The morning sun crept through the window, brushing against my face. Its warmth stirred me slowly, a soft contrast to the cold weight still lodged in my chest. Like a splash of water across a dream, it dragged me into waking. My eyes opened. The clock blinked back at me—mocking, bright, unforgiving.
I was late.
No time to think. I moved fast, grabbing the Academy uniform and slipping it on with practiced speed. The collar was still crooked as I ran, but I didn't stop to fix it. The halls blurred past, filled with echoes of students already settled into their routines. By the time I reached the central class building, the group had already formed—waiting for the master, their voices hushed with expectation. I slid into the first empty seat I could find, trying to make myself smaller, invisible, as if that could erase the fact that I'd arrived late.
Minutes passed. Then a tap landed on my shoulder—light, deliberate. I turned, and there she was again.
Silver.
She leaned in close, her voice a whisper only I could hear. "Follow me."
Before I could respond, she grabbed my wrist. Her fingers were warm, her grip certain. She didn't wait for consent—just moved, pulling me along with her like a current too strong to resist. Down the corridors we went, her pace quick and effortless. I barely had time to glance at the rooms we passed. Silver didn't look back once. It felt like she'd already seen the path in a dream.
She stopped in front of a classroom that looked abandoned. Inside, a man sat at the back, silent. Middle-aged, built like someone who'd fought things that didn't leave wounds you could see. His eyes softened slightly when they met Silver's, then sharpened the moment they dropped to our joined hands.
"I told you," he said, voice firm, "don't force anyone into my class."
"She didn't," I said, stepping forward, loosening her grip. "I came because I wanted to."
Silver smiled—subtle, quiet.
The man studied me for a moment, then nodded toward the desks. "Well… come in, then. Sit down. My name is Raven. You can call me that, or something else, I don't really care."
He stood, arms crossed, and looked over the empty room. "You're probably wondering what this is. BioLife Class. Not popular. Most people rush to combat classes like they're the only thing that matters. But out there in the Dreadscape, if you don't know how to survive—how to sense, how to adapt, how to move—you die."
He let the words linger in the silence.
"They all forget that," he added after a moment, then smiled faintly. "Let's begin."
The lesson that followed wasn't like the ones in the standard lectures. There was no shouting, no theatrics. Just clear instruction, layered meaning, and the kind of sharp awareness that came from lived experience. Raven didn't waste time. Everything he said held weight. Every move, every example, felt like it was being passed down, not taught.
When it ended, I lingered for a moment. Introduced myself. Thanked him. He nodded, and I stepped out into the corridor again, heading toward the exercise room.
My thoughts were quiet, but my mind wasn't.