The farewell was brief. Kane, ever the restless spirit, clapped Mike on the shoulder, his touch leaving a phantom chill. "Good luck, Mikey. Try not to cause an international incident before breakfast." With a theatrical grin, he stepped back and melted into a puddle of shadow beneath the gate.
A clear, echoing voice, seemingly coming from the very air around them, announced, "Please ensure all luggage is placed promptly upon the stone platform, clearly labelled with your name for safe and expedient delivery to your assigned dormitories."
Mike, along with a rush of younger students he correctly pegged as the S1 intake, hurried to dump his leather sling bag onto the vast, flat slab of polished rock sitting just inside the gate. Ten minutes later, the platform was covered in bags. Mike watched as a mountain of a man, built like a fortress and wearing the distinct brown robes, strode toward the luggage. He gave a sharp grunt of effort, raised his massive hands, and the entire platform, hundreds of pounds of wood and cloth, lifted slightly into the air with a faint, grinding sound. The robed person then walked past the crowd, the massive, floating stone slab gliding silently over everyone's heads as it headed toward the school.
With the luggage handled, a new announcement echoed: "All students, please proceed directly to the Main Hall for the General Assembly."
Since Mike had no idea where the "Main Hall" was, he simply joined the slow-moving crowd heading toward the large, two-story building that formed the heart of the island.
As they walked, a sudden, powerful gust of wind roared from behind them. People stumbled forward, and one nervous-looking girl cried out as she fell. Mike felt a solid body crash into his back, pushing him forward until he collided with the thin figure in front of him.
The boy he'd hit wore round glasses and was definitely too thin. He quickly scrambled to his feet, pushing his round glasses back up his nose. He opened his mouth, clearly ready to protest, but then his eyes narrowed as he looked at Mike.
"If you don't mind," the boy started, his voice high and precise, "I've just finalized my notes on the school's maximum occupancy, and—wait a moment. I've never seen you before. You're certainly not an S1. You look far too... old. What is your name?"
Before Mike could answer with a suitable lie, a loud, exasperated voice boomed, amplified through the very air they breathed: "Brian! I told you to stop deliberately pushing people with wind! You're supposed to be showing restraint and setting a good example for the newcomers!" A ripple of stifled giggles went through the crowd.
The boy, unaffected by the commotion, stuck out a hand. "Leo. I'm in S4 this year. Air Elemental. You?"
"Mike," he replied, shaking the thin hand. "Darkness."
Leo's eyes widened, then grew analytical. "Ah, interesting. And your special ability? Are you a light-eater? A shadow-walker? A purist?"
Mike shrugged. "My... my special ability?"
Leo looked at him, completely aghast, as if Mike had just asked if the sun was hot. "You don't know? Everyone has the base abilities for their element, but you have one special ability—the thing you're meant to master and study at A-level! It's the focus of your career!"
Mike felt a chill that had nothing to do with Svalbard. "Why only one?"
"Because it's incredibly rare to master two," Leo explained, leaning in conspiratorially. "And those who manage two are highly prone to Elemental Disease, where your body literally starts turning into your element before you vanish forever." He pushed his glasses up. "Three is unheard of."
They reached the grand doors of the Main Hall, which Leo explained was where all assemblies took place. Mike followed Leo inside, sitting in the section where other older students were congregating. "We sit by class," Leo whispered. "S1s go up front, S6s are in the back."
Mike noticed the students in different coloured robes ushering the S1s to their seats. "Who are they?"
"Prefects," Leo said. "They're chosen by the faculty at the beginning of each year. You check the notice board for your role. You don't get a say in it."
Mike hadn't checked the notice board. He didn't even know where the notice board was.
"So, where did you study previously?" Leo asked, returning to his analytical interrogation.
"Svalbard. Home-schooled."
"Svalbard!" Leo's eyes were bright. "Has a polar bear ever chased you?"
Mike, after a moment's pause, looked him in the eye and said, "I have, in fact, been chased by three at once." Leo looked genuinely thrilled, jotting something down in a small notebook. Mike's gaze swept the room, still searching for a glimpse of his sister.
"Who are you looking for?" Leo asked.
"No one," Mike quickly replied. "Just admiring the architecture."
With that, a man who looked like an old-world gentleman entered the room. He was tall, powerfully built, and sported a truly magnificent mustache—thick, curled at the ends, and perfectly maintained. The hall erupted in polite clapping. He sat down in the obsidian chair at the raised teacher's podium, and the hall fell instantly silent when he simply stomped his foot on the podium. The force of the low thump vibrated through the stone floor, making the whole main hall shake.
"Welcome, everyone!" the man boomed, his voice resonating deep in Mike's chest. A moment later, tiny, silent Firework-like sparks of Air exploded harmlessly near the ceiling. "We welcome our new S1s! And this year, we have a special placement." His eyes found Mike instantly. "Mike, would you stand up for us?"
Mike slowly rose. Murmurs rippled through the hall as hundreds of eyes bore down on him. The Headmaster silenced the crowd again with another sharp stomp of his foot.
"Welcome to S4, Mike," he said, nodding. "You may sit."
Mike sat down quickly. Leo immediately leaned over. "That's Headmaster Déodat Alexandre Morin. Everyone calls him Deo. He's apparently the only person in history to master three special Earth elemental abilities with no side effects. Hes t'he one who literally created this island."
The Headmaster began calling the prefects forward. When the last name was called, the entire hall burst into whistling and enthusiastic applause. Clement, the Head Boy, strode forward. He was tall, red-headed, athletic, and wore a rich maroon robe. Leo shook his head in admiration. "No surprise. Everyone knew Clement would be Head Boy."
After the Prefects had been introduced, the Headmaster announced supper, and everyone shuffled out of the Main Hall. They walked down a slight hill towards a large, rectangular building. Outside, the six-foot Water Elemental Projection stood, displaying the names.
Mike and Leo pushed their way to the front. Mike's eyes immediately found his assignments: The Solaris Tower, Room 4C. And below it: Table 15.
"Table 15!" Leo exclaimed. "That's me too! Pure coincidence! This is excellent! I already have three contingency plans for Table 15!"
"What?" Mike asked but people were fidgeting and he was pushed inside the dining hall.
Inside, the dining hall stole his breath. Thirty-one marble tables gleamed beneath crystal lights, each perfectly round, each ringed with twelve chairs. The arrangement was deliberate: two students from every year at each table. Cross-year mingling, enforced by design. At the front, the teachers' table sat upon a raised podium, carved from obsidian that pulsed faintly with heat. They found Table 15. The rule was clear: before sitting, you had to handshake everyone already at your table. Mike shook hands around the table, a new face in a sea of familiar ones.
The food, a warm, hearty supper, appeared as if by magic, carried by silent Air currents. Mike, exhausted and overwhelmed, found himself distracted only by Leo, who was already deep in conversation with a bewildered S2 student about the historical accuracy of the school's defensive perimeter. The meal passed in a blur of questions and introductions.
After supper, the Assembly broke up. A quiet, atmospheric ripple—the soft voice of an Air Elemental—announced the 9:45 PM curfew. Mike and Leo walked toward the Solaris Tower. The dorms were clearly separated into boys' and girls' sides, and then segmented by year. Mike opened the door to Room 4C and saw his bag on the desk. He was not alone. Four beds were neatly made, and four folded school uniforms sat on the end of the beds.
Mike looked at the neatly folded white shirt and black trousers. He was sharing his space with four other boys. He looked at Leo, who was already meticulously unpacking a set of color-coded filing tabs.
"Well," Mike said, dropping onto his bed, "I guess we're roommates also."