Chapter Text
You wake in a void.
Cold as winter, dark as midnight, but not quiet, nor empty. Such a place should only be shrouded in reverent whispers, if not in monastic silence, but here, there are cheers, chatter, merry laughter, the sound of bells and smiles.
You feel stiff and achey.
You haven't been here before.
Thrust your hands outward, and the infinite darkness will prove finite. You touch something solid, cool and smooth. You push. You're only half-conscious, only half-sure of what you're doing, but even then, your mind has decided that you're in a place with walls, and, hopefully, a door, too.
Sometimes, hope is all you have.
This time, you also have a door.
It falls off its hinges and onto the floor beyond with a heavy, imposing, thud. The distant merriment dies, and shrouds itself in quiet.
You feel dizzy. Your head hurts.
"YOU!" someone cries out. You? Me?
Something warm and almost rough takes your wrist and pulls you into the light, warm and sickly, yellow and green.
You're suddenly in a tight hug, your face pressed into the shoulder of a voice you don't recognize. Are you dreaming? Surely, you must be. When was the last time someone hugged you like this?
"Ace," this voice is new, coming from behind the shoulder you're pressed against.
"That's not You."
The arms that had so soon swept you up now push you back, and you're met with the wide eyes of a boy. Ace, as his darker-haired friend had called him.
"Oh... wait, what?"
You look between the two. "I'm not me?" for some reason, this is all you can think to say.
And they look between each other.
"Man. They're speaking in riddles," one whispers.
"Yes? What is it?" another boy comes, red-haired and shorter than the first two. "Might I remind you we have a schedule to keep? I won't be held by useless questions like last year's orientation. Spade, as new vice housewarden, you should have already gathered the new first years. Who is this?"
He's suddenly looking right at you, curiosity and impatience in the gray of his eyes.
"Riddle- H-Housewarden, I mean," Ace says. "We... uh... we don't know, they..."
Riddle smiles. "Heh, don't tell me. A magicless student from another dimension just fell out of a coffin?"
The two taller boys don't answer.
Riddle is no longer smiling.
"Ahem. Deuce, please see to the first-years. Ace... please let go of them,"
Ace's eyes widen again as he realize his hands are still tight on your shoulders, and he quickly withdraws them, as if you were something repulsive.
The dark-haired one, Deuce, reluctantly leaves, Ace not far behind. Riddle turns to you with a scrutinizing look, hand on his hip.
"I suggest you find your assigned dorm before they depart. This is a large school, it would be unbecoming to lose yourself on the first day,"
Dorm? School?
You tell yourself you must be dreaming, and you say nothing, staring blankly at "Housewarden" Riddle, waiting to wake.
You don't.
He sighs. "Very well. Tell me the name of your dorm, I will bring you to your housewarden,"
You still don't wake.
"...My what?"
"Your dorm," Riddle says. His cheeks tint pink, and he looks away for a moment, taking deep breaths in and out. "Were you paying no attention during the ceremony? I know you are no student of Heartslabyul, so what is it? Ignihyde, perhaps? Scarabia? Diasomnia?"
"...I don't know what any of those words mean," you admit. "...Where am I?"
Riddle's face goes from rosy pink to ghostly white, his eyes widening.
"...Just one moment, if you please," he says to you, turning and walking to the head of his group, where Deuce Spade is gathering even more teenage boys. Riddle whispers something, and the "vice housewarden" (whatever that means) nods. The raging sea of hormones ebbs, leaving the dark, stone room.
The red-haired one, the one who thought he had recognized you, Ace, gives you a lasting look before they're gone.
Riddle then approaches another ensemble, this one headed by a white-haired boy. The Housewarden whispers something, and he nods, pushing his glasses up his nose.
That ensemble, too, leaves, and suddenly, the two boys are at your sides, and you're walking.
"Perhaps we should take them to someone sensible, first," Riddle says, speaking to the other as if you weren't there. "Perhaps Professor Trein?"
"I don't see why we should. We'll only be wasting time,"
"I'm not sure I'd like to bring this to the Headmage, Azul,"
"My, my," he (Azul?) smirks. "Look who's bending the rules now."
Riddle glares. "I'm doing nothing of the sort. I am simply being logical. You do realize this must be a practical joke, yes? Royal Sword Academy-"
"RSA wouldn't do this," Azul interrupts. "Their idea of a prank isn't reenacting the strangest thing to ever..."
He pauses, looking away for a moment. And then: "But, yes. The odds of this are quite low,"
"Perhaps Shroud should look at them,"
"Perhaps so. But whatever we do, we mustn't tell-"
"Understood,"
They stop, and you stop with them, in front of a pair of tall wooden doors.
Riddle sighs. "I must return to my dorm. It's tradition that I see to the celebration,"
Some anxious creature that had made a home for itself within you claws at your chest and cries, no, don't go, I don't know what I'm doing!
"Then, by all means," Azul says. "I don't exactly trust Jade and Floyd with the first-years, but I find this is a dire matter."
"Yes,"
"Yes, indeed,"
Still, Riddle seems reluctant to leave, lingering at your side for a few seconds longer before parting, the sound of heels clicking against stone.
Azul turns to you. "What's your name?"
You tell him. He smiles brightly. "Oh, a pleasure. I am Azul Ashengrotto. Welcome to Night Raven College,"
"I see,"
That's all he says. After your explanation, your name, your country of origin, your age, your gender, and your complete recount of the events that led you here, that's all the Headmage has to say.
"If I may, Headmage," Azul says, still at your side. "This is certainly not the strangest thing to happen at this school."
"Yes, yes, I'm well aware of that, thank you," the man says, waving a clawed hand at the boy. "But twice in two years... now, how will I ever explain this? Especially after last year's... er... incidents, our prestigious academy has suffered! Its reputation, wounded!"
Azul's bright smile seems to fade a little. "Do you truly think that's the most important thing to be considering right now?"
The Headmage, who you still had not been introduced to, scowls. "Of course not. There is the matter of lodging, food, clothing- I shudder to imagine the burden on the school's budget!"
Azul sighs. The Headmage's words of woe sit on your shoulders. Twice in two years?
"Ahem. Where will they be staying, then?" the boy asks. "I doubt if... er, the spare dorm is a wise choice. So suddenly..."
"Ah... I hadn't even considered... ahem," he drums his clawed fingers against the desk. "...Yes, yes. Ashengrotto, would it disagree with you to speak with Housewarden Vanrouge and Vice Housewarden Zigvolt? They may be more... er, sympathetic to the cause."
Azul hums. "Not a terrible idea. Of course, I would offer Octavinelle for the night, but I doubt they have anything to offer me in return... yes. I'll be back in a moment's time,"
He leaves you in the office, darkened by night and consumed by dread and the sound of claws on wood.
The Headmage is still, studying you from the depths of his mask. He says nothing.
Then: "Well... I certainly hope you won't be as much of a troublemaker as the last one,"
The doors are suddenly thrown open, slamming against the walls and making the room shudder with their weight. You can't help but jolt, eyes wide.
"WHERE!?"
"Sebek, please, volume. You're scaring them,"
The two strangers standing in the gaping maw of the doorway both look winded, but in different manners: the first, the taller, broader one, is nearly red with exertion, and the second, silver-haired and quieter, is panting.
Azul comes after them. "My apologies. They insisted on coming themselves,"
"Vanrouge, you left your dorm unattended?" the Headmage asks.
"Forgive me, but I thought this was more important," he says. "Is it really...?"
The tall, broad, loud one, Sebek, storms over. He doesn't touch you, but his stare is scrutinizing enough to make you uncomfortable where you stand.
"No," he gives his verdict, and the other's shoulders slump. "It's just as Ashengrotto said. Another one."
Another one of what, you wonder.
He sighs. "Sebek, it-it's alright. It wasn't going to be You,"
There it is again- you. Why does everyone keep saying that?
"Nonetheless, Silver..." Sebek mumbles, an unusually soft and quiet intonation.
"Nonetheless, we have been asked to host them, and so we shall. Our dorm prides itself on hospitality," Silver says. "The Thorn Fairy-"
Azul scoffs, stopping him before he can start. "Welllll, it seems all is well, now. I'll be going. Oh... one more thing. You, stranger-" he smiles right at you. "If you ever need anything... just let me know."
Silver shakes his head, and Sebek huffs. The Headmage only smiles.
"Let's go,"
You've seen a hundred strange things since yesterday, and you're sure to see a hundred more.
You had woken in a coffin, in a dark room, apparently of a college.
You had slept in a medieval castle, which you walked through a mirror to get to.
Oh, and magic is real. So are mermaids, fairies, and happily ever afters... or something like that.
And now you're here. Sitting on a picnic bench, touched by sunlight and a gentle breeze. It's almost too normal. Or so says the uneasy feeling in your stomach.
"I still don't get it," Deuce sighs. "So, they're from the same world as You, but they're not You."
The two others- Epel and Jack, their respective names almost representative of the strange and unstrange middle ground of this world- look at you.
"Maybe the same thing happened to 'em," Jack offers. "But that still doesn't explain how neither of 'em remembered getting here."
"Neither of who?" you ask, for what feels like the millionth time. And for the millionth time, no one answers.
They exchange awkward glances. They murmur under their breath. But they don't answer.
"...Anyway," Deuce mutters. "Ace has been all weird about it. He won't leave his room. And Riddle's just letting him..."
"Eh, Riddle understands. We all do,"
You drum your fingers against your knee. The uniform that had been fitted for you- made of spare parts, discolored, torn, too short in some places and too long in others- is surprisingly warm.
Epel, smaller but meaner than the others, sits at the end of the bench, arms crossed.
"Everything okay?" Deuce asks. Obviously not. Epel scowls.
"...Listen..." the Heartslabyul vicewarden starts, "This is strange for all of us. But we shouldn't be mean to them just because they're not You."
"Eh?" Epel asks, sitting up straight. "I ain't give an apple-licking hoot 'bout 'em! I'm 'talkin about my new housewarden!"
Deuce and Jack exchange glances, the latter muttering, "can't understand a thing he says since Vil left..."
"Oh... yeah, I forgot about that. Is he really that bad?"
Epel snorts. "Damn freshman waltzes in, brews one fancy poison, and now he thinks he owns the place! Vil woulda never let his attitude get by, I can tell 'ya that much!"
You tilt your head to the side, relieved to have the attention on someone else, for once. Since the oddball group of second-years had adopted you, you hadn't had a moment of peace.
"You sure you're not just bitter about losing out on the position?" Jack asks. "I get that you were Vil's first choice and all, but you lost, fair and square."
"It ain't about the poison! S'about the principle of the thing! Why should I haveta take orders from a first-year!"
Deuce shrugs. "You could still transfer to Savanaclaw, you know,"
"...Maybe not," Jack mutters. "Ever since Ruggie turned down replacing Leona as housewarden, we've been a little... er, unorderly."
"You guys still don't have a housewarden? Didn't you talk about this last year?"
"They don't, and they didn't. It made the first housewarden meeting of the semester a pain for Kalim," a cool, calm voice says from behind you. You jolt. Why does everyone in this school love coming out of nowhere?
Deuce sighs. "Oh, Jamil..." his gaze lowers to the paper bags in hand. "Doing some shopping?"
Jamil hums. "Sparingly. I only wanted to see them,"
His eyes, sharp and cautious, narrow at you. You're really tired of being stared at. Picked apart, dissected, studied, as if everyone is trying to decide if you're real or not...
"It ain't 'nothin to gawk at," Epel says. "They ain't You, can we get back to 'talking about my housewarden? He's running the dorm like it's his own personal palace! His face is all over the place!"
You find yourself strangely thankful for Epel's ire, as Jamil's sharp, critical gaze turns on him.
"You mean Quya? He seems fine. Not much different from Vil,"
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"
Jack rolls his eyes as the two bicker. Deuce tries to step between them, and speak "vice housewarden-to-vice housewarden" with Jamil, which only seems to annoy him more.
"This place is so weird..." you mutter, and Jack snorts. "Huh? What's funny?"
Nothing," he says, almost smiling.
"You just... man, you really sound just like them."
You don't even try to ask what he means by that. You've had enough questions for one day.
You feel uneasy walking back to Diasomnia.
It makes your stomach twist and turn. You've only been here a day, and you already remember the way back to your temporary home.
"Ahem. If we- I- fail to send you home by the end of the week, we will... er, see about moving you into the spare dorm,"
That's what he- Crowley, the Headmage- had said.
You stop, on your way to the mirror chamber, to look over the grassy hills, the beaten down paths, the dead trees and jagged rocks that decorate the lawn of the aforementioned dorm.
It's old. Decrepit. Falling apart, although you can see different planks of wood boarded over holes in the roof and walls, as if someone had been desperately trying to hold it together.
You can't fathom why anyone, Headmage and students alike, would be so protective over such a building.
There's a light in one of the windows. Soft and yellow and inviting, it's almost calling to you, luring you with its warmth.
Someone lives there already. Is that it?
You have to answer all of your own questions.
You continue walking. This place is strange, and yet familiar, somehow, too. It's as if you'd bookmarked the story at its middle rather than starting at its beginning.
In some ways, you think, this is good.
The students here talk of incidents, injuries, pain and fear that had come and gone before you. You were fortunate enough not to be caught in the storm.
And yet, still, something tells you this is only the eye of the hurricane.
Soon, rain and thunder will be at your door.