Chapter 30D — Orientation Under a Changing Sky
The Headmistress dismissed them only after tracing three layers of runes into the air outside her office—thin bands of green light that sank into the wood like ink into old paper.
Each circle felt like a lock sliding into place.
Myra watched, eyes wide. "That was… new."
Runa grunted. "Means trouble's not done."
Nellie hugged the lightning pup closer. "I really, really hate that."
Aiden didn't argue. He felt the same tightness in his chest he'd had since the Gate—like the world had noticed him and decided not to look away.
They walked down the corridor in a loose cluster—Myra on his left, Runa a step ahead, Nellie on his right with the pup mashed into her chest fur-first. Green-glass lanterns floated near the ceiling, casting soft light over carved beams and ivy-strangled stone.
Somewhere outside, a bell tolled—deep and slow, the kind of sound that made the building vibrate down through the floor.
Orientation.
The word carried through the hall on students' whispers:
"Grand Court—" "Paths get explained today—" "Did you hear about the Gate—?" "Storm-child, they said—no, I heard it—"
Aiden flinched at that last one.
Myra bumped his shoulder with hers. "Hey. Ignore them."
"I'm trying."
"You're doing great. You're not even fainting."
Nellie whispered, "Don't joke about that…"
Runa didn't say anything.
But she shifted to walk a little closer to Nellie, just enough that her shoulder brushed the gnome's arm, like habit.
They reached the wide stair that opened out toward the eastern terraces. Through the tall archway ahead, Aiden could see daylight, banners, and the faint blur of a huge gathering.
They stepped out.
And the Academy unfolded.
---
The Grand Court of Beasthood was built to hold armies.
A huge circular courtyard, ringed with columns carved like twisting trees. Banners hung between them—green and silver, each marked with a different symbol: a pawprint, a feathered wing, a coiled serpent, a horned helm, a blade crossed with bone, a circle of radiating lines.
Six disciplines.
Six ways to survive in this world.
Students filled the space like floodwater. Cloaks in every shade of Academy green, some still crisp-new, others stained with old training dust. A few carried beast cores in metal fittings at their belts; others, weapons wrapped in leather; others only packs and wide eyes.
The noise hit all at once—laughing, shouting, nervous chatter, bragging, whispered rumors.
And then:
"There they are!"
Dozens of heads turned toward the top of the terrace stairs.
Aiden froze.
He had never gotten used to it. Not in his first life, not in this one. Being watched like that—with expectation, with fear, with curiosity—made his skin prickle and his storm twitch.
Nellie shrank half a step behind him, clutching the pup.
Myra winced. "Ugh. People."
Runa set her jaw and stepped in front of all three of them like that was simply her default setting.
The crowd shifted to avoid her without even thinking about it.
Myra whispered, "I love that for us."
They started down.
Whispers followed every step.
"Is that him—" "The Hollow survivor—" "Two Thorn Marks—" "Look at his arms—are those…" "Is that a storm cub? No way—" "Who bonds a lightning beast before orientation?"
The pup yipped once, offended, sparks burrowing into Nellie's sleeve.
"Hush," she murmured into its fur. "You're perfect."
At the foot of the stairs, the crowd thickened. A tethered mass of fear and excitement. They had to weave between clusters—one group arguing about which discipline gave the best posting chances, another comparing scars from travel, a third already sizing each other up like future rivals.
A tall girl with a braid down to her waist stared as they passed, whispering to her friend, "That's him. The Gate one."
Her friend frowned. "He doesn't look like a monster."
"Exactly," the first girl muttered. "That's the worrying part."
Myra half-turned. "We can still hear you."
The girl flushed bright red and pretended to be fascinated by her boots.
Aiden kept walking.
His marks itched faintly under his sleeves—thorn-shaped sigils spread along his ribs, wrapping his skin in patterns the Hollow had carved there. Every few breaths, he could feel them pulse in time with his heartbeat.
And under that, deeper—
The storm.
Not thrashing now.
Just… awake.
He moved a little closer to Myra and Nellie without thinking, crowd pressing on his nerves.
Runa noticed.
"Breathe," she said quietly.
"I am breathing."
"Breathe better."
He almost laughed. Almost.
---
Glowing circles spiraled into the air above the courtyard, one after another. Rune-light rippled across the banners. The noise dimmed without anyone being told to be quiet.
Headmistress Elowen Thorne stepped onto the raised stone platform in the center.
Everything stilled.
She didn't look like she'd just layered half the Academy in extra wards and had a Warden problem in her back pocket. She looked composed, calm, every line of her posture saying: I have already thought six moves ahead of you.
Her eyes swept the courtyard, slow and steady.
They passed over Aiden.
He felt the brush of that gaze like cold water running over heated stone. Not unkind. Not warm.
Measuring.
"Welcome," she said.
Her voice carried without shouting, like the air itself decided to help.
"To some of you, this place is a story you have chased since childhood. To others, it is a debt to be paid, a duty to be fulfilled, or a last chance that someone begged for you."
A murmur moved through the crowd.
Nellie swallowed. "That last one is me," she whispered.
Runa glanced down. "You're here on merit. Don't cheapen yourself."
Nellie's cheeks went pink. "…okay."
Elowen's gaze drifted across the pillars, the stands, the faces.
"Whatever brought you to Erylwood, understand this: the Academy is not here to make you powerful. The world already has too many powerful fools."
A snort of nervous laughter rippled through the students.
Elowen continued.
"We are here to make you precise. To teach you how to carry weight without dropping it on those who do not deserve to be crushed. To help you walk through storms without becoming one that destroys everything in its path."
Aiden's storm gave an uncomfortable twitch at that.
Myra nudged him. "She is definitely talking about you a little bit."
"Thanks," he muttered.
Nellie patted his arm. "She's also talking about the jerks in emerald robes."
"Especially them," Runa added.
Elowen lifted one hand.
Six banners flared brighter—each symbol glowing.
"Here you will learn disciplines," she said. "Bonding. Healing. Tactics. Lore. Resonance. Pathfinding. You will choose a track, then two, then three, until you find what keeps you alive."
The banner with the radiating circle—the resonance symbol—pulsed faintly brighter than the others.
Aiden felt it behind his ribs.
Veldt stepped into view near the platform's base, arms crossed, expression as warm as a rockslide. On the opposite side, another figure emerged—a woman in battle leathers with white hair braided close to her scalp and a scar along her jaw.
Sentinel Rowan.
She rested one hand casually on the hilt of a short, wickedly curved blade.
"We will not coddle you," Elowen said. "The world outside these walls is old, tired, and increasingly hostile to your continued breathing."
Nellie winced. "Her motivational speeches are so comforting."
Runa snorted. "She's not wrong."
Myra shaded her eyes, peering up. "Which one is our combat teacher?"
Aiden nodded toward Rowan. "Pretty sure that one."
"Great. She looks like she could kill me with a wooden spoon."
"Probably can," Runa said.
"That's so cool," Myra whispered.
Aiden wasn't sure if he agreed with cool yet.
Elowen went on.
"You have already taken your first step through the Gate. Some of you were weighed and found cautious. Some reckless. Some honest. Some hiding from yourselves."
Her gaze brushed Aiden again.
He didn't look away.
"Trials are not finished," she said. "They never are. The Gate was merely your first conversation with what you could become."
That sent a murmur of nervous energy through the younger students.
Aiden's grip tightened slightly on the pup.
It noticed and pressed its small head under his chin, eyes closing.
"You will make bonds," Elowen said. "With beasts. With classmates. With teachers. With the land itself. Some will save you. Some will haunt you. Pay attention to which is which."
That landed heavier than it had any right to.
Aiden thought of the Warden in the marsh. The Aberration in the Hollow. The Gate whispering storm-child.
And of Myra's hand clutching his sleeve at the caravan.
Nellie's trembling fingers gripping his coat outside the Gate.
Runa's hammer between them and anyone who looked at them wrong.
He knew which side he wanted to stand on.
Elowen lowered her hand.
"Classes begin tomorrow," she said. "Path testing and provisional tracks will be assigned over the next three days. Dorm placements will be posted within the hour."
Excitement crackled through the courtyard.
"Dorms—" "We get real rooms—" "Say there's food first—" "Do you think they put strong people together?" "No way, they mix us, right?"
Myra frowned. "I hope they mix us. I'm not rooming with thirty copies of Emerald Jerk."
"Maybe they'll separate us," Nellie said softly. "…for 'balance.'"
Aiden's stomach sank.
Runa shook her head immediately. "If they try, we fix it."
"How?" Nellie asked.
"With a hammer," Myra said.
Nellie squeaked. "Not that."
Aiden managed a weak smile. "Let's… see the board before we declare war on the dorms."
The Headmistress finished.
"Erylwood will demand much of you," she said. "But I will tell you the only promise I can make and keep: if you truly commit to your path, you will not leave here unchanged."
The word sent a chill up his spine.
Storms changed things.
Marks changed things.
People changed things.
The question was how.
Elowen's eyes lingered on him one last time.
"Welcome," she said softly, and somehow it sounded like a warning and a blessing at once.
The rune-light above her dimmed.
Orientation was done.
---
The courtyard exploded back into noise.
Students surged toward the exits and posting boards, packing the passageways in groups. Some grabbed friends, some grabbed strangers, some already trying to pull together teams.
Aiden stayed where he was for a moment, letting his ears and storm adjust.
Then Myra turned on her heel to face him.
"Okay," she said. "Emergency agenda."
He blinked. "We have an agenda?"
"We do now. Item one: team rules."
Nellie nodded quickly. "Yes. This is important."
Runa folded her arms. "Fine. Say them."
Myra lifted a hand.
"Rule One: Aiden is not allowed to almost die anymore."
Aiden stared. "That's… ambitious."
"Don't care," Myra said. "That's the rule."
Nellie put a hand up, small but fierce. "Rule Two: If Aiden does almost die, he has to tell us everything. No secrets. No 'I'm fine' when you're glowing and shaking and bleeding on the inside."
He opened his mouth.
Saw all three of them looking at him.
Closed it.
"…Okay," he said quietly. "I'll try."
"That's not a real promise," Myra muttered.
Runa cut in. "Rule Three: anyone who threatens Nellie loses a limb."
Nellie choked. "Runa—!"
Runa didn't blink. "Optional: two limbs."
Myra considered. "That's fair."
Aiden squinted. "Should I be concerned how fast you agreed to that?"
"Rule Four," Nellie blurted, cheeks burning, "um—no one gets to decide what the lightning pup is except us."
The cub chirped proudly.
"We also… need a name," she added. "Before someone else gives it one like 'Storm Menace.'"
Myra gasped. "We can't let Emerald Jerks brand our dog."
"He's not a dog," Runa said. "He's a small lightning disaster."
"Exactly," Myra said. "Dog."
They began listing terrible names immediately.
"Spark," Nellie tried.
"Too cute," Runa said.
"Thunderbite," Myra suggested.
"Too dramatic," Nellie said.
"Static," Aiden muttered.
All three paused.
The pup tilted its head.
A tiny crackle rolled off its fur.
Nellie's eyes lit. "Static… actually kind of fits."
"Small," Runa said. "Annoying if ignored. Dangerous in the wrong place."
Myra grinned. "Perfect."
Aiden glanced down at the pup. "…You good with 'Static'?"
The cub yipped once and bit his collar.
He decided that meant yes.
"Fine," he said. "Static it is."
Static sneezed lightning in triumph.
A few nearby students flinched.
One upper-year glared. "Do you mind? Some of us like having eyebrows."
"Some of us like not being rude," Myra shot back.
Runa rolled her shoulders pointedly.
The upper-year looked at Runa.
Reconsidered his life choices.
Walked away.
Nellie whispered, "You two are terrifying. I feel very safe."
Aiden exhaled.
Not relaxed.
But steadier.
His storm didn't feel like a wild thing banging against a cage. It felt… aware. Linked. Like the bond threads between him, Static, Myra, Nellie, and Runa braided through his chest and anchored the lightning there.
He realized, suddenly, that when he pictured losing control now, he didn't see random destruction.
He saw their faces.
And that made him want to hold the reins even harder.
---
"Dorm board," Runa said. "Let's go before the good rooms are taken."
"The rooms are identical," Aiden said.
Myra leaned close. "Nothing is identical. Some have better windows. Some have less mold. Some are closer to kitchens."
Nellie added, "Some are farther from the boys who snore."
"That last one is crucial," Myra agreed.
They let themselves be carried by the flow of students toward the inner wall where a massive board of shimmering names had appeared, organized by year and building.
Lines of first-years pressed close, craning to look.
"We'll never see anything in that," Nellie fretted.
Runa grunted, then simply walked through the crowd like a wedge.
Space opened.
Aiden tried very hard not to enjoy that too much.
Names flickered on the board—dozens, then hundreds. He scanned quickly, storm humming in the back of his skull.
Raikos, Aiden — Arrival Wing, Room 213 → reassigned: Willow Hall 3B.
"That's me," he said. "Willow Hall, 3B."
"Myra Lynell—" Myra scanned, then jabbed the air. "Willow Hall 3B. Same room. Yes."
Nellie bounced on her toes. "Nellie Tinkwhistle… please, please—oh!"
She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes shining.
"Tinkwhistle, Nellie — Willow Hall 3B," Aiden read.
His chest warmed.
"All three," Myra said. "They put us together. Thank you, mysterious dorm gods."
Then Nellie blinked. "Wait… what about—"
"Runa Ironjaw," Runa said dryly. "Let's see if they made a mistake."
They found it.
Ironjaw, Runa — Willow Hall 3B.
Myra's jaw dropped. "We get the dwarf too?!"
Runa raised an eyebrow. "'The dwarf'?"
"You know what I mean," Myra said. "We get you."
Nellie actually squealed.
Aiden smiled, small but real. "All four of us, then."
Static yipped loudly, as if offended.
Runa snorted. "Five."
"Right," Aiden said. "Five."
He let himself really feel it for the first time:
He wasn't just someone the world had tossed into a storm and left alone.
He had a room.
He had friends.
He had a ridiculous lightning cub named Static.
He had people who would drag him back from a Gate and yell at him for scaring them.
He had a team.
"Rule Five," Myra said suddenly. "We stick together. No splitting the party unless the world is literally ending."
"Or the instructors make us," Nellie added.
"Then we cheat," Myra said.
Runa smirked. "Within reason."
Static sneezed sparks in agreement.
Aiden nodded.
"Rule Five," he said. "We stick together."
Far beyond the walls, somewhere in the marsh, something ancient stirred and tasted that promise like ozone on the wind.
The Warden waited.
The storms waited.
But for the first time since the Gate, Aiden didn't feel like he was facing them alone.
He adjusted Static in his arms.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go see what our room looks like."
Myra slung an arm around his shoulders.
Nellie clung to Runa's hand without quite realizing she was doing it.
Runa didn't let go.
They walked toward Willow Hall as the sky above the Academy shifted subtly—clouds thickening, light changing, a storm slowly gathering far beyond the horizon.
The world was changing.
So were they.
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