The background noise of the library was calming as Volan’s mind drifted in the darkness. A scribble on paper here, a turn of a page there. The scent of an old, leather bound book as it was gently put back on the shelf with care. Quiet chit-chat between students while the machines went about their work with the gentle droning of their crystal cores fading in and out of the area. It was akin to drifting in a sea of gentle sounds while he slept.

Yet, something began to invade and wash over the calm ambience. It started low, but grew louder and louder. The sound of wave crashing on one another mixed with humming of white noise. It shifted and churned until it was the only thing Volan could hear. Then, like tearing paper combined with the piercing noise of an interrupted signal, the calm sea of sound was drowned out by a crushing storm of static.

Unable to endure it, Volan’s eyes shot open. However, he found himself waking up in an eerily empty library.

“Where… am I?”

Stepping away from the desk he was resting at, Volan looked in every direction yet found nothing but the furniture and bookshelves. Everyone was gone, including the shelf shorting and stocking robots. It was as though he were in a version of a world where only he existed.

Volan investigated everywhere he could potentially look, and it all grew stranger. Through windows, he saw nothing but white. It wasn’t as though the sun was blindingly bright, rather it was though the outside world had been erased. And when he tried to open one of the doors that led back into the Academy, it refused to budge. The handle would turn, but it refused to open no matter what he tried.

“What in the Eternal Flame is going on?”

Surrendering to the situation for now, Volan sat down on a chair and tried to figure things out.

Somehow, I’m in a world where it’s only me. Was I transported somewhere? Or am I still sleeping? Hopefully it’s the latter. The silence in a world like this would be deafening.

As he tried to figure out what was going on, he started to hear whispers coming from deep within the library. They were too quiet to understand, yet they all seemed focused on him. Getting up and turning around, Volan put himself on guard for anything strange.

“Is someone there?!”

He didn’t get a response.

“Come out! I’d rather not be alone if I’m stuck here!”

His words echoed in the library, but the whispers only continued as if he hadn’t addressed them at all. Left with no other real means of knowing where he was, Volan walked in the direction the whispers came from.

As he approached, the whispers grew louder and more understandable but remained unintelligible. Volan couldn’t tell what was being said, yet he felt a weird and familiar connection to the whispers. It was as if they were trying to guide him, and soon enough Volan went from cautiously walking to calmly striding deeper and deeper into the library.

The surrounding bookshelves became the walls to a long and dark hallway. It went on endlessly, yet an uncountable number of books stayed to the left and right of him. The titles on their spines turning from words anyone could read to weird symbols and nonsense. No longer was Volan surrounded by anything familiar as soon enough all that remained was darkness, and he ran ever towards the whispers.

With each step deeper into the dark, the whispers surrounded him. Every one beckoned him to come deeper, and Volan found himself unable to resist their call. And for a while, there was nothing. He ran blindly through the darkness, only following the whispers until he stopped and saw something far off in the distance. It was a mix of blue and white light as if someone held a sapphire behind a flashlight.

“What… is that?”

Now walking again, the light grew closer and Volan’s surroundings changed again. The darkness changed into a cleanly carved cobblestone walkway. Water ran in grooves to the left and right of him; all of it gently rushing towards the light. Putting his hand to the wall, it was cold and hard. A mixture of loneliness and sadness filled Volan’s mind as one whisper finally turned from nonsense into words he could understand.

It said, “Free me…”

Continuing deeper, the hallway began to have even more bits decorate the walls. Eyes were immaculately carved in a pattern along the floor while large plant roots were scattered here and there.  But a slash had been cut across each and everyone.

Blue flowers appeared in sparse patches, yet there was a tinge of red inside every one of them. They looked like nothing Volan had ever seen before, but felt a kinship with them. And as Volan took in his surroundings, more whispers could now be understood.

They called out, “Release me… Help me…”

The light was now closer than ever. A little more and Volan would find the opening of wherever the carved path led him. And with a few more steps, he found himself in a large and open room with light cascading down from the ceiling. Snow gently fell as a blue light bounded off every flake. Tree roots and more flowers embedded themselves in the stone walls.

Yet, in all this beauty, there was one oddity. In the center of it all was a pedestal with a tome of sorts atop it. Chained to the ground with restraints extending off into every which way possible, it struggled against them trying to free itself. And yet, while this was obviously the source of it all, the whispers had gone silent. Only the book and Volan were present. The only other sound to be heard was the gentle flow of water as it freely flowed about.

Cautiously, Volan approached the pedestal and scanned the book with his eyes. It was bizarre looking. It was bound in metal and something fleshy, yet had two eyes of unequal size and a mouth with fangs on it. The book stared at Volan as it struggled desperately, yet it could not speak as the chains restrained it. But even with its bizarre appearance, Volan still felt a kind of familiarity with it and began to reach out.

And just as he did so, there was suddenly a second presence in the room. A man with a red hood and sharply angled mask resembling a crying owl’s face leaned over Volan’s shoulder and spoke.

“There you are.”

The book violently struggled against its bindings as a clawed hand grasped Volan’s shoulder. And while he was absolutely terrified, he found himself unable to respond in any way. His body would not move and his voice would not assert itself. He was like a statue. Forced to stand in place, forever paralyzed.

The mysterious intruder spoke again to Volan, “He shall be pleased to know of you, but first you must wake up.”

And at the utterance of his last word, Volan’s eyes shot open back in the library. A cold sweat was on the back of Volan’s neck as his hairs stood on end. His heart raced and he panted heavily. Then someone called out to him.

“Hey! Time to wake up, Volan!”

Shivering for a moment, Volan then spun around in the chair to see who held his shoulder. However, he’d done it a bit too quickly and fell on the ground with a loud thud. Shaking his head and groaning in pain for a moment, Volan looked up to see a familiar face. It was Broderick Knight, his friend and squadmate Broderick Knight.

Broderick asked, “You alright there? Bad dream?”

Volan slowly got up from the ground, picking up the chair at the same time.

Volan replied, “You could say that. Don’t scare me like that, man.”

Broderick was quite tall for being the same age as Volan. Where Volan was a fairly above average 180 centimeters, Broderick was 190 centimeters tall at the least. He also had crimson hair and faded green eyes. Broderick was a very good looking guy who even Volan envied at times, yet he was always happy to see him.

The crimson-haired lad was an Old House noble and Synergist-class student. An odd combination for a son of the House of the Red Hand, but a fact he made others overlook through his skill. And while Broderick definitely had looks that could kill, he was an oddly quiet person around most people. When Volan had met him, Broderick was off staring into the distance beneath an oak tree whose leaves had just finished changing colors for autumn. Broderick always had a lonely aura about him. Volan wasn’t entirely sure how to describe it, but he was glad they’d met. Broderick was one of few people Volan genuinely trusted in the school as they both seemed to share the curse of carrying expectations that didn’t match them.

Unfortunately, the two could rare interact openly due to how the Old Nobles viewed Volan. Yet they’d found ways in places no one ever looked. Broderick even got Volan into gaming through the Crystalnet. So when they couldn’t hang out in person, they did so online. For Volan, there wasn’t really anyone else like Broderick and he was happy to call his fellow odd-man-out a friend.

Volan asked, “What are you doing here, Broderick? Thought you would’ve gone home by now.”

Broderick cocked an eyebrow and put a hand to his hip, “Well, I would be. But your usual chaperone asked me where you were since you weren’t picking up your phone.”

“Wait… they’ve been trying to call me?”

Volan looked genuinely shocked and panicked. Frantically he dug a hand into his school bag and dug out his phone. Clicking the button on the side, the screen lit up to show several missed calls and that three hours had passed since he stepped into the library.

“Shit!” exclaimed Volan.

Broderick chuckled with his head turned and a closed hand over his mouth.

“You might wanna get going before your dad kicks your ass for being late.”

Volan stuffed his phone into his pocket.

“Hopefully he won’t be too mad… Thanks for the wake up though. If you hadn’t, I might’ve been stuck dreaming for another hour or two.”

“No problem. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow during training?”

Volan nodded, “As usual. Though I hope I don’t get on Viviana’s nerves too much again.”

The two gave each other a friendly bump of forearm against forearm and Volan began to take off when Broderick called over to him one more time.

“Oh! By the way!” exclaimed Broderick.

Volan froze mid-step and turned his head, “What?”

“Happy birthday, man.”

Volan smiled and nodded before continuing on. Flinging the library door open and running full-speed through the hallways until he could get outside and sprint for the gates. And when he arrived, Volan found himself face-to-face with a rather pissed off looking woman. Her arms were crossed and a dark pair of shades hid her eyes, but Volan knew better than to try and explain things. Meekly, he bowed his head and apologized. She sighed and opened the door to the car. Getting in, Volan put his seat belt on and tried to keep himself from doing anything that might set her off. And on the ride home, Volan could only think about his father who had probably been waiting far too long.

Volan’s father, Gael Roltand, is the current Sword-Captain for the Flameguard, leader of the unit directly under the command of the royal family of Zekanto. And with that position came duties that always kept him endlessly busy, even when it was only keeping the ruling King under close guard.

Gael was a commoner by birth and joined the military early on. Throughout the years, he’d proven himself in battle time after time and quickly rose through the ranks. Soon enough, Gael was commanding respect from every soldier underneath him and never left a man behind. He would lead the charge into battle and always be the last man out. Thankfully, Gael was both incredibly strong and durable. Never much of one for strategy, but always one for making sure the right person was doing the right job. If one of the men under him knew the best means of attacking or preparing, Gael would listen and make adjustments as necessary.

And this flexible trait went beyond just work. Gael knew Volan didn’t have the same traits, and thus didn’t hold his son to the expectations everyone else did. Rather, Gael only desired for Volan to always do his best and become a good man. But that didn’t mean Volan was allowed to slack off. Gael made sure Volan always tried his best, otherwise it meant one more extra sparring day with dad.

With his father’s guidance, Volan was instilled with the principles of honesty, humility, integrity and courage. And while there were certainly times when lying would be the much easier route, Volan kept to what he was taught. Even if it meant failure. But even in moments of failure, Gael supported his son and only wanted Volan to pick himself back up and find a different way forward.

To Volan, Gael was the perfect father; even though Gael was rarely ever able to be at home. Yet, Volan wondered who his mother was. He’d never known his mother, and everyone he’d ever asked couldn’t give a straight answer. Even Gael was surprisingly vague on the matter, but would never imply she was dead or had abandoned them. Instead, Gael only ever said that she couldn’t be with them right now. Volan always heard from his dad that one day she’d return when the time was right. And while the words weren’t the most convincing, it was the silent hope Volan had seen in his father’s eyes that he trusted.

Staring out the window, Volan wondered when that promised day he’d meet his mother would come. But for now, he was just looking forward to seeing his dad again. It’d been months since the last time they’d actually spoken to each other in person, but Gael always met Volan in person on his birthday. From what Volan could tell, Gael would sooner die than ever miss out on Volan’s birthday.

Speaking to himself, Volan absentmindedly spoke.

“Can’t wait to see you again, dad.”

And from the driver’s seat, the chaperone gave a resigned sigh and let Volan off the hook as they drove to the apartment complex Volan lived in with his father.