Sarala glanced towards the open door as two people shuffled in. Her golden eyes narrowed over her hooked nose, and she appeared hawk-like as she stared them down. Had they been outside the Admin Office the whole time? Why were they suddenly coming in?

“These are my children,” the school founder told Sarala calmly, sitting across from her at a wide desk.

The first person had brown skin and spiky orange hair. Their eyes were mismatched, and did not complement the bright orange robe they were wearing. In fact, none of what they were wearing seemed to go together. The stripy gray shirt with the heavily-patterned robe, and the baggy red pants—it was all a big clash. This person did not look anything like the teacher behind the desk, or the person beside them.

The second person had thick purple hair, rectangular glasses, and angular eyes. They looked more like the school founder, though there were notable differences. Their freckled face was pretty—and Sarala did not think that of too many people.

“They are both orphans I took in,” the teacher went on, rubbing his thumb and pointer finger over one of his long mustache strands.

Sarala flicked her gaze to him. “And?” she grumbled. “Just because I said I lived alone doesn’t mean I’m an orphan.”

“But you and I both know that you are,” he said simply.

“Who do you even think you are, claiming to know who I am after barely meeting me?” Sarala hissed.

“I told you,” he said patiently. “I am Ak-tu Caihong, the founder of this school, and the father of two orphaned children. I’ve been around the world. I’ve met all sorts of people. I know you’re an orphan—or a runaway child.”

“I’m not a child!” Sarala protested crossly.

Ak-tu smiled at her. “But you are an orphan.”

She huffed impatiently and slumped back in her chair. Staring down at her dirty brown pants underneath her tattered yellow robe, she could feel the twigs poking into her tan skin and the small bits of leaves in her dark brown hair. It was no wonder Ak-tu saw right through her. What else was he supposed to think when a dirty teenager emerged from the thick forest, clearly lost for months—or years?

“Why did you come to this school?” Ak-tu pressed after a moment of silence.

Sarala didn’t answer.

“If you’ve been living in the wild and know how to get by on your own, then you’d have no need to come to civilization for something like food or water, surely?” Ak-tu continued. “Not to mention, the lands here are bountiful in fruits, vegetables, and rivers.” 

Sarala clenched her jaw and made no reply.

“I will ask only once more,” Ak-tu said, his features hardening a bit as he leaned closer. “Why did you come to this school?”

She took a deep breath, then queried, “What school is this?”

Ak-tu frowned. “The Caihong Academy of Magic.”

Sarala searched her memory. It sounded familiar, but it wasn’t exact. “Can you write it down?”

Ak-tu continued frowning at her, but did as she asked. He scrawled several words across a piece of paper in front of him, and handed it to her. 

Sarala read the words with a bit of difficulty; she wasn’t the best when it came to reading or writing. “Kay-hong!” she said triumphantly, tapping the paper. 

“No, it’s Sigh-hong,” Ak-tu pointed out. “It’s Asalian.”

“I’ve always read it as Kay-hong,” she explained. “It’s not like I had anyone to tell me how to pronounce it.” Not when I got that pamphlet…not when I was abandoned…

Ak-tu nodded his understanding. “So you are familiar with my school? You were actively searching for it?”

Sarala clenched her jaw again. She didn’t know how to respond to that. Of course she had heard of the academy, and she had indeed been looking for it over the past few months or year. She took a deep breath, then let it go and nodded.

“Why?” Ak-tu pressed.

“Can’t you just leave me be, Ock-too?” she snapped, a knot twisting in her stomach as red flashed through her mind. 

Ak-tu looked a bit annoyed at this. “Hyahk-too. It’s pronounced with a sharp hyahk! sound.”

She shrugged. “Sorry.”

He stared at her through his bright violet eyes, searching her for a long moment. “I prefer to know who my students are before taking them in. But I see you are determined to learn, if you’ve been searching for my school. So I will let you stay.”

She stared at him.

“It’s what you want, is it not? A magical education? It’s why you came all this way?”

Sarala nodded once.

“Then you will have it,” he said simply.

“But…I’m…” She clenched her jaw. “I don’t have any money.”

“You don’t need to have money,” Ak-tu told her quietly. “But I’d prefer if you didn’t scream about it to the other students—that you got in for free. While magical high schools aren’t as expensive as magical universities, it’s still not cheap. If you really want to be here, you must agree not to tell any other students. Ren and Zynivus—my daughters—are the only exceptions.”

Sarala nodded again. 

Ak-tu smiled. “Well, then…if you agree to not tell others how you got in, I will admit you to the school.”

“Of course,” Sarala said at once.

“Good, very good,” Ak-tu said with a nod. “I’ll just need you to fill out some paperwork. It’s the standard forms all students have to fill out,” he added, when seeing Sarala grow tense. 

“Fine,” she uttered.

Ak-tu grabbed the mirror that was lying flat on the desk in front of him, tapped its glass surface, and it no longer reflected the ceiling. It showed a screen with different buttons. He pressed on one, and it opened up to what looked like a document.

“To move things along quicker, I’ll just fill it out for you,” Ak-tu told her, tapping on a box. “I do need your signature at the bottom afterwards. Now…what is your full name?”

Sarala’s heartbeat quickened. If I give my full name…they could track me down, couldn’t they? They could return me to that orphanage… What if this is all just a trap to send me back? I’ll just have to make it up… “Sarala Kiran,” she said, hoping none of them would notice the small hesitation.

Ak-tu nodded and tapped a keyboard on the mirror’s screen. “Birthday? Do you know your birthday?”

“Um…April…6. Yes, April 6.”

“The year?”

“Um…39.”

“So you’re fifteen,” Ak-tu said, adding that in the form.

He continued through the document, only pausing to have Sarala demonstrate she had magical ability. When she said she had earth magic, he handed her a stone and told her to prove it. She smashed the stone in her hands, making it crumble to dust. Ak-tu added that to the form and pressed on, until they were done. 

When it came to the section on family history, Ak-tu wrote that Sarala had a rich uncle from Idis who passed away and left all of his money to Sarala, his only known relative. He “left” her enough money to pay for her magic education.

“I just need you to sign here,” Ak-tu told her, turning the mirror and pointing at the bottom of the document.

“And there’s…no magic attached to this signature?” she asked hesitantly.

Ak-tu shook his head.

After a long moment, Sarala used her finger to scribble in the box on the screen. Ak-tu then swiveled the mirror back around, Sarala able to feel a light breeze as he moved.

“You’re almost all set up,” he told her. “We just need to take a photo of you for your ID card, and give you a key to your new room.”

“A photo?” Sarala questioned. She felt her dirty face and frowned. “Can I at least get cleaned up?”

“Of course,” Ak-tu replied. “Ren, Zyn—you two help Sarala, then bring her back here for the photo.”

Sarala turned to face the two teenagers. They looked to be about a year younger than her, though they all stood at about the same height. She got to her feet and approached the sisters slowly, eyeing them warily. 

Which one is which? Sarala wondered.

But the orange-haired twin wearing the patterned robe quickly thrust her hand out and exclaimed, “Hi, I’m Zyn!”

Sarala stared at her for a long moment. That was easy. So Zyn is the one with the crazy robe…and the letter Z is in crazy, plus a crazy letter in general, right? So Zyn is the crazy one. Hopefully I don’t get their names mixed up now…

Ren glanced at her sister, her mouth twitching like she was about to speak before settling back into an amused smirk. Zyn lowered her hand with a small chuckle. Sarala raised an eyebrow, wondering if she had missed something. 

“Come on, Sarala!” Ren said, once the odd exchange seemed to be over.

Ren twirled on the spot and led the way from the room. Zyn motioned for Sarala to follow, then took up the rear. Ren brought them to a long room of beds and cabinets, the scent of mint strong. They then went through another door, stepping into the warm outdoor air.

A pond shimmered in front of her, and a garden lay several meters beyond. Sarala stared up at the three tan walls around her, feeling suddenly trapped between the stone structures. There were four towers, one in each corner of the wide square Courtyard. Heart beating rapidly, she almost missed Ren’s words. 

“The bathroom is right there,” Ren said, pointing to her right.

Sarala shook herself from her stupor, then nodded and entered the small building with Ren at her heel. The bathroom looked like a hut against the southeastern tower and eastern building. As soon as she walked through the door, the light flickered on. She stared up at the metal rods, which were filled with fire magic and enchanted to shine light when movement was detected. Sarala only knew this because of her experience breaking into shops to steal food during closed hours.

She moved to the mirror against one wall, taking in her reflection. She was dirty; there was no other way to put it. Next to Ren, she looked like the ugliest person to exist. Bits of twigs and leaves clung to her robe and hair. She pulled these out as best as she could, but her hair was still a tangled mess. 

“Whatever,” she muttered.

“Here, let me try,” Ren said.

She leaned forward and took the twigs out of Sarala’s hair. Her hands were so gentle against Sarala’s scalp, and she soon found her eyes half-closing in relaxation. She missed the feeling of fingers running through her hair.

“I think I got most of them,” Ren said a few minutes later, stepping back to observe the back of Sarala’s head. “It looks much better!”

“It’s fine if you didn’t get it all,” Sarala said simply. “It feels better anyway.”

She turned the sink on and splashed cool water over her face, removing the dirt and sweat after a few rough scrubs. Ren handed her a bamboo paper towel from a roll hanging on the wall, and she wiped the remaining water off. 

“That’ll have to do,” she muttered.

“We’ll get you more cleaned up later, but you’re definitely photo-worthy!” Ren said, beaming at her.

Sarala shrugged in response, then led the way from the bathroom. Zyn stood outside, clearly bored as she tapped her foot impatiently against the cobblestone ground.

“Took you long enough!” she said, rolling her eyes. “Come on!” 

Zyn led the way back to the Admin Office, practically running. Ak-tu waited for them to reenter, still holding the square-shaped mirror at the ready. 

“Stand against that wall,” Ak-tu told Sarala, signaling to a blank spot of the yellow wall near the door.

Sarala did as he told her, and he lifted the mirror to be level with his face. After a few seconds, he nodded that he was done, then returned to his desk. 

Another silent minute passed as he tapped a few more things, then there was a rumbling noise. Sarala searched the room, her heartbeat quickening once more. But she had no need to worry—it was just her ID card printing out.

Ak-tu picked up the card from a small bin, where it had landed underneath the rumbling machine on a back desk. He handed it to Sarala. It was made of bamboo, and had her picture on the surface. Her name, date of birth, pronouns, and elemental magic were listed on it.

“This ID card is used to check out books from the Library,” Ak-tu told her. “But you can also use it outside the school. It gives you an official identity, so nobody will question your background. Well, they can of course question your past, but to be enrolled in a magic academy shows that your family had enough money to send you. So nobody should assume you’re an orphan who couldn’t afford to go to school.”

Sarala’s jaw clenched. That wasn’t true. There were many orphans whose parents left them lots of money, enough to give them a magical education just like her supposed “uncle” had. The orphanage she’d been at also held many fundraising programs, for the specific purpose of sending orphans to school if they never gained a family. Sarala would have had the same opportunity—if she had stuck around.

“This is your room key,” Ak-tu went on, passing her a rigid key. “Student rooms are located on the second, third, and fourth floors of the western, eastern, and northern buildings. I will show you where your room is.”

Sarala stared up at Ak-tu for a long moment. “Why are you doing all of this for me?”

Ak-tu smiled at her. “Why would I not?” he merely questioned in response. 

She frowned. “But…why let me in for free? I thought I’d at least have to…test…or prove my worth or…”

“You are worthy,” Ak-tu said simply.

Just then, a loud noise came from the printer in the corner of the room. Ak-tu glanced over at it and rolled his eyes.

“That thing always breaks down,” he muttered. 

“You should get a new one,” Zyn piped up.

“That is a new one, and it’s already suffered after issuing two ID cards!” Ak-tu sighed, then turned back to Sarala with a smile. “Printers are a bit ridiculous.”

Sarala merely stared at him.

He put a hand on her shoulder and led her from the stuffy room, the twins following a bit hesitantly. “Well, Sarala Kiran, you are officially a student of the Caihong Academy of Magic. School will start very soon, and you’ll be able to learn all the magic you want. This is your home now!”

Sarala’s eyes glazed over and her breath seemed to stop. Home, she thought tonelessly. My home now…