As I had expected, the room is the muck hall, where most of the students will gather for meals. It is a very large room, big enough to hold all, and is decorated vastly, with large tapestries and an odd assortment of bits and bobs scattered throughout. Suits of armor and weapons are plastered to the black walls, and everything is illuminated by floating candles, controlled by the Mages who power just about everything in the school. The back of the room is composed of a massive, stone entrance, open to the large hallway beyond.

  At the very front and center of the room stands a tall, stone stage, holding a giant, obsidian table. Behind the table, there is a row of lush chairs, each as unique as the instructors who are seated in them. Their table is decorated the most lavish, with a feast spread wide, candelabras and fabrics filling empty spaces.

  In front of the leaders, there are long rows of wooden tables, all separated by House, and further by the segments within them. The most crammed of the tables, and occupying a majority of the room, belong to the students of White. They are obvious to discern, from their basic foot soldier uniforms; white cotton shirts with matching cargo pants.

  Next to them are the Shields, wearing the same attire as those on the dock, their shirts a noble nylon, with a bright, golden v that starts at their necks, and finishes at their sides. They are the second largest group at the school, but nowhere near as cramped as the Whites.

  Filling only half of one threatening table, and directly in front of our strange entrance, the House of Merikna sits still as stone. The mix of Crawlers, Lynx, and Locks are blended together, none of their uniforms the same. Each is dressed individually, for nobody outside of the House will know more than their names. The only similarity is that they all wear black, not a speck of color to be seen.

  On the exact opposite side, in the most forgotten space, two empty tables stand awaiting, presumably for the expected students. Seeing that they are bare proves that we are the first to arrive, filling me with something like pride.

  The only students not present are the Mages, who are hardly ever seen outside their own. But when they are, they are immediately identifiable, as they are garbed in pure gold.

  To my immense relief, it seems that most of the students are entirely unaware of our presence, only a few at the table of Merikna having stopped spooning beef stew into their now hardened mouths.

  I take hold of this distraction, terrified of what waiting will bring, and swiftly step into the hall, pressed against the wall and walking quickly to the other side of the room. The boys meet me with haste, not even Ryker messing around, as if he knows how much I wish I will not be found.

  I glance around near frantically, desperate to take my seat and blend in, but it seems that my fear is not overly warranted, as there are only a handful of souls aware of our presence. Most of the Merikna have taken interest by now, but only three teachers track our movements.

  One of these teachers is terrifying, entirely unreadable and cold. His face is scarred deeply, and his thin lips are straightened in a tight line. He is a Colonel, based on the varying badges and pins secured to his black tunic. It does not matter that we are separated by hundreds of thunderous White’s and Shields’s, his yellow eyes pierce me as fiercely as if he was standing right in front of me.

  It is with great relief that we at last find the table, able to bring ourselves to the back, most shadowed corner. The students of Merikna keep their eyes planted on ours, seeming somewhat displeased, though it is hard to read. Perhaps it is because we came through what is apparently a secret entrance, one that those outside of the House scarcely find.

  Much to my appreciation, a new diversion strides through the door. The entrance of the five brutes is far less subtle than ours, in fact, the leader seems to be doing everything in his power to draw every eye in the room, as he strides in with pride, sneering an awful grin.

  “What did I say, boys!” He booms, encouraged by the watchful eyes who fall still, as he storms up to the row of leaders, each raising an eyebrow in surprise, “First to arrive!”

  He has not looked at us, and I almost cringe on his behalf. Particularly when the Colonel of Merikna drawls,

  “Unless you are blind, which you may very well be, it would do you well to use your eyes,” the scarred Colonel’s face is blank, his voice unwavering steel.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The leader’s face contorts into confusion before he looks desperately around the room. And while the raven haired man has seen us since he first entered, it takes many moments for the brute to catch on. But when he at last does, his nostrils flare, his steps now thunderous as he marches to the table, his pack following him like puppies at his heel.

  The rest of the students have now taken notice of us, each harboring a face of confusion. Only those at Merikna are unphased by our presence, the rest having been so caught up in their chatter and food to notice anything else at all.

  The frightening leader throws himself at the benches closest to the stage, his glare promising revenge. The others mimic this, each cracking knuckles and sneering yellowed teeth. The only one holding himself with composure is the raven, who is instead focused on the rest of the room.

  I distract myself from their vicious eyes with the students. I had been so preoccupied by the chaos that I missed the creatures entirely. Animals of all sorts are scattered throughout, reminding me of something I had nearly forgotten.

  Isle Parisama is a unique wonder indeed, and one of the biggest is the Forest of Ire. For the forest is home to creatures of all types, some of which will make bonds with those of Etari. Not many, only a handful every year, but looking around the room now, I see that the stories have been told true.

  A girl belonging to the White’s has a fluffy, beige rabbit curled soundlessly on her lap. Another boy sitting nearby runs his fingers down the back of a grey weasel. And one stoic man, at the table to Merikna, has a black fox lounging at his feet.

  These creatures are a strange mystery, the magic of the bonds having come from the heartland, Savinel Erom. And while the notion of why some creatures will connect with certain people is still unknown, the truth of the bond is clear. These creatures are clearly bonded to their people, and their people as much to them.

  Soon, almost all eyes have returned to their own, even the Merikna have grown bored and left us alone. But a few pairs remain secured like welded steel, belonging to the brutes who have yet to relent on their fury.

  It does grow better, as more students file in. I hadn’t realized how dreadfully boring it would be, waiting for the first years to arrive. It seems that this is typical, and according to a loud boy from across the hall, some of the students will not arrive for a week, having such difficulty with the climb.

  But regardless of the stragglers, our table has slowly begun to fill, most choosing to sit close to the teachers, as if to make their presence known. The only two who have decided to join us are a pair of strong, broad twins.

  The women are solid, as muscled as Ryker, and identical in every way. Each stands at six feet tall, making some of the shorter boys turn green with envy. Their hair is the same shade of sparkling silver, wound into thick, layered braids. But beyond the height and muscles, I can’t pull away from their eyes, each with one blue and violet, the vibrance entirely hypnotizing.

  The women sit confidently in front of me and the boys, their faces not quite cold yet holding a shared sense of unbreakability.

  “Kaiya Thornbern,” one holds out her hand, calloused and slightly bleeding from the climb, “and this is my sister, Xena.”

  Already it is obvious that while the twins may be identical, Kaiya is far more outgoing than Xena, who smiles slightly but makes no move to respond.

  “What did you do to piss off the trolls?” Kaiya asks, dipping her spoon into a bowl of steaming stew, the warmth having already thawed my chilled insides.

  “The trolls?” I ask, tearing off a chunk of bread to sop up my feeble remainings.

  “You know,” Kaiya knocks her head towards the barbaric boys, “Alec and his crew.”

  “You know them?” Ryker asks, lounging back on his hands, apparently entirely at ease.

  “Hard not to,” Kaiya scoffs, “They’ve been notorious in Thereve for a decade. They don’t need a reason to lash out, but Alec looks more…touchy than usual.” Kaiya looks at us curiously.

  “We were the first to arrive,” Ryker shrugs, “If he hadn’t made such an ass out of himself, he wouldn’t be so pissy.”

  “Alec has a way of doing that,” Xena smirks at her sister, who returns a wicked grin.

  “All the same, though,” Kaiya says seriously, “It would be best if you steer clear. Alec has a death toll that trails him clear back to childhood.”

  “He killed three on his way up the mountain alone,” Xena says, her eyes glued to the raven, “And that black haired boy, that’s Greyson Panthera.”

  “What’s his deal?” I ask, my own eyes drifting over to the silent man.

  “There’s just something about him.” She says, a shiver running down her spine, “You know, most think of Alec as the worst, but Panthera is…”

  “Panthera is evil contained in flesh and bone,” Xena says curtly, tipping her bowl into her mouth.

  Again, I look to the man called Panthera, but I find his eyes already secured to mine, his green irises like poison, his face a blank sheet of death. If it were anyone else, I would look away instantly, but something about him has me meeting his eye, something that is almost familiar.

  He raises an eyebrow, and my body seems to tense, but at last looks away, apparently bored with his strange game.

  I turn back to my own side of the table, my stomach churning at the thought of Alec, and just how easily that promising glare could be held true.