The Sleeper compound was smaller than Caspian had imagined.
It occupied the southern section of the Academy, surrounded on all sides by open training fields and artificial parks.
The building itself was low and modern, constructed from reinforced white alloy that gleamed faintly under the winter sky. Like most structures in the Academy, the majority of it was hidden underground, with only a couple of pristine floors visible above the surface. Wide windows lined the walls, revealing bright interiors that would probably look breathtaking in summer, surrounded by greenery instead of snow.
Inside, the air was warm.
Caspian and the other three Sleepers were led into a vast hall, already filled with people.
A hundred, maybe more.
Young men and women stood in loose groups, talking animatedly, pacing back and forth, or nervously clutching their belongings.
They were all Sleepers.
All infected by the Spell at the wrong—or right—time.
The Academy's logistics were a nightmare of their own. The Spell didn't care about schedules, semesters, or academic calendars. Some Sleepers had nearly a year before entering the Dream Realm. Others had months. Some, only days.
That was why induction ceremonies were held monthly at the start of the year, then weekly once winter solstice approached.
Caspian and the other three had arrived mere hours before the ceremony.
Lucky me, he thought.
Once inside the hall, Caspian immediately realized two things.
The first was that everyone was prepared.
Every Sleeper had luggage: suitcases, duffel bags, backpacks stuffed with personal belongings. They wore good clothes, chosen carefully, likely packed by anxious parents and families who had hugged them goodbye that very morning.
Caspian glanced down at himself.
New clothes. Nothing else.
No bag. No spare items. No comfort from home.
For a brief moment, he wondered why.
Then he understood.
His training had already begun.
By giving him nothing, his father had forced him into the mindset of survival from the very first step. No reliance on possessions. No safety net.
Of his small group, all four were empty-handed.
And except for Caspian, all of them wore simple police-issued tracksuits.
They stood out.
The second thing he noticed was… appearance.
Everyone here was attractive, he knew that, but never expected how much.
Healthy, symmetrical, well-formed—faces shaped by good genetics and the mindful care of the Spell. Judging purely by looks, Caspian placed himself somewhere in the upper middle of the group.
But he had something none of them did.
Sharp, gleaming red eyes.
He caught more than a few glances. Some curious. Some wary. Some openly fascinated.
Everyone looked vibrant and full of life.
Everyone—
Except the black-haired boy and girl from his group.
They looked… thinner. Paler. Like something had already taken a bite out of them and decided to come back later.
The hall buzzed with conversation.
Teenagers did what teenagers did best.
They talked.
They talked about their Nightmares, about what they'd seen, what they'd killed, what they'd gained. They compared Aspects like trading cards. Showed off Memories as if they were trophies. Some exaggerated. Some lied. Some told the truth so openly it bordered on foolishness.
Everyone wanted to share.
Caspian joined in.
For half an hour, he talked, listened, asked questions, answered selectively. He treated it like a game—carefully choosing what to reveal and what to withhold.
Eventually, he began planting rumors.
A True Name.
A liquid-based Aspect.
Sacred rank.
Some laughed it off, calling him delusional.
Others—those who lingered, those who wanted to believe—spread the word for him. Most of them were girls, eager to play rumor wingmen for a mysterious handsome red-eyed Sleeper.
Once he was satisfied, Caspian slipped away from the crowd.
Peace lasted all of five seconds.
"I would let you know… my Appraisal was, uh, it was 'glorious'! Yes, glorious. And the Aspect I acquired was of the Divine rank."
Caspian froze.
Slowly, he turned his head.
The speaker was the black-haired boy.
The same boy Velpam had noticed.
The same boy who Velpam said smelled like a shadow.
Caspian watched as the others reacted—laughter, disbelief, mockery. Someone snorted. Someone else rolled their eyes.
The boy continued, unfazed.
"Well. Oh, right! I communicated with a bunch of gods, even though they were all dead…"
Caspian's breath caught.
The gods were dead.
He knew that.
He had heard the same words.
If not for that, he may had dismissed the boy as insane.
When the small group he was talking to dispersed, Velpam's voice echoed in his mind, amused and smug.
"Sometimes, the truth is the last thing people believe."
Caspian didn't answer.
He followed the boy.
The boy walked toward a quiet corner of the hall where two girls sat on a bench.
One was the pale black-haired girl with bandages wrapped around her hands.
The other was also pale—porcelain pale—with light blonde hair and large blue eyes. They looked like dolls placed side by side, one having stolen all the color from the other.
Caspian focused on the boy.
He approached.
"Excuse me." Caspian said casually. "Maybe what you said earlier was not a lie, wasn't it?"
The boy stopped and turned.
"You are a divine aspect holder." Caspian continued evenly. "Your appraisal was glorious, and you received a dead god's blessing?"
The boy smiled.
"Of course it wasn't a lie" he said cheerfully. "There is no one here able to say more truth than me after all!"
Caspian chuckled softly.
Then, throwing the dice of fate—
"Oh, perfect." he said. "And what god blessed you?"
The boy hesitated.
"It was… uh…" He scratched his cheek, a faint expression of pain passed through his face. "Shadow God! Yeah, the Shadow God!"
Jackpot.
Velpam sighed somewhere deep in Caspian's mind, clearly displeased at having been useful.
"Oh." Caspian said lightly. "That's because you are a shadow, aren't you?"
The boy's face drained of what little color it had left.
"…Indeed!" he exclaimed after a moment. "But I'm rather a divine shadow! How did you know?"
Caspian decided.
Truth for truth.
"Because I, too, have a divine shadow." he said calmly. "It will be a pleasure to work with you. What's your name?"
The boy stared at him.
Fear. Surprise. A flicker of hatred.
"My name is Sunless." he said stiffly. "Although Sunny is shorter. And I can't say the same for me—I hope you fall into a pit and get buried alive."
Velpam's laughter echoed in his mind.
"And very honest too." the shadow fiend said gleefully. "Great shadows think alike!"