As Reed awoke to the golden hues of early morning spilling through the dormitory window, the gentle warmth danced across his face. He groaned softly, blinking away the haze of sleep, and slowly sat up in bed. The soft cotton sheets rustled around him as he reached for the edge of the mattress, his fingers brushing against the cool wooden floor. The scent of fresh linen and a faint trace of Marek's laundry soap lingered in the air, citrus and something vaguely herbal.
Stretching his arms above his head, Reed took a deep breath and let it out slowly, grounding himself. Today's the day, he thought, running a hand through his tousled hair. Orientation. A day for names and faces, forming first impressions, and gauging the landscape of allies and potential rivals. It was the beginning of the real journey.
He turned to the lump in the other bed, which had yet to stir. Marek, as expected, was still dead to the world. His limbs were tangled in the blanket, one arm hanging off the side like a fallen flag, mouth slightly ajar, emitting a faint, rhythmic snore.
"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Reed said, his voice still hoarse from sleep. "Time for class."
"Five more minutes, mommm…" Marek muttered, voice muffled as he blindly pulled the blanket over his face like a child evading sunlight.
Reed sighed and stood, tugging on a clean shirt. "Fine. Have it your way."
With practiced ease, Reed stepped over and yanked the entire blanket off in one clean motion, leaving Marek exposed to the cool morning air and the unrelenting sunshine now streaming through the open window.
"Now will you get up?" Reed asked with a grin.
Marek groaned dramatically, flopping like a fish. "You're a menace. A cruel, heartless warden."
"And yet, here I am, patiently guiding you to greatness."
Grumbling, Marek finally rolled out of bed, his hair sticking out in five different directions. "You know, this level of betrayal so early in the morning should be illegal."
Together, they got ready in the narrow dormitory room, trading barbs and comments between brushing teeth and buttoning shirts. Marek complained about his itchy socks. Reed couldn't get the collar of his uniform to sit straight. Small frustrations that felt, oddly, comforting part of a routine that grounded them both.
Once presentable, the two boys stepped out into the crisp morning, their boots crunching softly against the cobbled walkways that wound through the campus. The greenery sparkled with dew, and small birds flitted between hedges, chirping like they too were gearing up for a long day.
The front office building loomed ahead a massive structure of dark stone and pointed towers, casting deep shadows across the polished courtyard. Gargoyles perched on spires, their hollow eyes watching silently. Though the surrounding campus was a blend of modern charm and lush flora, the administrative hall stood out with its sharp angles and haunting elegance.
"Man," Marek said, staring up at the grim facade, "they should really make this place a little nicer. I keep expecting lightning to strike when we walk in."
Reed chuckled. "I think that's the aesthetic they're going for. Terrify the students into punctuality."
"Mission accomplished, I guess."
Despite the humor, a subtle tension crept into Reed's chest. The closer they got, the more real it all felt. Orientation wasn't just about logistics. It was about beginning something committing to the path ahead, no matter how uncertain.
As they pushed open the heavy oak doors, a wave of noise hit them immediately.
Dozens—no, hundreds of students crammed into the front lobby, their voices overlapping into a dull roar. Students jostled past each other, some waving papers, others trying to peek over the crowd to spot an open attendant. The wide space, lit by glowing lanterns suspended in midair, looked more like a chaotic bazaar than a government office.
"This… is going to take a while," Marek muttered, glancing around for the shortest line.
"I'm going to have to agree for once," Reed replied, grimacing.
The boys began weaving their way through the crowd, enduring the occasional shoulder bump or muttered apology. A tall girl with bright green eyes accidentally stepped on Marek's foot. A short boy clutched his class card like it was sacred, shielding it from the bustle with his backpack. All around them, the air buzzed with the excitement and nervous energy of new beginnings.
Eventually, they made it to a row of desks manned by uniformed staff members, each wearing a gold-trimmed badge and a tired but practiced smile. Twenty separate lines fanned out from these desks, each student inching forward with various degrees of impatience.
They found an opening at desk #14.
"Hello," Reed said as politely as he could, brushing a leaf off his shoulder. "We're here to get our class cards?"
The woman behind the desk, a middle-aged clerk with half-moon glasses and a coffee-stained ledger, gave a small nod. "Names?"
"Well, mine's Marek," he said, wiping sweat from his forehead, "and his is—"
"Reed," Reed interjected quickly. "My name's Reed."
The clerk glanced up, her hand pausing above the crystal tablet that glowed faintly with blue script.
"Reed as in…" she trailed off.
"Yes, that Reed, I'm afraid," he replied, trying and failing to sound casual. A few nearby students turned their heads at the name.
The woman blinked, then recovered, fingers dancing across the tablet as she searched for their entries. "Right. Well. One moment…"
She handed Marek a thin card that shimmered slightly in the light. "Marek, you're enrolled in the standard Blue Mage courses: Basic Life Skills, Basic Combat, Basic Magic Theory, Basic Resource Gathering, and Basic Water Control. Nothing unusual."
"Sounds safe and boring. Perfect," Marek said, pocketing the card.
The clerk hesitated before sliding a different card toward Reed. "And… you might want to look for yourself."
Reed felt a jolt of anxiety spike in his stomach. He reached out, fingers brushing the cool, matte surface. The moment his eyes landed on the simple black lettering, his heart sank.
REED
SPECIAL TRAINING
BY
PROFESSOR HARLEN
That was it. No class list. No subjects. Just a name.
"Special training?" Marek repeated, peeking over Reed's shoulder. "That sounds... ominous."
Reed stared at the card in silence. "What does that even mean?"
The clerk fidgeted. "I was instructed not to explain. Only to inform you that Professor Harlen will reach out later today with details."
Marek leaned closer to Reed and whispered, "You sure you didn't accidentally enroll in secret assassin training or something?"
Reed didn't laugh. "It feels more like they don't want me near the general population."
"That's probably fair," Marek said, attempting levity. "You did try to suck half the classroom into a shadowy void two days ago."
"That was unintentional."
"All the more reason to keep you supervised by a professor whose name sounds like a heavy thunderclap."
Reed pocketed the card with a tight grip, trying not to let his emotions show. Disappointment, frustration, curiosity they swirled inside him like the black mist that occasionally curled around his fingertips.
As they turned to leave the desk, Marek placed a firm hand on Reed's shoulder.
"Hey," he said. "Whatever this is, it doesn't change anything. You're still you. Still the guy who pulls off my blankets in the morning and gets me to places on time."
Reed gave him a weak smile. "Still the guy who dragged you out of bed by force, huh?"
"Exactly. No mysterious training program can take that away."
They stepped back into the crowded hallway, the noise pressing in again from all sides. But this time, Reed didn't feel quite so alone in it.
Whatever came next however strange or isolating he wasn't walking into it without support.
And that made all the difference.