The "Sect Student" dorms were located in the Shadow Valley, a place where the sun visited for exactly twenty minutes a day and the dampness was a permanent resident. While the Successors lived in floating pagodas with spirit-spring baths, Vincy was handed a thin scratchy blanket and a wooden token that smelled faintly of mildew.
"This is it," the guide said, pointing to a long, sagging stone building that looked like it was being held up by stubborn moss. "Try to stay alive. The Outer Sect disciples like to use you lot as target practice when they're bored."
Vincy pushed open the door to Room 404.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of fried onions and desperation. Two youths were huddled over a small spirit-lamp. One was incredibly skinny with goggles pushed up on his forehead, and the other was a massive fellow who seemed to be trying to eat a raw turnip.
"New meat?" the skinny one chirped, his eyes darting to Vincy's rags. "I'm Dax. I'm a genius inventor, but the Sect says my 'Exploding Talismans' are a 'safety hazard.' This is Grog. He's here because he accidentally wrestled a village elder's sacred cow."
"I was hungry," Grog grunted, offering Vincy a piece of the turnip.
"Don't eat that," Piet's voice rang out, sounding physically pained. "It has the spiritual nutritional value of a wet sock. Also, that Dax boy has a volatile fire-elemental leak in his pocket. If he sneezes, this whole wing is going to the moon."
"Uh, thanks," Vincy said, sitting on a bed that creaked like a dying soul. "I'm Vincy. I... broke the testing stone today."
Dax and Grog froze. Then, they burst into hysterical laughter.
"Good one!" Dax slapped his knee. "The 'Stone-Breaker' in the trash dorms! I like you, Vincy. You've got a sense of humor. Almost as good as the guy last year who claimed he was the reincarnation of a dragon but got kicked out for failing Basic Math."
As night fell and his roommates drifted into a cacophony of snoring, Vincy lay awake. The fatigue was finally catching up, but his mind felt like a crowded marketplace.
"Piet?" he whispered into the dark. "Are you... a ghost?"
"A ghost? How insulting," the voice manifested, and suddenly, the space in front of Vincy's eyes blurred. A translucent, shimmering figure sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed. It was the handsome youth from the cave—Piet—looking remarkably bored. "I am a pinnacle existence who happens to be currently sharing a lease on your mediocre brain. Think of me as a very expensive, very grumpy tutor."
Vincy stared. "Why me? I'm just a village boy from Buckinga."
Piet leaned in, his violet eyes glowing with a faint, ancient light. "Because, Vincy Sparrow, you were the only one in this miserable country whose soul was 'empty' enough to act as a vessel without shattering instantly. Though, seeing how you handled the 'potato' visualization today, I may have overestimated your mental capacity."
"I was nervous!" Vincy hissed.
"Clearly. But listen well. Elder Karl isn't 'observing' you; he's waiting for you to trip up. Tomorrow is the first lecture on 'Qi Condensation.' The teacher is a man named Master Hemlock—a bitter man who peaked at the Foundation Stage and hates anyone with actual talent."
Piet's image flickered, a smirk playing on his lips. "He's going to try to humiliate you to please the noble students. Do you want to be a 'Sponge' for the rest of your life, or do you want to show them what a Royal education looks like?"
Vincy looked at his calloused hands. "I just want to survive."
"Survival is for the fittest, remember? That's the rule of your world." Piet vanished back into the recesses of Vincy's mind. "Now go to sleep. Tomorrow, we start 'correcting' the curriculum. It's going to be hilarious."
Vincy groaned, pulling the mildewed blanket over his head. He had a feeling that "hilarious" for Piet meant "life-threatening" for everyone else.