Daybreak Dreamer Academy was the only school of its kind in the Sun State, comparable to the Glass Kingdom’s Royal Institute of Dreaming. It would be wrong to say it was shrouded in mystery, as one could see it from any skyscraper in Zuva resting just south of the capital, bordering a forest that stretched all the way to The Heights.

  The room the Academy provided the first-years was rather small. With the light from the Sun Stone lamp I kept on through the night I could see my single sized bed, a small desk, one table that also acted as a nightstand, and a closet. The washroom was communal. Something I was somewhat accustomed to as it was similar in my primary school, but in no way was I enamored with.

  The self-care habits, or lack thereof, that some boys had was chilling to even think about.

  Opening the curtain to the tilted window I let the morning light stream into the room. A mirrored contraption common in many households sat on the sill, with a dial on the side that could alter the angle in which the sunlight was directed. Currently its multifaceted surface dispersed light to brighten the entire room. I then went to my desk, where the small watch collection I brought with me to Zuva was displayed, and washed my hands with dry soap.The leftmost one was a simple dress watch, black leather strap, plain white face and thin black hands. Then there was the skeleton watch, its face only being a thin ring for the numbers leaving the inner workings exposed for all to see. After that it was the tough and durable field watch that my grandfather wore when he still worked at the hatcheries. Beside it was one of my grandmother’s watches, being the one who taught me the most about watchmaking hers was custom made, its case swirled around in crashing waves, the face several concentric rings with a yellow center, mimicking the Layers and Sun of our world. Next in the familial line was my great-grandfather's pocket watch, its bronze body scratched and dented. I had hesitated to bring it, but my grandfather had given me the okay. Lastly the centerpiece was my most prized watch, though I hardly ever wore it.

  Steel with flowery bronze inlay made up the case, a reddish brown leather strap, and a white porcelain enameled dial. A small lever on the side of the case made the black numbers switch to show the glowing Sun Stone beneath, only when I did so it was a dull yellow that shined through. I took a hold of the winding gear, which surrounded the entire outside of the case and twisted it. The familiar whir of a spinning Sun Stone vibrated through the metal and a few puffs of prismatic steam coughed out the side vent before it fell silent once more. I flipped it, and with a smooth motion, unscrewed the back where a flat dull dijon yellow colored crystalline stone was placed. Taking it out I could see the mirrored surface that trapped the light in to save power as well as the vents for the steam to keep the Sun Stone spinning and power the watch itself.

  It was my custom, handmade watch, something the average watch wearer would not waste money on, but an enthusiast or the wealthy might. Saying I made it myself is a bit of a misnomer. My grandmother did a lot of the work with me, helping me design and craft it.

  After putting the watch back on its stand I took the Sun Stone and waved it back and forth, causing the last vestiges of sunlight to burn out and a few wisps of steam rose before it went dark, its power gone. I then placed it on the mirrored contraption, grabbed the spherical Sun Stone from the lamp on the desk and put it next to the flat Sun Stone, using a washer to keep it from rolling.

  After that I turned the dial on the side of the mirrored contraption to angle the mirrors to focus on the two Sun Stones instead of lighting the room.

  The Sun was still in its morning phase, shifting from red to orange, so the light from above wouldn’t be able to charge the stones yet, but by the time I got back from my first day at the academy they would be shining just as brightly as the sun floating overhead.

  I checked the final watch I brought with me, the one I kept on my wrist at all times. This watch had been a gift from my grandmother, and unlike the other ones, used Stygoscript formulae on the back to draw the smallest denomination of stamina from my body to power itself.

  Deciding it was late enough I began to get ready for my first day.

  —

  I watched the sea of green and purple in horrid fascination. Whoever designed these uniforms had as much taste as a vulture.

  Boys and girls with their amethyst purple coats, forest green vests and black pants or skirts conversed with one another as though they had all grown up together and I alone was the kid from out of town.

  A girl thumbed the button on her lapel, like the rest of those in the gymnasium it was bronze with a Sun Stone D, denoting her as a fellow first-year student of the academy. The boy opposite the girl said something obviously witty as it caused the girl to cover her mouth and giggle.

  Primary schools were generally divided by gender, so for most it was an exhilarating experience being around the opposite sex in such a setting. Not that we were left entirely to our own meandering, the first year boys and girls each had two adult overseers, the four of whom were at the door greeting incoming students and giving them a bit of information before letting them pass, while also keeping an eye out for any misbehavior. Briefly I wondered if it was possible to get kicked out on the first day.

  I stood in the corner of the gymnasium watching my peers, a tenseness drawing my shoulders forward. Each of these students were meeting each other for the first time, but with seemingly effortless ease they were able to approach one another and converse as though they had been friends straight out the womb.

  An impossibility for me, I could not fathom approaching someone for anything other than satisfying a curiosity or to obtain something from them.

  What would I even say? Hello, I am Monty Gao and I like watches? My family has a more than decent financial status so you should allow me your company?

  Another boy entered the large room and as I tallied him student number one hundred and two I recoiled in surprise. It was that Solarian boy from yesterday that spat on my face. The boy’s broad frame and cocky smirk belied the calculating look in his orange eyes as he scanned the many students.

  When his eyes met mine they widened for a moment before narrowing, but he didn’t shout or storm over like some petulant child. Instead he again looked at the crowd before moving off to a group of students and merging into them like a parasite wiggling into a victim's body.

  I did my best to put him out of my mind and focus on counting the number of students in the room. It was what allowed me to be the first to notice the short girl with the umbrella enter. The four overseers tensed as she walked up to them, then one of the female overseers stepped forward to say a few words to her.

  As the girl tilted up her umbrella to respond I caught a glimpse of her face and hands. She wasn’t human. Her skin was a colorless milk white, but any sense of porcelain beauty that might have been was marred by the countless lines of black Stygoscript that covered her. They formed geometric patterns which should have drained her vitality and caused cannibalistic madness, as was the norm with the rest of her kind.

  However unlike other Skulkers, for that was what her race was now called, the Stygoscript on her body was broken up by a similarly countless number of light pink scars.

  I had only ever seen drawings of the fallen Skulker race, and in all of them they were frothing pathetic things. No longer the vaulted Children of the Sun since the curse took hold, they were instead viewed as large rodents. They would hide out in caves or Pillars, breeding and killing until they had enough numbers to attack a human settlement, which they would then devour the humans inside. Eventually the state would take notice and send out soldiers to eradicate them.

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  Despite that, the Sun State was unable to completely wipe out the Skulkers, and my neighbor had even told me that they were still looking into ways of dispelling the curse on their race.

  This girl however, was obviously not some dirty subhuman thing. Her clothing was neat and orderly. Her inhumanly thick hair was tied in a large braid and she had bangs long enough to cover her eyes if she so wished.

  Once she stepped through the door the silence flowed over the room like a lazy wave. Then a crash of whispers overtook the gymnasium like a nest of vipers hissing at a lurking predator.

  The girl surveyed the room with as much enthusiasm as a corpse getting up in the morning before moving toward me.

  No, not toward me, toward the corner I was in. It was sparsely populated compared to the other parts of the gymnasium. Only a boy drawing in a sketchbook and a girl playing with some cards were nearby.

  Instead of fleeing I stood there and watched her approach.

  It was not as though there was no thread of apprehension or fear in me. Or that I was making a courageous stand against her. My mind was too preoccupied to remember where my body was in relation to her.

  Skulkers didn’t just have Stygoscript on their skin, it was in every part of their bodies. Their muscles, organs, bones, even parts of their brain. It drained them of their vitality, cutting their lifespan in half, and it even took away their original skin and hair color, going from bright yellow skin and purple hair to milk white and pitch black respectively. In return they were stronger, faster, bred quicker and were raving mad.

  Were all of those arrays and formulae bisected like the ones on her skin? It seemed impossible, brain and heart surgery was more of a barbaric guessing game than a skilled craft.

  Was she the first of many? Or an outlier? Was her lifespan cut in half like the other Skulkers or was that also cured? Was she raised with other Skulkers or in a lab? And who decided to bring her to the academy?

  The need to know tingled down my spine and made my fingers itch. These were reasons to start a conversation. Though every one of those questions was far too rude to be asked directly. I would have to dance around the subject. Social conventions were indeed a double edged blade, but I could still use them to stab where I wanted.

  The girl stopped in front of me, looking at me with her too large eyes. There were more things that I was able to notice, such as her earlobes that hung down an inch or two more than a human’s would. How her hair was as thick as string, but with the glossy smoothness that came with regular maintenance. There was a yellowish tint on her fingers, and her hair was slightly purple at the ends.

  After a moment of silent staring she moved a few feet to the side of me and let her umbrella once again cover her features.

  As though covering her skin had truly made her disappear the whispers once again turned to normal conversations, only with the added stare in her direction every few seconds.

  Thankfully it didn’t take long until the door opposite the entrance opened.

  A slim, tired looking, Solarian woman led four rather unique looking adults to the stage, the few students who had rested themselves on the platform hurrying away.

  The woman gripped the podium tightly before roving over the students with her tired eyes.

  “I am Orion Elfer, the fifteenth Headmaster of Daybreak Dreamer Academy. Before the Sun State became what it was today. Before the subjugation of our people by the Empire and back when the Children of the Sun still called Zuva home, this Academy had only just been founded. As the Empire grew in power and began attacking our coasts we brought in more and more students. And it was those students that helped fight against the tyranny on the other side of the Layer. But as you all know, it was not enough. We fell, our fractured land became enslaved, and right before our eyes we watched atrocity after atrocity. The burning of Zuva and the Children's Curse-”

  Several eyes, my own included, glanced at the girl who still covered her face with her umbrella, but the woman ignored it, continuing with her speech.

  “Finally however, the rot of the Empire began to bring about its collapse. So we pushed back, reclaiming what was ours, and our Academy was finally able to flourish. Now in the unprecedented time of peace and freedom we are living in, Dreamers that graduate from this academy go on to bring even more prosperity to our world. Explorers that push deeper into the Layers. Politicians bringing equity to the people. Inventors make our lives easier. Each of you has the opportunity to do the same as you add your perfect image to our world.”

  Satisfied with her introduction the Headmistress gave us a tired smile.

  “Now can we please have Lady Heidi Brightstrike, Mister Marollo Ventlos and Miss Cystella come up to the stage.”

  The Skulker girl let out a barely audible huff before walking toward the stage. Two others joined her. One was the Solarian boy who had been drawing nearby. I could tell little about him other than that he was hopelessly blind based on his rather thick glasses. The other was a rather cute girl whose only competition for being the shortest in their year was the Skulker. With her golden blonde hair in a short curly bob and round eyes as bright as the sun she looked like what every Solarian aspired to be.

  On display was her noble lineage, with the Sun Stone pin placed just beneath her Daybreak Dreamer Academy button. The gleaming blade surrounded by burning rays of sunshine was easily recognizable as the Brightstrike’s coat of arms even without the Headmistress announcing her last name.

  Each of them wore a different expression on their faces. The boy, Marollo, was cringing from the attention, a blush forming on his face. The noble, Lady Brightstrike, had a pleasant smile and kind eyes. Lastly the Skulker, Cystella, looked like a rather dead mannequin.

  “These three are different from the rest of you. They are already Dreamers, the reason they are here is to get a more rounded education and to be aided in integrating with the Dreamer community. While I do hope you take advantage of their presence I also hope you have the manners to not overstep your bounds around them. Now, I will leave you to your professors,” Headmistress Elfer said, stepping away from the podium.

  One of the professors, a tall willowy woman from the Glass Kingdom, with inky black skin, dark curly hair, and gleaming eyes that shimmered like glass, stepped up to the front of the stage.

  “We will do introductions later, for now we will split you all up into your classes.”

  There were two male and two female teachers, so splitting it up by gender would make sense. At the same time classes were normally decided upon beforehand, but Daybreak Dreamer Academy was not supposed to be normal.

  “I’ll take her,” the Glassive professor said, pointing to Lady Brightstrike.

  Brightstrike looked confused for a second until the professor gestured for the girl to stand behind her.

  The professor next to the first one pointed to Cystella. He was tall with an average build and caramel skin like a Bronze Islander. However there was no numeral tattoo on his forehead to show him as a native to the Isles and his eyes were sky blue instead of the typical green.

  “You,” he said to Cystella.

  Cystella moved behind the teacher and the next one pointed to Marollo Ventlos.

  “Come on over,” the teacher said.

  This one was the tallest man I’d ever seen, as well as the most muscular. Unlike the other professors who wore more professional attire he had a simple pair of shorts, a sleeveless shirt and sneakers on. He was Solarian and his long brown hair was in a messy bun on his head.

  The final professor gave a disappointed sigh before surveying the students below.

  This one was one of the oddest looking, and that said quite a bit with the unreasonably muscular man next to her. She only looked to be about twenty, and her light skin and yellow eyes showed she was Solarian. But her hair was as pink as a cosmos flower.

  Did she dye it? Or was this some special power of a Dreamer. Seemed like a waste of magic.

  Even then that by itself would have only been noteworthy. What really set her apart were the assortment of firearms strapped to her body. Back, hips, thighs, there even seemed to be one stuffed into her boot.

  “I’ll take… you,” the professor said, pointing out to the crowd. “Come on up and stand behind me.”

  A Solarian girl walked up the stage and stood behind the gunslinging professor. Meanwhile I was coming to a somewhat horrifying conclusion.

  “You,” the first professor said, pointing to someone else in the crowd.

  “You.”

  “You.”

  They were choosing the students at random as though this were a children's game