Consciousness returned to Aster in fragments—sensation before thought, awareness before understanding.
The first thing he noticed was the cold. Hard stone pressed against his back, leeching warmth from his body. His head throbbed with a dull ache that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. Voices swirled around him, muffled and distant, as if he were hearing them through water.
What happened?
He forced his eyes open, squinting against bright light that wasn't quite sunlight. The ceiling above him was wrong—not the familiar white tiles of the school library, but ornate stone carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and writhe when he tried to focus on them.
"Aster? Aster, can you hear me?"
Marcus's voice, tinged with panic, cut through the fog. Aster turned his head—slowly, because the movement made the world spin—to find his best friend crouched beside him, face pale and eyes wide with barely contained fear.
"I'm... I'm okay," Aster managed, though his voice came out rough and uncertain. "What—"
A scream pierced the air, sharp and terrified.
Aster pushed himself up on his elbows, ignoring the protest of muscles that felt like they'd been torn apart and stitched back together. The scene that greeted him defied comprehension.
They were in some kind of massive chamber, the ceiling soaring at least fifty feet overhead and supported by columns that seemed carved from single pieces of white marble. But it wasn't the architecture that captured his attention—it was the glowing circle beneath them.
Luminescent lines covered the floor in an impossibly complex pattern, geometric shapes overlapping and interweaving in designs that hurt to look at directly. The entire circle had to be at least thirty feet in diameter, and at its center—right where Aster had been lying moments ago—a symbol pulsed with dying light, like embers fading to ash.
And scattered across this circle, in various states of consciousness and panic, were his classmates.
Sophie was the one who'd screamed. She clung to Claire, both girls on their knees, staring around with expressions of pure terror. Lily was already on her feet, helping Maya stand, her face set in grim determination despite the fear Aster could see in her eyes. Blake and Evan had instinctively moved back-to-back, fists raised as if ready to fight despite having no idea what they'd be fighting.
Derek stood near the edge of the circle, Jason and Troy flanking him. For once, his usual arrogance had given way to something approaching genuine alarm. Rachel and Jade huddled together, their earlier cruelty forgotten in the face of whatever had just happened to them.
Nina had her back pressed against one of the circle's edge, her book clutched to her chest like a shield. Grace was checking on others, her natural kindness overriding her own fear. Owen's jokes had died on his lips, replaced by uncharacteristic silence.
Zara looked around with calculating eyes, already trying to assess the situation. And Quinn—Quinn sat perfectly still at the circle's edge, watching everything with that same withdrawn expression, as if being transported to an unknown location was just another thing to observe.
"Is everyone here?" Cole's voice cut through the rising panic. Their teacher stood at the circle's far side, doing a quick headcount. His usual calm demeanor was strained, but he was holding it together better than most. "Sound off if you're injured!"
A chorus of voices responded—mostly variations of "I'm okay" mixed with "Where are we?" and "What the hell just happened?"
"This isn't real," Rachel said, her voice shaking. "This is a dream. It has to be a dream."
"If it's a dream, it's a shared one," Troy muttered, for once lacking his usual cynicism. He actually looked shaken.
"Guys," Blake said slowly, his athlete's instincts putting together what the others were still processing. "We're not at school anymore."
That's when Aster noticed the people.
They surrounded the glowing circle, dozens of them, all dressed in clothes that belonged in a fantasy movie or historical drama. Robes of rich fabrics, armor of gleaming metal, staffs topped with crystals that pulsed with internal light. But it was their expressions that sent ice down Aster's spine—confusion, alarm, and something that looked disturbingly like disappointment.
A woman in elaborate purple robes stepped forward, her weathered face creased with confusion. She held a staff nearly as tall as she was, topped with a crystal that swirled with violet mist. Her eyes—an unnatural shade of silver—swept across the summoned students with growing concern.
"This... this isn't right," she said, her voice carrying despite its softness. She spoke in English, which should have been impossible but somehow wasn't. "The summoning was supposed to bring the Chosen Ones, the heroes of prophecy. But these are... children?"
"Children?" Derek bristled at the word, taking a step forward before Jason grabbed his arm. "Who are you calling—"
He cut off abruptly as movement rippled through the crowd. The people—soldiers, Aster's mind supplied, because what else could you call the armored figures with weapons drawn—tensed. And behind them, previously hidden in the shadows, massive shapes stirred.
Sophie's second scream was cut short as Claire clamped a hand over her mouth.
They were creatures—beasts that shouldn't exist outside of fantasy games and mythology. A wolf the size of a small car, its fur midnight black and its eyes glowing with intelligent malevolence.
A scaled creature that resembled a wingless dragon, plates of armor-like hide covering its serpentine body. Something that might have been a bear if bears were twice the normal size with horns curving from their skulls.
And they were all staring at the summoned class with predatory focus.
"Oh god," Maya whimpered, pressing closer to Lily. "Oh god, oh god—"
"Everyone stay calm," Cole said, though his own voice wavered. He moved to put himself between his students and the surrounding crowd, a futile gesture but a brave one. "We mean no harm. There's been some kind of mistake—"
"Lower your weapons!"
The command rang out with absolute authority, echoing through the chamber with enough force to make several students flinch. The crowd parted immediately, soldiers snapping to attention with practiced precision. Even the beasts seemed to respond, settling back on their haunches though their eyes never left the circle.
A man strode through the opening in the crowd, and even without context, Aster knew what he was. Everything about him screamed royalty—the bearing, the clothes, the crown of gold and silver that rested on his graying hair. He was perhaps fifty, with a weathered face that spoke of long years and hard decisions, but his eyes were sharp and calculating as they swept across the summoned class.
Behind him came an entourage: more armored guards, advisors in rich robes, and a younger man who bore enough resemblance to be a son. A prince, perhaps.
The king—because what else could he be—stopped at the edge of the magic circle. His gaze lingered on each student in turn, assessment clear in his expression. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of someone used to being obeyed.
"I am King Aldric Valerius, sovereign of the Aldric Kingdom and defender of humanity's last bastion." He paused, letting his words sink in. "And you, if the texts we found spoke true, are the Summoned Heroes we have called upon."