A dull throbbing at the base of his skull pulled Anjero from the depths of unconsciousness. Light filtered through his eyelids, too bright, too intrusive. He winced, fighting the urge to slip back into the comfort of darkness.
"Hey! Good morning, WaterBoy!"
The shout pierced his eardrums like a physical blow. Anjero recognized Kamira's voice immediately—somehow both welcoming and grating in his current state. He forced his eyes open to find her leaning over him, her copper-colored hair falling in waves around a face split by an enormous grin. The pendant at her neck—a smooth amber stone wrapped in silver wire—dangled dangerously close to his face.
"How long have I been asleep?" Anjero's voice came out as a croak, his throat parched as if he'd swallowed sand. He tried to sit up, muscles protesting every movement.
Kamira straightened, crossing her arms over her chest. "Three days on the dot," she announced with a hint of pride, as if she'd been personally responsible for the count. "We were starting to take bets on whether you'd sleep through the entire week."
"Three days?" The words felt hollow in Anjero's mouth. He pushed himself up on his elbows, ignoring the wave of dizziness that threatened to pull him back down. "I've been out that long?"
His hand went instinctively to his temple where pain pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. Fragments of memory flashed through his mind—water swirling around him, responding to his will, the raw power that had surged through his veins.
"Ouch," he muttered, pressing his fingers against the spot. "Is everyone okay?"
Kamira dropped into a chair beside his bed, kicking her feet up onto the edge of his mattress. "Yeah, everyone's fine. Mashù got a couple of bruises, but that's nothing new." She shrugged, the casual gesture at odds with the pride gleaming in her eyes. "Yoku's pride is hurt, but that's about it. You should have seen his face when you pulled off that water sphere. I thought his eyes would pop right out of his head."
"Cool. Okay." Anjero nodded, trying to make sense of the jumbled images in his mind. The last thing he remembered clearly was the sensation of drowning, then—power, pure and overwhelming.
"Before you say anything else, my guy," Kamira leaned forward, punching him lightly on the shoulder, "you were amazing out there. Congrats on your Awakening!"
Heat rose to Anjero's cheeks. "Thank you... I guess it all just happened so quickly." He flexed his fingers, half-expecting to see water dancing between them. There was nothing now, but he could feel it—a new awareness humming beneath his skin, a connection to something that had always been there but remained hidden until three days ago.
"I see you're finally up and well."
The new voice drew Anjero's attention to the doorway where Aado stood, his tall frame nearly touching the top of the threshold. The older man's silver-streaked hair was pulled back in its usual tight knot, his expression a careful mask of neutrality. Yet Anjero could see the glint of something like satisfaction in his amber eyes.
"I was rather surprised that your spirit is water," Aado continued, stepping into the room. His footsteps made no sound on the stone floor—a habit that had startled Anjero more than once during their training sessions. "I knew it would be one of the seven original spirits, but not the water one so soon."
Anjero's brow furrowed. "Original spirits?"
Aado moved to the window, gazing out at the academy grounds spread below. Sunlight illuminated half his face, casting the other half in shadow. "Yes. The seven original spirits are the first born from the Arctic Willow. Water, Air, Fire, Plants, Earth, Light, and Dark." He turned, fixing Anjero with a penetrating stare. "Those seven selected hosts to keep the tree safe in the war two hundred years ago."
The war—Anjero had heard stories about it since childhood. Tales of destruction and heroes, of spirits choosing humans to channel their power. But the details had always been vague, more legend than history.
"But aren't there over a hundred different spirits in today's world?" he asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His body felt strange—lighter somehow, yet more solid.
Aado nodded, a teacher pleased by a student's question. "The originals were tasked to produce what we call wisps today and make different powers so the tree would be protected from harm." His hand drifted to the ornate dagger at his belt—a gesture Anjero had noticed he made when discussing serious matters. "The wisps go through a four-year evolution. If they survive for that long, they mature into spirits and find a suitable host to carry on living."
Curiosity sparked in Anjero's mind, chasing away the remnants of his grogginess. "Are there any offspring stronger than the originals?"
Something shifted in Aado's expression—a tightening around the eyes, a slight downturn of his mouth. "Only a handful we know about," he replied, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "One of them is... Shadow."
"Shadow?" The word sent an inexplicable chill down Anjero's spine.
Aado didn't elaborate, and something told Anjero not to press further. Instead, he changed the subject, voicing a question he'd wondered about since his first day at the academy.
"But Mr. Aado, I don't think I've ever seen your spirit. What is it, if you don't mind me asking?"
For the first time since entering the room, Aado smiled—a subtle lifting of the corners of his mouth. "Mine is like yours, Anjero," he said, extending his palm. "I have the spirit of light. Lumen."
A small sphere of brilliance formed above his hand, pulsing with gentle radiance. The light swirled and condensed, forming intricate patterns that reminded Anjero of constellations he'd studied in astronomy class. The display lasted only seconds before Aado closed his fingers, extinguishing the light.
"Well, that's enough questions for now," he declared, his tone shifting to something more formal. "It's time you meet the principal of this school and collect your reward for that mission."
Anjero blinked, processing this new information. "Principal? I thought you owned this school."
"No," Aado shook his head. "I only guide and teach future Guardians to serve and protect this world. The academy has always had a principal to oversee its operations."
"Okay, so who's the principal?" Anjero asked, standing up carefully. His legs felt steady enough, though a residual weakness lingered in his muscles.
Kamira, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the exchange with Aado, burst into laughter. "Oh, you'll know her," she said with a mischievous glint in her eye that made Anjero instantly suspicious.
"Someone I know," he repeated slowly. "Okay then."
The three made their way through the academy's winding corridors, past classrooms where students practiced their spirit abilities under watchful instructors. Anjero noticed several students pointing and whispering as he passed—word of his Awakening had clearly spread. He kept his eyes forward, uncomfortable with the sudden attention.
Finally, they arrived at an ornate door at the end of the east wing. A nameplate of polished silver read "Principal" in elegant script. Aado knocked twice, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.
"COME IN!" a woman's voice bellowed from inside, loud enough to make Anjero jump.
Aado pushed open the door, gesturing for Anjero to enter first. He stepped into a spacious office lined with bookshelves and adorned with maps of lands he didn't recognize. Behind a massive desk of carved oakwood sat a woman with familiar features—the same dark eyes as his, the same determined set of the jaw.
"Mom?!" The word escaped Anjero's lips in a shocked whisper.
Sharin Sutanrì looked up from her paperwork, a smile spreading across her face. "Well, it's about time you woke up," she said, standing to her full height. "I was beginning to think my son might sleep through his own welcome ceremony."