Morning light slipped past tall windows and heavy curtains, turning the dust motes into slow, spinning stars.

  Luna curled up under the quilt, bone-tired—until a deafening clang shattered the dream—iron crashing on iron, ringing like a forge in full fury.

  Luna shot upright, heart hammering, half ready to bolt from Mrs. Thompson's wrath before her mind caught up. This wasn't the orphanage.

  It was Trey—grinning like an idiot in the doorway. She exhaled hard and sagged back against the quilt.

  Trey leaned against the doorframe, grinning like he'd invented sunshine, smacking a spatula against a cast-iron pan in a jaunty rhythm.

  "Rise and shine, ladies! Breakfast can wait—but Professor Ermin won't."

  A rumble rose from the bed by the window. Bridget rolled over, hair a delicious tangle and still somehow painting-pretty.

  "Trey, put the pan down before I make it your coffin lid!"

  Then another voice drifted from the third bed. A red-haired girl swung up, green eyes fixed on Trey as if she hoped to slit him with her stare.

  "Do you do this to all the girls, or just the ones that happen to live right below your room?"

  Trey's grin widened. "Special treatment for the three of you, of course!"

  Luna cracked one eye open, then burrowed deeper into the quilt. The bed wasn't fancy, but it was hers — alone. For the first time, she wasn't sharing a pillow, wasn't fighting for a blanket. It was soft. It was warm. It was the most comfortable thing she'd ever known.

  Trey clanged the pan again—only to duck as two pillows flew his way.

  "On your feet, rookie. Ermin wants a word before breakfast."

  Francis slipped in behind him, holding one of the pillows that had just missed Trey. He brushed dust from his hair with the other hand and said, "I know you have questions. Ermin has answers. Let's go."

  Luna groaned softly, dragging herself out from under the blanket and fumbling for her boots before trailing after them.

  They led a still-drowsy Luna up the stone stairs to the third floor. Trey hummed, unbothered; Francis walked in silence.

  Wax and paper scented the air as they crossed the hall through an ornate arch into a sprawling library—shelves soaring to the ceiling, ladders and galleries webbing the space. Luna noticed a spiral stair dropping to the level below and raised her brows.

  Trey swept a hand grandly. "Ermin's three-story library. What a weird old man. Still no idea why we're all brain-deficient."

  "You think bookworms are freaks, that's why," Francis said without looking at him.

  Trey pulled a mocking face at Francis. Luna shook her head and let out a small, amused sigh. He turned to flash her a quick grin before spinning away toward the far side of the library— to a large wooden door flanked by two armchairs.

  "Welcome to Ermin's lair. Enter if you dare."

  Francis ignored him, knocked, and pushed in.

  Ermin's office was a country of paper: teetering stacks of books, scrolls in baskets, a wall-map layered with pins and sketches. The professor sat behind a massive desk, eyes keen despite the fatigue under them. He glanced up, closed The Book of History and Lineage, and said, warm but firm:

  "Luna. At last. Sit."

  She took the chair opposite him. Francis and Trey posted up on either side like shadow-guards.

  "And you two?" Ermin waved them back. "Hovering will only frighten her."

  "Just making sure she's safe," Trey said.

  Safer than with you, Ermin thought, steepling his fingers as he studied the girl.

  "You don't know what's in you, do you?"

  Luna puckered her mouth. "What would that be?"

  "Quanta," he said.

  She scowled faintly. She'd heard that word for two days straight, yet the two men who'd dragged her from Upperbeak had given her nothing but half-answers—enough to make her think she was losing her mind.

  "It's a current," Ermin continued, "of power flowing through the body—through the veins. Strong, and volatile. Like what happened in the Upperbeak marketplace. And I suspect that wasn't the first time, was it?"

  Luna's chest tightened. The marketplace, the dining hall wall, the bridge — they all flickered behind her eyes in a blinding rush, ending in the terror of what came after—

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  —and worse than the aftermath was the blankness when it happened. The world had vanished—no sound, no light, only her heartbeat roaring in the dark. That was what terrified her: not the destruction, but the thought that next time, it might be herself caught in it.

  Luna's stomach twisted. Her hands, resting on her knees, had gone cold. She pressed them together, trying to steady the faint tremor. The thought alone made breathing felt like work. She didn't dare meet Ermin's eyes, afraid he might see the fear written plain across hers.

  Ermin's gaze gentled. He'd seen that look before—the fear of one's own power, raw and uncomprehending. The same look that had driven the boys to bring her here instead of turning her over to Elderwatch.

  "Without training, it vents with your emotions," he said quietly. "You won't control it. It will hurt you."

  He spoke with calm certainty, not alarm. To him, this wasn't new. He'd guided too many through the same terror before—and he knew they could work something out again.

  "Even trained users can overdraw. That's when the body pays—ruptured veins, pain, fever. In rare cases, death." He stopped when Luna's eyes widened. His voice softened. "But we don't intend to let you anywhere near that edge. You're here to make sure it never happens."

  Ermin touched two fingers to the right side of his neck, where he'd checked her before. "We install a Veinguard—an Elderwatch system—along the main vessel here. If you draw too much, it stings the vein. A built-in warning before you cross your limit."

  Luna listened, rapt and uneasy. If a stone bridge could collapse under her power, what would it do to flesh? The thought made her stomach dip. Maybe she could get that thing implanted today.

  "You receive it after you pass the field exam," Ermin said, as if he'd plucked the thought from her head.

  "Must-have item," Trey chimed. "Every cool Quanta user's got one."

  Ermin's look snapped sideways. Francis pinched the bridge of his nose.

  "But I don't see anything on you, sir," Luna said, squinting at Ermin's neck.

  "That's the beauty—it's invisible. Suits any style."

  His mouth quirked at his own joke. Trey rolled his eyes so hard they almost went back into the sockets.

  "Now then," Ermin said, straightening a few papers on his desk. "We didn't exactly have time for introductions yesterday."

  He gestured toward himself. "I'm Professor Ermin Spangley, housemaster of Pine Hollow—one of the eight houses here at Elkington Academy."

  His tone softened slightly. "This is a school for Quanta users. We teach you to control it, use it, and—more importantly—live with it safely."

  He leaned back, fingers steepled. "Most of our graduates go on to ordinary lives. Some work with Elderwatch, others join the Starshade Guild. Either way, you'll have a place—once you learn to handle what's inside you."

  He set a rolled parchment before her. Luna untied the cord and spread it open.

  "As you can see—or rather, as you've already experienced—we have our own way of recruiting new students," Ermin said. "In your case, through a so-called 'supernatural management' mission. In most others, we trace Quanta through family lines—like this fool here." He jabbed a thumb toward Trey. "It tends to run in the blood, though not always."

  "And I am sorry to say this, but," he went on, tone flattening, "once you're recruited, you only have two choices. One: agree to study here. Or two..." He paused long enough for the silence to sink in. "We send you to Elderwatch."

  A chill slid down Luna's spine.

  "New students—like you—start with general subjects: common knowledge, mathematics, reading and writing, history—yes, just like any other school," Ermin continued, his voice regaining its rhythm. "Alongside that, you'll take Quanta-related classes as well, followed by supervised practice in the afternoons. Once you've met the requirements, you'll be certified for missions of specific levels. We'll get to the details later."

  Trey leaned closer and stage-whispered, "You may begin to yawn... now."

  Ermin pegged an eraser at his head and continued:

  "Students take on missions across the Kingdom of Cascadia to learn real survival skills," Ermin said. "Technically, they come from the Starshade Guild first—the guild gets the requests, then passes the simpler ones down to us."

  "And sometimes the cheap ones," Trey added.

  Ermin gave Trey a sharp look. "And you're supposed to treat them as field practice, not personal adventures."

  "Right, right. Practice," Trey said, clearly unrepentant.

  "The important thing," Ermin went on, "is that the public thinks the guild handles everything. Elkington stays hidden behind that mask of an elite boarding school. No one outside these walls needs to know what we actually teach."

  Luna frowned. "And if someone finds out?"

  Trey answered before Ermin could. "One word—Elderwatch."

  And that was enough to shut her up.

  "For general missions," Ermin continued, "I recommend you accompany Trey—like it or not, you seem to have become his responsibility."

  Luna and Trey snapped their eyes to each other.

  "But—sir—" Trey started.

  "You brought her," Ermin said, immovable but faintly amused. "You look after her."

  You thought you could dump the problem on my desk and stroll away? Dream on, child, he thought.

  Beside him, Francis wore the same satisfied look.

  "That should cover the foundations," Ermin concluded. "If you want specifics, ask me—or your newfound partner." He flicked Trey a warning glance. "I trust he can speak on topics other than nonsense."

  "Hey! I sure can—"

  "Sign the application. Make it official." Ermin cut him off, sliding a pen across the desk.

  Luna took it with trembling fingers. This was the greatest shift of her life. Just days ago, she'd been an orphan trying to survive abusive caretakers—now she was about to commit to some kind of superpower school?

  She couldn't picture the future from here, but the letter from Mr. Atkins still lingered in her mind—every word a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

  He didn't go through all that trouble just so I could give up now.

  She set the nib to parchment and wrote, each stroke firm.

  Trey and Francis leaned over to peek. Their brows rose as they traded a look. Ermin scanned the sheet, tucked it into his vest, and smiled.

  "Welcome to Elkington—and to Pine Hollow... Luna Atkins."

  Luna sat for a moment, breathing the unfamiliar name. Warmth flowered where it settled.

  "But— before you can actually live here in Pine Hollow."

  Trey leaned forward with mock enthusiasm. "Right—the entrance exams."

  "What entrance exams?" Luna arched an eyebrow.

  "Written," Ermin said. "Fundamentals, numbers, language, problem-solving. And then the field exam—the hard one. You'll complete a survival trial in the forest and finish three missions. Yes, you'll have to use Quanta."

  She swallowed audibly. "And if... I fail? Do I go straight to Elderwatch?"

  "Not quite," Ermin replied. "You'd transfer to Lavender Vales, our junior house. Easier curriculum, younger cohort. You can stay there until you pass."

  "Like a daycare with homework. Hey, maybe it'll feel like your old—"

  SMACK.

  Francis's palm landed square between Trey's shoulder blades. Luna went still as stone. Her whole life had been spent among children—grabbing hands, small demands, midnight wails, chaos at dawn. The thought crawled cold across her skin.

  Ermin caught the look on her face, waved them toward the door, and reopened his book.

  "Don't worry," he said. "We'll talk about prepping you for the exam—after breakfast. Go. Eat."