Nervous from the uncertainty in the air and dizzy from the ride, Erunestian shivered in the back seat. He could feel Mateo and Helena's anxiety rubbing off on him. An uncomfortable silence had taken the place of their usual banter.

"Why are we so afraid?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"It's our first day of school," said Mateo, with the seriousness of someone walking to the gallows.

"In a new city..." Helena added, as if that explained everything.

"We're outsiders... nobody knows us. We have to start making friends from scratch."

"It's really awkward," Helena finished.

"But I am more outsider and more awkward!" Erunestian complained, frowning.

Mateo let out a snort and Helena bit her lip to keep from laughing. Erunestian felt a little better. If those humans could still joke, then maybe they weren't as desperate as they sounded.

The car screeched to a stop.

"We're here!" Isabel sang. "Don't worry, school will be a piece of cake because you're all really smart. So just enjoy it, okay?"

Helena and Mateo groaned softly, then climbed out after saying goodbye.

Erunestian tried to follow them, but felt Helena's hand holding his arm.

"Eru... we already explained this. You can't come with us."

"Why not?" he protested. "I barely know how to look human! Don't leave me alone!"

Isabel leaned in, her voice gentle.

"Didn't you want to learn Braille? They don't teach that here, sweetheart. But at your school they do... Wouldn't you rather go there?"

Erunestian nodded, still frustrated. It was true. There was nothing he wanted more than to learn to read. Though, he would've preferred someone to teach him at home, so he wouldn't have to take on a fake identity.

Isabel led him to his new school: a leveling institute for blind and visually impaired youth and adults.

As he walked arm in arm with her, he mentally reviewed the rules he'd been given to appear "normal." No mind reading. No talking to birds. No speaking in an old-fashioned, or poetic way. No asking questions that were obvious to humans. And no using the cane as a spear. That last one hurt especially.

The smell of artificial air freshener hit him the moment they entered the building, mingling with the sounds of hurried footsteps, slamming doors, and the buzz of old fans.

Isabel went to speak with a woman. Erunestian half-listened, catching the tension in her voice. She was lying, of course. He had no identity card, required in any school. Everything was still "in process." All he had was a fake tragic backstory: Sebastian Blanco, the cousin who had lost his sight and memory in an accident. Sebastian was his new name because it sounded similar to Erunestian.

"You'll be fine," Isabel told him when she returned, giving him a hug.

Erunestian nodded quietly. He swallowed the many questions he wanted to ask.

"Don't forget your new name," she whispered.

"Sebastian..." he repeated, with a hint of resignation.

"Welcome! I'm Mariana," said the woman, guiding Erunestian to take her arm. "I'm the school secretary, it's a pleasure to have you here. Come with me, I'll show you around and then I'll take you to your teacher."

Erunestian turned back at Isabel with a worried face.

"Good luck!" she exclaimed. Her smile calmed him a little.

He let himself be guided in silence. Mariana's voice became a distant murmur as he tried to map the place in his head.

"These are the bathrooms... this is your classroom... here's where you can buy food..."

Erunestian nodded as though he understood everything, though he could barely keep up.

"You'll have Braille, computing, orientation and mobility, math, history, science, and language classes..." They stopped in front of a door. "Here's your first class. Mister Martinez will teach you how to read. Good morning, José, this is Sebastian Blanco, the new student."

"Hello, Sebastian!" a man greeted from inside.

Erunestian heard his footsteps approach. Taller and broader than him, the man first touched Erunestian's arm, then found his hand for a firm handshake. The steady grip and warm voice gave him a sense of safety.

"Hello, teacher," Erunestian replied stiffly. The teacher chuckled.

"Thanks, Mariana, I'll take it from here."

She left, and the door closed. The professor guided him to sit at a large table surrounded by chairs.

"I'm glad you're here. Since this is a small city and we don't have many students, I often get bored," he laughed. "Well, let me introduce myself: I'm José Martinez, and I'll be your Braille teacher. I'm visually impaired like you, so you can always ask me anything."

Erunestian thanked him politely, though without a smile.

"I'd like you to be a bit more excited about my class," the teacher teased. "Are you nervous?"

"No! Not nervous," Erunestian said quickly.

"Oh! That accent... you're a foreigner, aren't you?"

Erunestian laughed nervously. "Yes..." He'd kept quiet precisely to avoid that question. Now he'd have to improvise.

"What brings you here?"

"I came... to live with my family here..."

"You speak our language very well! I'm glad to have such an interesting student. Later I want you to tell me more about your country... which is...?"

Erunestian remembered Mateo calling him Russian once. Without knowing the implications, he took a risk and said:
"Russian."

"Oh, yes! I should've guessed by the accent! How interesting. My brother-in-law lives over there..."

Erunestian smiled awkwardly, waiting for him to stop talking and start teaching. He forced his face not to betray his discomfort.

Eventually, Martinez switched to a different story: the origin of Braille.

Relieved, Erunestian listened. His teacher was clearly someone who preferred speaking to listening, which meant he didn't have to come up with more lies.

"The Braille system was invented by a French boy, Louis Braille, about two hundred years ago. Before that, there wasn't a good way to make tactile letters, you know? He based it on a system the military had used to read in the dark during war. Imagine! And he was only fifteen. How old are you?"

"Sixteen..."

"Almost your age. And with his invention, he improved the lives of millions..."

Erunestian tilted his head and smiled slightly, thinking: That Louis Braille is incredible. I'll be like him.

He let himself get lost in thought while Martinez rambled.

"...It's a shame that with today's technology, Braille is starting to fade away," the teacher went on.

"Fade away?"

"Yes, screen readers are easier to use."

"I don't like them," Erunestian interrupted. "I want to read Braille... please?"

The professor burst out laughing.
"You're impatient! Very well, very well." He got up and fetched something from his desk. "But before I teach you letters..." He set some coins on the table. "You have to train your sense of touch."

Erunestian frowned.

"Sort the coins by size," said the teacher.

He stretched out his hands and found the cold little discs. There were four sizes, and it didn't take him long to sort them out.

Surprised, the professor swept the coins aside and placed a bag of rice before him.
"There's a cent inside this bag. Find it."

Cent must mean money, he thought.
"Here it is," he said, pulling out the small coin.

"Well done! Next test..."

The teacher put some sheets of paper in front of him.

"There are raised lines on this paper. You have to follow them without getting lost. Keep your hands light—if you press too hard, you won't feel anything. I'll place my hands here to guide you."

The dotted lines felt oddly pleasant beneath his fingertips.

"You're leaving one hand at the start of the line so you don't get lost, that's how Braille is read," the professor noted, surprised. "Did you do that instinctively, or had you learned it before?"

"No, first time," Erunestian replied, thinking: Of course I learned to see with my fingers. How else would I explore the human world and their strange artifacts?

"Excellent! I was going to give you more exercises, but maybe you're ready for letters. Today we'll learn A through J. Let's see how you do."

Just as quickly as Erunestian had learned to speak, he learned to read. Within a few lessons, he was using the stylus and slate to write. By the third day, he had mastered the entire alphabet. Each letter written backwards from how it was read, each letter that didn't exist in his world. A symbol for every sound, ingeniously and efficiently designed.

Erunestian was fascinated. In his opinion, language itself was a divine gift for the Mannen and humans. A gift that allowed them to create songs, prayers, stories, and legends. To bless and to curse. To share knowledge and feelings as intangible presents.

Mister Martinez had never had such a passionate student. Erunestian might not talk much, but his determination was voracious. He learned at a speed that bordered on prodigious. Martinez sometimes felt it was he who was being tested as a teacher.

After their ninety-minute sessions, he would walk Erunestian to his next class: computing. And he would go laughing, because no matter how brilliant Erunestian was with Braille, with technology he was a brick wall.

He couldn't grasp it, and no one could explain it in a way that made sense to him. He suspected humans didn't really understand their technology either.
A cold plastic box, powered by energy, that "calculated numbers but wasn't magic"? Terrifying. And the robotic voice of the computer sent chills down his spine. Every click reminded him of how foreign he was in this world.

"You move the cursor across the screen, and the voice tells you what you're pointing at. Then you click there..." the teacher explained.

Erunestian pretended to listen.

He clenched his fist, feeling frustration rise hot in his throat, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. He only waited for the class to end so he could go to the subjects where he excelled.

He enjoyed math, science, and history. Much of it was new to him, but it was exactly the knowledge he had come seeking, the kind that revealed the truths of the world.

There was one class he especially valued: orientation and mobility. It gave him back a piece of freedom. They went outside, listened to traffic, and learned how to move through the city. With the cane as an extension of his body, he began to stride through the hard streets of Ardenlanig with confidence.

He was no longer a little crab molting in hiding. His shell had hardened, and he walked firmly under the sun.

During those first days, Helena and Mateo didn't enjoy school. They had no friends yet, and they didn't want to spend time together either. Siblings and cousins avoided each other at school if they could. They just hoped to find some group to fit into.

Erunestian, on the other hand, had no classmates to worry about, so, he chattered happily about what he was learning:

"...so Louis Braille invented these letters by combining six dots. It's easy to read because it's the size of my finger. Look! Feel! Isn't it wonderful? He really was a very intelligent boy!"

Mateo would reply with more information, just to show off his knowledge of history and technology, whether or not Erunestian understood.

But Helena always listened to him attentively, and let him teach her how to write in Braille.

Isabel was glad she had sent him to that school, he was so happy and confident after all. In just a couple of months, Erunestian could read and write fluently. His teachers told Isabel that he would be ready to attend regular education sooner than expected.

"Sea people don't have the option of writing things down," Erunestian explained. "We must have excellent memory. We memorize routes, stories, numbers, and dates. That's why I learn so fast."

Helena and Mateo envied his superhuman memory when exam week came. The house filled up with nerves and stress. It was Helena, struggling with math and begging Mateo for help, but he refused. He wasn't the best in math either, and he didn't like spending too much time studying, he saved as much time as he could for video games. 

"Please help me," Erunestian said shyly. "I have this homework... Someone has to read what it says so I can write it down."

"Go ask Helena," Mateo answered. "I can't pause my game."

"Helena, please?"

"Eru!" she groaned. "I'm trying to study and I don't understand a thing! Convince Mateo to help me, and I'll read you whatever you want."

Erunestian sighed, then addressed Mateo with solemn weight:
"You who play so much at being a hero, be a hero now."

Mateo perked up at that. In fact, anything would've inspired him at that moment since he was winning his game. He jumped to his feet in a heroic pose and went to help Helena with math.

The prince of the wild ocean, who once fought for survival and traveled leagues each day, now lived a routine like any ordinary citizen. Waking early, six hours of school, meals, homework, listening to the cousins argue, martial arts training, sleep. It sounded simple, but every night he fell into bed exhausted. 

One day, Erunestian finally graduated from his school. That day was sheer joy for him. A small ceremony was held, with Mateo, Helena, Isabel, and David attending, along with his teachers, fellow graduates, and their families.

He was given three objects that he would learn to treasure: a certificate, a Braille book, and a medal hung around his neck. On the medal was written: Independence.

Great. Now I can officially be a human on my own, he thought, laughing to himself.

"We're so proud of you," David and Isabel whispered, each giving him a hug.

That day, Erunestian noticed people made that noise with their hands. They usually did that when they were happy, it was called applause. He also had to pose for photos, something he never understood, but it seemed that it was something humans did when they were happy. 

That evening, they dined at the most elegant restaurant in the city, at a hotel by the sea. Erunestian loved all human food, but this was even better: softer, perfectly seasoned with herbs and spices unknown to him.

The people there weren't noisy. Everyone was calm, relaxed, in an atmosphere of elegance and restraint. Soft music matched the scene. Flowers, candles, banquet tables, the clink of glassware. At the end of the hall, a huge window with a view of the sea, and if he paid attention, he could hear the waves.

His senses were enthralled. In that moment, no nostalgia could make him question whether he deserved to be there or not.

In the sea, life was only survival. No rest, no luxury, no pleasure. That life now seemed grim and distant, while the land promised infinite, dazzling emotions.

A few days later, Erunestian was enrolled in the same school and the same class as Helena and Mateo. Finally, he would face one of the first great challenges every human must overcome: socializing with kids his own age without failing in the attempt.

Prince Erunestian, born a leader, was about to be tested once again.