The Cursed Child, The Werewolf Boy, in the Garden of Songs

The Quiet Between Dreams

The meeting of the Eight Houses ended not with clarity, but with a silence that clung to me like frost. Seijiro Kenzo's sudden arrival had broken the rhythm of Veronica's long introduction, his words striking with the force of inevitability. "I came here to take you home." Even now, those words echoed within me.

Minato and Yuri had stepped forward first when the rulers gave them their chance to decide. The Ruby Knights welcomed them both eagerly—warriors recognizing the bloodline of warriors. I could still see Yuri's soft smile and Minato's easy confidence as they pledged themselves to the southern House. Their path was clear, unshaken.

Mine was not.

And yet, the choice had been made for me.

The halls of the academy blurred into silence as I followed Seijiro Kenzo through shadowed corridors. He moved like a phantom, robes trailing, every step deliberate. I felt the stares of others—knights, priests, servants—parting in hushed reverence as he passed. The Ruler of Sapphire Frost was not a man who often left his domain.

When the doors opened, the air itself changed. A chill swept across my skin, not cruel, but sharp enough to remind me I was no longer walking the same ground as the others.

The House of Sapphire Frost stood apart from the rest of Oneiroi's dwellings. Where the Ruby Knights built their bastions of stone and iron, and the Emerald Deer raised halls of wood and green light, this House was shaped of pale blue crystal and white marble. Its towers stretched like frozen spires, as though carved directly from the heart of winter.

"Do not mistake this cold for cruelty," Kenzo's voice resonated against the vast chamber walls as we entered. "Our people carry curses. Fragments of what this world discarded. Yet it is here they are given purpose—and power."

He led me past courtyards where pale trees glimmered with frost despite the lack of snow, their branches humming with enchantments. I glimpsed figures moving between them—students cloaked in robes of azure, their eyes marked with faint sigils that shimmered like cracks in glass. Some bore staves that whispered with frostfire, others led creatures bound by runes, beasts of shadow and ice tamed through harsh will.

The dormitories rose ahead, vast structures of white stone and crystal windows. Their frames glowed faintly, as though lit from within by cold fire. When Kenzo pushed the door open, a wave of chill air rolled out—not biting, but clean, carrying the scent of pine and frostbitten steel.

Inside, the halls were lined with veined blue marble. Runes traced the walls, pulsing softly, their magic keeping the frost at bay. Lanterns of enchanted glass floated gently overhead, shedding a muted light like winter dawn.

"This will be your home," Kenzo said, pausing before a wide arch that opened to the central hall. Above us, an enormous mural stretched across the ceiling: a night sky of shifting auroras painted in living enchantments, stars that moved as though alive.

For the first time since the gathering, I felt breath leave me—not from fear, but wonder.

Kenzo's steps carried me deeper into the dormitory, past the echo of runes humming in the walls. Before long, students began to gather, drawn by the Ruler's presence.

At first glance, they seemed no different from the others I had seen in Oneiroi. But as I looked closer, their differences became stark.

One girl's eyes flickered like lanterns, pupils shifting from silver to violet with each breath. A boy beside her had chains of living shadow coiled around his arm, writhing as though resisting his will. Another student leaned heavily on a staff, their skin pale as glass, veins glowing faintly with frostlight, as if the cold itself lived inside them.

None of them bowed or cheered. They only watched me—measured, silent, their expressions unreadable.

Kenzo's voice broke the stillness.

"Yori, these are your peers. Some are born with bloodlines too wild to control. Others carry curses bound into their very flesh. All of them, like you, were given a place here, where their strangeness becomes strength."

A murmur passed through the gathered students, but no one challenged him. Instead, they returned to their quiet observation, as though silently weighing if I belonged among them.

We moved again, this time into a great hall whose walls opened to an endless view of the sea. The waters churned beneath a low, gray sky, restless, unstill. A faint mist curled over the horizon, hiding a distant shape—an island, just barely visible, veiled in perpetual fog.

Kenzo's gaze followed mine. "That," he said simply, "is why we exist. The House of Sapphire Frost does not exist for glory or conquest. We are the barrier. The second breath of defense when the other Houses fail. We guard what must not be touched, and we strike down what dares to cross its borders."

The students around us bowed their heads in silent agreement, as though bound by an oath none dared to break.

I swallowed, my eyes lingering on the shrouded island. What lies there, hidden beneath fog and fear?

Kenzo did not elaborate, but he didn't need to. The weight in his words pressed heavily enough.

Yet my mind refused to let go. I remembered the Headmaster's quiet warning from days past: "There is one who sleeps, Yori. One who must not be disturbed."

A memory shivered through me—the dream that had haunted me in the Garden of Sleeping Moths. A boy cocooned in endless light, his voice soft as twilight. Somiel... or was it Hypnos?

Could it be... the same?

The thought swirled like mist, but I buried it quickly. I could not ask. Not yet.

Kenzo's voice drew me back. "You will come to understand in time. For now, remember this: the chill you feel here is not the cold of winter, but the veil between worlds. As long as you stand with Sapphire Frost, that veil must not be broken."

His eyes, sharp as frozen steel, fixed on me.

"Do you understand?"

I nodded, though a storm of questions thundered quietly inside my chest.

Kenzo's footsteps echoed down a quieter passage, where the torchlight dimmed and the air seemed even colder than before. The students we passed earlier no longer followed us; it felt as if the corridors themselves had thinned, funneling us toward solitude.

At last, we reached a polished obsidian door framed with silver runes that faintly pulsed like a heartbeat. Kenzo stopped, turned to me, and with a faint lift of his hand, the runes flickered open.

"This will be your quarters," he said. "Unlike the others, you will not share your room."

I blinked at him, puzzled. "Why... only me?"

For the first time since we entered the House, Kenzo's expression betrayed something unreadable. His lips pressed together in silence, his gaze sharp but distant. Whatever answer lingered in his mind, he chose not to speak it.

Instead, he stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter.

I pushed the door open.

The air inside was colder than the hall, yet strangely pure, like breathing in the first snowfall of the season. The room was spacious, but not extravagant. The walls were carved from pale stone, veined with threads of sapphire that glowed faintly, casting a soft azure light across the floor.

At the center stood a bed draped in sheets of silver-threaded linen, faintly shimmering as though touched by frost. A writing desk of dark wood rested against one wall, upon which an unlit lantern sat, its glass panes etched with constellations. A wardrobe of black oak leaned in the far corner, its handles carved into curling shapes like frozen vines.

But the most striking feature was the window.

It was tall, stretching nearly from floor to ceiling, framed by runes that pulsed like a ward. Through it, the world beyond spilled into view—the restless sea, the horizon shrouded in endless mist... and there, rising faintly against the gray veil, the silhouette of the forbidden island.

Even from here, the sight of it stirred something within me. The island seemed to breathe, as if alive, cloaked in a stillness that was heavier than silence.

Kenzo's voice was low, steady, but it carried a gravity I could not ignore.

"You will find no distractions here. The room watches the island so that you may never forget what we guard."

I turned back to him, uncertain whether to thank him or question further. "You said... unlike the others. Why me?"

His gaze lingered on me, the faintest flicker of something—recognition, perhaps, or warning—in his eyes. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"You'll understand, in time," was all he said, before leaving me to the stillness.

The door closed softly behind him.

Alone now, I walked slowly to the window, my fingers brushing against the cold glass. The island's outline seemed to press against the mist, closer than it had before.

I swallowed, my heart tightening as the words of the Headmaster whispered back into my mind: "One who must not be disturbed."

And in the silence of my new room, with the ocean murmuring below and the weight of the island looming ahead, I could not help but wonder—was I placed here to guard against it... or to be watched by it?

My palm still rested on the cold glass when a flutter of wings broke the silence.

Startled, I drew back just as a shape glided across the pale light beyond the window. It circled once, then landed neatly upon the bench beneath the frame. White feathers, touched faintly by moonlight, gleamed like silver frost.

An owl.

I blinked in awe. In all my life, I had rarely seen one so close—never this still, never this silent, its golden-red eyes gleaming with a strange knowing. For a moment, I simply stood there, captured by its presence, the way the faint glow of the runes danced along the curve of its wings.

"You're beautiful..." I whispered, the words leaving me without thought.

Drawn as if by instinct, I reached out a cautious hand toward it. But before I could touch, the bird tilted its head—and spoke.

"Yori."

I froze.

The voice was not a stranger's. It carried the weight of familiarity, the same timbre I had once heard in fire and battle.

"Do not be alarmed." The owl's beak moved, but the words were unmistakably human, smooth and steady. "It is I. Vasil."

My breath caught. "V-Vasil?!"

The owl—Vasil—ruffled its feathers as if amused. "Yes. I chose this form. A shape less conspicuous, one that can follow wherever you go. The world sees an owl; you will see your companion."

The memory of fire, blood, and that binding between us surged back—the strange pact I had not fully understood. My chest loosened at once, relief spilling through me like warmth.

"You... stayed with me," I said, the words more fragile than I intended.

"Of course," Vasil replied. His eyes glimmered with a crimson spark beneath their golden sheen. "I am bound to you. More than that... I wish it. You will not walk alone here, Yori."

I lowered my hand, smiling faintly, the weight of the empty room already lighter. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."

The owl blinked, solemn, then with a graceful hop, it settled itself closer to the sill, wings folding neatly. A silent guardian, a familiar—and now, a friend.

For the first time since entering this house, I no longer felt watched by the island alone. Something watched with me.

[Next day]

A sharp knock stirred me from sleep.

"Good morning, young master Yori," a gentle voice called from beyond the door. "It is time to rise."

I blinked against the pale light seeping through the curtains. For a moment, the unfamiliar ceiling above me sent a ripple of disorientation through my chest. Then memory returned—the island, the house, the solitary room. The owl-shaped shadow on the sill, watching.

I slipped from the bed, rubbing the remnants of sleep from my eyes, and opened the door. A maid, dressed in simple sapphire-blue attire trimmed with silver thread, offered me a polite bow. She held a small notebook against her chest, her smile practiced but kind.

"Lord Kenzo instructed me to brief you on your daily schedule," she said warmly. "Life here follows a steady rhythm, so you may adjust with ease."

I nodded, still half-dazed. "Please... go on."

She lifted the notebook and began to recite.

"First, breakfast is served downstairs in the canteen with the other students of the House. It is customary for all to attend, as meals are a time to strengthen bonds."

I thought of the voices and faces I had glimpsed yesterday, and a small knot of unease twisted in my stomach.

"After breakfast," she continued, "the day's lessons begin. You have been enrolled in the Summoning curriculum, as was formally recognized during your exhibition in the arena. These classes will guide you in shaping and controlling your familiar—and perhaps unlocking further potential."

My gaze flickered toward the window, where the owl still perched silently. Vasil's eyes gleamed faintly, a wordless acknowledgement.

The maid flipped the page. "Alongside Summoning, you will also study foundational subjects common to all: language, mathematics, history, natural philosophy. In addition, you have been placed in Gardening, one of our practical courses."

"Gardening?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

She smiled faintly. "It may sound simple, but in Oneiroi, tending to the earth is no trivial matter. Many of our gardens are woven with protective enchantments, and learning their care is essential."

I gave a slow nod. Something about that felt... oddly right, though I couldn't say why.

The maid closed her notebook. "By four in the afternoon, you are expected back here in Sapphire Frost for the daily assembly. At these meetings, House members review the day's reports and assign the night's duties. Each evening, groups are scheduled to guard the coastal posts and patrol the shores near the Forbidden Island."

Her voice softened at that last phrase, as though it carried a weight even in casual mention. I felt the island's shadow stretch across my thoughts again, the faint whisper of the dream and that sleeping boy in the cocoon. I clenched my hands behind my back.

The maid bowed again. "That is your schedule, young master Yori. Please take your time preparing for breakfast."

"Thank you," I replied quietly.

As the door shut behind her, I exhaled slowly. Breakfast with strangers. Summoning classes. Gardening. And the shadow of that island looming behind it all.

It felt both ordinary... and far from ordinary.

The canteen of Sapphire Frost was far larger than I expected.

The vaulted ceiling stretched high overhead, its beams carved with runes that glowed faintly blue in the morning light. Long rows of tables filled the chamber from end to end, each one lined with benches polished by years of use. Silver banners hung from the rafters, emblazoned with the frostbound crest of the house: a sapphire snowflake wreathed in chains.

The scent of warm bread, broth, and roasted fish filled the air, mingling with the colder breath of enchantments that seemed to seep from the very stones of the walls. Voices rose and fell in clusters, laughter echoing against stone, yet despite the noise, the moment I stepped inside, the room felt oddly distant.

No one turned to greet me. No one moved to beckon me over. Students were gathered in their own circles, some already halfway through their meal, others leaning in close to whisper conspiracies only their friends could hear.

Vasil, perched on my shoulder, clicked his beak softly. His golden eyes roamed the room with the same quiet scrutiny that stirred within me.

I approached the serving line, where attendants ladled steaming porridge into bowls and passed out hunks of bread. My hands tightened on the tray as I took my share—plain, but enough—and searched for a seat. Most tables were crowded. Others had only scattered spaces, filled with chattering groups I had no desire to intrude upon.

So I made my way to the farthest corner of the hall, where a table stood vacant beneath the shadow of a banner. I settled there quietly, tray before me, and lowered my gaze to the meal. The spoon felt heavier than it should.

I forced myself to eat. Each mouthful dull, tasteless. My eyes, however, betrayed me, lifting from time to time to observe the room.

And then I noticed them.

Near the opposite wall, a small commotion stirred. A boy sat hunched over his plate, shoulders narrow, his hair falling into his eyes. Three others surrounded him, their smirks sharp and cruel. One nudged his tray farther away with the end of a spoon, another whispered something that made the others snicker. The boy did not lift his head, only stared blankly into the porridge as if the world around him did not exist.

I recognized that look.

The air in my chest grew heavier. Even here, in this place meant to shape guardians of Oneiroi, shadows of cruelty crept freely.

Vasil shifted slightly on my shoulder, feathers ruffling, his eyes narrowing at the scene.

But I remained still.

This was not my battle—not yet. I would not pry into their cruelty, nor draw their attention toward me. So I returned my focus to my meal, swallowing spoonful after spoonful in silence, though the unease lingered in the back of my throat like ash.

Even in Oneiroi... there were bullies.

The first class of the day was Summoning.

Our professor stood tall at the front of the lecture hall, his robes a deep green stitched with golden patterns that shimmered faintly whenever he gestured. His voice carried with a natural authority, steady but not unkind.

"I am Professor Marcellus," he said, resting both hands atop a staff capped with an onyx sphere. "And here, in the Summoning Curriculum, you will learn not only how to beckon forth beings beyond yourself—but how to respect them, and in return, to be respected by them."

He let the words linger a moment, then continued, pacing slowly before us.

"Summoning is not simply calling. It is a contract, an agreement that binds two forces together. The caster, and the summoned. There are three pillars you must understand: will, offering, and resonance. Will is your determination, the anchor of your intent. Offering is what you can provide in return—whether magic, service, or even fragments of your soul's energy. Resonance is harmony—the alignment between your spirit and the creature you call."

He tapped his staff lightly against the floor. "Without all three, your summons will collapse. At best, nothing happens. At worst..." He did not finish the thought, but the pause was enough.

We were then led outside, to a broad field bordered by wards. The grass was flat, the soil traced with faint sigils that pulsed whenever a spell ignited.

"Today," Professor Marcellus announced, "you will attempt your first calling. Nothing extravagant, nothing dangerous. A lesser spirit, or an elemental wisp. Something to begin the bond."

The students formed circles, hands raised, voices quivering as they tried to remember the incantations he'd taught. Sparks of light flickered across the field, some blooming into tiny globes of fire or faint animal shapes before fizzling out.

I stood quietly with Vasil perched on my shoulder, already bound to me. Eyes followed, whispers passed among the students. A few pointed, impressed, though I did not bask in it.

Professor Marcellus approached me with a knowing expression.

"You need not strain yourself today, Hiiragi Yori. Your bond is already proof of what others strive toward. For now, observe. Tomorrow, you will begin the second step—control."

I bowed slightly. "Yes, Professor."

So I waited until the session ended, watching the struggles and triumphs of my classmates. Some managed faint sparks of life, others collapsed from exhaustion. By the time the bells rang, most wore a mixture of pride and frustration.

The next class was Gardening.

Unlike the field, this place was a paradise of green. Rows of planters and plots stretched wide beneath glass ceilings, sunlight pouring through enchantments that mimicked the perfect warmth of spring. Flowers of all colors bloomed here, mingling with vines, herbs, and fruits. The air smelled alive—fresh, vibrant.

Our instructor was a kind woman named Madam Lythe, her hands stained with soil, her robes simple compared to the grandeur of others. She welcomed us with a warm smile.

"Gardening, children, is the closest we can come to nurturing creation itself. You will learn patience here, and care. For magic is nothing if it cannot heal what it destroys."

We were each assigned a small patch of soil, to prepare for the seeds we'd be entrusted with later. The tools were plain: spades, gloves, water jars, enchanted to never empty.

As I ran my fingers through the cool earth, something within me eased. The quiet of the greenhouse was unlike the lecture halls or the arena. Here, among the flowers, I felt closer to something I had missed for a long time. The memory of a simpler world, one that wasn't forged of battles and prophecies.

When Madam Lythe passed by my row, she paused briefly, as if sensing my ease with the soil. She gave a small nod, her smile deepening before she moved on.

By the time night fell, the weight of the day had settled on me, but it was not unpleasant. It was the weight of belonging—of being part of a rhythm greater than myself.

And then, as instructed, I made my way back to the Sapphire Frost hall for the daily meeting.

The great hall of Sapphire Frost was transformed at night. The torches along the walls burned with cold blue fire, casting rippling shadows that danced like waves across the vaulted ceiling. The long tables that served meals by day were pushed aside, leaving the stone floor clear for assembly.

Kenzo stood at the center, back straight, voice carrying with crisp authority. Behind him, a great sigil glowed faintly—an emblem of their House: a shard of sapphire encased in frost, circled by runes that shimmered faintly.

"All of you know why we gather," he began, his tone firm but not unkind. "Our House exists for more than studies, more than pride. We are guardians. Our charge is the barrier, the shores, and the waters that touch the Forbidden Isle. Each day, each night, we rotate, we endure, we watch. Should anything stir, we are the first shield. Should anyone stray, we are the last wall."

The students bowed their heads briefly, murmuring the closing words of the oath:

"For frost and for ward. For vigilance eternal."

Kenzo then raised his hand, and a line of newcomers was ushered forward. Among them, I stood, feeling the gaze of dozens of students pressing like cold rain against my skin.

"Tonight, new blood joins our watch," Kenzo announced. "They will not walk alone. Each will be placed among our groups, to learn, to serve, and to grow. Remember—alone, you are a spark. Together, you are a flame."

One by one, the new students were called. Their names echoed, their groups chosen. When it was my turn, Kenzo's voice rang clearly:

"Hiiragi Yori. You will be assigned to Team F."

A shift rippled through the crowd as I walked toward the corner where my group waited. Four boys stood there. Three I recognized immediately—the ones who had tormented a quiet boy in the canteen earlier that morning. And the fourth... the very boy they had mocked. He stood slightly behind them, shoulders hunched, his eyes downcast.

The leader of the bullies, a tall boy with cropped black hair and sharp eyes, stepped forward. His smirk was all arrogance as he looked me over.

"So this is our new teammate," he said, his tone mocking. "Didn't think they'd send us someone so... pretty. Tell me, Hiiragi—are you sure you're not lost on your way to the girls' dorm?"

His friends snickered. Another chimed in, elbowing the first: "Guess we don't need a girl in our group after all. With him around, close enough, right?"

The laughter rang, but I did not flinch. I did not even grace them with a response. My silence was answer enough.

On my shoulder, Vasil flared his wings with a sudden fwssh, his talons gripping my cloak as his golden-red eyes glared sharp as knives at the boys. His beak clicked, a warning.

The bullies only laughed harder. "What's this? His little bird trying to scare us?" one jeered.

Ignoring them, I turned instead toward the quiet boy behind them. His gaze had been fixed on the floor, but when I offered a small nod and said, "Hello," he hesitated.

For a moment, his eyes flickered up—dark and uncertain. Then, awkwardly, he gave me the faintest of shy smiles before retreating back into silence.

The bell tolled then, signaling the end of introductions. Kenzo's voice cut over the chatter, commanding once more.

"Assignments begin tonight. Team F—center post, shorefront. Do not fail your watch."

The hall rumbled with movement as groups dispersed, preparing for their night duties. And though I said nothing, I could feel the threads of the night beginning to tighten, pulling me toward something I did not yet understand.