The first rays of morning sunlight sliced through the narrow window of Tim's new dorm room. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, he took in his surroundings—gray stone walls, a too-firm mattress, and his new roommate, Brandon, already bustling around. Just his luck to land in this world and end up with someone who seemed annoyingly chipper first thing in the morning.
"Come on, Tim. I know it's early, but the academy has a routine. You'll get used to it," Brandon said, not unkindly, as he straightened his already perfectly neat bedding.
Tim groaned, pulling the blanket over his head. "What's the rush? I'm not exactly thrilled about playing magic school."
Brandon chuckled as he grabbed his coat. "Suit yourself, but you'll want breakfast before history class." He walked to the door, paused, and looked back. "Oh, and heads up—people might stare. Try not to take it personally."
With an exasperated sigh, Tim swung his legs over the side of the bed. "People are always staring. I've got used to it." He flashed a smirk at Brandon, who just rolled his eyes.
A few minutes later, as they stepped into the bustling dining hall, Tim realized Brandon hadn't been exaggerating. Every eye seemed to flick his way, sizing him up with a mixture of curiosity, suspicion, and—if he wasn't mistaken—a bit of fear. Whispers trailed behind him, words barely audible, but each one seemed to cut through the chatter.
"Is that him…?"
"Unusual way of arriving, don't you think?"
"…never heard of a newcomer like this…"
Tim scowled. Brandon, noticing, leaned in. "They're just curious. Give it time; they'll get used to you."
"Yeah, sure," Tim muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and wishing he could disappear. If only he could figure out what made his arrival so fascinating. He'd barely had time to process that himself, let alone get answers from the people supposedly here to help him.
After breakfast, they entered their first class: History of the Supernatural Realm. Tim sank into his seat, determined to tune out what he assumed would be a boring lecture. But as the instructor spoke, the stories hooked him in spite of himself.
"…and in ancient times, there was a group devoted to chaos and darkness. They harnessed forbidden powers, manipulating energies that corrupt even the purest souls. The group still exists today, rumored to be led by a figure as dark as he is powerful."
At that, a few students glanced at Tim. He pretended not to notice, clenching his jaw as questions churned inside him. Why were they looking at him like that?
As the instructor continued, detailing battles fought to defend the supernatural realm, Tim felt an uncomfortable knot form in his stomach. He had heard tales of villains and powerful leaders in movies or on the streets, but this felt different—too close, somehow. Something about the way the instructor avoided naming this leader, the subtle glances his classmates shot in his direction…a chill crept up his spine.
Later that day, Brandon led him to the training grounds, a vast open area dotted with students honing their abilities under the watchful eyes of instructors. Tim noticed that Anika and Brayden stood a little apart from the others, clearly not here to train but to supervise. Their gazes were intense, assessing as if they were watching over their own kingdom.
"Don't let them intimidate you," Brandon said, nudging him. "They're here to help."
"Right," Tim scoffed, eyeing Brayden. "I'm sure he's thrilled to see the new guy fumbling around."
They approached an instructor, who gestured for Tim to begin with simple exercises to test his control over the air element. He tried, focusing as hard as he could, but his attempts barely caused a whisper of wind. He felt the weight of eyes on him—Brayden's and Anika's especially—and with every failed try, his frustration grew.
Finally, Brayden, looking almost amused, called out from where he was standing, "Relax, Tim. You're too tense. Just breathe, and the air will follow."
Tim glared at him, the advice feeling more patronizing than helpful. Still, he gave it a try. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, reaching for the sensation he'd felt back in the human world. But here, under scrutiny, it felt elusive, like trying to catch mist in his hands.
With a sigh, he opened his eyes to see Anika observing him with something that looked almost like sympathy. She gave him a nod. "It takes time, even for the best of us. You'll get there."
Tim's shoulders slumped, and he forced a smirk. "Nice to know not everyone thinks I'm a hopeless case."
After what felt like an eternity, the training session finally ended. Exhausted, Tim rubbed his forehead, feeling a strange mix of defeat and a burning desire to understand this place. He was still an outsider here, haunted by his own questions, and it seemed the more he learned, the more tangled those questions became.
But as he walked off the training grounds, a single thought refused to leave his mind: he would find answers. One way or another, he'd figure out who he really was and why everyone here see
med to know more about him than he did himself.