First, she called the Humans. Two men and one woman stepped forward. The first, a man with slick golden hair that gleamed under the hall's light, carried himself with the unmistakable, noble bearing of a born warrior-king. His eyes, a piercing blue, seemed to hold a quiet confidence. He wielded a gleaming sword at his hip and wore polished, functional armor, looking almost exactly like a younger, living version of King Arthur's statue come to life.
"Well, someone's certainly got the royal swagger down," Enchidna murmured beside me, a hint of amusement in her voice. I just chuckled softly, agreeing with her assessment.
When he approached the crystal, it glowed white. Then, from the statue of Armania, a resonant voice boomed, "Welcome to Armania Dorm, Peter Von Arthur!" My thoughts immediately confirmed it: he was royal, a direct descendant of King Arthur, and the Armania Dorm, representing bravery and leadership, seemed to suit him perfectly.
The second Human was a man with long black hair. He was lean and watchful, his posture rigid, and his eyes, dark and sharp, constantly scanned the crowd, missing nothing, as if he were perpetually on duty, guarding a king. There was a subtle intensity about him, a coiled readiness that belied his lack of obvious weapons, making me wonder if he was a powerful bearer. He stepped up, and the crystal turned a deep purple. From the statue of Bernard Dolores, a sound like chattering machines and whirring gears accompanied the declaration, "Welcome to Dolorian Dorm, Henry Von Gallahad!"
"The Headmaster's son, huh?" Enchidna whispered, nudging me with her elbow again, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Guess we'll have to be extra good now, Ven."
So, he was the Headmaster's son!
Last was a small woman, whose delicate frame seemed almost lost within the folds of her oversized robe. What truly caught my eye was her hair: a startling, vibrant shade of bubblegum pink, a color so unnatural and rare it seemed to hum with an unspoken secret. "Pink hair, that's rare," I mused, finding it utterly fascinating. She walked hesitantly, her gaze downcast, yet there was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes, a hidden depth that contradicted her timid demeanor. When she touched the crystal, it glowed a vibrant blue. A serene voice from Merlin's statue welcomed her: "Welcome to Merlin Dorm, Anna Emrys!"
Next, Professor Thorkelssoon called the Iskirian. Three beautiful ladies stepped forward, and I instantly thought, Yes, my grandpa was right. They truly are beautiful. They all had similar features: flowing white hair and mesmerizing pale blue eyes.
The first Iskiran was the one I'd noticed earlier, her presence still radiating that palpable cold aura. She was tall for an Iskiran, her figure long and willowy, yet with a subtle, elegant curve to her hips and a high, firm swell to her breasts beneath her light blue robes. Her white-silver hair, styled in intricate, flowing waves, framed a face of sharp, almost glacial beauty. She smiled as she walked, a confident, alluring expression that promised both mystery and danger. As she passed me, her pale blue eyes, piercing and direct, met mine for a fleeting second, and she actually winked, a slow, deliberate gesture that sent a jolt through me. I froze, completely taken aback. What the hell was that? Enchidna, ever observant, nudged me and chuckled, teasing me silently. The Iskiran lady continued to the crystal, which promptly lit up white. "Welcome to Armania Dorm, Esutora De La Lilium!" the statue of Armania declared.
The second girl was just as beautiful as Esutora, but in a completely different, more approachable way. She was of average Iskiran height, with a softer, more voluptuous figure than Esutora's, her ample breasts and generous hips creating undeniably captivating curves that drew the eyes of every man. Her white hair was left loose, flowing like a gentle cascade, and her skin had the delicate, light brown hue of Queen Yvonne. She exuded a warm, almost motherly aura, and her smile was genuinely gentle, making everyone around her feel at ease, embraced. She stood before the crystal, and it glowed a rich purple. "Welcome to Dolorian Dorm, Gianna De La Tiente!" the voice from Bernard's statue chimed. Gianna was clearly a royal, a descendant of Queen Yvonne, yet she wasn't assigned to Armania Dorm. I pondered this for a moment, then remembered Professor Thorkelssoon stating that the current Iskiran queen was Armania de la Rose. Why a different last name than Queen Yvonne? I wondered, finding it all quite interesting.
Finally, the last Iskiran stepped forward. She was slightly shorter than her peers, her frame exceptionally slender, almost delicate, making her appear even more ethereal, as if she might simply fade into the light. Her long, white hair was meticulously braided down her back, a neat, precise style that hinted at an organized mind. Her beauty was subtle and intellectual, residing in the thoughtful depth of her pale blue eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses, and the quiet grace of her movements, rather than any overt sensuality. She wore her robes with a quiet dignity. This was a beauty that invited contemplation, not immediate desire. She wore thin-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, a detail that made me jokingly whisper to Enchidna, "Maybe I'm into girls with glasses too." Her crystal turned blue. "Welcome to Merlin Dorm, Selica De La Viola!" the voice of Merlin announced.
Then, Professor Thorkelssoon called for the Kaynari. Two men and one woman stood forward. The first was a sturdy, powerfully built man of compact stature, his bald head gleaming under the hall's light. Unlike the typical Kaynari, he wore no goggles or tools; instead, he was clad in dark, segmented leather and metal armor, practical and unadorned, suggesting a life of combat rather than craftsmanship. His broad, muscular frame moved with the confident, almost heavy gait of a seasoned warrior, a striking contrast to the usual Kaynari appearance. When he approached the crystal, it turned white. "Welcome to Armania Dorm, Yan Dolores!" the voice from Armania's statue announced. Another royal, I noted to myself, seeing the surname connection to King Blitz Dolores.
The second Kaynari was a woman who looked strikingly similar to Yan, almost like a female version of him. Perhaps they were twins, I mused, observing her. She was of similar compact, sturdy build, her muscles evident beneath her practical, dark tunic and trousers. Unlike Yan, she wasn't bald, sporting short, cropped black hair that framed a face that held an unwavering, almost unreadable stoic expression. Her eyes, dark and steady, seemed to miss nothing, yet betrayed no emotion. There was an aura of quiet, unyielding resolve about her, a strength that felt more internal than overt. Her crystal glowed purple. "Welcome to Dolorian Dorm, Yor Dolores!" the voice of Bernard declared.
The last Kaynari to be called was the man Professor Thorkelssoon had blasted earlier. He was tall and gangly, his frame almost comically thin, and he walked with a slight hunch, his gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance. His oversized bag still overflowed with various tools, and his goggles were perched precariously on his head, rather than over his eyes. He was still muttering to himself, something about "efficiency" or "optimal output," completely lost in his own intricate world of engineering.
As he approached the crystal, he seemed to veer off course, about to walk straight past it and into the row of patiently waiting students. Before he could, a large, firm hand clamped onto his shoulder, spinning him gently but decisively back towards the glowing orb. It was Professor Thorkelssoon, her stoic expression unwavering, but a flicker of something almost like exasperation in her eyes.
"Looks like someone needs a personal escort," Enchidna whispered beside me, barely containing a giggle. "He'd probably try to optimize the crystal if we let him."
Dorrick, seemingly unfazed by the intervention, blinked, then placed his hand on the crystal. It immediately turned blue. "Welcome to Merlin Dorm, Dorrick Tanner!" the voice of Merlin announced.
Next, it was the Aetherian's turn. They walked with that familiar proud, almost smug air, and Enchidna and I exchanged whispers, agreeing they were "probably absolute pricks."
The first Aetherian was a tall, imposing man, his chiseled features sharp with an almost predatory arrogance. His magnificent wings, noticeably larger and more iridescent than the other two Aetherian accompanying him, seemed to fan out with a deliberate display of superiority, giving him an even grander presence. He had striking blue hair, a color not common among Aetherians, making him powerfully resemble the statue of Seraph Galegaard himself. He strode to the crystal with an unmistakable air of entitled confidence, his chin slightly raised, as if the very ground beneath him was privileged by his steps. The crystal immediately glowed white. "Welcome to Armania Dorm, Yannick Galegaard!" the statue of Armania boomed.
"See? Total prick, just like we thought," Enchidna muttered, elbowing me lightly.
"Beyond a doubt," I whispered back, a grimace on my face. "He practically preens."
Yes, I knew it! I thought. A direct descendant of Seraph Galegaard, a true royal. I couldn't help but glance at Raika, still wondering about the shared blue hair.
The second Aetherian man came forward, his posture rigid, tense and focused, his eyes, a piercing, almost unnerving grey, constantly scanning the hall like a king's guard. He was tall, with short, practical black hair that seemed to absorb the light, and a single, powerful wing – not folded, but visibly missing its counterpart, leaving a stark, unsettling asymmetry. He carried a halberd, its polished head glinting, but he held it with an unusual, almost stiff precision.
"He's definitely Dolorian," I whispered to Enchidna, confident in my assessment of his guarded, almost mechanical demeanor. She nodded, her brow furrowed in agreement.
His crystal, however, immediately turned blue. "Welcome to Merlin Dorm, Oliver WindFaar!" the voice of Merlin announced. My prediction was wrong about the dorm, but I guessed correctly about his vigilant nature. A quiet surprise rippled through me. Merlin Dorm? For him? He seemed so rigid, so focused on duty, not the pursuit of knowledge.
The last Aetherian, however, walked with a striking difference. He possessed the same tall, regal Aetherian physique as the others, and his magnificent wings were fully present, yet his entire demeanor was a stark contrast to Yannick's arrogance or Oliver's rigid focus. He wasn't proud or smug; instead, he moved with a leisurely, almost languid grace, his steps unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. A constant, enigmatic smirk played on his lips, hinting at private amusement or a hidden agenda. His eyes, a startling amber, seemed to hold a detached, almost calculating intelligence, observing everything with a peculiar, unsettling calm. There was an unconventional, almost mischievous aura about him, a sense that he operated by his own rules, utterly unconcerned with Aetherian expectations. His crystal turned purple. "Welcome to Dolorian Dorm, Jove Winderaand!" Bernard's voice declared.
Finally, Professor Thorkelssoon called, "Drakarian!"
A collective murmur rippled through the hall as we stood up and began to walk, all eyes on us. As we passed the Aetherian group, Yannick Galegaard's smug smile widened, his gaze locking onto Raika. Then, with a sickening wet sound, he deliberately spit on the ground, the glistening spittle landing just inches from her foot as he walked right past her. Enchidna's playful smirk vanished, replaced by a sharp scowl.Raika flinched, her shoulders hunching, and she stared at the floor, silent, her earlier nervousness now replaced by a chilling, almost palpable fear.
A hot, blinding rage surged through me, eclipsing all reason. I didn't know why this girl, who barely spoke to me, evoked such a fierce protectiveness, but the sight of her fear and Yannick's contempt ignited something primal. I lunged, my hand seizing his collar, the fabric bunching in my fist. "Ven, no!" Enchidna hissed, her hand shooting out to grab my arm, but my momentum was too great. "Say sorry, or lick back your spit, you asshole!" I snarled, my voice raw with fury, pulling him close, my face inches from his.
Yannick's smugness vanished, replaced by a flicker of surprise, then a sneer. "Not your business, Drakarian," he retorted, his voice low and dangerous, trying to shrug me off with a sudden, powerful twist. Before I could tighten my grip or deliver the punch I craved, a blur of motion. Oliver WindFaar, swift as a hawk, slammed into me from the side, a brutal shove that sent me stumbling back, separating us with jarring force. Enchidna was instantly at my side, her hand on my back, her eyes blazing at Oliver and Yannick. My teeth gritted, every muscle tensed, I prepared to lunge again, my eyes locked on Yannick's mocking face. But then, with an explosive CRACK! that echoed through the vast hall, a burst of vicious blue flame erupted from the podium, searing the air between us.
"Up here, Drakarian!" Professor Thorkelssoon'sthunderous roar echoed through the vast hall, her patience clearly at its limit.
Yannick, his eyes still glinting with a cold triumph, just smiled that infuriatingly smug smile, backing away slowly as if he hadn't done anything wrong. "Mind your own business, Drakarian boy," he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "Lucky you had your own kind to save your hide, eh?" He then casually turned his back and returned to his group, his large wings seeming to brush past the other students with deliberate indifference. I noticed Raika seemed even more nervous now, her shoulders hunched even tighter, still staring intently at the ground, a silent, trembling enigma.
We continued our walk to the crystal. I thought I would surely be assigned to Armania or Merlin Dorm – after all, I was a prince, and I valued wisdom. But as I looked at Enchidna, I was certain she'd go to Dolorian. She was pure chaos, and it suited the 'creativity and family' aspect of that dorm perfectly.
Enchidna stepped up first. As she approached the crystal, her usual playful demeanor seemed to fall away. Her eyes, normally alight with mischief, grew serious and focused, fixed intently on the glowing orb. Her crimson hair seemed to crackle with an almost visible energy as her hand, with a rare solemnity, touched the crystal. It immediately glowed a bright white. "Welcome to Armania Dorm, Enchidna Gertsoon!" the voice from Armania's statue announced. I noticed they didn't use "Sigurdsoon," even though she was my cousin. Only the heir could use "Sigurdsoon" in Drakarian society, so she used her father's family name, Gertsoon.Armania? I thought. Enchidna? Well, she certainly had bravery.
Then it was my turn. I took a deep breath, trying to project an air of calm confidence, though my heart thumped a little harder than usual. Okay, Venator, I told myself, this is it. You're a prince, yes, but you also value wisdom. You're observant, analytical...Merlin Dorm. Wisdom is my way. I'm going to be Merlin. I could almost picture the serene blue glow.
My hand, a little clammy, made contact with the crystal. For a beat, nothing. The hall seemed to hold its breath. Then, instead of the elegant blue I'd envisioned, a shocking, vibrant purple erupted from the orb, bathing me in its unexpected hue.
"Welcome to Dolorian Dorm, Venator Sigurdsoon!" the voice of Bernard Dolores boomed, accompanied by the familiar chattering and whirring sounds that now seemed to mock my grand expectations.
Dolorian Dorm? My mind reeled. What a twist. I glanced at Enchidna, who was now openly grinning, her earlier seriousness replaced by pure amusement at my expense. "Maybe I'm a misfit after all," I muttered to myself, a small, wry smile tugging at my lips, already accepting the absurdity of it.
Finally, it was Raika's turn. My gaze, along with what felt like the entire hall's, fixed on her. We all knew she'd turn up Merlin; it was the only logical place for someone so quiet, so seemingly detached, and with that mysterious, thoughtful air. As her hand, small and pale, touched the crystal, it immediately glowed a familiar, brilliant blue, just as expected.
"Welcome to Merlin Dorm, Raika Galegaard!" the voice of Merlin's statue announced, resonating through the hall.
My eyes widened, a jolt of pure shock running through me. "Wait, what? Galegaard?" I muttered aloud, the name feeling alien and utterly unexpected on her tongue. My gaze snapped back to Yannick Galegaard, who was now watching Raika with a peculiar, unreadable expression, a hint of something more than just smugness in his eyes.
But then, a sudden, blinding clarity. Galegaard. That's why her hair was blue, the exact same striking shade as the Aetherian Seraph Galegaard's statue! That's why she had the Lightning Bind, so rare and powerful, and why she was so tall and lean—all the pieces clicked into place, forming a terrifying, exhilarating picture.
But how? A Drakarian with straight horns, yet bearing the name and traits of a legendary Aetherian royal? The very idea was a profound, impossible contradiction, given the deep-seated hatred between our races. It twisted the puzzle of her identity into an even more agonizing knot.
Raika remained motionless, her shoulders still hunched, her eyes fixed on the floor as if the answers lay hidden in the polished stone. She was a silent, trembling enigma, her secret now partially revealed, yet more unfathomable than ever. I knew, with a sudden, fierce resolve, that I had to ask her about it later.