Kaelen Dusk arrived in Luminara not via a private, instantaneous Fold-Gate, but on the public sky-ferry, a creaking, groaning vessel that smelled of ozone, cheap ale, and the unwashed bodies of a hundred tightly-packed travelers. For Kaelen, who had spent his entire life in the subterranean darkness of the under-crust, the journey itself had been a terrifying revelation. The open sky, the dizzying height, the feeling of nothing but a few wooden planks between him and a thousand-foot drop—it was all alien and overwhelming.
But the city itself… the city was a miracle.
As the ferry lumbered towards its docking port, Kaelen pressed his face against the grimy porthole, his dark brown eyes wide with a wonder so pure it was almost painful. He had grown up in tunnels carved from rock and slag, where the only light came from phosphorescent fungi or the sparks of a miner's pickaxe. He had heard stories of the "sun-world," but he had always assumed they were exaggerations, myths told to give slaves a sliver of hope.
The reality was beyond anything he could have imagined. A city of gold, floating in the sky. Towers that pierced the clouds. Bridges made of rainbows. It was the stuff of legends, the home of gods, not men. And he, Kaelen Dusk, a former ore-hauler from the deepest pits of the continent, was going to school here. The thought was so immense, so absurd, that he felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rise in his chest.
He was the first. The very first person from the under-crust to ever be granted special admission to Lumina Academy. It was a political move, he knew that. A way for the "benevolent" Emperor to show how inclusive his empire was. But Kaelen didn't care about the politics. This was his chance. His one, singular chance to prove that a person's worth wasn't determined by their birth, but by the strength of their will. He would not fail. He would be the best. He would become a hero, a legend whose name would be whispered in the dark tunnels of his home for generations.
The ferry docked with a jarring thud. Kaelen grabbed his single, battered bag—containing a change of clothes, a whetstone, and the small, chipped knife that was his only possession of value—and shuffled out with the crowd. The moment he stepped onto the solid ground of the docking platform, he was assaulted by the sheer, casual wealth of the capital.
Everywhere he looked, people wore clothes worth more than his entire former life. Silks that shimmered, velvets that drank the light, jewels that glittered on fingers and throats. Their laughter was light and easy, their posture straight and proud. They moved with an unconscious grace, an assumption of their right to exist, that was utterly foreign to him. He felt clumsy, brutish, and intensely visible in his rough-spun, practical clothes. He hunched his broad shoulders, a lifetime of low ceilings and subservience making him try to appear smaller.
"Kaelen Dusk?"
The voice was thin and reedy. A minor functionary, holding a data-slate, was looking around with an expression of barely-concealed disdain. He was a low-level noble, his clothes fine but not extravagant, his face pale and pinched.
"I'm Kaelen Dusk," Kaelen said, his voice rough from disuse.
The functionary's eyes swept over him, from his dust-brown, unkempt hair to his sturdy, worn-out boots. The man's lip curled almost imperceptibly. He had clearly been expecting someone else—a noble's child, perhaps, or at least someone presentable. Not this… laborer.
"Ah. Yes. Of course," the functionary said, his tone dripping with condescension. "The special admission. Welcome to Luminara. I am here to escort you to the Academy transport."
A hot flush of resentment burned in Kaelen's chest. He had faced down tunnel collapses, fought off cave-crawlers with his bare hands, and survived sixteen hours of back-breaking labor every day of his life. This soft, pale man was looking at him like he was something unpleasant he'd scraped off his shoe. Kaelen straightened his back, forcing himself to stand to his full, stocky height. He met the functionary's gaze without flinching.
*Go on, underestimate me,* Kaelen thought, a familiar, stubborn fire igniting within him. *Everyone does. It's the last mistake a lot of them make.*
The functionary, unnerved by the sudden intensity in Kaelen's dark eyes, cleared his throat and turned away. "This way, then."
The journey up to the Academy was another silent, awe-inspiring experience. As the crystal platform rose, Kaelen stared up at the floating islands, his earlier resentment momentarily forgotten, replaced once again by pure, unadulterated wonder. This would be his home now. This place of magic and miracles. He would prove he belonged here.
The registration process was even more humiliating. The administrator didn't even bother with a sneer; he just looked bored. When Kaelen stated he had no House, the man had to manually override the system, his sigh of exasperation loud in the grand hall.
"Unaffiliated," the administrator muttered, stamping his form. "Assigned to Stonehaven Hall, Room 112. You'll have a roommate. Try not to… bother him."
Kaelen took his packet and walked away, his ears burning. He found Stonehaven Hall easily enough. It was a fortress, solid and practical, built into the side of a mountain. It felt more real, more grounded, than the other, more fantastical halls. It suited him.
He found Room 112 and pushed the door open. The room was simple, with two beds, two desks, and two wardrobes. A young man with a solid, friendly face and a head of sandy brown hair was sitting on one of the beds, polishing a piece of armor. He looked up as Kaelen entered, and a wide, genuine smile spread across his face.
"You must be Kaelen!" the young man said, standing up and wiping his hand on his trousers before extending it. "I'm Borin. Borin Terranova. Looks like we're roommates. Welcome to Stonehaven!"
Kaelen stared at the outstretched hand, momentarily stunned. The name "Terranova" meant he was a noble, from one of the Great Houses. But there was no condescension in his voice, no disdain in his eyes. Just open, honest friendliness.
Hesitantly, Kaelen shook his hand. Borin's grip was firm and warm. "Kaelen," he managed to say.
"Good to meet you, Kaelen," Borin said, his smile not wavering. "You got here just in time. I was about to head down to the common room to grab something to eat. The food's not great, but it's better than starving. Want to come? I can show you around on the way."
Kaelen, who had been bracing himself for a year of isolation and contempt, was completely disarmed. He had been ready to fight for his place here, to meet every sneer with defiance. He had no idea how to respond to simple, unconditional kindness.
"Yeah," he said, a slow, unaccustomed smile touching his own lips. "Yeah, I'd like that."
As he followed Borin out of the room, a new feeling began to settle in Kaelen's chest, alongside the fierce determination and the burning resentment. It was a fragile, unfamiliar feeling, but it was there. It was hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could find more than just a future here. Maybe he could find a friend.