Everyone seemed satisfied when the last utensil came to rest on the table. The heavy silence that followed was broken only by the scraping of a chair as the bearded giant stood up. His footsteps echoed through the hall like hammer strikes against iron, and each movement seemed calculated, as if he savored the silence that belonged to him by right.
The Bearded Man walked to the center of the dining hall. His gaze swept the room calmly, yet carried an authority that needed no effort to impose itself. When he opened his mouth, his voice sounded like restrained thunder, reverberating off the stone walls.
"Welcome, comrades."
The man's voice echoed through the hall like restrained thunder, heavy with authority.
"For the newcomers, my name is Ivan. For the veterans… congratulations on another year of life."
He let the words hang in the air for a few seconds, watching their impact on the faces of those present.
"This is my stronghold."
His calloused hand rose, indicating the stone and steel walls surrounding them.
"And that means that, as long as you breathe under this roof, you will follow my rules. Here, you are not the children of nobles, nor the wretches from the lower city. Here, you are all the same: weak, pathetic, and inexperienced."
The veterans chuckled quietly, proud to no longer be in that stage. The newcomers swallowed hard.
He paused, allowing the weight of each word to sink deep.
"Today, you are pathetic. Without any merit."
His gaze locked on the younger ones, sharp as a blade.
"But as the training progresses, if death doesn't take you first, you will become the elite that protects the people of the north."
The veterans, fired up, burst into shouts of support when they heard the mention of the people of the north. But Ivan's heavy arm rose, asking for silence.
"Easy, comrades."
An ironic smile escaped him.
"First, we need to explain things to the new ones."
He turned slightly, his thick robe dragging across the floor like a shadow.
"Here, you will be divided and trained according to your abilities."
He pointed to the side.
"The blues will go with Marya."
The withered old woman rose slowly, each movement revealing fragile bones and a fragility that seemed almost theatrical. Yet her smile — full of missing teeth and eyes far too alive for someone her age — inspired more fear than pity. She merely tilted her head in greeting, and the hall erupted in respectful applause. Nikolai watched intently, absorbing every detail of that legendary figure.
Ivan waited for silence to return.
"Marina, as in previous years, will be responsible for the browns and the whites."
The woman rose unhurriedly. Even dressed simply, her body seemed carved from stone, scars crossing muscles that screamed discipline and war. The mere act of standing drew looks of respect — and desire — from many.
Another round of applause echoed through the hall, just as strong as the first. Marina, with the same solemnity as her great-grandmother, bowed her head in acknowledgment. But to everyone's surprise, Ivan raised his arm a second time. The abrupt gesture was enough to silence even the most seasoned veterans. It was unusual — too rare not to stir unease. Suspicious glances crossed between tables, but silence prevailed.
"This year…"
Ivan's voice boomed like a hammer striking steel.
"Perhaps many of you do not yet know, but among us there is a Deviant."
The word sounded like a sentence, heavy with ancestral weight. A murmur rippled through the hall, muffled, almost like a collective shudder. The veterans exchanged glances — some eyes wide, others teeth clenched.
Ivan then turned slowly. His gaze, hard as stone, swept the hall until it rested on Nikolai and Ashen in his lap. It was in that moment that everyone noticed what had gone unseen before: that creature belonged to none of the known lineages, neither in color nor in form. An uncomfortable silence filled the air. Curious, fearful, and even hostile eyes turned toward him.
"We do not yet know his ability… nor his limits,"
Ivan continued, each word like a hammer sealing fate.
"Therefore, he will attend my lessons with the blacks, and also the Sobolevs' lessons, for an indefinite time. Whether he proves to be a disappointment… or a promise. Only time will tell."
Nikolai felt his heart turn to ice. And then, like an intimate thunderclap, a voice spoke directly inside his mind:
"I expect much from you, Nikolai."
His whole body trembled. He hadn't seen Ivan's lips move. That voice hadn't been spoken aloud — it had been, like Ashen, internal.
Without lingering, Ivan lifted his chin.
"Thank you very much. Return to your dormitories as soon as possible. Tomorrow will be a great day."
Without adding another word, he turned toward his table. He did not sit. He waited with almost ritual patience for the old lady to rise again and, together with her and Marina, crossed the same door through which they had entered. Silence followed them until they vanished.
"Holy shit, man… even Ivan himself seems interested in you."
Viktor laughed, though his tone carried more worry than mockery.
"Honestly, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes."
He threw an arm over Nikolai's shoulder in a comradely, almost protective gesture before walking off with Fedor close behind.
"I'm heading out. But… if you want to talk to someone from your old group, open up a bit, I think tonight's your best chance. I doubt you'll get another one for a long time."
Viktor's words lingered, heavy. He hadn't explained why, but Nikolai felt there was truth in them.
Nikolai stood slowly, thinking. Who did he really want to look for? Was there someone he needed to talk to? The question had barely begun to take shape in his mind when a voice cut through his hesitation.
"Nikolai."
He turned. Irina was there, accompanied by Zoya and a few other girls who chatted among themselves but followed her lead. Zoya, ever effusive, laughed loudly at something one of the girls had said, but Irina remained serious, her gaze fixed on him.
"I don't think we'll have the chance to talk for a while,"
she said, firm but with something restrained in her voice.
"I wanted to thank you… for your words in the classroom. I won't forget them."
Before he could answer, Irina had already turned away. Zoya shot him a quick, somewhat indifferent glance before resuming her lively conversation with the group, disappearing along with her.
Nikolai stood still for a few moments, watching them leave. Irina's words echoed in his mind: I won't forget. He remembered well — he had told her not to worry, because courage was something she didn't lack. And it was true. She was everything he couldn't see himself being: agile, strong, intelligent... with legs.
Maybe the words he had said to her weren't much different from the ones she'd heard from her own family, maybe they didn't hold much value after all. But even so, for some reason, Irina had chosen to hold on to them.
And that was enough to spark something in Nikolai, even if small.
"I don't have many friends to talk to, Ashen…"
Nikolai muttered, with an awkward smile.
"Would it be bad if I went to my room already?"
To him, being in that fortress was like starting over, a blank book yet to be written. And still, fear gnawed at him. He didn't want to be seen as a pariah… and even less for anyone to find out he already had been, long before stepping in there.
"SLEEPY."
The word pulsed in his mind, dry and direct, like a whisper echoing from within his chest.
"Yes… you're right. I think I'm being paranoid. Let's get some rest."
With quick steps, he left the hall, Ashen trotting faithfully by his side.
Two pairs of eyes followed him to the exit.
The first, from Irina, distant, hidden among other classmates. Her heart ached, and her frightened eyes revealed something she didn't even want to admit.
"Honestly, you're pathetic,"
said Zoya, noticing the strange glint in her friend's eyes.
"Shut up, Zoya,"
Irina replied, but didn't take her eyes off Nikolai until he disappeared through the door.
The second gaze was the opposite: cold, loaded with resentment. Oleg. His jaw clenched, jealousy burning like hidden fire.
"Forget that guy, Oleg,"
said one of his cronies, noticing him watching the interaction between Irina and Nikolai.
"That bear of his, even if he's a deviant, could be anything. My dad said most of them always end up being just that: trash."
"I bet in two weeks, they'll find out he's just another defective black. Hahaha!"
The harsh words fell like dry wood onto Oleg's hatred. He smiled — a crooked, mocking smile.
"Yeah… after all, what can a cripple do?"
"Of course… besides, you think you'll always be by Irina's side. Wish I were that lucky."
The comment was low, almost casual, but the lascivious glint in the boy's eyes gave away his intent. He stared at Irina's golden hair and dark eyes like a starving man before a forbidden feast.
In an instant, Oleg's hand closed around the boy's neck, squeezing with animalistic brutality. The movement was as swift as it was unexpected.
"Irina is mine,"
his voice came cold, firm like iron forged in winter.
"And only mine. I hope you know your place."
The choked boy only stammered, eyes wide, face reddening.
"Of course… of course, Oleg. Sorry, man…"
Oleg slowly let go, leaving the mark of his fingers as a reminder. The silence that followed was heavy. The friends who had been laughing and trailing him like hyenas ready to feast on the carrion scattered one by one, making up trivial excuses. No one wanted to be the next target of his possessive madness.
And so, Oleg remained alone, savoring his own obsession for the blonde-haired girl — a predator feeding solely on the poison he carried inside.
The path to the dormitories was slow, not in pace but in weight of silence. Nikolai used every corridor to observe, to try to decipher the logic of that place, exploring every inch of it. The tall, damp walls opened onto the outside: a dark abyss, with no moon or stars. Only torches lit the night, carried by distant patrollers who looked more like moving shadows.
The memory of the void crept in, making his jaw tighten. His eyebrows arched, as if fighting against a memory too old to forget.
"I'm not like I used to be anymore…"
he muttered through his teeth.
"Never again."
Ashen watched him in silence, eyes alert, but the bond between them overflowed. He didn't understand the words, but he felt the blaze growing inside Nikolai: hatred and rage toward something old, foggy, burning like a fire that fed on itself.
Ashen rubbed his head against Nikolai's legs, pulling him out of the dark stupor he was sinking into.
"Sorry, buddy… I ended up getting lost in the past."
The boy took a deep breath and walked down the corridor, descending a staircase until he finally reached his room. From inside, the muffled sound of a fight echoed. As soon as he opened the door, the scene revealed itself: Viktor had Fedor in a chokehold, while the other thrashed, already pale as snow.
"Kid!"
Viktor grinned through the effort.
"Thought you got lost out there."
Three firm pats on the shoulder, and with reluctance, Viktor let go of his companion. Fedor gasped like a fish out of water, gulping air in desperation.
"Well… I guess you've already met our last temporary roommate."
Viktor adjusted his wrinkled uniform and pointed to the empty bed.
"Since this year we've got girls with browns and whites, they ended up taking his room."
Nikolai looked up. Leaning against the wall, the giant Leonid stared at him. His stoic face showed no emotion.
"You sleep on the bottom, kid,"
he said, pointing to the lower bed with a half-mocking smile.
"But if you want to fight for the spot… be my guest."
Nikolai just shrugged.
"No problem. That's where I was anyway."
Leonid chuckled softly, a deep sound laced with contempt. Then he dropped onto the top bunk like a collapsing wall, closing his eyes without ceremony.
"If you wake me up… I'll beat the crap out of all of you."
A heavy silence settled over the room. Viktor, confident though he was, seemed to carefully gauge the limits of that giant. He approached Nikolai and, in a low voice, murmured:
"Don't worry. That mule's only staying here tonight, until they find him another bed. His brown is in an empty room farther north."
A brief, almost conspiratorial smile crossed Viktor's lips before he stepped away.
"Anyway… good luck, Nikolai."
Viktor jumped to the top bunk with the agility of someone already used to the routine. His blue bear, curled beside him, already seemed to be sleeping deeply, as if nothing in the world could disturb him. Fedor, still massaging the marks on his neck from the chokehold, threw himself onto the lower bed with a grumble, while his blue licked the wounds like a loyal dog.
"Last one to lie down turns off the flame,"
Viktor muttered, turning to the side, paying no further attention to the others.
Nikolai stood still for a few moments. His body still ached, but an unexpected smile formed on his lips. Strange as it was, in the middle of all that mess, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: anticipation.
Finally, he would learn how to protect himself. Finally, he'd have a chance for revenge.
"Let's lie down, Ashen. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."
With a cold breath, he extinguished the flame that lit the room. Darkness took over, filled only by Leonid's deep snores, echoing like thunder against the stone walls.
Even so, Nikolai didn't mind.
After so long, being alone had never seemed as bad as it did now. For the first time, he felt genuinely happy to have other voices breathing near him, sharing that cramped space.
Ashen settled onto his chest, warm and comforting in weight.
And, cradled by that, Nikolai fell asleep with a faint smile, as if dreaming something good for the first time in many winters.