Winx, the School of Magic

***

Bright green foliage crowned the many strange trees around them, and white sand framed a perfectly round, crystal-blue lake. A golden road, made of sun-warm grains, trailed into the distance and split into three. And far on the horizon stood a building—so distant it blurred, yet impossible to ignore. Dozens of unusual teenagers and parents milled about. Their clothes, their skin tones, their hair—every shade imaginable. Voices shimmered through the air in an orchestra of unfamiliar languages. Students and their guardians moved calmly, barely paying attention to anyone else. Only three stood frozen in absolute shock: Bloom, in a red hoodie and wide blue jeans; Michele, in a black turtleneck, blue jeans, and a well-worn firefighter’s jacket; and Violet, in a yellow shirt and blue overalls. Their simple, earthly clothes made them stand out sharply among the dazzling crowd. After several long minutes of stunned silence, Bloom blinked hard and turned to Saran, wordlessly demanding answers. The blond, who had been casually filing his immaculate sharp nails with a mysterious little nail file, pocketed it, smiled, and said: “Shall we go? We need to hurry if we want to get the new passes.” Not understanding a single word of this but unwilling to argue, the Jackson family nodded. With a soft chuckle, Saran turned and descended from the hilltop. The others followed, beginning their strange journey toward Alfea.

***

The golden road glittered beneath the sun. The forest pressed close at the edges, birds chirped something bright and alien, and teenagers chattered with their parents in raised, excited voices. In essence, it wasn’t so different from Earth’s pre-school-year chaos. The walk was even, ordinary—almost disappointingly mundane. Bloom entertained himself by studying the passing “people” and their outlandish clothes. But halfway there, Saran abruptly stepped off the road and headed into the forest along a path known only to him. Bloom stared at the ground, then around himself. A prickling suspicion crawled into his mind. The flora was strange enough, but the fact they’d wandered off the main road—and Saran seemed unbothered by it—made the boy uneasy. The trail was long overgrown. His parents whispered nervously behind him. Kiko lay quietly in Bloom’s arms, the suitcase bumped against stones, the shoulder strap dug in painfully, the sun scorched his skin and stabbed at his eyes—and Saran’s brisk pace drained every last bit of energy from the unathletic teenager. After an hour of this misadventure, Bloom was ready to abandon the idea of Alfea entirely. Only the faint hope of seeing a real magic school kept him moving. When he finally decided he would turn around—consequences be damned—Saran halted and said brightly: “We’re here.” “But… the school is farther down the road,” Violet said, confused as he glanced around. “Where exactly is ‘here’?” “This,” Saran replied, still smiling, “is where you say goodbye to your child. I’ll take you home afterward. I suggest you start.” “And why,” Michele said sharply, folding her arms, “must we say goodbye here? I want to make sure my child is safe. Don’t tell me where to stand. I’ll decide that myself. Let’s go.” She adjusted her short hair and strode forward—only to stop dead two meters before Saran. Brow furrowing, she extended her hand—and it pressed against something smooth and invisible. Violet, noticing her expression, hurried to her side and touched her shoulder gently. “Carina, something’s wrong?” “There’s a wall…” Michele whispered. “It won’t let me through!” Violet tried as well—and hit the same barrier. After a hesitant minute, Bloom walked up and passed effortlessly through, stopping beside Saran on the other side. “Mom, dad! Are you trying to mess with me?” Puffing out his cheeks, Bloom put Kiko down and planted his fists on his hips. “There’s nothing here! This isn’t funny, why are you doing this?” “Fiammella, we’re not joking! There really is a parete,” Violet insisted, pressing his palm against the invisible surface, which shimmered like unseen glass. “But… how did I pass through?” Bloom murmured. Grinning, Saran finally let a laugh escape. “That wasn’t me. Your parents can’t pass because they have no magic.” “What does that have to do with anything?” Bloom asked, tucking a curl behind his ear. “Let me show you.” Saran flicked his fingers. A pale yellow spark shot forward and struck the unseen barrier. Lightning rippled outward, and in seconds the entire wall became visible—encircling the forest completely and stretching impossibly high. “It keeps out non-magical beings. Which is why, again, you should say your goodbyes.” “You could’ve told us sooner,” Michele muttered. “I didn’t want to make you feel foolish,” Saran said, shrugging. Bloom hurried back to his parents and wrapped them in a tight embrace. They held on for long minutes, whispering quietly, delaying farewell as long as they could. At last Violet exhaled sadly, took Bloom’s hands, and said: “Fiammella, buona fortuna. Call us, yes? Don’t worry, don’t panic. Be yourself. And call anytime, remember?” “Sweetheart,” Michele added, hugging him fiercely, “we’ll always wait for you at home—but don’t hold yourself back for our sake. We support you. Always.” “Okay…” Bloom whispered, voice trembling. They stepped away at last. Michele nodded to Saran. “Send us home. And… please watch over him.” Saran only nodded, plucked a ring from his finger, tossed it into the air, and opened a portal beneath the couple with a smooth sweep of his staff. Bloom wiped his nose, picked up Kiko, and asked: “Saran… how did Kiko pass the barrier?” “Maybe he absorbed some of your magic,” Saran said thoughtfully, slipping his sunglasses from his head onto his face. “Or maybe he’s magical on his own—but that’s unlikely. Anyway, let’s go before all the decent passes are gone.” Shivering theatrically, Saran strode forward, and the two boys headed toward the rosy building whose gates yawned wide to welcome new students.

***

Noise. A tidal wave of it. Students swarmed toward Alfea, shouting, laughing, singing off-key. Bloom slapped his hands over his ears. The crowd’s brightness—clothes, hair, wings, accessories—flickered before his eyes until nausea twisted in his stomach. Half an hour had passed since they’d left the forest. The castle still loomed far off, and Bloom was already tired of the noise—of everything. He lowered his hands and listened. Young, old, human-looking, not-so-human… and all speaking languages he did not know. Not a single word made sense. How am I supposed to study here? he wondered as a group of girls dashed past him. No one’s going to learn English just for me… and the books won’t be translated… E cosa devo fare? He glanced at Saran ahead of him. Maybe I should ask… but what can he do? Give me an alphabet book? His throat tightened with anxiety. He coughed, stopped to breathe—and jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. Saran’s concerned face hovered over him. “Bloom, are you alright?” “Yeah…” he croaked, only to cough again. “Just nerves… it happens. Saran, is your language hard?” “That depends. Why?” “When does school start?” “To be precise, on September fourth. But you didn’t answer my—” “I was thinking I could learn the basics. Languages come easy to me.” Saran smacked a palm against his face. “You could’ve said earlier! I almost forgot—hold on.” A tiny blue stamp shot out of his pocket and unfolded into a star-patterned clutch. Digging inside with half his torso, Saran muttered curses. “Where is it… aha!” He straightened and beamed. “Stand still!” In his hand lay a strange device—half earpiece, half cuff, silver with three crescent-shaped red stones. He slipped behind Bloom and began expertly fitting it around the boy’s ear. A few minutes later Bloom felt a sharp ring, then a faint hum—then voices, suddenly clear. “…I’m telling you, why would he even bother? He’s the Crown Prince of two planetary systems! Any elite academy would accept him in a heartbeat!” “My sister said he enrolled for second year! She saw his name! He might even be in our group!” “And you think he’d look at you? Please…” Their giggles faded as they passed. Bloom stared at Saran, wide-eyed. “That’s an interplanetary translator,” Saran explained with a satisfied nod. “You didn’t think the galaxy shares one language, did you? Thousands of tongues, and this keeps us from going insane. Sorry I forgot to give it earlier.” He tapped his own translator—gold, intricate, with tiny stars and glowing celestial stones. But Bloom’s eyes snagged on the pale birthmark on Saran’s temple—a downward-facing crescent cradling six small stars. “Is that a tattoo?” Bloom asked. “What? No! My mother would bury me alive for getting one. It’s a birthmark. Everyone from my planetary system has them.” “Everyone? All fairies?” “If you told a Zinithian that,” Saran snorted, “they’d hang you upside down. No. Every race has its traits. Solarians and Lunarians have marks like mine. Linpheans grow flowers on their heads. Domino folk have patches of scales. Androsians have fins and crimson scales. The galaxy is a crowded place.” “So many…” Bloom whispered. “Sono solo terrorizzato dallo shock…” “Perfectly reasonable,” Saran said warmly, hooking his arm through Bloom’s and guiding him forward. “You’ll learn. It’s not as hard as it seems.” “I hope so… And what about my language? English? Will people understand me?” “Maybe not on their own. But the translator alters how others hear you. Speak in whatever language you want.” A family passed; a girl with a fiery ponytail clung to her embarrassed brother’s leg, wailing. Saran rolled his eyes. “So, three languages?” he said lightly. “Which ones?” “Well…” Bloom muttered, cheeks reddening, “English, Italian, and a bit of Spanish…” “English is obvious. What about the others?” “Spanish was part of the school program… and Italian is like my second native language.” “How so?” “Papà is from Italy. All his parenti are still there.” “How did he end up in America?” Bloom told him the story—the exchange program, the chance flight across the ocean, Violet’s fascination with Gardenia. “And he met your mother… how?” Bloom’s lips curved as he remembered. “There was a fire in the chemistry classroom. Mamma is the head of the fire brigade. She burst in, put out the flames, then yelled at both teachers for ignoring safety rules. Papà says it was love at first sight.” “And your mother?” Saran grinned. “She says it’s hard to forget a panicking foreigner with singed hair and a blue face trying to explain himself in broken English.” Saran laughed. “Parents are wild… Want to hear how mine met?” Bloom nodded—and listened as Saran described two rebellious teens, a decade-long friendship, a marriage, and a divorce. Simple, ordinary, and still somehow charming. “Wait—two moms?” Bloom blinked. “Yes? Is that strange?” “Not strange… but complicated… Earth rules are different.” “What rules? Plants don’t dictate reproduction for sentient beings. With magic anyone can have a child—potions, spells, surrogates…” “And no one judges?” “Why would they? Do people on Earth really pry into that?” “Sometimes… but I don’t… want to talk about that.” “Then I won’t push.” Saran smiled. “Want to hear more about our cultures?” “Of course.” Talking softly, the two boys stepped through Alfea’s open gates.

***

Up close, the school impressed the imagination even more. From afar, it looked like an ordinary school, but as Bloom approached, he wanted less and less to enroll. The school grounds, surrounded by a white stone fence, stretched deep into the forest. Apart from the size of the school, the crowd of students was enormous. But once they entered Alfea’s grounds, they split into two groups: most went off in different directions, while those of Bloom’s age moved toward the main entrance and formed a line. Confused, Jackson glanced questioningly at Grandis-Mun. Moon led them to the queue, and standing there, smiled: — Bloom, the deputy headmistress is just marking who arrived today. — Tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, Saran continued, — She has a list with all the invited students this year. — What?! And how am I supposed to get through? I’m not on that list! — exclaimed Bloom, hands on his hips, — Why didn’t you say anything before?! Why did you even drag me here?! — Quiet… don’t attract attention… — The blonde hissed, pressing his hand with the bracelet to the Earthling’s mouth, — First, you came here on your own initiative to study. Second, you are on the lists. — From where…? — the redhead whispered hoarsely, trying to push the hand away, — I didn’t get an owl with a letter… — What does an owl have to do with it? — It’s from a movie, never mind… Just answer my question… — Well… Usually, the lists include those who received an invitation to study. But some, for example, want to learn dark magic or combat arts, and submit their documents to another school. There’s no unified database, so one person can belong to three schools at once. — Calmly Saran spoke, searching again in his satchel. — And if that unique person cannot personally deliver a letter declining admission to a school, it won’t be known until the 4th. — And? — Bloom narrowed his eyes with curiosity. — Where are you leading this? — To what? My good friend, Prince Veliss Callisto, got an invitation to Alfea, but he always wanted to study at the Cloud Tower. He submitted his documents there and asked me to deliver a polite letter to the detector. — Saran grinned slyly and pulled out a blue envelope with strange words, — I just won’t give it. Nobody has seen Callisto. You’ll pretend to be Veliss until the 4th. Genius in its simplicity! — Saying this, he tore the letter and burned the remnants. — Why only until the 4th? — Alfea doesn’t expel you instantly. Once you hold the Character Crystal, you’ll be in the general Magix registry, and they can’t expel you without a very serious reason. — And the crystal won’t recognize me as Veliss? — No. It checks blood type, Rh factor, type of magic, personality traits, lineage, and the person themselves. That trick won’t fool it. — Got it… — Quiet… — Saran whispered, patting Bloom on the shoulder. — Our turn is coming… don’t get nervous… Clutching his backpack strap tighter, Bloom took a deep breath and listened to the blue-haired girl in front of him, trying to understand how to respond. He hadn’t seen the deputy headmistress, but her voice was clear: cold and sharp as ice. — Your name, miss. — El.leon…nora Dall.on.skaia… Plan.eta Er.rak.k.kleon… — The girl stammered, hunching further, — I r.received the inv.itation at the start of sum.mer, I sh.should be on the list… — Young lady, speak clearly and do not be nervous. — The female voice cut sharply, — So… Eleonora Dolonskaya. Yes, you are on the list. Go to the west wing and collect your pass. — Thank you! Very well! — Almost shouting, the girl ran toward the wing. — Next! Don’t delay the queue. Bloom stepped forward and lifted his gaze from the ground. On the first step of the staircase stood a woman around thirty. Sharp features, a stern look in black eyes, a long straight nose. Thin dark brows furrowed tightly, lips pressed in tension. A cascade of dark chocolate hair looked like a wig, contrasting strongly with pale skin. White blouse with long sleeves, dark blue pinafore reaching black lacquered shoes. Thin fingers with blue nails adjusted thin silver square glasses. Scanning Bloom and Grandis-Mun with her gaze, the deputy headmistress raised an eyebrow in surprise: — Mr. Mun? I didn’t expect to see you again. What brings you here? — Miss Grizelda, I’m glad to see you. — Saran smiled and stepped closer — I always get what I want. And I passionately wish to finish Alfea. You can check the list, I am certainly there. — I compile these lists, so I know you’re here, Saran. I didn’t expect you to have the audacity to return after last year. — Grizelda snapped, writing with her quill. — My parents paid full compensation. — The blonde snorted, clenching fists. — I know that, Mr. Mun. Let’s end this here. — With a heavy sigh, the deputy said, — You are on the list. Your old pass can’t be used, so go to the west wing and get a new one. — Okay. I’ll wait for my friend first. — Moon smiled easily, folding his arms. — Your name? — Grizelda lifted her icy gaze from her papers to Bloom. The boy trembled. — …Veliss Callisto… — He whispered. — Callisto, yes… You are on the list. Go with your “friend” to the west wing. — With a flick of her quill, she nodded toward one entrance. Bloom quickly grabbed Saran’s arm and pulled him toward the west wing, hoping to escape the icy gaze and sense of helplessness. Saran just smiled quietly, saying nothing.

***

The Character Crystal looked ordinary. A bright red hexagonal stone, reminiscent of a ruby, no larger than a pinky, pleasantly warm in hand. How Saran chose them, Bloom didn’t understand, barely remembering, but he did recall standing over the table for almost an hour. Saran had picked a green stone, attached it with a pin to his shirt, and now he was watching the redhead. Bloom picked up the crystal between his thumb and forefinger, raising it to eye level. The stone was opaque, dark red ribbons intertwined inside. — Bloom, the crystal is recording you now. Keep it close and don’t let go. — Saran said with a smile, leading him into the main building. — It takes about a day to record, but after that, keep it with you. Otherwise, the barrier won’t let you in or out. — Oh, good. Thanks for the warning. I’d have tossed it somewhere and forgotten. — Bloom laughed quietly, hiding the original pass in his jeans pocket. — So, where are we going? — To the Great Hall. The lists of roommates are there. We need to see where we’ve been placed. — Grandis-Mun turned right, opening a side door. — You want to know whose faces you’ll see all year. — By the way, have you studied here before? — Bloom raised his eyebrows, tilting his head like an owl — Just judging by Miss Grizelda’s reaction, she knows you. — Ah yes. I studied here a year ago. — The fairy clenched his teeth slightly, revealing a grin. Jackson flinched. — Last year, there was a little accident… In the alchemy classroom, I experimented a bit… and accidentally blew it up. — Blushing slightly, Saran continued, — I was expelled. There was an 8-month ban, and now at the start of summer, it was lifted… So I reapplied and succeeded. That’s why Grizelda asked. — — Ha-ha-ha… — Bloom covered his mouth, — What a story. I hope you won’t blow anything up this year. — Oh yes, that would be… another expulsion. — Saran smiled awkwardly as they entered the Great Hall. Bloom would have loved to observe the Great Hall, but one obstacle stood in the way: students. Outside, their numbers were irritating; inside, overwhelming. Bloom froze, eyes wide, glancing at Saran, slightly bowing, head tilted. Moon stood with a taut smile, scanning. Noticing Bloom’s expression, he exhaled and spoke, searching in his blue satchel: — I didn’t expect so many today. Usually, by the second day, they’re settled… but here! — Saran gestured dramatically, — They made so much noise, it’s deafening! — Yeah… I think I can’t hear with my left ear. — Bloom smiled, — Besides fairies, who else studies at Alfea? — No one. Other races have separate magical schools. — How many races exist anyway?! Elves, vampires, werewolves, and the like… they really exist?! — Yes. — Laughing, Saran replied, — Do you want me to explain in detail? — Of course! — Bloom’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. He turned toward the blonde, forgetting the path. — Oh! — His nose collided with something hard, and he fell instinctively. His glasses fell and hit the floor; he hoped they weren’t broken. Papers and folders scattered, then a soft green glow enveloped them, gathering and floating upward. Saran offered a hand, helping him up, brushing him off, and handing back the glasses. Bloom turned toward his “victim” and stammered: — I’m sorry! I was careless! I really didn’t mean it! — No problem! It’s my fault! I didn’t see because of the papers. — A gentle voice tried to calm Bloom. Before him stood a young man, slightly over twenty, with a perfectly symmetrical elongated face, dark thin brows, light pink lips, huge bright green eyes framed by thick black lashes. Long golden hair fell in waves, front strands pinned at the back, a quirky fringe on the forehead. White blouse with wide sleeves, green vest with gold buttons, white trousers, tall black boots, fingerless glove on the left hand. Most striking were the pointed ears poking through the hair. Bloom froze, wide-eyed, slightly blushing. Saran, noticing, spoke: — Professor Palladium, good day. — Wrapping an arm around Bloom’s shoulder, he smiled charmingly. — I’m glad to see you. How are you feeling? — Saran? Good to see you too. Hopefully no accidents this year. — The elf smiled, adjusting the folders, — I’m surprised you returned. Any particular reason? — I just can’t give up my dream of finishing Alfea. Even if expelled again, I’ll come back. — Smiling, fingers clenched, — By the way, Professor, more students enrolled this year than last? It must be a lot for you to handle. — Oh? No! Just info for the 5th course. — He glanced sideways, lips tight, — The son of King’s councilor Zinit enrolled. His father decided to inspect the school. — I see… good luck. — Saran’s eyes twinkled mischievously — Do you know whose mentor you are this year? — If I did, I wouldn’t worry, Saran. — The elf chuckled softly, then looked at Jackson, — You’re new at Alfea. Your name, young man? — Veliss Callisto, my good friend. — Saran glanced at Bloom, narrowing his eyes, — Veliss, this is Professor Palladium. He teaches herbology, alchemy, and applied magic. — Pleasure, Veliss. — The man bowed slightly, then quickly excused himself, — No time to chat! As the alchemy professor departed, Bloom blushed in embarrassment. He had behaved like an utter fool, saying nothing, just staring. Fortunately, he hadn’t drooled! Saran quietly laughed at him. After a couple of minutes, he couldn’t hold it and burst out, covering his mouth. Noticing this, Bloom frowned: — Why are you laughing?! This isn’t funny! I humiliated myself for life! — Hahaha… Dragon, you didn’t! — Saran regained composure, — Bloom, she behaved normally! Even too normally! First-time elf encounters usually go worse! — Really? — Bloom croaked. — Yes! They usually drool, some kneel, trying to kiss the elf’s feet, the boldest even attempt to kiss! — Why? — Their curse creates that effect. One-time effect, so don’t worry, you won’t look like an idiot next time. — Saran smiled, leading Bloom onward. — Thank God! I was already panicking! — Bloom laughed, — By the way, you were going to tell me about the other races. Can you continue? — Of course!

***

The student residential floor was enormous: a long, bright corridor lined with countless doors. Each door bore a large golden plaque displaying its room number. Yet, surprisingly, the place was empty and unusually quiet. Saran and Bloom walked down the corridor, quietly laughing at each other’s stories. When they reached room number 612, Saran turned toward it and placed his hand on the door. It glimmered faintly and silently swung open. Bloom smiled with joy, adjusting his backpack strap, and confidently followed Saran into the room. The moment he stepped inside, Bloom froze, eyes wide with astonishment. The living area was vast, with four pale green doors leading to additional rooms. The main space was painted in pastel pinks, with a pristine white wooden floor. Two enormous ornate windows and a door opened onto a grand balcony overlooking Alfea’s backyard. In the center of the room stood a mint-colored camelback-style sofa adorned with fluffy white round pillows, flanked by a pair of pink armchairs, one draped with a white throw. Opposite them sat a coffee table in a warm coffee-brown hue. On the left, a massive bookshelf overflowed with books, while to the right stood a large round beige dining table surrounded by six bar-style chairs upholstered in light blue. Four huge round lavender rugs with long fibers dotted the floor. Cheerful sketches of various fairies and faeries decorated the walls. Bloom blinked rapidly, taking in the luxurious interior, unable to believe he would be living here. Though he couldn’t fully grasp it, a part of him hoped this wasn’t a dream. Beaming, he looked toward Saran, who patiently waited for his red-haired friend to compose himself, then gently took his hand and guided him to one of the doors on the right. A pale green door framed in a darker trim, double-leafed, adorned with intricate golden designs. On one leaf, a golden plaque displayed two elegant inscriptions in a language unknown to Bloom. “Bloom, can you read what this says?” Saran asked with a kind smile, pointing delicately at the inscriptions. “Sort of…” the teenager whispered, squinting to make out the letters. Slowly, he began to read aloud, spelling it out, “Sa-ran K-Grandis-Mun. This is your bedroom, right?” He smiled at Saran but quickly returned to the second line, “Ad-rian Re-gkh-ali…” “Correct! Wonderful!” Saran grinned and nudged the door open with his nose. “I was going to teach you to read the local language, but it seems the translator helps more than I expected,” he exclaimed. “Wow! What a room!” He chuckled lightly, adding, “Though mine was bigger last year.” “Really?” Bloom asked, curious, standing on his tiptoes to peek in, but Grandis slammed the door sharply. “Saran! I’m curious too, you know!” Bloom protested. “You’ll see later!” Moun snorted, heading toward another door on that side. “Let’s check which room is better. Maybe I’ll feel like moving into the nicer one!” A similar door closer to the exit bore a beautiful plaque with two other names: Muzari Eney-Kerm and Tori’el T’yatot’ehnos. Saran read the names and smirked sarcastically. “Zinitean? Quite the fun group, I must say.” Noticing Bloom’s confused look, he explained with a touch of annoyance, “Bloom, Zinit isn’t exactly a planet. It’s a planetary system, where the main planet is called Zinit. One of the key worlds, not at the bottom of the hierarchy. Only Linfea, Solaria, and Domino rank higher. Its focus is on discovering new technologies, inventions, and scientific research. All its inhabitants possess high intellect and logic, which is a definite plus. But there’s a downside—they’re notoriously arrogant, prideful, and constantly flaunt their intelligence. Empathy isn’t their strong suit either. Living with them for even a week can fry your brain. We can only sympathize.” “Maybe it’s not that bad?” Bloom smiled optimistically, but Saran dashed his hopes. “No. Worse than I described. Notice, this name has three apostrophes. On Zinit, the more apostrophes, the higher the status. This one’s at least the son of a count,” Saran sighed, lowering his hand from the door. “He’ll be a proper nuisance to our nerves.” Saran tried the doorknob, but nothing happened. Frowning, he tugged at it. No result. Pursing his lips, he began knocking. Five minutes passed with no response. Bloom approached and also started tapping. Silence—still closed. “Saran, maybe nobody’s here?” Bloom asked uncertainly, petting KiKo, who peeked out of his pocket. “I don’t think so. If it were empty, the door would have opened. Since it’s closed, someone’s in there,” Saran replied, kicking the door. “Either a deaf person lives here, or there’s a corpse.” “Maybe they just went for a walk?” “The door would stay open then.” Saran kicked again; it shook. He lifted his foot and repeated the trick several times. “Who the hell?! Who’s so brave here?!” a melodious young voice suddenly shouted from inside, accompanied by rapid footsteps. The door flew open, revealing its owner. The boy was short, with very pale skin, lean but muscular. His hair was short with shaved sides, a striking bright blue shade, reminiscent of Mitsy’s hair tone, though natural, evident in his eyebrows and thick short lashes. His round face featured narrow dark blue eyes, a long slender nose with a left-wing piercing, thin lips with a healing scratch, and neat oval eyebrows converging at the bridge. Plasters marked his cheekbones, and a black translator device shaped like a treble clef adorned his left ear. He wore a burgundy guitar-print t-shirt, blue jeans, white socks, a black choker, and violet headphones around his neck. Fresh scratches marred the knuckles of his left hand, which gripped the doorframe. Noticing the uninvited guests, the boy raised an eyebrow and said sarcastically: “And who the hell are you? Door service?” Leaning his right shoulder against the frame, he smirked, “Ah, I get it. You’re idiots who never learned how to open doors. If it’s closed, don’t try to drag it out—just knock.” “Polite people open after the first knock,” Saran retorted sternly, inspecting the room’s resident. “But clearly, you weren’t taught basic manners.” “Who, me? I was sitting in my own room listening to music. Then someone tried to drag my door. What did you expect me to think?” The boy tilted his head, licking his lips, “I thought you were crazy maniacs trying to kill me.” “Sorry,” Bloom said, imagining the scenario. “We just didn’t realize you couldn’t hear…” “I forgive you, Sugar,” the boy said with a faint smile, showing straight white teeth. “But not this turkey here. Why the hell did he try to get into my room?” He scowled at Saran. “You’re not from Zinit, so you’re not my roommate. This isn’t your bedroom. Why are you here?” “Design curiosity. How was I supposed to know someone was in here?” the blond snapped, crossing his arms. “Sorry for shocking you, Mr. Eney-Kerm. Need me to pay moral damages?” “Why? You didn’t break the door, I just got angry,” Muzari replied, fixing his hair. “But please don’t try that stunt again. Next time, I’ll just punch you. Got it? Now leave me be.” “Now?” Bloom asked softly, trying not to start a fight. “Always,” Muzari smirked and slammed the door. “Rude,” Saran muttered under his breath, turning to Bloom. “Go settle into your room. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” Bloom nodded with a faint smile. Turning to the opposite door, he saw the plaque labeled “Bathroom” and moved toward the last available room. On the identical plaque, as on the others, was neatly written: Veliss Callisto and Florence Brazeen. That was his. Taking a tentative breath, Jackson bit his lower lip and, hoping for luck, pushed the handle. The room was rectangular. Walls in a light powdery hue with a subtle butterfly pattern. The pale cream laminate floor fit together with frightening precision. A large ornate window in a white wooden frame occupied the right wall, its long windowsill perfect for sleeping. Two light single beds were arranged differently: one horizontally against the window, the other vertical near the opposite wall by the door. Two desks, one by each bed, merged into one. Shelves for books were above the beds, two wardrobes lined up against a wall, with two turquoise rugs and light sheer curtains. The cozy, peaceful space was perfect for living. Bloom smiled happily and, closing the door behind him, entered his temporary bedroom. Accustomed to sleeping by the window, Bloom chose the first bed and placed his backpack on it. KiKo, hopping out of the pocket, began exploring and sniffing the room, twitching its nose adorably. Meanwhile, Jackson started unpacking his things. Clothes neatly went into the wardrobe, jackets and hoodies on hangers, spare shoes on the lower shelves. Personal hygiene items also went in (Bloom hesitated to leave them in a shared space). Under the desk, he placed KiKo’s cage and stuffed in his bags and suitcase. Deciding he’d sort out the rest later, he yawned. The shocks of the past few days had been more than his entire life combined, leaving him mentally exhausted. Removing his glasses and placing them on the bedside table, Bloom lay on the bed, removed his shoes, set KiKo on the floor, and closed his eyes. He would rest just a few minutes before continuing. Lost in thought, the boy didn’t notice how sleep overtook him. KiKo sniffed the atmosphere, sneezed at the plethora of scents, and began exploring the new room.

***

— …Who’s there?.. — a soft half-whisper echoed through the emptiness. — …Is someone here?.. Bloom jerked awake, eyes snapping open. Instead of the familiar pale ceiling, there was nothing. Panic surged as he turned—what appeared to be a wall made of water loomed before him, glowing faintly blue. Beyond it, only black void stretched in every direction. Straining to make sense of his surroundings, Jackson squinted into the darkness. At first, nothing was visible. Then his gaze caught a small golden speck in the distance. Taking a calmer breath, he began moving toward it. — …Who’s here?.. — the same voice, impossible to gender, whispered again. — …Who are you?.. “I’m Bloom! Bloom Jackson!” he shouted, scanning for the source. — “I don’t know why I’m here. Where am I?” — …Bloom… — the voice drifted away slightly. — …This is my… domain… I don’t know… why you’re here, — came the sad reply, and Bloom froze. What he had initially thought was a distant speck was a person. A glowing, golden gown floated in the darkness, paired with a Venetian gold mask, thick black bracers encasing the arms. Everything else was lost to the radiance. Bloom froze, staring at the figure, clearly a captive of this strange “Domain.” “Is that you?” Bloom asked in surprise, studying the silhouette. The figure, hearing the question, turned toward him. — “Why are you here?” — …It’s necessary… — the captive said with a firmer, more confident tone, though it quickly faltered. — …Let me see you… Let me… “I… I… I don’t think I… have time…,” Jackson stammered, retreating. — “C-c-could we do it… another t-t-time?” — …Another time? I’m curious now… — the figure rattled chains, moving closer to Bloom. Panic surged irrationally in Bloom. Without thinking of the captive, he bolted toward the water wall. — …Wait! Please, wait!.. — the voice, closer now, sounded more desperate than before. Hearing the pleading, Bloom hesitated, the instinct to turn back tugging at him—but it was too late. He crashed into the watery wall and sank into it like jelly. The last sound he heard before waking was some one crying and squeaking…

***

Bloom shot up from his bed, trying to catch his breath. The dream had been strange—slightly terrifying, even. Rubbing his eyes, he put on his glasses and looked ahead. A massive plant, with long twisting stems, was dragging a fiercely struggling KiKo toward itself. Seeing this, the redhead leapt from the bed and rushed to the plant, wrapping his arms around the rabbit and pulling, trying to free it from the grasp of the strange flower with sharp yellow protrusions that resembled teeth. “Let go of my rabbit, you defective GMO! I’ll throw you out the window!” Bloom yanked on a leafy vine. The “flower” growled, bared its teeth even wider, and lunged at Bloom, wrapping his legs in thick vines. “What the hell?! Get off me! Help!” “Stop this immediately! Enough!” A terrified voice rang out, and a burst of sparkling green light shot at the plant. The vines loosened and released their captives, retreating back into the enormous pot. “In the name of the Lord of Light, forgive me! It’s carnivorous, but it has never attacked the reasonable! I didn’t think it would attack!” Jackson held KiKo closer, who trembled slightly, trying to calm him down. Suddenly, a hand in a yellow protective glove landed on the rabbit’s head and scratched behind its ears. The rabbit relaxed and stopped trembling. Bloom looked at the boy who had saved him from the plant. He was about Bloom’s height, slightly plump, with milky chocolate-toned skin. His round face was freckled, like pollen, with a small snub nose, full lips, and huge bright green eyes behind square glasses. His dark-brown hair was tied into a high ponytail, with a slightly lighter fringe tucked behind slightly pointed ears. A translator device adorned one ear, decorated with small red flowers. He wore a light-powder-colored turtleneck sweater, massive dark-green pants with countless pockets, and tall rubber boots for gardening. His gloves matched the boots, and yellow-and-blue flowers reminiscent of hydrangeas sprouted from his head. The boy smiled and adjusted his glasses. “Florence Brazen, your neighbor.” Florence’s face flushed with shame as he lowered his head. The old flowers on his head had withered and fallen, replaced by yellow flowers resembling irises. “I truly feel terrible! I didn’t think it would attack you! When I moved in, you were asleep, and I couldn’t see your rabbit! Please forgive me!” “Ah… it’s okay. It’s just that KiKo is a cheeky little thing—decided to snack on your plant.” Bloom cast a disapproving glance at the rabbit, pursing his lips. “You should apologize too.” “Oh! Nothing serious! Everything’s fine,” Florence waved, and red tulips sprouted on his head. “It won’t happen again!” “Of course, it won’t.” Bloom looked sternly at his rabbit, and KiKo understood that if this happened again, the flower would be intentionally used as a lesson. Turning his attention from the little blue bundle, Bloom changed the subject. “By the way, I saw you. You were heading to Alfea with your father and sister, right?” “Oh… Mielli caught your attention, huh? She’s small and doesn’t understand much.” Florence smiled, and strange pink flowers bloomed atop his head. “She just didn’t want to let me go. Weird, right?” “Why?” Jackson raised an eyebrow and smiled wider. “It’s nice that you have a good relationship with your sister. I wish I did, though all my younger ones live far away… hadn’t known I’d come here…” “Don’t envy me. They were more trouble than anything in childhood,” Brazen chuckled. “You’re Veliss, right?” “Yes. But you can call me Vel. It’s more convenient.” “All right, then call me Flor or Flo. My parents picked a beautiful but complicated name.” He extended his hand, and Bloom shook it. “I hope we’ll be friends.” “I… I hope so too,” Bloom smiled shyly. Then he noticed the door. “Have you met the other neighbors?” “Not yet… I haven’t seen anyone else…” Flo scratched his head, new flowers blooming atop it—this time pale violet with ten leaves. “And you?” “I know Saran Moon. I’ve seen Muzari from another room, but he wasn’t in the mood… The other two, I don’t know.” “Then could you introduce me to Saran?” Florence smiled as green violets sprouted atop his head. “It’s just awkward to approach people myself.” “Of course, let’s go!” Bloom placed KiKo back on the bed, pulled on his shoes, and left the room. Flo followed. Looking out the window, Bloom bumped into someone again. This time, he didn’t fall, but the “victim” roughly pushed him back several steps. “Watch where you’re going. Didn’t anyone teach you how to walk properly?” The voice was calm, harsh, emotionless, like reciting a memorized lesson. “It’s dangerous not just for others, but for yourself too.” Looking up, Bloom twitched. The boy before him looked unusual. He was taller than Bloom by several heads, forcing Bloom to tilt his head to look up. A triangular, narrow face with a long, sharp nose, elegantly curved thin lips, and fair skin. Bright pink hair in a short style, with the fringe longer on the left side. Dark-pink thin eyebrows drawn together over the bridge of his nose conveyed all his emotions. Bright green, cold eyes seemed to pierce straight through him. Light patterns shifted constantly across his dark-purple holographic glasses. His ears had round earrings besides the translator devices. A black turtleneck, short dark-purple jacket with green inserts, tight pants matching the jacket, and tall silver boots. Black fingerless gloves on his hands held a bag. “Don’t you want to apologize?” the boy asked, burning a hole through Bloom with his gaze. “I… I… I’m… s-sorry…” Bloom stammered, staring at his “victim.” “Pay attention next time.” The boy’s voice was cold. “Who are you?” “Veliss Calisto,” Bloom whispered. “And you?” “Tori’el T’yatot’ehnos. Planet Zenith.” He saluted lightly, placing his right hand over his heart. “It’s impolite not to name your planet.” I would have told him if Saran had bothered to tell me where Veliss is from, Jackson thought. Pursing his lips, Tori’el continued: “Twelve planetary rings from Magix. Basic manners are instilled from birth. But apparently, you missed out. Your parents couldn’t even manage the basics. Shame on them.” “You know what…” Bloom was about to retort, but Flor gently took his arm and smiled. “Let’s not fight. Veliss apologized, the conflict has lost its reason. Let’s just forget it?” “As you wish,” Tori’el scoffed. “I’ll stick to my opinion. Let’s hope we have no further conflicts. Have a good day.” Florence smiled radiantly and led Bloom toward Saran’s room. Jackson scowled and stared at the “show-off.” Arrogant, pompous… a spoiled little prince… His thoughts formed a neat thread of anger directed at Tori’el. “Ow!” The boy hissed, throwing down his bag. The handle, made entirely of metal, was glowing red-hot. Thanks to his gloves, the pink-haired boy didn’t burn himself, but the gloves were almost destroyed. “What is this?!” “Are you okay?” Flor quickly moved closer, examining the injured hands. “Are you hurt?” “All fine. Don’t worry about it.” Tori’el said coldly, removing his ruined gloves and tossing them into the trash. “Don’t interfere in things that aren’t your business.” Bloom grabbed Florence’s arm and dragged him toward Moon’s bedroom. It was clear the school year at Alfea would be lively—and the neighbors would only add to the “fun.” Bloom would survive it… maybe even make friends.

***

“Your Majesty!” The advisor burst into the Regent’s office, quickly approaching the light-colored desk piled with papers. Out of breath but forcing a smile, he spoke. “Your Majesty, what could be so urgent that you barged into my office without warning?” The Regent’s icy tone sliced through the air as he looked up from the papers. His pale-blue “ice-like” eyes narrowed slightly, and the faint smile on his lips made the advisor flinch. Resting his elbows on the desk, fingers interlocked, the Regent asked, “Can you explain your ignorance?” “Your Majesty… the gob… gobelin… there…” The advisor stammered, but the Regent jumped from his chair and stormed toward the throne hall. “Your Majesty, wait for me!” A tall man, no older than 25, with peach-colored hair tied low in a ponytail and a dark-blue cloak, dashed into the golden, opulent throne hall. He looked up at the western wall, where a massive tapestry depicted an ancestral tree stretching back into history. Most portraits were encased in black frames, marking the deceased. In the center of the tapestry were two portraits in black frames. Two thin branches extended from them, with more portraits beneath. One depicted a girl in a silver frame with blonde hair. The second, a dark-skinned young man with slightly distorted features and bright red hair, had two blue dots marking his eyes. Underneath, the name “Bloom St. Jackson” was inscribed. Touching the young man’s portrait with gloved fingers, the man smirked and whispered, “So he managed to survive… escape…” Turning toward the arriving advisor, he hissed through his teeth, “Track where the signal comes from and report. I’ve spent too much time searching.” Clicking his heels, he quickly left the throne hall. The advisor scowled and spat after him. He’s nothing but a miserable bastard of the late king, acting as if he’s the rightful monarch! If it weren’t for the death of Their Majesties, this abomination would never ascend the throne of the great kingdom of Damino! Adjusting his fine suit, the advisor wiped the drool from his expensive bag, studied the tapestry more closely, traced the details of the unexpectedly living heir, and exited the throne hall. From the portrait of King Oritel Daren’ks lay a thin golden branch, marking temporary transfer of authority. In a white frame was the young face of the Regent, labeled below: “Fredrick V. Daren’ks.”

***