“1924 days left…” by Duvencrune, Edgar O. Diary of the Long Night, 111th Edition

  "Master?" The little Mouse called out once more, “Master!”

  Blinking his eyes open, Orlo let out a yawn, stretching his arms wide. He turned instinctively to glance at Maggie, expecting to find her where he left her—on his bedside table.

  However, she wasn't there, a realisation that jolted him to full alertness. With a swift movement, he sat up. This wasn't his room.

  The window was noticeably smaller, and the space was dominated by a large, cluttered desk, atop which sat a quaint music box. The floor was covered with disarray, scattered with articles of girls' clothing.

  Orlo left the bed, intrigued by how he ended up here in the first place. It wasn’t his room.

  He recognised his own blanket and pillow, yet everything else in the room felt foreign. As he explored, his gaze fell upon a dry aquarium, artfully arranged with stones, branches, and intricate patterns of spider silk, yet it was notably missing a lid.

  The table was littered with a collection of discs, predominantly showcasing classical music with a focus on violins and pianos. Among the chaos, Orlo's attention was captured by posters of various ballet companies, and several pairs of used ballet shoes were nestled at the table's base. A thought flickered through his mind—could Muna be a dancer?

  Orlo noticed an empty application form for the Trial of Elements. This discovery hardly came as a surprise; given that Redford himself was a Magi, it seemed only natural that his daughter might aspire to tread a similar path.

  So Muna harboured a passion for ballet and classical music and was possibly considering a future among the Magi? Orlo couldn't help but smile; Muna was not only beautiful but also deeply fascinating.

  His attention then drifted towards the closet, slightly open, revealing a hidden compartment that led directly to his own room. That would explain how he went from one room to the other, yet it also stirred a flurry of new questions: Why did he come here, and why couldn't he remember anything about it?

  Confronting Muna directly about this could be seen as a breach of decorum, potentially compromising her reputation or creating unnecessary problems with her Mother.

  Orlo resolved that unless Muna herself chose to address the incident, discretion was the better part of valour.

  With a mindful approach, Orlo collected his belongings, his pillow, and blanket and made his way through the secret passageway in the closet back to his own room.

  He shut the closet door and went over to his desk, where he had left his travel bag. As he sifted through his clothes, preparing for his first day as a teacher, his attention was caught by a package wrapped in green leaves. Curious, he unwrapped it and discovered hardcover notebooks, each uniquely encased in black fabric. The covers of these notebooks were adorned with different black embroideries matching the fabric, adding a personal touch to each.

  The black fabric covering the notebooks was repurposed from his father's robe, and the intricate embroideries were likely the handiwork of his mother. It was a long-held tradition that if a robe suffered a tear or an irremovable stain, it would be concealed with an embroidery, typically crafted by someone cherished. This practice not only preserved the garment but turned each black robe into a unique piece.

  One notebook bore the embroidery of the sun, another showcased a wolf and a moon, and the third notebook's design was slightly obscured by the fabric's wear, yet it closely resembled a snake biting its own tail.

  Orlo brought one of the notebooks to his nose, and indeed, Godmama's description was accurate—it carried the scent of ashes and... warmth? He struggled to fully grasp the essence of that second aroma, instinctively narrowing his eyes as if expecting the answer to materialise before him.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  However, it seemed his magic chose to remain dormant today, offering no hints or revelations to aid his understanding.

  Amid the collection of notebooks, exactly twelve in total lay a small box. Curiously, he opened it to find an eye patch crafted from the same material as his other gifts. Orlo was puzzled by Godmama's intention—could it be some form of punishment? Perhaps it is a cautionary symbol, especially considering that his future self also has an eye patch. Was he destined for some grim fate? And more importantly, was there any way to avert such an outcome?

  The thought of losing an eye was not appealing; he was rather fond of having both eyes functioning and where they were.

  Deciding to put aside Godmama's daunting gift for the time being, Orlo quickly selected a shirt, cardigan, and trousers for the day's attire, all the while hoping that the school would be blessed with central heating.

  Following a brisk shower and readying himself for the day, Orlo noticed Darra and Muna enjoying breakfast alongside an empty plate, which he surmised belonged to the absent Zora once again.

  "Good morning, Teacher," Muna greeted cheerfully.

  "Did you sleep well?" Darra asked, gesturing towards a seat, which he gratefully took.

  "Yeah, it was fine," he replied, casting a glance towards Muna, who seemed engrossed in the newspaper.

  "And how are you feeling about your first day?" Darra continued.

  "I'm okay. Not entirely sure what to expect, but then, that's the essence of an adventure, isn't it?" Orlo remarked, placing a napkin across his lap.

  "Once you finish eating, I'll give you a ride," Muna offered.

  "Darling, remember to wait for Zora, too," Darra requested.

  "But Mama, we both know she's not coming, and I don't want Orlo to be late!"

  "Oh, speaking of being late," Darra suddenly turned in her chair and called out, "Lisa, bring me the envelope from my study!"

  Lisa, the maid, hurried over almost at a sprint, clutching a grey envelope in her hand, which she promptly handed to Darra. The woman then faced Orlo, sliding the envelope across the table towards him, "You'll need this."

  Orlo was initially surprised, but it quickly dawned on him what the envelope contained: documents. He was no longer to be known as Orlo Yeso Sternach but would assume the identity of Sterling Dagurstea. Enclosed were a citizenship card for Ostesh, a passport, and details of a bank account, all under the name Sterling Dagurstea.

  Orlo's hands trembled as he processed this information, unsure of how to respond.

  "Darling, I know this is a lot to take in. I meant to start this conversation last night but got sidetracked, reminiscing about old times. However, we cannot have a Sternach living in this house," Darra explained gently.

  "Why? What is wrong with being a Sternach?"

  "Because it's no longer Fall, it's Winter. And it's not just the cold and the long Night that are concerns. Your name carries risks now. We had to do the same for Zora," Darra explained.

  "But she kept her first name," Muna chimed in with a hint of teasing.

  "Muna! Be nice!" Darra chided before turning her attention back to Orlo. "Orlo... your name is quite unique, and I didn't want to take any chances. Officially, Orlo remains in Faewood."

  "But my scholarship is under my name..."

  "We've arranged everything appropriately. Should circumstances change in the future, you can reclaim your name along with the same diploma and credentials. It's just a name, after all."

  "It's my father's name; it's the only thing I truly have from him," Orlo said, fighting back tears.

  "I'm sorry, Orlo. It's just that outside our property, I need to ensure your safety and that of my family. I hope you can understand," Darra explained with a tone of sympathy.

  Orlo quickly wiped his eyes with his hands and stood up, trying to mask his sadness. "Muna, I'm ready when you are."

  She looked at him, her coffee mug paused in front of her lips and nodded. "Let's go," she said, ready to leave.

  On this day, Orlo's identity as the son of Yeso Sternach, the Commander, and Zonnestra Duvencrune, The Noctavia, was stripped away. Today, Orlo found himself simply an orphan without a title or lineage to claim as his own. He had become Nameless.

  

  I missed my bed. It's the memory of my old bed, or rather, my nest, that used to hang from the ceiling. You might wonder why on earth I'd miss something like that, especially when compared to the comfort of a normal bed on the floor. But that's just it—the floor beds never did it for me. They were too still, too solid. There was no gentle bounce, no soothing sway that I remembered so fondly from my childhood. Lying in those stationary beds felt like trying to sleep directly on the floor, restless and uncomfortable, tossing and turning for hours on end. But maybe it wasn't just about the physical comfort. That hanging nest was more than a bed; it was a cradle of warmth and love. I have this vivid memory, real or imagined, of lying there, feeling the gentle bounce as if my parents were right there with me, their hair brushing against my face, a soft and loving touch. Perhaps it's that sense of security and belonging that I miss the most. Or maybe it's a blend of real memories and the fantasies of a child's mind turned Nameless. ——The Hexe - Book Two by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, First Edition, 555th Summer