His father must have been busy. He opened the door after the second knock and stopped. “Micah?”

“Hi, dad.”

He glanced over Micah’s shoulder. The only “luggage” Micah had with him was a mostly empty backpack. “Hello, how are you?”

“Good, good.”

“Good,” his dad said and frowned. “Why are you here?”

“I thought we could talk.”

He nodded. “Your mother isn’t home yet.”

“That’s fine. I can wait. Or … is there anything that needs doing?”

The man hesitated, but then opened the door wider. “You best come on in. You would know better than I do.”

Micah stepped inside and meandered over to the sitting room, while his father shut the door behind him. Things looked just the same as they had the last time he’d been here, if a little tidier.

“The last time I dusted around this place must have been before you were born,” his dad said. “I hear you have a cleaning Skill now.”

“Yeah, but, uh, it’s not really meant for chores.”

“Oh?” His father strode past him to the kitchen.

Micah followed a good distance behind. The house did look clean. Really clean. Micah had done some chores, like all children do, but his parents had been too busy with work to do much else than care for the garden and the flower boxes. Come to think of it, it would be Fall soon. His mom would change the boxes, because these flowers weren’t right for that season.

But if he wasn’t here to help, who would?

“It’s for storage maintenance,” he explained. “For like swords and stuff. Think museums.”

“Ah. I have some similar Skills from my [Warrior] Class, though they’re meant for ability maintenance. Think training.”

Micah nodded, momentarily caught off-guard. Right, his father was a [Warrior]. He had gotten the Class trying to save his older siblings from the Tower … and Micah had never even known.

“And how are you?”

You asked me that already, he thought. “I’m good.”

“Are they feeding you alright?”

“They’re great. I’m even putting on muscle.” He flexed his arm, felt stupid, and dropped it again. It wasn’t like he had much to flex.

His dad got himself a glass from the cabinet and gave him a look. You, too? Micah shook his head and he filled the glass for himself, asking, “So there’s no hard feelings from David?”

Micah stopped looking around the kitchen—everything looked too tidy, like nobody was living here—and frowned. “Hard feelings?”

“From when I punched him.”

Suddenly alarmed, he asked, “You punched David? When? How?” Had this been recent?

His father looked surprised. “He didn’t tell you? Huh. I guess that says something about the man. I don’t know what, but it’s something.” He shifted to lean back against the counter. “Yes, I punched him. Your mother and I wanted to speak with you before the Tower exam of that school you’re applying to, but the guards wouldn’t let us pass. Due to organizational reasons, they said. We saw him and his wife coming out and we … got into a bit of a disagreement, you might say. I punched him. The guards escorted us out. I’ve been getting flak for it ever since. ‘Westhill councilman punches civilian in Climber’s Guild, gets thrown out.’ Ha!”

He barked a laugh and shook his head.

Why did nobody ever tell Micah stuff like this? He always had to ask, and ask, and ask, until they got annoyed with him. It was frustrating. If he never asked another question in his life, he’d die not knowing a single thing about the people around him.

“But of course, you then participated in the exam and got first place,” his dad went on.

Micah’s eyes went wide. “You knew about that?”

“Of course,” he said, like it was obvious. His parents had never kept a close eye on Micah’s life—he’d been practicing alchemy with three candles under their roof for two years without them noticing—but they did always check in with him at the dinner table. Was everything alright in the classroom? How were his grades? What had he learned? They had brought guests along sometimes, to talk with him about things and see if he’d get his Path from that topic, if something might interest him.

Just how much did they know, now? Had they hired someone to keep an eye on him? Micah … dimly remembered a man knocking on their door a few times. Had it been the same man? He couldn’t tell.

His father raised his eyebrows in respect and said, “You must have done something incredible to get first place.”

Oh. That drew the line … somewhere. So he didn’t know what Micah had done to get first place. “Yes,” he said. “I did. I actually got an award from the Registry for it. I found a new species of monster.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “The Kobold, from my first trip?”

He leaned his head back in understanding. His dad had been there when he’d made the account of what had happened, after all. He’d accused those men from the Guild of calling his son a liar, which, of course, Micah was, he just hadn’t been lying in that moment.

“Congratulations. Did you bring the award with you? Have you framed it, yet? You need to take good care of it, because it’s a hassle to get new ones made if you lose or break it, I’ll tell you.”

Micah shook his head. He hadn’t brought it with, or framed it yet. Where would he hang it? But the last time he had tried to show his parents something, his mother had ripped it to shreds.

His dad got the message. “A shame.”

They just stood around for a moment, him drinking water, Micah with one hand on his backpack strap. He hadn’t taken his shoes off.

His father still wore his dress shirt from work. He’d given his tie some room to breathe and folded his sleeves up. It was his typical work-at-home look. He glanced at the door to his study a few times, too, as if he were busy. But instead of excusing himself, he asked, “Your sister got some awards as well, you know? Three. Every day, you remind me more and more of her.”

That surprised him. “Maya?”

A nod. “She got three. For …” He frowned. “I forget. She defeated a ‘Giant Honey Ant Matriarch’, I believe it was named? With an entire expedition, of course. She was gone for weeks and came back with a broken leg, the only injury they couldn’t heal. They used the ingredients to make some high-grade healing potions for those who could afford them, though they donated one or two, as is common courtesy.”

“High-grade?” Micah asked, knowing full-well how hard and expensive it was to make those. “What kind?”

“For healing illnesses and ruined bones,” he said. “The blind, the crippled, the terminally ill, those kind of things. The families’ of the people who received the potions got together and made sure everyone on the expedition got an award.”

“Wow.”

He nodded. “Wow, indeed. We have the three filed away somewhere. She made a discovery in the Gardens for another, I believe. A park or structure, I’m not sure. She didn’t really share details with us, son. Maybe because we didn’t want her to. We always congratulated her, but …” He trailed off and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Micah remembered something then and slung his backpack around one arm, saying, “Aaron actually sent me a letter for my birthday. There’s nothing from Maya in it, but Prisha read it, so I thought, well, you might want to, as well?”

It was only fair, he told himself.

When he held it out, his dad was standing just a step away. He hadn’t even heard him come closer. He took the envelope like a man needing a healing potion to fix his ruined foot.

“He left a return address,” Micah said. “We wanted to send away some letters of our own in a week or two, Prisha and I? Uhm, if you and mom want to send one, too, maybe talk to her?”

Had they even spoken to Prisha lately? Micah didn’t know.

His dad nodded, pulling the first bit of the letter out and reading the start with a sliver of a smile, but then shoved it back inside. He gave Micah a neutral look holding it up and said, “I will. Thank you”—he glanced at the clock—”but it’ll be awhile until your mother gets home, like I said, and I—”

“Still have work to do,” Micah finished his sentence.

“Right.”

“I’ll be … around,” he said. “Cleaning up or something.”

“Good. Make yourself at home.”

He walked away and Micah was left standing there, a little lost.

There was a plate and a bowl in the sink, but not much else. He could dust in some places and brush up dry leaves near the potted plants, but the house looked untouched for the most part.

He went upstairs.

His room wasn’t like he had left it. Someone had made the bed again and sorted his things back on shelf-tops. That would make cleaning harder as you had to pick every object up to dust.

Micah still left them there.

He took off his shoes and lay down on his familiar bed like he had thousands of times before. After a moment, he finally let himself admit just how much he missed it, being here.

He could see the wood essence stretching over his ceiling, the light and shadows swaying from the window, the stagnant air around him weaving together into hair-thin linens. He lifted his head a bit and dropped it down on his pillow, watched the phantom feathers launch up. They disrupted those sheets and turned them into curls and threads for a moment, then came back together to bear the feathers down slowly.

Micah had been gone for a month. He hadn’t even left yet again, not for school or today, and he already felt homesick. He wished he could just stay here forever, but one way or another, he’d be moving into the dorms in eleven days.

He made the most of the time he had by dozing off until the door opened downstairs and his mom got home.

It was just a soft click and the clacking of shoes. No shouting, groaning, or calling, Has someone made food yet?

Micah got up and put his shoes back on, then crept down the stairs where his dad was speaking to her in the hallway in a low voice. When he noticed, he gestured up at him and his mom turned.

“Micah!” she called with a wide smile, posture suddenly very different from before. “It’s good to see you.”

She spread her arms out and he walked the rest of the way, saying, “Hey, mom.” He hugged her. Of course, he had to hug his dad then, too. Micah didn’t know if he like this better than the silence he’d had with the man.

“So, how have you been?”

She of course wanted to know all the things his dad had, so Micah told her a little of everything about the exams, and alchemy, and Ryan’s family, and the bathhouse. They talked until he had no more news to give and they reached the real reason he had come here.

“I, uhm … I signed the school papers this morning,” Micah said. “Mom, dad, I’m going to Ms. Denner’s school in the Fall.”

Her chest puffed up like she wanted to sigh or say something, but she didn’t. She let it out slowly. “We should probably sit.”

There was an awkward silence as they found themselves in the same seating arrangement as a month ago. His father was the first to speak, with a perpetual frown that reminded him of Ryan. His question surprised him, too. “Do you have armor?”

“I— What?”

“Armor? To keep you safe.”

“Yes, dad. I have a armor."

"Which kind?"

"A chainmail shirt, limb guards, and thick climbers' clothing. And my potions.”

He nodded. “Good boots?”

Wearing down, Micah thought, but said, “Good boots.” He hadn’t managed to repair the dents in his chainmail either. It was missing a link or two where the fire arrow had hit him and many others were bent. Micah wasn’t sure if he would ever let a Kobold stab him on purpose again.

“What about—”

His wife swatted him. “Of course, he has armor. He’s responsible”—she looked at him—”right?”

Micah nodded. “Right.”

“And Ryan is still watching out for you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

His dad leaned forward. “About that Ryan—”

“Whatever you have to say, don’t,” Micah interrupted him, bristling. “You’ve … He saved my life, he’s my friend, and you’ve treated him like trash. And you punched his dad. Just don’t say anything.”

His dad didn’t look angry, just resigned. He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Fair enough. If you’ll stand up for him, that’s good enough for me.”

Micah let out a shaky breath. Of course he would stand up for him.

“Now, what about weapons?”

“The school—” Micah started at the same time as his mom said, “The school has weapons.”

He felt the irrational urge to say, Jinxed.

“They have practice weaponry,” his mom went on, “actual weapons, and first-year armors they are obligated to offer the students for every Tower excursion. They’re bound by the middle-grade healing potion agreement. Thanks to their principal, they have a library connected to the Registry and enough spellcraft learning material to rival some of the more renowned mage schools in the city.”

Her tone was derisive. It didn’t make it sound out to be praise, but her words definitely were. That surprised Micah.

“This is the school I’ve been trying to shut down for the last five years, dear,” she said. “Believe me, they’ve somehow managed to fulfill all of the requirements. If there is a climber’s school I would want my son to go to”—she looked at him—”which, of course, there is none—it would be this one.”

His dad huffed.

Micah smiled a little. “Thank you, mom.”

She looked at him. “Don’t thank me. Praise where praise is due. But make no mistake, your attendance there will have no impact on how my colleagues and I will treat that school.”

He blanched a little. “Wait, what?”

She looked at him. “You don’t think the school is in the clear just because they fulfilled all of the initial requirements, did you? The city will, of course, be keeping a close eye on it for the next few years to catch any mistakes.”

“You want to shut down the school I’m going to?”

She shook her head. “This has nothing to do with you, son. It’s my job. I have to make sure there’s someone there to make reports on it.”

Micah frowned and thought it over for a moment before he crossed his arms and leaned back, mirroring his dad. “Fair enough.” Then he would just have to make sure there were no mistakes for that person to catch.

His mom barked a laugh and his dad suddenly looked awkward about his son copying him.

It almost made Micah smile.

The man uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. Micah was tempted to keep up the charade, but listened instead. “Did you read the magazine excerpts I left for you?”

“Yes. They were … interesting.”

“Good. Because you need to know, Micah—skipping grades is hard. Even if it weren’t a climber school, if you ever feel like the pressure is too much, if you start sacrificing health for your studies, or you ever change your mind, want to quit and do something else, you can, do you understand?”

Micah frowned. He hadn’t expected them to try and dissuade him like this. He’d thought there might be more shouting, or angry silence, that they might kick him out, or demand an apology, but …

He forced the thought aside. Even if they were nice about it, he had made up his mind already. He didn’t answer.

“You’re young,” his dad still insisted. “You could do two years and then switch to another school, you know? You could also do two and then start over or— Well, some of the medical schools in the pamphlets I gave you would require you to start over, but that would be fine as well. You could even go back to classroom or we could hire a tutor for you if you feel like you missed out on something, Micah. Just— I know you get it from the both of us, son, but don’t be too stubborn.”

Micah clenched his jaw. Why was his dad talking to him about stubbornness? That just seemed hypocritical. For a moment, Micah just wanted to point that out and that he’d become a climber forever just to spite them, but … he couldn’t. It wasn’t like his dad was wrong.

He sighed. “Alright. I mean … I’ve been thinking about it myself.”

He jumped on it. “What? Backing out?”

“No!” Micah snapped. “Not that. I mean, I thought I could do two or three years and then try to get my alchemy license. Even if I don’t open a shop, just, you know, so I can have it?”

When he looked back up, both of his parents were smiling.

“You do that,” his dad told him.

They probably thought they had won, that Micah would quit climbing after just two years and settle as an [Alchemist], but … Micah didn’t disagree with them. If they wanted to think that, he would let them. It might turn out to be true, after all. So for now, he just said, “Thank you.”

The school campus was expansive in the same way that the mess from a sloshed-over bowl of soup was. A third of the buildings were technically off-campus. The “true campus” was comprised of a cluster of five buildings set against the far-stretching structure of the Climber’s Guild, built along the wall. The Guild itself housed another third of the facilities.

It stood closer to the Southwestern portal of the Tower than the Western one, the only reason why the exams had taken place at the latter being Ameryth’s former position within that branch.

Three of the five buildings formed a loose courtyard, equally rectangular and open at the edges. The bottom horizontal structure overshot to the Northwest, almost intersecting with one of the other two buildings that were tacked on like the parallel afterthoughts that they were.

Smaller buildings dotted the spaces in between. Mostly supply sheds, though one housed a few classrooms and another apparently had an indoors archery range, for those among them that used bow and arrows.

Micah wondered if Ryan would sign up for archery training. He was a [Scout] now. Wasn’t knowing how to use a bow mandatory? But they had time before they had to choose electives. According to the papers, they would have to go through something called “Boot Camp” first, some kind of basic training, so Micah guessed Ryan had time to decide.

The central block formed by the buildings and the extension of the Climber’s Guild housed most of the classrooms, staff rooms, cafeteria, libraries, as well as five of the gymnasia. Stretching out to the Northwest and Southeast of the main block in the Guild were the boy and girl main dormitories, respectively.

The boy’s second dorm was connected to the first by an open hallway or bridge. It was being used even though only five-hundred and twenty of the possible one thousand three hundred or so odd beds would be filled this year. Forty percent. That would make for a lot of empty rooms and classrooms, Micah thought.

So why then, if sixty percent of the rooms weren’t filled, did he and Ryan not only have to be in separate rooms, but in entirely separate dorms? Sorting people by age was stupid.

Ryan was in the old dorm, the recently renovated barracks of and in the Climber’s Guild. Micah was in the new, hastily built one, the left of the two afterthoughts. In the Winter, he’d have to cross the bridge through the cold to hang out with him.

“This sucks,” Micah said as he set his duffel bag on his new bed. His backpack followed. His alchemy chest—the last of his three belongings—waited at home for trip number two.

Ryan didn’t say anything, but Micah knew he agreed with him. He had complained about not wanting to share a room with a bunch of strangers, once. Now, he would have to do it for a year.

“What are you talking about? This room is great,” David cheered, walking up to peer out the window.

The view showed the left school building, street, and green in between. Micah had to begrudgingly agree, the building looked pretty cool. Something about massive, old stone seemed classy. That Ameryth had renovated them inside and out made that even more apparent.

“Great” might have been a stretch, though. Not that his room was bad, but it wasn’t great. There were four beds, one with luggage but no owner, the others unclaimed. That was fine.

Micah had staked his claim on the back right one, next to the window and where he would have a little more privacy. He could see the workshop windows, too. A reminder.

One-and-a-half-person-wide desks stood next to each bed. Empty drawers, chair, small shelves with book racks on top. They looked barren, just like the unmade beds. Functional wardrobes stood in each corner with drawers below, narrow spaces for hanging things on one side, shelves on the other. They had two windows, which was a luxury. There was a bit of breathing room under the beds. Probably not enough to hide under without squeezing, but enough to use as storage.

The aisles in between each of them were one and a half people wide, narrower if any of them kept things there, which, of course, they would. One tall mirror on the wall next to the door. The lamps were pretty cool. It was nice. It was. There just … wasn’t a lot of space.

Micah sat on his bed and looked around. He could hop from one bed to another, probably even walk if he stretched far enough.

“This sucks,” he repeated, though his heart wasn’t in it. He got back up and decided, “Let’s go see your rooms, Ryan.”

“Are you going to leave your things here?” David asked him.

Micah glanced back at his duffel and backpack. Was there anything he needed? He grabbed the latter, just in case. It had his money, papers, and essentials inside. That was worth carrying everything else.

“And the duffel?”

“I’ll leave it here.” He gestured at the bed opposite him. “That guy left his stuff here. Plus, the woman gave me a key earlier.” He searched his pocket until he found it and held it up. “I can lock the door on our way out.”

“Aren’t you worried about someone messing with your stuff?”

“Messing?”

“Stealing. Breaking. Dumping … Sewer water over it,” David clarified. “That kind of stuff.”

“Oh. I’ll break their wrists,” Micah said.

“Wow! Hey. Where did that come from?”

He smiled. “I was just joking.”

“It didn’t sound like you were just joking. No breaking your roommates wrists, do you hear me, kiddo?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Roommates,” Ryan spoke up. “They’re his roommates, dad. He’s going to have to spend a year with them. They won’t mess with his stuff.”

He shook a hand. “Ehh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that. But if they do ...?”

“Everything except wrists,” Micah said just before Ryan’s earnest, “We’ll take care of it.”

David blinked. “You go to the teachers,” he said as they filed out of the room. “That was the answer you were supposed to give, just in case you were wondering. Not that I’m not glad you two can take care of yourselves, but jeez, you’re moving into dorms, not a prison. You need to relax a little.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Micah reminded. He locked the door on his way out and lightened Ryan of his travel sack as the other guy lead the way through the doors, across the bridge, and into a large stairwell.

One floor down, but not quite on ground floor, they took a left, to the edge of true campus, closer to Westhill, and into a broad hallway that seemed somehow out-of-place in the Guild building. Micah quickly realized it was just as broad as the other hallways; the display cases, ferns, and chairs to each side were just missing to make it seem smaller. A thick carpet still ran down the middle.

There were more people out and about, here. Families and teenagers mingling in the hall near open doors. People coming in and out, the tell-tale maps and bags in hand. Ryan’s room was the second on the right and again, nobody was there, but someone had staked his claim on the far right bed already.

“Is this is it?” Micah asked him.

“Yeah. It should be,” Ryan said, checking again. His key fit in the lock, so there was that.

The biggest difference were the lack of windows and larger space. Metal grates near the ceilings were meant to take care of ventilation. Instead of four, there were six beds. They were larger themselves, with proper wooden frames, posts, and slightly more height.

Even the wardrobes looked older, in a good way. Their wood was carved, smooth, treated. Their wood essence was just as awesome.

Completely ignoring the downsides of not having a window, Micah immediately liked this room more. He followed Ryan to the middle-right bed, set the sack on top, and crouched, asking, “Are the mattresses even bigger? I feel like they’re bigger.”

“They’re a bit bigger,” David agreed. “Makes sense, since these are for the older kids.”

Micah pressed a hand against one and there was a little bit of give before tension. “You could sink into these.”

Ryan sat down and shrugged, then looked around. He didn’t seem entirely happy either. A lot of people didn’t, beneath the excitement.

“This is so unfair,” Micah told him. “I want a bigger bed, too.”

“It’s only ten centimeters, Micah,” Ryan told him.

“Heh, that’s what she said,” someone commented on their way in. “Oh hey, it’s the awkward kid.”

Micah spun around. He recognized the guy who had spoken. Light hair and a smile, he was one of the two guys who had been in line during the entrance exam. The other had been … Jason? Was that his name? But this one …

“Hey, it’s … you!”

“It’s me!” he echoed on his way to the far left of the room. “Jeremy!”

“Right! Jeremy!” Micah said.

Did that sound right?

He put his luggage on the bed and smiled. “My name isn’t Jeremy.”

“Oh?” Micah felt his face heating up. “I know your friend is Jason. I’m sorry, I didn’t remember your name.”

“Alex,” he said, offering a hand to shake. “And we’re more of … acquaintances, really.”

“Micah,” he introduced himself. “Oh, sorry. I just thought—”

“It’s fine. So, did you succeed during the exam or do you have to pay me that silver coin we bet on?”

Micah squinted and kept on shaking his hand. “Pretty sure we didn’t bet on anything.”

“But not entirely sure?”

He grinned. “Doesn’t matter. I made it.”

“How so?”

“I found a new species of Kobold in the Tower and brought it back alive,” Micah told him. “I even got an award for it.”

“Shut the front door,” Alex told him. “You did not.”

“I kind of did?”

“Do you have proof or something? Jason would love to hear this if it’s true.”

“Oh, I … I actually did bring the reward,” Micah remembered, glad David had told him to bring his backpack along. He slung it around and searched for a moment until he found the envelope, then gently slipped the paper out, using two hands as to not crease any of the edges.

Aley took a step forward to take it and Micah snatched it away. “No touching. It’s delicate.”

“Dude,” he said. “C'mon? I just want to hold it.”

“Heh,” Micah countered. “That’s what she said.”

“Micah,” Ryan hissed and Alex reluctantly smiled, squinting at Micah a little like he wanted to box his head for that.

“What?” Micah protested. “I have ears. The last time I had a good comeback you praised me for it.”

“Oh, so this my fault?”

He grinned. “Yeah. You’re the bad influence.”

“Hey there, Bad Influence,” David called. “I’m going to go meet up with your mother, tell her we found your room. Meet up in a bit?”

“Sure. Thanks dad.”

“Have fun.”

The moment he was gone, Alex repeated. “So can I see?”

Micah squinted himself. He seemed trustworthy enough. But still— “No. Sorry, but no. I don’t know you.”

“Oh, I’m Alex.” He put on a smile. “I’m fifteen, sixteen soon. I like slaying monsters and long walks in the park. Now can I see?”

Micah almost laughed. “It doesn’t work like that. Here, you can look without taking it, right?”

He rolled his eyes and leaned forward a bit to read it, though there wasn’t much to see. “Firescale Kobold,” he mumbled and looked up. “So you really were the one who discovered them?”

Micah smiled. “Yeah. You know about them?”

He nodded. “Everyone does. I’ve fought one.”

“You have?” Micah jerked a thumb back at Ryan, incredulous. “How? We’ve been searching for another Kobold for weeks and never found one.”

They had done it to earn money since the treasure chests Micah had gotten from both Kobolds had been invaluable, but the monsters were rare. They hadn’t found a single one. It didn’t help that the Salamander’s Den was overcrowded nowadays. Most people used the same three entrances—through the Wolves’ Den, Dripping Teeth, or an excavated collapse in the Fields—which landed them in the same general area. There were much fewer monsters around because of it.

Half the time, they spent backtracking Ryan’s trip through the Tower instead, looking for his wristwatch while baiting hordes of monsters to earn money. The others both said the scouting around might help Ryan level, too.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were just short,” Alex said, glancing Ryan up and down. “You’re visiting him?”

“Yeah. This is …”

“Ryan,” he introduced himself, taking a step forward to shake hands.

“Alexander.”

“You’ve fought a Kobold?” Ryan asked him.

“Yes. Just last week,” he spoke. “On Sunday? It might have been Saturday, it gets hard to track time of days in the Tower. But it scattered flame caltrops all over the ground. Annoying, that. How did you deal with those?”

Micah frowned. Flame caltrops? He hadn’t known about those. He wasn’t quite sure how he would have fared against them either and didn’t like the idea at all. “I didn’t,” he answered. “Mine just fired these homing flame arrows at me.”

Much easier, he thought.

“Ah.” Alex nodded. “So they really do have different spells. I’ve heard a report of one casting a ward against fire as well.”

Micah had heard of that, too. He’d wondered if it was the same ward that had kept the fireball at bay, back then. Somehow, he doubted it. “Did yours have a treasure chest?” he asked, switching topics. “Did you get something good from it?”

He nodded. “Very good. A middle-grade healing potion specialized in burn wounds, an enchanted lighter that I haven’t figured out yet, and a mana ring.”

Micah’s eyes went wide. That was almost the same as what he had gotten from his first treasure chest. Except he had gotten a patterned crystal instead of the lighter … and a pillow case.

“Congrats,” he said.

“Seems like you’re legit,” Alex said, heading back to his things. He began to search around for and stuffing his pockets. “You should tell Jason that sometime. He’d love the story. But I’m going to take off, now. Are you staying?”

Ryan shook his head. “For a moment. Then we’re out.”

“Lock the door when you leave … roomie.” He frowned, but shook it off. And as if remembering something, he stopped halfway out and pointed. “Oh, and if any of you touch my stuff, I’ll kill you.”

Micah grinned. “Sure.”

See, David, he thought. Ryan and him were pretty normal.

He raised a hand in a backwards salute and Micah said he'd see him later.

Ryan just frowned as the other guy headed out. That was one of his five roommates, apparently. After a second, he sighed and looked at him. “Tour?”

“Tour,” Micah agreed. They had done some light exploration of the campus before the interviews, but he wanted to see more. The school was offering a tour in twenty minutes. Everyone else would also be there, too. His sister, Noelle, and Lisa, who was apparently not allowed in the guy dorms.

As they headed out of the room, Micah let out a heavy breath and looked around, at the hallway, the stairwell, the people passing by. He guessed this was his school, now.