Dinner was already waiting by the time the children gathered around the long wooden table, steam curling lazily into the air.
Bread.
Soup.
Nothing else.
The same thin meal as lunch, laid out in chipped bowls. The soup was mostly water, a few vegetables drifting near the surface. The bread was rough and dry, its crust hard enough to scrape his mouth if he wasn't careful.
Zeke noticed all of this.
And yet, it tasted different.
He took slow spoonfuls this time, lifting the bowl carefully and letting the steam brush his face before he drank.
The warmth slid down his throat, settling gently in his chest.
He tore the bread into small pieces, chewing deliberately, savoring each mouthful as though it might disappear if rushed.
For months, food had been a luxury. Taste was just an afterthought.
This felt different.
Maybe it was because he wasn't starving anymore. Maybe because he wasn't alone.
Or maybe it was the steaming lump pulsing at his scalp, the lingering reminder of Sis Mari's ladle, rearranging his sense of taste.
He didn't know which one it was. He just hoped it was not the latter.
On the bright side, at least he hadn't been punished further.
Sis Mari had declared the matter settled after two precise ladle strikes.
Zeke wasn't sure whether he was lucky, or whether he should be terrified of what real punishment looked like here.
The dinner itself was lively, just like lunch had been.
Children talked over one another, voices overlapping in a constant hum. Bowls clinked against the table. Bread passed between them.
A spoon clattered to the floor. And Layla's crying filled the room. Sophia didn't speak. She just slid her spoon across the table. Layla sniffed, blinked at her through watery eyes, then accepted it as though nothing had ever happened.
Across from him, Neil kept sneaking glances at Zeke, or rather, at the bump on his head. Every time their eyes met, Neil ducked behind his bowl, shoulders shaking as he tried and failed to contain his laughter.
Julie noticed.
She shot Neil a look sharp enough to cut air. When that failed, she sighed, and turned her attention back to the younger children, helping them eat.
Sis Mari stood at the end of the table, arms crossed, watching, her attention drifting between the children.
Zeke felt her presence even when she wasn't looking at him. His shoulders eased without him noticing.
When the last bowls were scraped clean, Sis Mari clapped her hands once.
"All right. Clean-up."
The children moved immediately.
Some gathered bowls and cups. Others wiped the long table with damp cloths while the older girls handled the dishes.
Zeke joined in without being asked. He watched first, then copied, half expecting a sharp word or a hand on his shoulder.
Nothing came.
No one stopped him. No one corrected him.
His hands ached by the end, but he didn't mind this kind of pain.
By the time the kitchen was clean, the sky beyond the windows had gone completely dark. Oil lamps were lit along the walls, their glow uneven but warm.
The children filed upstairs in loose lines, yawning as the weight finally dawned on them.
Sophia and Julie moved among the smaller children, tucking blankets around them.
Sis Mari stood near the doorway, arms folded, counting heads.
When everyone was accounted for, she stepped inside and extinguished every lamp but the one in her hands. She set the lamp down and sat on a low stool at the foot of the beds.
Then she began to speak, her voice calm and steady. She spoke of heroes. Of people who stood when disasters struck. How they unlocked their power from deep within through belief and relentless effort.
She spoke of a man who stayed alone to defend his hometown from beasts, of a mother who ran into scorching flames to save her trapped son, of a boy who shielded his sister with his body when bandits attacked.
It was clear she had told these stories many times before, judging by the way the children reacted. Some leaned in waiting eagerly for their favourite part, while others already submitted to sleep.
When the stories concluded, Sis Mari left the dormitory quietly. The room settled, filled with the rhythmic sound of soft breaths.
Only three pairs of eyes remained open.
Zeke lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Neil reclined with his hands behind his head.
Julie lay on her side facing them.
"Do you really believe that?" Zeke asked softly.
"Of course it's real," Neil said without hesitation. "I'm gonna be one myself."
Zeke turned his head slightly. "I'm not talking about heroes. I mean that essence thing. It sounds made up."
Julie hesitated.
"Essence exists," Julie said, the words stiff and practiced. "In every living thing. People. Animals. Even plants.
They call it essence because it's supposed to be the core of life itself. Or… so they say"
Neil nodded as if he understood.
He didn't.
"But sensing it," Julie continued, "let alone controlling it is a different matter entirely. It takes a lot of hard work. And even then, most people die without ever feeling it once in their lives. Because it also requires talent."
Zeke pondered for a moment then said "If it is everywhere as you said, then why haven't I seen anyone use it?"
"Because people who can are valuable," she said quietly. "They don't stay here."
She shifted closer. "Most awakened are taken by academies. Armies. Noble houses.
Nobles especially, they have the resources to train them. Some even arrange marriages just to strengthen essence in their bloodlines."
Zeke hummed silently as he pondered on what Julie said.
"So if we train hard enough," Neil whispered far too loudly, "there's a chance we could become heroes, right?"
Julie winced. "Lower your voice, and who said I want to become a hero like you?"
"But the heroes are always trios, right zeke?"
Zeke nodded absentmindedly.
Neil grinned. "you see, even zeke is on board."
Julie sighed. "You two are going to cause more harm than good if you ever got power."
"Good thing you're with us, then," Neil said. "Starting tomorrow, we train together."
The room settled into silence. Neil drifted to sleep first, then shortly after, Julie followed, leaving Zeke alone to his thoughts.
Zeke never doubted the existence of heroes. He had been saved by one today, after all. But if that power existed, he would do anything to attain it. So no one can look down at him anymore. And so he could repay the hero who looked at him when no one did.
Zeke's eyes closed slowly. Marking the end of his first day in the orphanage, and the start of a new journey.