually, I'm going to be thirteen soon," I informed him. "So I'm not a child anymore."
"Of course, of course." The man nodded, the smile fading. "I'm sorry, Maxim. I didn't mean to offend you."
For a while, we walked in silence.
"So why did you interrupt my meal?" I finally braved to ask.
"I suppose an introduction is in order, following an explanation. I'm Roman Artemovich Gromov, the Dark Arts teacher. Considering you've been assigned to one of my classes, you and I will spend a lot of time together, young man."
"So you're my homeroom teacher?"
"Something like that."
"And how many classes do you hold?"
"Five. One for each year of study. Which reminds me... You ought to get your uniform. You can't be walking around the school looking like," he gave me a once-over and shook his head, "like that."
"And where do I get one of those?"
"Inquire at the reception. They'll point you in the right direction."
"And where's the reception?"
"Here, in the main building. You'll find the library just around the corner. Don't forget to pick up your books, too."
"And you came to tell me all of this... Why exactly?"
"After this morning's incident, the headmaster thought it'd be best if some of the staff showed you around. He also suggested I give you the grand tour of the place, so I suppose we'll do that right now. Since this is your first day here, you'll start classes tomorrow."
"I see."
At that moment, a thunderous noise erupted from the cafeteria, followed by a chorus of shrill screams. Less than a minute later, the hallway was filled with the pounding of feet as students rushed out of the building and onto the street.
"What happened?" Roman asked one of the fleeing students, managing to catch him by the arm.
"It's Bubnov! I don't know what he ate, but... God, it's horrible! The prefects took him to the infirmary..."
"What the devil is going on?" Roman muttered. "They behave like children and can't even eat in peace..."
I could barely keep a straight face. If Dorian had energy to spare and felt like wasting it, he could do things like that. And with him now neighing like a horse, keeping serious was nearly impossible.
"Alright, Temnikov, let's get some fresh air," Roman said.
"Something in here definitely smells off..."
We stepped out of the main building onto a wide green meadow, with a fountain standing in the center. From there, several winding paths stretched out in different directions, each leading to another structure. I was sure one of them led to our dormitories, but where the others went was still a mystery.
Roman waited for the cluster of students to disperse before continuing our tour of the school.
"Apart from what you already know, the main building also houses classrooms, teachers' offices, and all sorts of other facilities," he said, glancing at me with a shrug. "For some reason, students don't usually feel drawn to it. Strange, isn't it?"
"Maybe the teachers are just boring?"
"Hm... I hadn't thought of that. I'll bring it up at the next meeting."
"What's that board to the right of the entrance?"
"Hm? Ah, that's the notice board. You'll find all sorts of promotional posters and ads on it."
"What kind of ads?"
"Students post things sometimes, but people from neighboring cities often put up part-time job offers too. After all, we're a school for Gifted students. There's always work for mages, especially in a place like this."
"Will they hire me if I apply?"
"I don't know. Yours is a peculiar case, I have to admit. You're an exception to the rule, so they just might... But generally, all first-year students are allowed to apply."
"Sounds nice. I like visiting new places. Are there many neighboring cities?"
"Two. Belozersk and Dubravino. But students usually go to Belozersk. There's a direct bus line, and the city's bigger. Shops, restaurants, clubs... In general, it has a livelier atmosphere. Dubravino, on the other hand, doesn't even have a police station."
"What did you mean when you said 'in a place like this'?"
"Let's just say life is... livelier here. You're from Moscow, right?"
"Yes."
"Then you probably aren't familiar with the magical storms and Distortions that plague this region. They tend to form near magic schools because of the high concentration of Gifted individuals in one place."
"Those are dangerous. I heard on the news they're usually destroyed."
"That's right," Roman said with a nod. "But it's a risky endeavor.
Anyone can walk into a Distortion, but only the strongest make it out.
That's why we have trained Gifted teams stationed in Belozersk. There are also independent squads. People compete for all sorts of things from there, but that's not important right now. I think you get the point."
"Yeah."
"All in all, there are plenty of interesting things to see in the city.
You won't be bored anytime soon."
"Unlike here."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, the school feels like it's in the middle of nowhere. I haven't seen any buildings besides ours. I looked out the window this morning, and all I saw was a lake and what looked like a park... Or maybe a forest. Hard to tell."
"There are actually more school buildings on the grounds than it seems," Roman said with a smirk. "What you saw from your room was the White Lake and its park. They're part of the Ghost Forest, which stretches out in all directions. It begins as a well-kept park near the school, but the farther you go, the wilder it gets, with the White Lake winding through it as the main waterway in the entire region."
"Ghost Forest? Is it haunted?"
"You'd have to ask whoever named it," Roman replied with a faint smile. "It's been called that for thousands of years." He looked ahead.
"Come on. Let's keep moving."
"You still haven't told me why there aren't many buildings around the school. Houses for ordinary people?" I asked as we headed down the path toward the dormitories.
"Who in their right mind would want to live next to a school of magic?" Roman replied without breaking stride. "The last time we tried to build a series of residential blocks, they collapsed like a Jenga tower after a Distortion opened up in the backyard. Since then, both imperial and school officials, along with the locals from nearby villages and towns, have completely abandoned the idea."
"Makes sense..." I muttered. "And why do all the students have different insignias on their uniforms?"
"To tell the Gifts apart. Each class has its own specialty. Have you logged into your account on the school website yet?"
"No. I just got here last night. I haven't had the time."
"Do it today," Roman said. "You'll find answers to most of your questions there. Just remember to get your credentials at the library when you pick up your books, and be sure to change your password."
"Alright."
At that moment, we arrived at the dormitory. The same type of notice board I'd seen by the main building stood next to the entrance, covered with more ads than any pirating site I'd ever visited.
"I assume you know where we are?" Roman asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"Mhm. My room's on the second floor, by the way. It just faces the other direction. The park's nice." I looked up, puzzled. "One floor for each year of study, right?"
"That's right."
"Then why are there six floors?"
"We had to put the laundry room somewhere." Roman chuckled.
"The ground floor has the common room and a few other shared facilities.
First-year students live there, and our most gifted get private rooms on the sixth."
"Does the caretaker live in the basement, then?"
"What makes you think this building even has one?"
"Well, the main building does. He caught me on the cameras, so I just assumed..."
"It's not always wise to jump to conclusions without seeing the full picture," Roman said with a chuckle. "There's no caretaker in the dormitory. No tracking magic or cameras either. The parents of our students aren't too keen on the idea of their children being watched in the dormitory corridors. I think you understand the kind of families that send their kids here. So be careful, and try not to get into trouble."
"Don't worry, sir. I'll be on my best behavior," I promised.
"That's funny," Roman said with a grin. "But I'm telling you this for your own good, Maxim. All the other boys will be older than you. Even your classmates are at least fourteen, and you're only twelve."
"Really? I hadn't noticed. Thanks!"
"You're very welcome." Roman shook his head with mild disapproval and gestured for me to follow.
We walked for at least a couple more hours. Along the way, I got a better look at the school grounds — part of the vast, green park and the small lake with swans and ducks I'd seen from my room. As it turned out, the students had their own names for these places. They affectionately called the park the Taiga, and the lake was known as the Pacific Ocean.
There were actually quite a few facilities and specialized school buildings — a massive training hall where students practiced magic, a spacious sports complex, an indoor swimming pool, several laboratories, a greenhouse, and countless other places I couldn't take in all at once. I figured I'd explore them more thoroughly later. Walking around with Roman was just too dull.
By the time Roman finished showing me around, I was utterly drained. Dorian even joked about casting a tickling spell on me just to keep me awake. It felt like one of those sightseeing tours in Greece: "And to your left, blah. To your right, blah-blah. Okay, moving on to the next blah..."
We finished only when it was time for the next meal, and since everyone else was still busy with their classes, I found myself alone in the cafeteria. I ate in peace, careful not to attract any unnecessary attention.
Afterward, I picked up my uniform and books, then headed back to my room. I'd planned to spend the rest of the evening reading and exploring the school's website. Maybe I'd go to dinner later, depending on how I felt...
I actually liked the uniform. It looked sharp: black, with a white embroidered skull on the left side, just above the number one.
Once back in my room, I leafed through a few books, then opened the school's website on my phone. Before I knew it, I had dozed off. When I finally woke up, it was already dark outside.
Someone was knocking.
I sat up in bed, rubbed my eyes, and walked to the door. There were no troublemakers or bandits roaming the school grounds, so I unlocked it without a second thought.
In the hallway stood four guys, not much older than me, their faces smeared with some kind of white substance. Each one held a lit candle, its flame flickering with a faint blue glow. I wasn't sure what kind of effect they were going for, but I had to admit it was strangely captivating.
"What the...?"
"The ritual, Temnikov," one of them suddenly said in a mournful tone. "Every freshman must undergo a deadly rite."
How interesting. I wondered what kind of ritual they had in mind.
Tell them to piss off. I wanna go back to sleep, Dorian grumbled, but I was already curious and eager to learn a bit more about this mysterious ritual.
"And what am I supposed to do?" I asked my guests, raising an eyebrow.
"Just follow us..."
I couldn't help but wonder whether that mournful, almost haunting voice was his natural tone or something he'd carefully rehearsed.
I hurried into my jeans and T-shirt, stepped into the corridor, and followed the others. They moved at a leisurely pace, clearly savoring every moment of this strange procession. Their steps were slow and deliberate, and once we left the residential building behind, they began to howl and giggle in a peculiar, almost eerie way. I had the distinct feeling the ritual had already begun, only no one had bothered to let me in on it.
We trudged along for about twenty minutes, which already felt far too long. At first, it was mildly intriguing, but the novelty had worn off quickly, and the walk was starting to feel dull. Dorian even suggested that once it was all over, I should offer them a few tips for next time on how to make their deadly rites a little more entertaining.
Finally, we reached a clearing where a sizable crowd had gathered, probably a hundred kids or more, if I had to guess. Candles flickered softly around the edge, casting restless shadows that danced across the trees. In the center stood a sturdy stump, and resting on top of it was a metallic bowl.
As the five of us stepped closer, the crowd fell completely silent.
The one who had invited me here began to speak.
"Tonight, in accordance with the ancient traditions of the dark arts," he announced in a loud, solemn voice, "we must formally induct the newcomer into our ranks."
Dorian yawned loudly.
He'd make a great actor, honestly. So, are we heading to bed, or do you plan to hang around here until dawn?
"Shhh! This is getting interesting..."
The speaker approached the bowl, took it in his hands, and then held it out to me with a ceremonious gesture.
"The blood of a bat." He spoke with gravity. "You must drink it to the very last drop. If you survive, you will be required to perform a ritual dance that signifies the triumph of dark forces accepting you into their fold, and confirms that you have truly earned your place in the Dark Arts class."
Dorian burst out laughing.
You've got to be kidding me. Seriously? What kind of pathetic nonsense is this?
I looked at the young man in astonishment, then glanced around the gathering. Smiles lit up every face, eyes gleaming with anticipation as they waited for what promised to be an intriguing spectacle. Judging by their expressions, most of them were first- or second-year students. But there were older, more seasoned faces scattered throughout the crowd. It was a shame, really, that the ritual they had come up with felt so dull and uninspired. For such a grand name, they could have thought of something a little more unique.
"Bring it here," I said, reaching out to take the bowl. It reeked sharply of spirits. I set it down on the stump with deliberate care. "I'll show you what a real ritual dance looks like."
As I stood there, a familiar tingling crept over me. Just beyond the edge of the clearing, I could sense a few long-buried, restless souls. Why not summon one of them? We hadn't gathered here for nothing, after all.
"Temnikov, we all believe you will carry out the responsibility entrusted to you and prove yourself worthy of the dark—" the young man began. But before he could say more, a sudden scream cut him short.
Beyond the clearing, the earth convulsed and heaved, as though something were tunneling just beneath the surface. Slowly, a bony hand pierced the soil, clawing its way upward.
A chorus of screams followed, more than a dozen voices, including a few deeper cries from the older boys.
The young man froze. His mouth hung open in silent shock as a skeleton emerged, rising inch by inch from the ground and dragging itself free in a slow, deliberate ascent.
First, the hands moved. Then one leg. Then the other.
Click. Click.
By now, the crowd had begun to thin, though about thirty people still remained. At least someone would witness my dance.
Oh, how amusingly the skeleton shuffled forward, its knees lifting high as if the bones weighed nothing at all. What a ridiculous sight!
It reached me and gently placed the bones of its right hand on my shoulder.
I turned to the young man who had been leading the so-called deadly ritual and smiled.
"Watch closely. You are about to witness the Temnikov Ritual Dance."
*** Vologda Principality Belozersk Police Station The telephone rang loudly and without warning, shattering the stillness of dawn.
Captain Ilya Vorobyev, dreaming he was out fishing and had finally landed a good catch, instinctively reached for his holster, ready to draw his weapon and shoot the scoundrel who'd dared scare away his fish. Just as he was about to act, he woke up.
By then, Lieutenant Morozov had already answered the phone. He listened intently, asked pointed questions, and jotted down details as they came.
Vorobyev glanced at the clock and frowned. Half past four in the morning. Couldn't they have let him sleep a little longer? Just long enough to find out what kind of fish had been biting. Why did they always wake him at the best part?
"What did they want?" he asked when his colleague hung up.
"It was Dubravino."
"And?"
"They've got a situation. A skeleton."
"A skeleton?" The captain blinked. "Are they drunk on moonshine again?"
"No, sir. The woman sounded completely sober. A bit frantic, though."
"Understandable. So what's it doing now?"
"Well, she was very upset. Said we need to come pick it up immediately."
"I'm not asking about the woman, you fool. The skeleton."
"Oh. It's stealing apples from the orchard."
"What an absolutely ridiculous mess," Vorobyev muttered, fastening the top button of his shirt. "Then again, with Kitezh around, anything's possible. Those brats are always stirring up trouble, and we're the ones stuck cleaning it up. Come on, let's go."
"If there really is a skeleton... What are we supposed to do with it?"
Morozov asked.
"What do you mean, what? We'll fine it for minor hooliganism.
What else? You can't lock it up, it'd slip right through the bars!"