A long moment passes. And then another. The silence stretches, growing heavier with each passing second.
You start to think that this was inevitable. Of course, nothing would happen. Either this is all just a dream, or, naturally, you don’t have a Resonance. You’re from a boring, normal world, after all. But, if this is a dream, you hope you don’t forget it. It would make a fantastic story to write someday.
Your musings are interrupted when you notice the students whispering among themselves. Even Solon seems perplexed, his sharp eyes narrowing as he watches the still water.
And then, without warning, the water erupts.
Unlike the others, there’s no gentle glow or spiraling lights. No images showing the story of a character. No gentle foggy shape holding their hand to you. The water rises violently, surging upward in a vortex around you. The force is terrifying, and you instinctively curl in on yourself, trying to shield your body.
The room fills with shouts and gasps. Solon steps forward, his hand glowing with magic as he attempts to dispel the chaos. But his magic falters, swallowed by the raging water. He curses under his breath, then turns to the students.
“Everyone, step back! Now!” Solon commands,
His voice sharp and authoritative. The students obey, retreating to the farthest edges of the room. Though his focus remains on the vortex, it’s clear he wishes he could protect you too.
Amidst the chaos, you hear them again—the voices from before. When you were pulled into the book. But this time, they’re not frantic or urgent. They’re soft, comforting, like a lullaby whispered in your ear. The words are difficult to make out, but they’re kind, full of warmth.
“...need you…”
“...chosen...”
“...mend…”
The last word is unclear, fragmented, as if spoken from a great distance. You strain to understand, but the vortex’s roar drowns it out. Then, another phrase breaks through the noise:
“We sent you a guide.”
Before you can process what that means, the vortex tightens, spinning faster and faster. Suddenly, something bursts from the Ethereal mirror bellow, hurtling straight toward you. It hits you with surprising force, knocking you backward and out of the water entirely.
You land hard on the floor beside the pool, dazed and gasping for air. The water calms almost immediately, settling back into its mirror-like stillness as if nothing had happened.
Solon rushes to your side, concern etched across his face. “Are you alright?” he asks, his tone unusually gentle for someone so stern.
You manage a shaky nod, your heart still pounding in your chest. As the adrenaline subsides, you realize you’re clutching something in your arms.
It’s soft and warm, and as you pull it away to get a better look, you’re met with the wide, dazed eyes of a very strange owl.
The creature is unlike any owl you’ve ever seen. It look like a great horned owl, with sharp, intelligent eyes and a proud posture. But what stands out most is its attire: a tiny coat and scarf, both impeccably tailored, and a pendant shaped like a quill with a drop of obsidian ink at its tip.
The owl blinks groggily, as though recovering from its own shock. Then, to your utter astonishment, it begins to struggle in your grasp.
“Put me down this instant!” the owl snaps, its voice high-pitched but commanding.
Startled, you immediately release it, almost throwing it in your panic. The owl flaps its wings awkwardly before landing on the floor with a huff.
“Honestly,” the owl mutters, straightening its scarf. “Such a clumsy human.”
Solon’s confusion is palpable as he stares at the talking bird. “Who… or what… are you?” he demands.
The owl puffs out its chest indignantly. “My name is Fibble !” it says with a touch of pride.
“And how did you get here?” Solon asks, his tone cautious but firm. “Why are you here?”
Fibble pauses, tilting its head thoughtfully. After a moment, it shrugs.
“I don’t know,” it admits, as if the question isn’t particularly important. Then, with a dramatic gesture of its wing, it points directly at you.
“All I know is that I’m supposed to stay with this human.”
Solon pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly tired from the day’s events. “Of course you are,” he mutters under his breath.
Turning to the other students, he raises his voice.
“Dorm leaders are waiting for you outside. They’ll guide you to your dorms.”
The students exchange curious glances but follow his instructions, filing out of the room. Their whispers linger, filled with speculation about you and the strange owl.
Once the room is empty, Solon turns back to you and Fibble. He hesitates, clearly uncertain.
“You don’t have a Resonance or a Sigil,” he says slowly.
You blink, confused. The words mean nothing to you. A Sigil? What is he even talking about? Before you can ask, he seems to pick up on your bewilderment. With a sigh, Solon tugs off his glove, revealing the back of his hand. There, you see an intricate mark, dark and slightly raised, as though it’s been etched into his skin. It’s shaped like a crown, detailed with tiny points and filigree.
“This is an Artefact Sigil,” he explains, holding his hand out for you to see more clearly. “When a student undergoes the Resonance Ceremony, they gain a Sigil. It’s a symbol that represents their connection to their Resonance Character and their dorm.”
You remember the marks that appeared on the students hand during the ceremony. Five differents Sigils: the paw encircled by thorns, that Hatterick got, the glass slipper, a wave with a pearl in the center, a mouse, and a crescent moon with bamboo.
“Mine’s different because I’m not a student.”
He pauses for a moment, his gaze briefly thoughtful before continuing. “The Artefact Sigil serves as both a stabilizer for Resonance and a channel for magic. It’s tied directly to the essence of a mage’s Resonance Character, and it changes as the bond grows. When a mage first join a magical school, the Sigil will be shaped depending on the dorm they join, but as they grow stronger and learn more magic, it change into a shape mirroring their Resonance. It also replaces traditional magical tools like wands or staffs.”
He flexes his fingers, the crown-shaped Sigil glinting faintly in the ambient light.
“And it functions as a key to the dorms, which is why you can’t join one. Without a Sigil, the wards won’t let you in.”
Your head spins with the information. Resonance? Sigils? Dorms? None of this makes sense, and yet you can’t deny the weight of Solon’s explanation. When you manage to stammer out a question, he gives you a small, reassuring smile.
“My Resonance is with King Solomon,” he says, the pride in his voice subtle but unmistakable. “The crown represents wisdom and authority, or so they say.”
His smile lingers for a moment before fading as he glances back at Fibble, who is now standing next to you.
Solon sighs again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright. Now into the main problem. If you can’t join any dorms… and the staff’s dorm is at full capacity.”
He pauses, his expression brightening as an idea strikes him. A rare smile spreads across his face.
“I know!” he exclaims.
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