Alec had an easier time falling asleep that night than he would have expected. He did not linger in the common area with the rest of his Dorm-mates, but simply ventured alone to the large, lavish Hades bathrooms, took a quick shower, and returned to his room where he met the other two occupants, Jonah Williams, a lanky blond boy, and Zachariah Bentley, a portly, be-freckled youth with short, wiry hair, and threw himself into bed. He had lain there for a few minutes, his eyes on the underside of Zachariah’s bunk, thinking about Wildfire, and Damon Messus, and Hartley’s words of luck. And then his eyes fluttered shut, and he drifted off.

He was roused in the early hours of the morning by the sound of the other boys bustling around in the room, talking in loud, excited voices about the official first day of term.

“Come on!” Javon said eagerly, shaking him in bed. “Breakfast; if we're late there won't be any of the good stuff left!”

He bounded out of the room towards the showers, and Alec followed him, trailing his feet groggily. He livened up a little more as the warm water caressed his sleep-tensed skin, and by the time he had arrived back in his room to pull on his uniform, he felt completely awake.

“Where are we headed now?” Alec asked Javon as they swept downstairs, passing numerous students in the halls, all of whom were either returning from the bathrooms or heading downstairs, already fully clothed and wearing irritable, early-morning expressions.

“Breakfast first, then we get our timetables, and we see the rest,” Javon said.

Just as they had the previous day, the three Dorms lined up and marched towards the canteen, where they once again were allowed to fill their own trays with their preferred meals from several long silver tables laden with dozens of succulent-looking options positioned along the walls. Alec chose a stack of toast, three fried eggs, a few sausages, and a small soda from the freezer.

“Not hungry?” Javon asked as he sat down beside Alec with his own tray piled as heavily as though he had chosen a meal for seven. “Last night you were all in on the table. What's wrong now?”

“Nothing, I . . . I just can't understand why I picked a fight with that boy last night,” Alec said, his eyes on his toast. “I didn't want to, I was just going to let him take it and be done with it, but it was like . . .”

“Like you weren't in control of yourself?” Javon finished for him, raising his eyebrows as he paused in the act of thrusting a slice of his own toast whole into his mouth.

“Yes! Just like that! Hey — do you think —?” But his question was cut short as their third teammate, Ethan Buckley, dropped into the seat beside him. He was a rather skinny boy, with thick, dark eyebrows, wavy black hair, and grey eyes that twinkled rather mischievously.

“What's up?” he said, nodding to both Alec and Javon. Javon tried to return the greeting, but unfortunately he had just stuffed the toast into his mouth and now started to choke; Alec merely inclined his head as he absently thumped Javon on the back, still lost in thought. “So you're my squad-mates, eh? Ethan,” he continued.

“Alec,” Alec said.

“Javon,” rasped Javon, still massaging his throat.

Alec shook his head and turned back to his meal, piling the eggs onto the toast. “So where's the other girl, Maddison?” he wondered aloud.

“Off sulking somewhere, I expect,” Ethan said indifferently. He plunged a roll into his bowl of porridge and then ripped off a large piece with his teeth.

“Sulking? Why?”

“She's been doing it ever since we were streamed,” Javon said. “Doesn't talk to anyone, always frowning. Hates being in Hades, if you ask me.”

“But why?” said Alec again.

Ethan snorted. “Why not? Girl like her, in here? I'd be pissed too, if it were me.”

Javon caught Alec’s bemused look and explained, “See, we were all assessed in front of each other. You would have seen the benches when you were supposed to catch the ball, that's where everyone else sat while someone was being tested. It was mortifying; imagine messing up those simple tasks in front of the entire first year?”

It was Alec’s turn to choke. He remembered all too well how he himself had done poorly, and as he felt a dull flush creeping up his neck, he found himself quite glad that he had been so late to school.

“Anyway, she, Maddison, was almost perfect. Did the laps in good time, lifted the slabs easily, went almost three minutes in the pressurizer, and caught the ball before the hourglass went halfway, didn't even need to use her powers. I was sure she'd be in Zeus. Everyone was. But then she ended up here with us. No wonder she's mad.”

“But why is she?” Here it was again, the implication that being in the Hades Dorm was not quite as fulfilling as being streamed into the other two.

“Who wouldn't be?” Ethan said impatiently. “Are you seriously telling me you haven't figured it out yet? Most of us did the moment we heard the Dorm names. Here, take a look at Zeus, what do you see?”

Alec, confused as he was, peered over at the Zeus table nonetheless. Damon Messus jumped into his line of vision immediately, devouring a large chicken leg. He seemed to have calmed down since last night, which Alec noted with a hint of relief. His eyes continued to rove around the white-and-gold-draped table, and he now saw that nearly everyone there was built along the same lines as Damon: tall, sturdy, athletic-looking, and, Alec registered almost as an aside, reasonably attractive.

“Now look at Poseidon.”

His eyes drifted again. The Poseidon students were not as imposing as the Zeus’s, shorter, smaller, and less striking visually, but quite impressive-looking in their own right.

“And circle back to Hades.”

Alec’s eyes fell upon his peers. They were unquestionably the shortest, smallest, and oddest-looking of the bunch, even among the older students.

“What do you think the tests are for? They log your basic physical prowess, and your powers, if you show any, and stream you based on what they see overall. The most impressive goes to Zeus, Ruler of the Gods; the mediocre-average go to Poseidon, the middle brother, less revered, but still quite admirable; and” — he gave a wide grin — “Hades, as always, gets the shortest straw — the hopeless saps.”

The horrible truth seemed to sink into Alec like a stone through water. It was as he had initially suspected, and feared: the school viewed their charges as the Greeks did their patrons.

“Of course, they'll tell you otherwise,” Ethan plowed on carelessly. “But it's obvious from the way they treat us, and hey — even heroes lie. Doesn't matter to me, though, long as I don't have to go back home for the next few months I couldn't care less if I lived in a dumpster. But you can understand now why Maddy’s not too happy. See you in class, boys.” He winked, got up, and strode away, leaving his scrap-laden tray and a disgruntled silence behind.

Alec looked at Javon; he did not look offended, or surprised, in the slightest by the knowledge that he had supposedly been chosen amongst the worst of the worst for the Hades Dorm. On the contrary, he shrugged in a gloomy sort of way and returned to his meal, though he ate with slightly less enthusiasm now. Alec pushed his barely touched tray away, feeling the beginnings of shame and anger. Of course it would be like this, he told himself. What had he expected, to begin his career at Helix as a top student when he had only discovered his powers three days ago?

A Hades prefect came round minutes later handing timetables to first-years. When Javon took his, he seized his tray, stood, and said, “Well, let's go then.”

Alec followed, feeling thoroughly downcast. But as they trailed along the corridor leading to their first class, all thought of the placement system at Helix was driven squarely out of his mind as Javon informed Alec where they were headed.

Their first class, according to the timetable, which Alec had barely looked at in his preoccupation, was Weapons and Equipment. There was a buzz of excitement issuing from the queue of students as they waited outside, which turned into a positive cacophony of awe as the door swung open and they entered the massive, glistening, silver-walled Armoury, where a dozen crates was lined up before them, each containing all kinds of blasters, rays, gauntlets, and throwing contraptions, among many others.

Their teacher, Professor Sheilds, a tall, stocky, slightly mad-looking man with a mess of untidy silver hair, surveyed them all genially as they crowded around the crates, gazing down at their contents in awe. “Now, now, listen closely, everyone,” he called, after a couple of minutes. “Many of you might have entered Helix with the belief that heroics are solely dependent on — superpowers,” he said, with a hint of disdain in his voice. “But I can assure you, quite a few of the most prominent superheroes of our time and past did not have what some may call today, ‘front-line abilities,’ or indeed, any abilities at all.

“Many of them had to focus only on their wits, or simple physical prowess. I, however, am here to teach you about — these.” There was a rather dangerous glint in his eyes that Alec did not quite like as he gestured down at the enormous crates.

“By the end of this term, it is required, among other things that will be revealed to you in time, that each of you should be able to satisfactorily operate any three of these weapons and gadgets, know their mechanics inside and out, and be able to pull them apart and reassemble them without guides in a set time limit, along with the task of creating equipment of your own. Those initial three weapons will be yours to choose — right now.”

There was a great scrambling as the tide of black-and-bronze swarmed towards the boxes, clamoring for anything good. In the end, Alec settled on a metallic sphere rather like the cubes he had faced during his assessment, which, according to the tags taped upon it, emitted a burst of light when activated that shrunk anything it came in contact with and subsequently sealed it inside the sphere; a ray gun that neutralized the passage of kinetic energy and ceased all motion; and a small, keychain-like forcefield generator.

They spent most of the period listening to Professor Sheilds as he explained the histories of the objects that they had chosen (apparently Alec’s forcefield generator had been ripped from the exosuit of an old villain who destroyed three towns before a heroine named The Grey Wailer had stopped him; he had a strong urge to toss it away afterwards), and allowed the students the remaining fifteen minutes of the lesson to get acquainted with their choices, so that when the bell finally rang, the class exited wincing, sizzling, or limping, but all smiling.

Their next lesson was Computer Science, but it was Computer Science as Alec had never known it. This class, which was shared with different members of the other two Dorms, took place in the vast Computer Lab, where they all had to sit before enormous, extremely advanced-looking mainframes and learn about different forms of coding, along with things like cracking electronic locks and safeguards.

This seemed much more of a villain-y thing to do, in Alec’s opinion, but he didn't have much time to reflect on this as the teacher, Professor Laylor, a tall, slim woman with sharp eyes and dark hair drawn into a haughty bun, now took to walking around the class, handing out small disks to each student, and by tapping a button on her own screen, summoned a simple code on every other, to be unlocked before the timer on the disks ran out. When asked what would happen if they failed, she did not answer, but merely let out a rather maniacal-sounding laugh and told them to get to work.

Maddison was done within six of the ten minutes, and so, to Alec’s slight surprise, was Ethan. Something about Ethan bothered Alec, he thought, as his fingers flashed absently away at the keys, though he couldn't figure out what. . . .

Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Huh? What —” Alec jerked out of his reverie and looked down in horror; the allotted time to deal with the disks had run out, and the object was flashing menacingly. Before Alec could think what to do, a tiny compartment slid open on the disk and a thick, green, foul-smelling gas spurted out, blasting him a face-ful. Several more beeping sounds went off around him, and from the ensuing shrieks and cries of disgust, Alec knew that several people had fallen victim to their disks as well.

“Well now, we'll just have to work faster next time, won't we?” said Professor Laylor sweetly. And one by one she called the class up to her desk, where she sprayed them with a counter for the gas.

Lunch followed this lesson, and Alec found, as he was stuffing pieces of fried chicken into his mouth, that he was actually enjoying the day. He glanced down at his schedule again: their final lesson for the day was Health Class, though there was a curious, unlabelled section that hovered between Health and the rest of the evening.

Health Class was their tamest lesson of the day; they did nothing more than learn about different minerals that certain villains may sometimes use to create different poisons, and the antidotes which the Hero League had developed for them, and how to perform basic first aid.

“Where are we headed now?” Alec asked Javon as they swept out of the classroom, which was on a second floor block.

“To meet Wildfire,” Javon responded; Alec noted that he didn't sound too keen on the prospect of interacting with their squad leader.

“Yeah — but where?”

“Down by the track field. Poseidon’s got the pool; Zeus has the auditorium. Were you even listening last night?”

“No,” Alec said truthfully.

Javon eyed him shrewdly. “Yeah, didn't think so. Damon Messus and all. But cheer up!” he said brightly, clapping a hand on Alec’s back. “I'm sure whatever happens today will drive the memory of last night out of both your heads!”

But Alec wasn't so certain; he had seen Damon Messus’s type in the freshman year of his old high school: ruggedly good-looking, athletic, popular. Now, in a school of superhumans, Alec would assume that Damon had only the most extraordinary powers, and a good degree of control — a superpowered jock who hates me, he thought miserably.

The wire-gates of the track field loomed into view soon enough, and they pushed through and trotted down to the enormous field with the rest of the Dorm. It looked like a regular field, but given what he had seen in the inspectors’ room, he couldn't be so sure.

Most of his first-year Dorm-mates were already there, crowding around their squad leaders. They spotted Wildfire moments after they arrived on the pitch, dressed, as were the other leaders, in the bright blue-and-white staff uniform, and headed towards him. His light blue eyes veered in their direction as he caught sight of them, and lingered on Alec as they advanced.

“Thought you might be here,” he said, when they had halted before him, surveying Alec intently. “Alexander, was it?”

“Yes, but I thought you were supposed to be in recovery —”

A flicker of irritation crossed the hero's face. “Recovery, that's what they wanted, my superiors,” he scoffed. “Keep me in some ward reading stupid magazines while criminals run around outside my door? No thanks. I kept pushing back until they decided that, instead of leaving me in my hospital room, I'd take up a position here. Wasn't much, but it's better than lying down like a wounded dog.”

“So you didn't even want to be here?” Javon asked, a strain of incredulity in his voice.

Wildfire was spared answering by the arrival of their only female teammate, Maddison Smith, marching across the field towards them, looking quite as bad-tempered as the other two. She came to a halt beside them without so much as a greeting, and glared at everyone.

“That makes three,” Wildfire murmured distractedly. “So where's . . . ah.”

Javon, Maddison, and Alec wheeled around. Ethan was ambling over to them, hands in his pockets, looking quite at his ease.

“Hurry up, will you, we've got things to do!” Wildfire shouted.

Ethan rolled his eyes, but quickened his pace, though only lightly. When he arrived, he smirked at the other three, then turned back to Wildfire.

"So what are we going to do now?" Alec asked.

Wildfire gave them a crooked grin. “You'll see. Now follow me.” He turned and began to stride across the field, in the direction of the forest. Alec, Javon, Maddison, and Ethan exchanged curious looks, then lumbered after him. He was indeed heading towards the forest, and though it was out-of-bounds — or so Alec thought it was, he had never really paid attention to Mrs. Lewis’s speech — Wildfire had soon slipped into the thicket of branches.

They followed him deeper into the woods, to a small clearing overlooking the glittering sea bordering the land. They could no longer see the track field, or hear any of the other students, and it was then that Wildfire turned to face them. “All right, let me see what you can do,” he said abruptly.

“What?” Javon said, clearly taken aback.

“As your squad leader, it's my duty to ensure that the four of you can work together as a team, and part of that is using your varying skillsets — including your powers — to complement one another. So, I want to see your abilities, and I also want to hear about your other skills.”

He looked at them expectantly, but nobody answered. Javon looked, as he had when Alec had asked him yesterday, uncomfortable, Ethan indifferent, and Maddison was still scowling at the hero. Alec, however, was thinking. What *was* he could at? Running was, of course, out of the question, nor was he particularly strong — and his powers? What was he to do, pelt Wildfire with a shower of pebbles?

“Nothing?” said Wildfire impatiently. His eyes lingered once again on Alec for a moment, then he suddenly smiled, a wide, evil-looking gesture. “Very well, then,” he said, his voice suddenly deep and formal — it was the same voice Alec had heard him use during interviews on television. “If you won't show me of your own accord —”

They had barely a second's warning; he flung out his right arm and a plume of fire burst from his hand, spraying the ground between them. The fire blazed in front of them, heat rolling over them in waves. Alec stumbled backwards and toppled over with a yell of pain and shock. He pushed himself to his feet as quickly as he could, and looked around. Javon and Ethan were farther out to his left, looking incredulous, while Maddison had taken off to the right, her face a mask of fury.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ethan demanded.

“Language, Mr. Buckley,” Wildfire said, still in that same calm, superhero’s voice. “We're in the middle of your combat training. If you don't wish to show me your merits on your own, I'll simply have to force you to, won't I?”

“You're insane! You just got out of the hospital!”

“And that should be the least of your worries!” Wildfire snapped, with an abrupt return to his earlier manner. He lashed out again, and a long, thick rope of fire flew from his hands. Ethan leapt aside and rolled sideways, but as Javon made to dodge, the flame curled itself around his knee and Wildfire hauled on the other end. Javon was pulled off his feet with a scream and slammed into a nearby tree trunk, sliding limply to the ground.

“Hey!” Alec shouted indignantly, making to dash forward, but next moment his eyes had darted upwards as Maddison went soaring through the air; she landed right in front of the instructor, who surveyed her with amusement, and she stood up, looking fierce.

Maddison placed one hand above her wrist and seemed to pinch her skin. Next moment, what seemed to be one of her own bones came sliding smoothly from her wrist and into her hand, solidifying into a large knife, and she did the same with the other.

“Hoh?” Wildfire said avidly, still plainly excited. “Two can play that game, sweetheart.” And as he flicked his hand, a roaring flame appeared there, ovaline in shape, with pointed ends.

Maddison launched herself at him, slashing furiously. Her limbs moved with grace and speed befitting of a doe, but her ferocity was that of a lion. Wildfire dodged every move she made, though clearly not as easily as he would have made it seem. She pressed harder, so that soon he was forced to retaliate. Bone and flame met in midair, his single unit lashing against her chalk-white blades, so that both wielders were leaping, twirling, spinning, and ducking in a savage, yet oddly beautiful flurry of movement.

Ethan lumbered up beside Alec, his eyes on the dueling pair. And to Alec’s astonishment, Wildfire suddenly froze — completely froze, as though he had lost control of his limbs, as though he had been suddenly paralyzed. His eyes went wide and his flame went dead, and Maddison seized her chance.

She flung herself at him, her expression as hard as the stone beneath their feet. The knife was inches from his chest, ready to sink into his flesh — but then Wildfire drew a great breath, and flames spurted from both his nostrils with explosive force: he might have been a rocket readying for liftoff.

Maddison’s remarkable reflexes, which had so far kept her out of harm’s way, seemed to kick in instantly; her feet skidded across the ground as she tried to stop, but she was too slow. The blast exploded in front of her, and the force sent her soaring away into the trees. When the dust and fire had cleared away at last, Wildfire straightened up, still grinning.

“Oho! A telepath, are you?” he cried genially. He was gazing at Ethan, who was no longer looking carefree, but stunned, and as Wildfire’s words registered in Alec’s mind, realization seemed to dawn on Alec like the rising sun, illuminating the murky marshes of ignorance in his head. “Sorry, son, but I've faced much worse than you," Wildfire continued. "But we can use that, though. Now, what else —”

There was a colossal splintering crash and Wildfire whirled about, shocked. A tree behind him was being torn up by the roots by some immense, invisible force, its trunk splitting from the pressure. Its branches whipped and flailed menacingly as, at last, it broke free from its foundation, and it suddenly shot towards the hero with tremendous speed.

Wildfire raised his hand, all fingers stretched outwards, and wreathed it in flames as he swung it downwards; his hand cleaved through the base like an axe, splitting it in two along its length.

The flaming halves parted around him and soared into the clearing behind him. Alec dove aside for dear life as the tree-spear whipped towards him, fire lapping away at the freshly chopped edge, but he was too slow. The tree grazed him as it passed, and the impact flung him aside. He crashed into a firm trunk nearby, and slid down to the ground, where his hand fell against a cool, smooth-surfaced rock. And suddenly, he could not feel anything anymore. It was as though the pain had vanished, blown out of him by the force of the fall.

He pushed himself to his feet, swaying because he felt suddenly heavier than he had before, and he looked down to see the damage that the tree had caused as it zoomed by. The sight nearly made him pass out.

The flame had caught him as the tree sailed past, and had spread quite a ways up his uniform; as he watched, it danced along his shirt front, devouring the material. But he could not feel it. His skin had turned grey and coarse-looking, as though it had been coated in granite, as though it had been turned to stone.

Alec looked up. Javon, Ethan, and Maddison (who seemed to have recovered as he had risen) were all staring at him, wide-eyed, but Wildfire looked suddenly blank.

He swept his hand through the air, and all the fire, both in the forest around them and on Alec’s uniform, died down at once.

“What is this? What's happening to me?” Alec demanded, terrified.

“It's called Earth Mimicry,” Wildfire said clearly. “From what the assessors told me about you, specifically, and from what I saw that day in the city, you seem to have powers over earthen materials, meaning you're an Elemental. Like —” He paused. “Like me. This particular power will enable you to convert your body into whatever earth-based material you touch. Should come with a few extra perks, too. Don't worry, it'll wear off soon,” he added reassuringly, as Alec felt his face and let out a raspy cry of alarm. “Training is over for now. I should be able to sort out some more advanced development methods for you that we can work on tomorrow. Oh, and uh, kid?” He gestured at Alec’s ruined uniform. “You should probably borrow a shirt; when that Mimicry wears off, you may not be comfortable with what's left to be seen underneath."