Everything related to the Sleepers was housed within the same colossal structure, a self-contained world buried beneath the Academy grounds. Following the instructions sent to his communicator, Caspian navigated the wide corridors with ease, descending deeper until he reached one of the lowest levels.
The dormitories.
Unlike the bustling halls above, this place was quiet. Almost reverent. Thick walls dampened sound, and soft white lights illuminated the corridors with a gentle glow. Each Sleeper had been assigned a private room—no roommates, no shared spaces. A small mercy, perhaps, or a calculated decision meant to give them solitude before the storm.
Caspian found his door and stepped inside.
The room was… nice.
Unexpectedly so.
A neatly made bed with a soft mattress occupied one side of the room, its sheets pristine and untouched. A sturdy table stood near the wall, accompanied by a comfortable chair. A dresser rested nearby, its surface empty, waiting to be claimed. To the side, a separate bathroom gleamed with new fixtures and polished metal.
Everything smelled clean. Sterile. Safe.
It was warm inside, and the outer wall held a hidden screen that seamlessly mimicked a wide window. With a subtle hum, it displayed a picturesque view of a snow-covered park—white trees swaying gently under an artificial winter sky.
For a moment, Caspian simply stood there.
The scene tugged at something distant.
He remembered waking up in his old room. The routine. The quiet mornings before school. Getting dressed. Pretending life was normal.
For a heartbeat, it almost felt the same.
Velpam's voice slithered into his thoughts, dripping with mockery.
"Look who is playing at being an adult… thinking about those days like they were ages ago. You are just a kid."
Caspian scoffed silently and shut him out.
He moved to the dresser and found several neatly folded sets of clothes, all bearing the Academy emblem. Practical. Clean. Well-made. He selected one of the uniforms and changed into it.
It fit perfectly.
Too perfectly.
He studied himself in the mirror, tilting his head slightly. The cut was sharp, the material durable yet flexible. He didn't dislike it.
Since he still had time before supper, curiosity stirred.
Let's see.
Caspian summoned the Memory Verdam had given him.
Moonlight Crown.
A soft shimmer filled the room, and suddenly a silver crown rested in his hands. It was small for a crown—more a diadem than a traditional crown. Its structure was intricate and alien, crafted from radiant silver that seemed almost alive.
At its front rose a triangular formation, growing progressively larger toward the center. Embedded within the crown were seven moons, each resting on a different level. A full moon occupied the center, dominant and serene. On either side of it, three crescent and decrescent moons descended in size, like phases frozen in time.
At the back of the crown, solitary and understated, burned a single sun.
Caspian frowned slightly.
An armor Memory… but it's just a crown?
He hesitated, then placed it upon his head.
The change was instant.
The silver of the crown dissolved like mist, vanishing into the air. The moons and sun remained, floating around his head in the same configuration. Silver light surged downward, cascading over his body like liquid metal.
In seconds, armor formed around him.
It was breathtaking.
The armor was sleek yet regal, molded perfectly to his form. Plates of luminous silver layered over one another like overlapping scales, etched with faint celestial patterns that glowed softly. The surface reflected light not like polished steel, but like moonlight on still water—smooth, deep, and coldly beautiful.
The pauldrons curved upward, elegant rather than bulky, shaped like crescent moons caught mid-rise. His gauntlets were slender, fingers tipped with subtle, sharp contours that hinted at lethality without excess. The greaves wrapped tightly around his legs, light yet solid, allowing freedom of movement while exuding unmistakable authority.
At the center of his chest was a crescent moon.
The portion that should have been dark… wasn't.
It was a hole.
Caspian froze.
An epiphany struck.
Without hesitation, he summoned Stargaze.
The compass appeared in his hand, its arrows spinning lazily. Bringing it closer to his chest, he felt an almost magnetic pull. The fit was perfect.
He inserted Stargaze into the hollow crescent.
The arrows began to spin wildly, faster and faster, before snapping into alignment with a sharp click that echoed faintly through the room.
Caspian gasped softly, instinctively knowing the armor had changed—evolved. It felt more complete. More whole.
Unfortunately…
He sighed.
Sleepers couldn't properly control their soul essence. Using enchantments was difficult at best, dangerous at worst. He would have to wait until he awakened to truly draw out the armor's potential.
His stomach chose that moment to roar.
Not just hunger for blood—normal hunger too.
Reluctantly, Caspian dismissed his Memories. The armor vanished, leaving him standing in his uniform once more.
Velpam laughed.
"If someone had seen you, they would've believed your armor roared instead."
Caspian rolled his eyes and headed out.
---
The cafeteria exceeded expectations.
Long tables filled the vast hall, and the scent of freshly cooked food hung thick in the air. There was meat—several kinds—steaming rice, warm bread, rich sauces, fresh vegetables, fruits, and an impressive array of drinks.
Lavish.
He filled his plate generously and scanned the room.
That was when he spotted her.
The black-haired, pale girl from earlier.
She was eating. A lot.
Caspian approached and sat across from her. Their table was otherwise empty.
He offered a polite smile. "Mind if I join you?"
She didn't look up immediately.
Nearly a full minute passed before she lifted her head, chewing thoughtfully.
"…Name?" she asked plainly.
"Caspian."
She nodded. "Alice."
And went right back to eating.
Caspian blinked.
Then chuckled softly and started eating too.
They finished in silence.
Afterward, they headed to their respective interviews.
---
Caspian soon found himself seated in a small office across from a friendly administrative worker. She smiled warmly and began without delay.
The questions were gentle. Respectful.
He was offered psychological counseling.
He declined.
The conversation shifted smoothly to his Aspect.
"Would you like to tell me about it?"
"If you're willing to share…"
He spoke as he had earlier. A powerful liquid-altering Aspect. Sacred rank.
Her eyes lit up instantly.
When she requested a demonstration, a cup of water was brought in.
Caspian touched it.
The water solidified instantly, forming a perfectly shaped ice cup clinging to his finger. She touched it—surprised.
"The temperature hasn't changed…"
He turned it to vapor.
Then, swiftly, plunged his hand into the mist, forcing it to crystallize mid-air. Sharp, star-like shards rained down like deadly hail—brief, controlled, precise.
One cup of water wasn't much to work with.
She asked for something bigger.
They brought a bucket of water.
Thinking quickly, he thought of Velpam, that fiend who called himself his shadow, he had a completly different status page, but still, he could summon it, he could enter his soul sea, even he didn't like it, Velpam was a part of him, and as such, he was going to make it follow his will, Caspian focused—and formed a shortsword of ice, it surpised both the worker and him.
The blade was flawless.
The worker touched it.
"As hard as steel…" she whispered.
"Can you use it?"
Caspian nodded.
The metal table didn't resist.
There was no screech of tearing alloy, no violent recoil. The blade passed through it with insulting ease, as though Caspian were cutting warm wax instead of reinforced Academy steel.
The sword completed its arc.
A heartbeat passed.
Then the table split.
The upper half slid forward soundlessly, cleaving clean through the surface, the internal supports, even the hidden reinforcement struts beneath.
The severed edge was smooth.
The lower half collapsed a second later, crashing to the floor.
Silence.
The interviewer stared.
Her mouth opened slightly, then closed. Her eyes tracked the fallen piece of furniture as if expecting it to reassemble itself out of sheer indignation.
"…That" she said slowly "...was a composite alloy table rated to withstand Awakened-level force."
Caspian blinked.
Oh.
He hadn't meant to do that.
Not like that.
He dismissed the ice sword, letting it sublimate into a mist that curled briefly around his fingers before vanishing.
"I—" he hesitated, then added honestly "I might be stronger than I should be."
The woman laughed nervously.
"Yes." she said. "Yes, I believe that's accurate."
She glanced at the broken table again, then at him, and very deliberately did not ask him to pay for damages.
Instead, she straightened, composure returning with professional speed.
"Please continue" she said, fingers already flying across her tablet. "You mentioned an innate ability?"
Caspian nodded.
He hesitated only a fraction of a second before deciding to stop holding back so much.
"If my enemy has my blood inside their system" he said calmly "they can't kill me."
Her fingers froze.
"…I'm sorry?" she asked carefully.
He met her eyes.
"If they ingest my blood—drink it, absorb it, even have it forcibly enter their body—their killing intent toward me collapses. They physically cannot deliver a lethal blow."
At least that what Caspian believed of his innate ability, he haven't tried it yet, but didn't wanted to try it putting his life at risk.
The room felt tighter.
The interviewer swallowed.
"And how… permanent is this effect?"
"Temporary" Caspian answered. "It fades as my blood leaves their system."
Ir couldn't be permanent of course, if so, it would be so strong that it would be better than most aspects alone.
"Let's...continue."
She exhaled slowly.
"There has been… discussion" she said carefully "about your First Nightmare."
Caspian remained silent.
She summoned a memory.
It took the shape of a thin, blank sheet of parchment, utterly unremarkable. No sigils. No glow. No aura.
"Some Sleepers" she said, voice measured, "have claimed to receive a True Name during their First Nightmare. Historically, this has been…extremely rare, and not actually confirmed."
She moved the paper in her hands.
"This Memory was created for verification purposes. If someone without a True Name touches it, nothing will happen. If someone with a True Name does…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
She didn't need to.
Caspian smiled faintly.
He reached out.
The moment his fingers brushed the parchment—
Fire erupted.
Not wild flames, not destructive heat, but pale silver-blue fire that bloomed instantly across the paper's surface, consuming it in less than a second.
The flames curled inward, precise and elegant, leaving behind nothing but a drifting smear of glowing ash that faded before it touched the floor.
The room went dead silent.
The interviewer stared at the empty space where the paper had been.
Then she slowly raised her eyes to Caspian.
Her hands were shaking.
"…Confirmed." she whispered.
Still.
Behind the wall, he heard a powerful heart.
A Saint.
The House of Night works fast, he thought.
The worker coughed lightly, nervous.
Her reaction was immediate.
The interview ended.
"There is someone who wishes to speak with you."
She left.
A man entered.
Smooth ebony skin. Perfect white hair. Indigo eyes glinting like deep water. His presence was overwhelming.
"Saint Bloodweave."
Velpam chuckled. Of course, what a coincidence that the first Saint of the waking world they meet have something to do with blood.
The Saint wasted no time.
The House of Night wanted him, and they would give him anything they can to ensure his loyalty.
"Anything?" Caspian and Velpam thought simultaneously, to Caspian's disgust.
"As long as it is in my power."
Caspian explained his flaw to him. His need for blood. His Attribute—Crimson Inheritance.
"With a full canteen of a Saint's blood" Bloodweave asked calmly "how long would it last?"
Caspian smiled brightly. "Until the winter solstice."
"And the power?"
"Comparable to an Awakened. Maybe a bit more."
Bloodweave nodded. Left. A couple of minutes later he appeared again.
Returned with a metal canteen.
The scent alone made Caspian's breath hitch.
"In the name of the House of Night " the Saint said, handing it over "we expect great deeds in your name, Moonlight Deliverer. We shall meet again before the winter solstice."