The corridor outside the homeroom smelled of chalk dust, ink, and the faint, bitter tang of æsther runes scorched into ancient stones. It was an old hall — older than any of them, older than the towers that now scraped the sky outside its windows. Maybe even older than some of the families who'd sent their children here for generations.
Inside, the benches creaked under the restless weight of twenty-five tiny bodies. Kaiden, Rio, Nerim, Peggy, and Irna squeezed together in the third row from the front. Behind them, a knot of Dawnseeker kids sniffed at the floorboards and muttered about mold. Up front, a neat line of Skyward students sat stiff as statues, polished boots tucked behind perfectly aligned chair legs. Off to one side, the two Seraphin Blade kids idly curled hand weights, half-watching the rune-lamp's swing.
The room stayed hushed except for the soft ticking of that old rune-lamp above the big slate. Its glass was webbed with hairline cracks, casting shifting shadows over the map pinned to the wall — deep channels, tunnels, veins branching like roots through ancient rock.
Mrs. Maiven stood at the front, her chalk tapping lightly against her palm. Her hair shimmered like frost under the lamp — a crown of silvery threads that drifted when she moved.
Her eyes — pale, unreadable, like a frozen lake — found them one by one.
She tapped the slate once. A word flared into view, rune-bound and harsh: DUNGEONEERING.
Rio leaned sideways, stage-whispering into Kaiden's ear.
[ Rio ]
"Bet we get to fight a troll today."
[ Nerim (hissing) ]
"Trolls don't live in shallow Veins, rootbrain."
[ Peggy (flat) ]
"Quiet."
A single glance from Mrs. Maiven snapped every mouth shut. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to.
[ Mrs. Maiven ]
"'Dungeon.'"
"A word older than this academy."
"Older than any guild crest stitched on your vests."
"Older than any city you've ever called home."
The air felt thick. Chalk dust settled like pollen over the runes.
"Who can tell me what a dungeon really is?"
Nari Aeolian's braid snapped up like a banner as her hand shot high. Skyward's top seedling — no surprise.
[ Mrs. Maiven ]
"Yes, Ms. Aeolian?"
[ Nari ]
"Technically, they were prisons first. Built to keep monsters or secrets sealed away."
"Now we delve them to harvest æsther ores and relics — pieces of the old world."
"And maybe…"
She hesitated, eyes bright with that too-big hope Skyward drilled into their sprouts.
"…the legend says there's a Tree of Life buried at the bottom of the deepest Vein. If found, it could make you live forever."
A hush stretched long as her words sank in. Even the Seraphin kids paused their curls, weights dangling like fruit off a branch.
Mrs. Maiven's lips twitched — not quite a smile, more a crack in a weathered cliff.
[ Mrs. Maiven ]
"Well done, Nari."
"But don't let legends grow too heavy in your heads."
"Most delvers come back with ore dust, not immortality."
Giggles rippled through the benches. Nerim rolled his eyes, leaning toward Rio.
[ Nerim (whisper) ]
"Show-off."
[ Rio (whisper back) ]
"What'd you expect? Arcanum always has a scroll up their sleeve."
Peggy jabbed them both with an elbow.
[ Peggy ]
"Shush. Listen."
Mrs. Maiven's boots tapped softly as she stepped to the rune-map, her pointer tracing each crest at the top: Ironroot's hammer, Skyward's star, Dawnseeker's lantern, Seraphin Blade's dagger.
[ Mrs. Maiven ]
"You all wear a guild crest now."
"But what does your guild want down there?"
"Skyward wants new maps — untouched tunnels, hidden routes."
"Ironroot wants ores and seed-ore to keep our city alive."
"Dawnseeker wants old lanterns — lights to guide lost souls."
"Seraphin wants the blades buried in tombs too deep for the sun."
She tapped the veins etched into the mural.
"Every delve risks the Void slipping through."
"Creatures that don't belong to flesh alone."
"Things that never die quite right."
Rio's hand shot up so fast he nearly fell over.
[ Rio ]
"Are they… ghosts? They're ghosts, aren't they?"
"Can they follow you home?"
"Wait — they can't leave the dungeon, right?"
"Right?!"
He clamped a hand over his own mouth, cheeks pink. A Dawnseeker kid stifled a laugh.
Mrs. Maiven let the giggles fade before she spoke. Her eyes stayed steady, soft in their way.
[ Mrs. Maiven ]
"Fear is good, Rio."
"Fear makes you cautious."
"But a dungeon does not chase you."
"It just… remembers you."
"And if you listen, it will tell you what it holds — and what it wants back."
Kaiden's eyes drifted to the veins drawn on the map. They looked like roots twisting under stone. Familiar, in the same quiet way his grandfather's old boots were — always dusted with ore and stories nobody believed.
Mrs. Maiven's pale gaze found him, as if reading the weight behind his stare.
[ Mrs. Maiven ]
"Yes, Kaiden?"
"You look like the walls whispered something."
Kaiden's throat bobbed. He felt the hush of the class sink into his bones — the hush of a cavern before the pick strikes.
[ Kaiden ]
"Dungeons are where the world keeps…"
"Memories."
"Like tree rings."
"Some memories turn into monsters."
"Some stay just shadows."
"But they're all worth seeing."
"Or else we forget what matters."
Silence. Even Nari didn't breathe for a heartbeat.
Mrs. Maiven's head tilted slightly. A crack of warmth flickered in her frozen-lake eyes.
[ Mrs. Maiven ]
"Well said, Kaiden."
"You look for the roots under the stone."
"Any chance you're kin to Niklaus Stagin?"
Kaiden's hand twitched on his desk.
[ Kaiden ]
"Yes, ma'am."
"He's my grandfather."
Her eyes glimmered — only for a moment.
[ * Mrs. Maiven (internally) * ]
"So… you've finally laid your piece, Nik."
"Interesting..."
"I guess it is finally..."
"Time."
She turned to the mural, pointer trailing down the veins.
[ Mrs. Maiven ]
"Today, class…"
"You will take your first step into a dungeon."
"A shallow Vein."
"A simple one."
"But it will remember you."
"And one day, you will remember it back."
Rio nearly bounced off his seat.
[ Rio ]
"Told 'ya we're going to a real dungeon?!"
"Ha! I'm gonna punch a ghost!"
Peggy flicked his ear.
[ Peggy ]
"You'll punch the air and cry."
Nerim shivered, but he didn't look away.
A hush settled again — warm, buzzing, alive. The hush of roots pushing into stone.
[ * Mrs. Maiven (internally) * ]
"Roots run deep, Stagin boy."
"Let's see if yours survive the dark."