Roland was deep in thought when the door to Room NO.42 creaked open. He tensed up, turning to see who he'd be stuck with for the next three years. There stood Cole Cindercrest, taking up the whole doorway with his tall frame and bright red hair, looking every bit like someone who knew their own strength. But there was something off about his confident smile, like he was trying too hard to wear it right. Behind him stood Ian, who couldn't have been more different – small, skinny, and looking like he wanted to disappear into the walls.
"A broken Empty and a scared one," Cole said, but he sounded more curious than mean about it. "Pretty interesting mix."
Running his fingers through his messy red hair, Cole suddenly dropped the tough guy act, becoming almost awkward.
"You've probably heard of me—Cole Cindercrest, the walking flamethrower. With me around, no one's gonna mess with us. Trust me, I'm a big deal."
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking weirdly normal for someone with his reputation. "With me around, you guys won't have to worry about bullies. I mean, you've seen what I can do, right?" His grin was surprisingly genuine, like a kid showing off their favorite toy.
Roland couldn't help but stare. This wasn't what he'd expected from the famous Cole Cindercrest – or at least, not entirely. The guy in front of him was somehow both more and less than the stories made him out to be.
"I'll take this bed," Cole announced, dropping his stuff in the corner. What followed was an hour of him talking almost non-stop, bouncing between bragging and what felt like honest attempts to make friends. His voice got quieter as he noticed everyone drifting off to sleep. "Tough crowd, huh?" he whispered to himself, sounding kind of lonely before finally closing his eyes.
****
Earlier that day, in one of the hallways:
"Hey, what room did you get?" Cole's voice made another student freeze mid-step.
"F-forty-two," they stammered. In a blink, Cole was right in their face, making them back into the wall.
"Let's trade," Cole said flatly, his eyes burning with something that looked a lot like desperation. The other student handed over their keycard so fast you'd think it was on fire, then practically ran away.
****
The sun wasn't even up when Roland found himself on Training Field F, the most beat-up and forgotten of all the practice areas. He couldn't sleep – Cole's snoring could wake the dead, and Ian's nightmares weren't exactly peaceful either. Plus, the weird burning feeling of symbols under his skin was driving him crazy. At least the grimoire, in the hidden pocket against his back felt comforting in a strange way.
The training field looked like it had seen better days, with old practice dummies scattered around like forgotten soldiers. Roland went through his fighting moves mechanically, pushing until his muscles burned in that familiar way.
Without warning, the grimoire suddenly got hot against his back. Roland stopped moving, watching as the morning mist swirled around him in ways mist definitely shouldn't. Then he heard footsteps.
"Most people avoid getting up this early," Eva Frost said, managing to sound both cold and slightly impressed. She and her twin seemed to appear out of nowhere, their white uniforms somehow staying clean despite the muddy ground. The small scar by Eva's eyebrow caught the early light as she looked him over. "The cold keeps the weak ones in bed."
"Some of us can't make our own heat," Roland shot back, waiting for the usual mockery.
Something changed in Eva's face, like ice starting to crack. "Real strength isn't just about having powers." She pointed to the west side of the field. "That part's yours if you want it. We'll stick to the east."
Ava, the quieter twin, actually gave him a nod – which was practically a warm greeting by her standards. They moved to their spot in perfect sync, leaving trails of ice crystals behind them like frozen breadcrumbs.
More students showed up as morning really got going. James Well commanded attention just by walking in, his voice carrying across the field without effort. "Today we're learning the basics of essence control. Watch carefully." The air above his hand started shimmering with power. "Your essence isn't just some tool – it's part of you, like an extra limb you're learning to use."
While Well was talking, Cole couldn't help showing off, writing messages in the air with fire. Others were struggling just to make anything happen at all. The Frost twins moved like they were born doing this stuff, though Roland could tell they were holding back.
"Kuiper," Well called out, trying to sound neutral and not quite managing it. "Show us what you can do."
Roland stepped forward, feeling everyone's eyes on him like a physical weight. The grimoire thumped once against his back, hard enough to make him gasp. When he raised his hands, things got weird – the air around him started moving wrong, mist curling in impossible shapes. The training equipment nearby started crackling with strange energy.
Then someone screamed. One of the students lost control of their earth powers, stone spikes shooting up from the ground way too fast. Roland moved without thinking, the grimoire's heat flooding through his whole body. Suddenly he could see essence flowing everywhere, like rivers of light.
Acting on pure instinct, Roland reached out to touch the wild essence. It responded to him like a spooked animal slowly calming down, the stone spikes freezing in place. Strange symbols flickered across the nearby equipment, disappearing too fast to read.
Afterwards, nobody knew what to say. Roland saw real fear in their eyes – not the usual "oh look, an Empty" fear, but the deeper kind that comes from seeing something you can't explain. They kept their distance more than ever, but now it felt different, like they were avoiding a mystery instead of just an Empty, the fear of the unknown.
Roland spent the rest of practice watching Cole try harder and harder to impress everyone (was he showing off or just really lonely?) and keeping an eye on Ian, who still hadn't said a single word. He couldn't help wondering about Ian's silence – was it choice, fear, or something worse?
****
At lunch, Roland grabbed a corner table, turning it into his private watching post. It was something he'd learned the hard way – nobody pays attention to the person they're trying to ignore, the quiet kid in the corner. From here, he could see everything: the little groups forming and breaking apart, the quiet acts of kindness, the casual cruelties. Every smile that didn't reach someone's eyes, every laugh that carried an edge of fear. It was amazing what people would do when they thought no one was looking.
"Hey Roland!" The familiar voice made him wince inside. Cole was heading his way with his usual swagger, though something about it felt more like armor than attitude today. Ian drifted behind him like a shadow afraid of its own darkness.
"Mind if we join you?" Cole was already sitting down as he asked, wearing that smile that seemed to say 'please don't say no' behind all its confidence.
"Why even ask when you're already sitting?" Roland couldn't keep the bite out of his voice.
"Because I know you'll let me," Cole replied. His smile stayed bright, but his eyes gave away something deeper – a flash of uncertainty, gone so quick you'd miss it if you weren't looking for it.
"You don't know me". Roland sighed, letting his head rest on his hand, and the table propping his elbow and arm. "What about you?" glancing to the side he asked Ian in a lazy voice, who jumped like he'd been shocked before carefully taking a seat at the edge of the table, keeping his usual safe distance.
'A guy who acts tough to look cool, but is actually lonely and a wimpy kid'. Roland turned away to hide the psychotic smile creeping across his face. 'this is going to be interesting, lets see how I use you both'.
****
Later, alone in his room, Roland found another note slipping from between the grimoire's pages. The writing seemed alive somehow, shifting under his eyes like it couldn't quite decide what shape to take: "Being empty doesn't mean there's nothing there. Sometimes an empty cup is just waiting to be filled with something older, something deeper than what everyone else is carrying. You don't need power to start this journey – you need understanding. The shadows know things the light's too afraid to learn."
****
In his office, James Well was having a very different kind of conversation, speaking quietly into a communication crystal: "Sir, about the Empty... he's got something inside him. Something old. Something that shouldn't be possible according to everything we know." He paused, listening to whatever was coming from the other end. "Yes, sir. The readings from Class F are like nothing we've seen before, especially around the Frost girl." Another pause. "Understood. We'll keep watching both situations."
The crystal went dark, leaving Well alone with thoughts he didn't want to face – the growing feeling that everything they thought they knew about essence, about power itself, might be completely wrong.