“Interesting companions you have there,” the -as yet to be named lady with the mercurial attitude- remarked, her tone measured, as if mildly curious.

“Yeah, so I’ve been told,” I replied flatly, my voice carrying just enough edge to make it clear I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. The Hunger might’ve subsided, but the irritation at being treated like a trespassing criminal still simmered just below the surface. My trust wasn’t exactly flowing freely at the moment -consider me emotionally constipated.

She didn’t press, which I appreciated, though the silence between us felt heavy, pregnant with mutual unspoken questions.

“So, what’s the deal? Where are we?” I asked, willing to be the first one to break the silence, more out of a need to fill the void than genuine curiosity.

“You’re in the Great Hall. The main administrative building at the University,” she answered, her tone all business. “And the deal is, you’re here so that we can determine exactly what you are, who you are, and where you are best suited to be.”

“Okay,” I said, drawing the word out. “And that means what exactly?”

“You shall see,” she said with infuriating vagueness. “First, we meet with the Director. Then he will determine the next course of action.”

“The Director? Sounds ominous. Does he have a team of misunderstood youths who work for him, going on dangerous missions, using their unique ‘gifts’ to defeat inhuman foes?” When she failed to respond in any way to my obvious snark, I sighed. “He’s like the dean or something?” I asked, hoping for at least a breadcrumb of information.

“Or something,” she replied, letting the words hang in the air like an unsaid punchline. Her refusal to elaborate was maddening, but I wasn’t about to press my luck. She was like a world series of poker champion, I just couldn’t get a read on her.

“Okay, well, lead on, I guess,” I said with a shrug, trying to mask my growing unease with a veneer of indifference.

I can play poker too, lady, I grumbled mentally. Then the song Poker Face started playing on repeat through my head while we walked, until I caught myself humming it out loud.

I hadn’t noticed until I felt Nyx’s claws bite into my shoulder as he adjusted his grip, bobbing his head as if dancing to the tune.

The Great Hall lived up to its name and then some. Stepping into the main chamber felt like walking into the domain of giants. Vast didn’t begin to cover it. The sheer scale of the space dwarfed anything I’d ever seen before, including the cathedrals of Europe and the grand halls of fantasy novels.

The ceiling stretched up in a perfect dome, a masterpiece of engineering and artistry that seemed to defy the laws of physics. Massive Corinthian columns of white marble rose like the trunks of ancient trees, holding up the heavens themselves. The polished floors gleamed beneath our feet, reflecting the ambient light of chandeliers that hung like constellations in the sky. And the air carried the faint scent of polished stone, old parchment, and something floral -gardenia, maybe- and incense, that lent an unexpected warmth to the otherwise imposing space.

Numerous alcoves lined the walls, spaced evenly around the circular chamber. Each alcove seemed to beckon with its own mystery, an invitation to explore the unknown branches of this labyrinthine building. Despite my irritation, the magnetic pull of curiosity stirred within me. What secrets lay behind those archways? What arcane knowledge waited to be uncovered by just the right person, namely me?

As we moved through the center of the hall, our destination became clear: one of the alcoves housed something that immediately grabbed my attention. Nestled within the space was what looked like a glass chamber, but the closer we got, the less certain I became. It wasn’t glass, not exactly. It had a crystalline quality, shimmering faintly with an inner light that danced like trapped starlight. The walls seemed alive, humming with a low, steady energy that I could feel buzzing against my skin.

When I opened up the aperture on my Sight -letting in a bit of light so to speak- the true nature of the chamber revealed itself. It was bathed in an aura that was difficult to describe as it was unlike anything I’d seen before -a flawless soap bubble of pure, unbroken energy- surrounded by a bokeh effect of questionable reality that flared away in a corona of rippling distortions.

And yet the aura within was smooth and seamless -an iris within a cosmic eye. And it lacked the web-like patterns that typically made up the world around me. It was hard light, condensed and shaped into a cylindrical capsule large enough to hold a small crowd. The purity of its form was mesmerizing, a perfection that defied the chaotic nature of the patterns I’d grown accustomed to.

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I didn’t have long to gawk. We stepped inside, and the bubble closed around us with a soft, almost inaudible hum. There was no sensation of movement -no lurch, no hum of machinery, nothing to suggest we were traveling. And yet, when the back of the chamber opened again, we were somewhere entirely different.

Gone was the imposing grandeur of the Great Hall. Instead, we were greeted by a tranquil garden, serene and understated in its beauty. It was a Japanese-style garden, meticulously crafted with the kind of attention to detail that made every stone, every blade of grass feel intentional. A koi pond stretched out before us, its surface a mirror that reflected the azure sky above. Tiny ripples disturbed the glass-like water as brightly colored fish darted beneath the surface, their movements graceful and hypnotic.

A small wooden bridge arched over the pond, leading to a white pagoda nestled in the center of a sand and rock garden. The sand was raked into precise, flowing patterns, the kind that seemed to hold the wisdom of the universe within their curves. It was a picture of perfect harmony, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the Great Hall.

On the other side of the bridge, tending to the sand with a dark brown rake, was a man. He stood with an air of quiet authority, his movements deliberate and unhurried as he adjusted the flow of the patterns. Medium height, medium build, unremarkable at first glance -until you saw his eyes. They were milky white, their sightless surface belying the sharpness of his gaze.

As we crossed the bridge, he paused his work and straightened, leaning casually against his rake. His expression was one of calm intelligence, a man perfectly at ease within his environment. And yet, when his gaze settled on me, it pierced through me like a lance. It wasn’t just sight; it was something deeper, a knowing that seemed to strip away pretense and lay bare the truth of who I was.

For the first time since arriving, I felt truly... exposed. Vulnerable. Not even the feathered dragon, Alera, had made me feel this way. And yet, there was no judgment in his gaze, only acceptance. Whatever he saw, he seemed okay with it. Which, frankly, was more than I could say for myself.

Netty and Nix shifted slightly on my shoulders, their presence grounding me. I could feel their curiosity mingling with my own, a shared sense of anticipation as we waited for this enigmatic man to speak. The garden was silent, the only sounds the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze and the gentle splash of koi in the pond. It was a moment suspended in time, heavy with unspoken meaning.

“And who have we here, hmm?” the man asked, his voice calm but edged with an unmistakable weight of authority. His question wasn’t for me, not yet. His milky-white eyes fixed on my escort, though I could feel his awareness settling over me like a wet blanket, suffocating and impossible to shrug off.

“This is Mr. Declan Mor, Director, sir,” the woman replied crisply. “He’s a newly arrived… student.”

“I see,” the Director mused, tilting his head slightly. His tone was thoughtful, measured, like someone turning over an unfamiliar piece of jewelry in their hand, inspecting every facet. “And what does Mr. Declan feel about this?”

Oh, he knew. He absolutely knew. Whatever was written on my face -irritation, confusion, maybe a smidge of barely-concealed panic- it was loud and clear. Still, he waited, his expression a mask of patient amusement, as though daring me to speak.

“I’m sure Mr. Declan has something to say about this, I’d wager. Well, go on, boy, speak your mind,” he prompted, his voice coaxing but firm, with just enough edge to remind me that I wasn’t in control here.

I straightened slightly, deciding to choose my words carefully. First impressions and all that.

“Well, your Directorship, Mr. Director sir,” I began, giving him my best attempt at formality while layering on just a hint of my natural mocking-sarcasm for flavor. “I don’t know about the whole, student thing. I only came to the University because a friend of mine said that she knew of someone here -or something- who might be able to help me find a cure to my recent… affliction.”

The faintest flicker of amusement crossed his otherwise impassive face. “Oh? Interesting. Very interesting indeed. And I would assume that this friend of yours somehow was able to grant you passage past the barrier surrounding the University and its grounds?”

I coughed, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny. I wished I wasn’t able to see through my two companions vision, because the man might’ve been blind in the literal sense, but the way he looked at me made me feel like he could see through every lie, half-truth, or omission.

I wonder if I’ll ever learn to do that, I mused. Be the blind wise old mentor who sees all.

“Actually, sir,” I admitted, doing my best to sound sheepish, “she had left to find someone to grant me permission, as you call it. But, uh… I got bored waiting for her and decided to explore a bit. See if I could figure out a way in myself.”

His chuckle was low and dry, carrying the kind of understanding that only comes from witnessing decades -maybe centuries- of human folly. “And it appears you were remarkably successful in your attempt.”

“Well, sort of, sir,” I said, scratching the back of my neck. “I actually failed miserably and got stuck in the field of energy. You know, the barrier. And then I was released by someone who said they were the Guardian of the University.”

The chuckle died instantly. The shift in the garden was palpable, like the air had suddenly grown heavier. My escorts stiffened on either side of me, their previously casual postures snapping to full attention. Even the koi in the pond seemed to freeze, as though the very mention of this Guardian had momentarily disrupted the natural order of things.

“I see,” the Director said, his voice quieter now, but no less commanding. “Well, that complicates things, though it does explain quite a bit.”