Her earliest memory was from when she was six.

She was in a white-colored room that had a sickening alcohol-like scent. The tiled floor always felt cold to her bare feet. Beds of the same size were lined on both sides of the room. Even the covers and the pillows on the small mattresses were of the same color and were of the same material. Each child wore the same pale blue clothing, the same set of shoes, shirts and pants. A plain metallic rectangle was clipped to each bed’s foot board. On each rectangle was a number. Only the numbers were unique from each other, just like the children that occupied the beds.

373 despised it. She disliked the smell of anti-septic and the sight of the thick white walls that had surrounded her since forever. For some reason, she hated her number – hated the fact that she didn’t have a name. But the adults said it was okay – that having a number was enough. It was proof that they were chosen to be part of paradise. It was proof that they were part of Elisium.

Elisium was the name of the place she lived in. It was the home for children like her who were discarded. They called it a paradise – a utopia separated from the rest of the world, a place where they could learn about magic and alchemy, eat their fill, and live happily. And if they worked hard enough to become the best, they would be brought to a higher level - to Elisium’s Sanctuary, before they would be set free to taste the rest of the world.

But Elisium had neither sun nor sky. The paradise they had known had endless white washed walls that gave off a distinctive smell. These walls were thick, strong, and allowed no sound to pass through them. It was almost as if they were built to make sure that people from the outside could never enter and people from the inside could never leave. But to them who had no families and no loved ones, Elisium was enough. To them, Elisium was home.

373 had always lived in Elisium with the rest of the children in peace. She was in the class of Aquarius – a class filled with older children of different color and different ages. She preferred staying quiet and learning on her own pace. However, during one ordinary and uneventful night, her quiet life changed.

At first, she heard screaming. Then, a mess of voices she recognized yet could not make out pounded against her skull. As she lied on her bed with her eyes tightly shut, the noises in her head assaulted her and forced her to stay awake. Sweat poured out of her small body and drenched her clothes. Her short brown hair was plastered to her forehead. 373 attempted to even out her breathing, to calm down and silence the chaos in her head.

Slowly, the screaming subsided and had turned into whispers. She recognized the voices. She knew which voice belonged to whom. As she continued to listen, the hairs of her neck stood on their ends. She trembled. An unexplainable chill spread through her entire being.

She wasn’t hearing voices. She was hearing thoughts. And the adults were thinking about the children, about the children who stood out, about various ways to open them up and tear them limb from limb. And it was all to discover if the children had Talents – innate special abilities that were more powerful than magic.

After that night, she kept her mouth shut. 373 kept her ability a secret. It was probably best that she did. She moved to a seat that was located at the back. She tried to become as invisible as she could. She focused on learning more about spells – on becoming stronger, while staying inconspicuously average in the eyes of the adults.

As the weeks passed by, no one knew that the girl who appeared mediocre had long since stopped listening to the lessons. The simple spells and magical theories no longer mystified her. She no longer took note of the words their teachers said. Instead, she wrote ideas of complex spells and theories she wanted to try out.

No one knew that she had started learning more advanced spells on her own, that she was deconstructing walls while the other children were still learning how to conjure energy on their fingertips. The adults had no idea that the workbook in her hands was concealing a tome of advanced spells. The said tome didn’t belong to their classroom – it was a book that she had ‘borrowed’ from the restricted section of Elisium’s library.

373’s days passed by like this. After two years, her hair had grown past her shoulders. She had secretly learned enough spells, alchemy recipes, enchantments and theories that would put both her classmates and teachers to shame. She stayed in the classroom after class hours to read books that she wasn’t supposed to read. Her rank in their class was somewhere in the middle. For two years, she was safe from Elisium’s Sanctuary.

The best students had left their class seeking for a place in the Sanctuary. New children and new numbers replaced the seats and the beds of those who left. But no one stayed close to her. Nobody cared if she was lonely. No one wanted to be associated to the loner who did her best yet still stayed ridiculously mediocre.

Their classroom had not changed except for an antique-looking object that sat on the corner of the room. The adults called it a phonograph. It had a shiny brass cone that curved upwards like a jumping fish and a metal needle that sat on top of a wooden box. A shiny black plate was on the wooden base right under the needle. And whenever someone turned the crank on its side, the black disk would turn, and a song would begin to play.

373 would play the song when she was alone in the classroom. She would let her guard down and forget the secrets that hid behind Elisium’s walls. On the last day of April, she followed her usual routine. When all the students had left, she closed the door and headed straight for the metallic mechanism. Her small hands held the handle and she wound the crank until her arms felt sore. Once she released the handle, the music began to play. Every note that echoed in the room made her feel light. Her heart was fluttering in her chest like a bird that had been released. It took her a while to notice that someone had joined her in the room. When she did, she found herself staring at a young man who had the most colorful eyes she had ever seen.

He was taller than her by at least a head and his orbs were painted with splashes of aqua, green and yellow. In the light of the room, his eyes seemed to glimmer in multiple shades. His thick amber hair was combed neatly. Freckles decorated a well-defined nose that sat on a soft yet handsome face.

“Do you like this song?” He asked, his voice gentle.

373 blinked twice as her mind slowly processed his question. 

Did she like the song?

She nodded her head in reply.

The boy studied her, and a small smile appeared on his lips. He stretched out his hand to her, and said, “My name is Michael Caelum. What’s yours?”

Her black eyes studied his hand and held it in hers, not sure what she was supposed to do with it. Her orbs shifted to meet his curious gaze and with all seriousness, she said, “Three-seven-three. I don’t have a name.”

For some reason, there was a tinge of sadness in his eyes as he spoke. “Then, shall I give you a name?”

“A name…,” She whispered. She thought of the children who had gone to the Sanctuary and had probably died. She released his hand, shook her head and mumbled, “- isn’t it just a burden to those who are left behind?”

The boy’s eyes widened and the next thing 373 knew, the room was filled with his soft laughter. The sound seemed to travel through her body and brought with it a comfortable kind of warmth. She felt her heart jump. Her hand unconsciously touched her chest while her eyes remained fixed on his face.

She was drawn to the small dimples that accentuated his cheeks, and the way his eyes closed into arcs as his lips curved up. She also tried memorizing the way his chuckles rang in her ears. Somehow, his hand had found its way to the top of her head and the heat from his palm made her want to bury her face in his hand.

His laughter died down and the boy named Michael combed her long hair with his fingers. Then, he took her in his arms, lifted her up to where the odd mechanism was, and sat her down beside it. He took the black metal disc and read the words that were engraved on the center.

“Aria Dalla Suite no.3 in Re Maggiore.”

“A.. ree..yah?” 373 repeated. The syllables sounded foreign to her and rolled off her tongue in a weird way.

“Do you like how it sounds? It fits you.” Michael nodded his head and smiled. “A beautiful name for a beautiful flower.”

The little girl felt her cheeks grow hot. She pursed her lips and pouted as her eyebrows furrowed. She wanted to protest – to tell him she didn’t need a name. But he placed a finger on her lips, stopping her from uttering a sound. And with a low voice he said, “A name may hurt those who were left behind, but it can also be the sweetest thing when said by the person that you love.”

When he saw her serious but puzzled face, the amber haired boy couldn’t help but laugh and pinch her pink cheeks. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

He placed her down on the floor and headed for the door. She called out to him, her voice slightly trembling and her tone unsure. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

His vibrant eyes glittered. His lips quirked up ever so slightly.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” the male replied.

She sniffed. Her nose crinkled as she did. He was a stranger she had just met. She had no reason to trust him. And yet, the thoughts he had – the thoughts she could hear with her Talent – told her that the boy named Michael Caelum had no intention to harm her. She couldn’t help but feel an odd connection to the male. He felt familiar to her even when 373 knew she had never met him before.

He seemed to sense her caution and waved for her to move closer to him. Her feet took a few timid steps towards him. Her eyes were still slightly narrowed in suspicion. His warm hand found its way to her head and ruffled her brown tresses.

Her cheeks filled with air. She swatted his hand away. The boy in front of her couldn’t help but chuckle as she huffed.

Michael Caelum stretched out his hand and stuck out his little finger while his eyes searched hers. She curiously mirrored him, unsure with what else she was supposed to do with her pinkie finger. As soon as she lifted her hand, Michael looped his finger around hers, stared deep into her eyes and said, “I, Michael Caelum, promise to see Aria in this same room at this same time tomorrow, the day after that, and all the days that follow.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You will?”

His gaze softened and her heart skipped a beat. He smiled at her, his dimples decorating his cheeks and with sincerity he said, “I promise.”