Water streamed down from the showerhead, the hiss of heat muffled by rising steam. The glass door fogged over, cloaking the bathroom in a veil of warmth. I stood beneath the flow, hands pressed against the tiled wall, letting the weight of the day run off my skin and down the drain.
But no amount of water could wash away what I'd seen.
That was a Shadow Beast—creatures born from the Umbralis Realm. And I was able to fight it because I'm what's known as an Inkborn.
"Inkborn...?" I had echoed, the word foreign and yet oddly familiar.
He nodded. "And you're one too. That's why it attacked you."
Steam swirled around me like smoke from a dream. I muttered to myself, "So I'm an Inkborn... that's what it's called, huh."
Mr. Koivisto had mentioned something else, too.
An ultimate goal.
"To become a Transcendent," he had said.
...Whatever that means.
I rolled my eyes and turned off the faucet. That could wait for another day.
But as I stepped out of the shower, another memory flickered—this one from just a few hours ago, after we'd returned to school.
The bus ride back had been quiet, strangely so. Most kids were too tired to talk. Too distracted by their phones or snacks or whatever normal kids did after almost dying without realizing it.
But I wasn't normal.
"Mr. Koivisto," I had asked just before the final bell rang. "Can I ask you something?"
He looked up from his desk, raising a brow. "What's up, kid?"
"At the museum… when all that happened, the Shadow Beast and everything… why didn't anyone else notice? No one screamed. No one came running."
He smiled faintly, like I'd just asked the right kind of question.
"Let me put it this way," he said, standing and tapping his temple. "You ever read Percy Jackson?"
"Yeah."
"You know how there's this thing called the Mist? That invisible veil that stops regular people from seeing monsters and gods?"
I nodded.
"Well… reality has something like that, too. It's called the Shadow Ink Barrier. It was cast over the world thousands of years ago by forces we still don't fully understand. It protects those who can't comprehend the incomprehensible. Because to truly understand it… is to become a Transcendent."
I blinked. "What does that even mean?"
He shrugged. "You'll learn in time. Don't worry too much."
He walked past me and paused at the door.
"For now, go home. Rest. You've had a long day. I'll stop by the orphanage later and speak with your caretaker."
I tilted my head. "About what?"
He gave a small smile. No mystery, no drama—just a simple truth wrapped in inevitability.
"Your future."
I sat on the edge of my bed, towel slung over my shoulders, droplets of water still clinging to my skin. Normally, this would be the time I'd bury myself in a Superman comic, pretending the world was simple—truth, justice, and tights.
But lately, I'd found myself drawn to something else.
Chess.
The rules were simple—deceptively so. But the layers beneath? That's where the magic was. The deeper I looked, the more I saw it wasn't about how many pieces you had or how fast you played. It was about control without being seen.
Take the queen, for example.
Everyone thinks the king is the centerpiece of the board—he's in the middle, after all. But the queen? She starts off to the side. Quiet. Patient. And yet... she's the most dangerous piece on the board.
It's always the ones furthest from the center who hold the most power.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, watching faint shadows from the streetlamps dance across the plaster. That line of thought tugged at something—like a string left loose on a tapestry. I let it go.
Just chess, I told myself.
Then came a knock.
Tap. Tap.
"Orien, sweetie," Ms. Penelope called from the hallway. "Your world history teacher is here. He says he needs to speak with both of us."
Mr. Koivisto?
My eyes narrowed slightly. I stood, towel still draped across my neck, and muttered, "Okay, I'll be right out."
Something told me this wasn't about history.
I came down the stairs a few minutes later, towel gone and hair still damp, my feet padding quietly across the wooden steps. Mr. Koivisto was already seated on the living room couch, sitting upright with that same patient, unreadable expression he always wore in class. He glanced up as I entered but said nothing.
I took the seat across from him, next to Ms. Penelope, who was already perched with her hands folded neatly in her lap.
"Before we discuss anything," she said, turning to him with a warm smile, "would you like any refreshments, Mr. Koivisto?"
"Water will do, thank you," he replied politely.
She stood and walked to the kitchen. A short silence passed between us until she returned about four minutes later, placing a clear glass of water gently into his hands.
"Thank you, Ms. Penelope," he said with a nod.
She smiled again. "Now, you said you had something to discuss about Orien's future?"
"Yes," he said, his tone shifting subtly—calmer, yet heavier. "But before I get into the specifics, I need to ask: what do you know about Orien's biological parents?"
Ms. Penelope blinked, caught off guard. "Not much," she admitted after a beat. "They brought him to me six years ago and asked me to look after him. They said his name was Orien Duskwright. That their names were Amadeus and Aurora Duskwright. A few months later, I received word of their… passing."
"I see," Mr. Koivisto said quietly, his gaze lowering to the water in his hand. "Well… I was friends with them. We all attended the same school once. And that's exactly what I came to talk about."
He set the glass down on the coffee table with a soft clink.
"I want Orien to attend that same school, starting this January."
"January?" Ms. Penelope asked, surprised. "Where is this school located, Mr. Koivisto?"
"It's located in Canada," Mr. Koivisto replied calmly. "The next school year doesn't begin until January. Right now, it's November. Students are currently on winter recess—they return on the tenth of January and remain at the academy for ten months. Since it's a boarding school, they live on campus."
Ms. Penelope raised a brow. "A bit unusual, isn't it? Starting in January?"
"Perhaps," he said, "but rest assured, his education will be in good hands. This academy is among the most prestigious institutions in the country. Once he graduates, Orien will be a fine scholar."
She glanced at me, clearly intrigued. "And… how many years does the program last?"
"Six years," he answered. "A bit longer than the typical four years of high school here in the States—but worth every moment."
Then Ms. Penelope turned to me with a gentle expression. "Well, Orien? What do you think?"
I blinked. "Wait… you're actually considering this?"
She nodded. "It's your future. If this school can help you grow, if it helps you learn and become something more—then I support it. But the decision is yours."
I looked at her. Then at Mr. Koivisto. The events of the day flashed across my mind like ripples on a pond—shadows, beasts, blinding light, strange words hanging in the air like spells.
After a long breath, I gave my answer.
"…Okay. I'll attend the school."
Mr. Koivisto smiled, satisfied. "Excellent. I'll need about a month to finalize the transfer paperwork for the upcoming term. I'll return to pick you up early—around 9 p.m. on the 9th of January. We'll catch a flight that night."
"Got it," I said.
As he stood and gathered his coat, something tugged at my thoughts.
"Oh—wait," I asked as he reached the door. "What's the name of the school?"
He paused, turned back with a glimmer of joy in his eyes, and answered:
"Umbra Arcanum Academy."