It was the middle of the night.
Sister Twilight held a small lamp in her hand as she walked silently through a dark corridor. Her steps echoed softly against the stone floor. After a moment, she stopped and turned to the right. She opened the heavy wooden door and stepped into the long sleeping chamber.
The room was wide and quiet, with a single row of beds on each side, spaced about a meter apart. The only light came from Sister's lamp, casting long shadows across the floor.
She walked between the beds, making sure every child was fast asleep. After confirming they were, she gently closed the door behind her with practiced silence.
Just as the latch clicked shut, Alger opened his eyes.
His bed was near the end of the row, directly beneath a window that let in the faint whisper of night wind.
Alger didn't look like the boy he was four years ago. He was taller now, and his hair had grown slightly longer. Though only eleven, he looked closer to fifteen. Puberty on Terra was no joke; boys matured fast. Yet despite the changes, Alger remained lean and wiry, still no sign of facial hair. Dawn, who was about the same age, already had a full beard; he was even taller than Alger and had broader shoulders.
Alger sat up and crossed his legs, closing his eyes and focusing on his center of mass... just below his abdomen.
In his mind, he stood atop a grassy cliff, wind brushing past him. A storm loomed in the distance. The air was sharp, cool, and smelled faintly of rain. He imagined the breeze growing stronger, faster, lifting him gently off the ground.
Higher. Stronger. Louder.
The storm clouds drew closer as the wind surged upward. Soon, he was hovering high in the air, on the edge of touching the storm.
And then... the wind stopped.
Silence.
The sky went still, and Alger fell. His stomach twisted. He plummeted toward the earth, screaming as the ground rushed up—
Darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer falling.
He stood in the void of his soul.
A single door stood before him.
He reached out, hand trembling slightly, and was just about to touch the knob when it creaked, opening slightly on its own.
Just a sliver.
Enough for Alger to see through to the same darkness beyond.
Alger had Awakened.
He was now a Tempest Awakened.
At age eleven.
Most humans didn't even sense their gate until this age and Awakening came between fourteen and sixteen if they were lucky. And that was with the help of books, tutors, and practice.
Alger had done it all on his own. In just seven years, before his body fully matured.
He opened his eyes and looked down at his hands. He didn't feel different... but something had shifted.
The wind from the window whispered to him.
He tried to listen, but the words were too faint.
He stood and faced the window, raising his hand gently. He focused.
A breeze kissed his face.
He smiled, then tried to increase the wind's speed.
Suddenly, the air spiraled out of control, rushing in with a violent gust that rattled the window panes.
Too loud.
He froze and looked around. The noise had nearly woken the others.
Alger quickly backed away and sat down.
Not yet. Tomorrow.
He lay back in bed, too excited to sleep. His mind raced with ideas, strategies, and dreams.
Morning came sooner than expected.
Despite barely sleeping, Alger moved with energy.
First, he made his bed with practiced precision, then walked to the cafeteria to check the monthly calendar. No special events today.
Perfect.
He went to the common boys' bathroom to bathe, filling a bucket with water and using a mug to wash himself. No bathtubs or showers here.
After his bath, he pulled out clean cotton clothes from beneath his bed. He washed his old ones and hung them to dry out back.
Cotton. Strange, he thought. Cotton didn't exist in medieval Europe. It must have been brought to Terra from Unknown—either before or during the dawn era.
Outside, the orphanage looked like something pulled straight from a forgotten time. Standing near the gates, one could see the cobbled road stretch out, flanked by medieval homes. A horse-drawn carriage passed by every few hours. The orphanage itself resembled a small cathedral, with tall rusted iron gates and stone walls enclosing it.
Behind the building, a vast field stretched toward the edge of the forest. It was where the children played. Trees with swings, flowers in scattered patches—idyllic, peaceful.
But it wasn't useful for Alger.
He couldn't train there. Too many people. Too many eyes.
He needed space. Secrecy.
And for that... he needed permission.
Children were allowed to ask the Headmaster for permission to leave the orphanage—but only once. If he said no, that was the end of it. Most waited until they were 13 or 14, old enough to prove their emotional stability. Only then would the Headmaster grant them a monthly allowance and a pass to go outside.
But Alger wasn't going to wait.
He walked up to the Headmaster's room and knocked on the door.
A deep voice responded.
"Come in."