Arcbound: Tale of The Guardians

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The sun rose too calmly for a day that followed the impossible.

Soft golden light crept through dorm windows, stirring the students awake—except the five who had touched the Arc.

Henry woke with a jolt, sitting upright in his bed. His breath caught as flashes of lightning and panther eyes shimmered behind his vision. He rubbed his face, half-laughing.

"Okay… dream or delusion?" he muttered.

In another room, Nora sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the journal she'd always kept beside her pillow. She'd written nothing yet. But her mind played it over: the shimmer of ancient Greek on invisible pages, the silver-blue penguin staring back into her soul.

She remembered everything.

Meanwhile, Kai groaned from the lower bunk, tossing a pillow onto the floor.

"Ugh. Salamanders, glowing turtles, talking eagles…" he rubbed his temple. "Was someone spiking the party drinks?"

Natasha sat silently by her window, arms wrapped around her knees. Her fingers were still warm. Not like a fever. Like fire.

Carl was the last to rise, groggy and confused, hair an absolute mess. He blinked at the ceiling.

"I swear I dreamed I was… flying." He frowned. "Wait… that wasn't a dream."

---

By 8:15 a.m., the cafeteria buzzed with life.

Students piled in with trays of toast, eggs, sausages, and complaints about early classes. The five weren't sitting together yet—but the magnetic pull was impossible to ignore.

One by one, Henry, Nora, Kai, Carl, and Natasha found themselves entering the same hall. They paused awkwardly at the threshold.

Only one free table remained—with exactly five empty seats.

They exchanged glances. No one said a word.

Then, as if the world had made the choice for them, they took their seats.

Nora fiddled with her spoon. Kai drummed his fingers on the table. Natasha stared at her tea like it held secrets. Henry chewed toast like it had betrayed him. Carl poked at his eggs, sighing.

Silence.

Then, finally—Henry broke it.

"So… last night wasn't just me, right?"

Kai looked up. "The glowy turtle thing?"

Natasha said flatly, "Mine was a salamander. Flaming tail."

Carl blinked. "Okay, so we're not crazy. Cool. Group hallucination, then?"

"Nope," Nora said, calm and certain. "That was real."

Kai nodded slowly. "I didn't imagine the Greek symbols. Or… floating."

Henry leaned in. "What about Caleb? Maybe he knows more?"

Carl perked up. "Oh! And Leo—he was there, right? Maybe he—"

"I'll ask him," Nora said, already standing.

---

Ten minutes later, they found Leo near the amphitheater steps, sketching something on a tablet. When he saw them approaching, he grinned.

"Hey! What's up, Mythbusters?"

Kai folded his arms. "Last night. You remember anything?"

Leo tilted his head. "You mean that time you pranked me into thinking I saw torches light themselves in a fake cave and a talking book appeared out of nowhere?"

Carl blinked. "So you don't remember the Greek?"

Leo laughed. "Okay, seriously? You're all in on this? Wow. That's mean, even for you, Carl."

"We're not joking," Natasha said coldly.

Leo chuckled. "Sure you're not. What's next? Dragons in the quad?"

They stared. He didn't budge.

Henry sighed. "He doesn't remember a thing."

---

Later that day, they spotted Caleb by the art garden. Kai called out, "Yo, Caleb! Can we talk?"

Caleb turned, smiling. "About the book thing?"

Henry nodded. "Yeah. What do you remember?"

Caleb snorted. "You guys are still playing that up? Look, I get it—initiation week, spooky library story, secret passage and all that."

He leaned in, grinning. "Great job on the whole 'ancient prophecy' angle, by the way. Very immersive."

"But you were there—" Nora started.

"And then I fell asleep on the couch in the lit department," Caleb said with a shrug. "So if you're writing a fantasy novel, I want royalties."

They exchanged looks again. Same blank memory. Same denial.

Carl sat on a stone bench. "Okay, this is getting weird."

Kai crossed his arms. "So it's just us. Five people. Five creatures. Five… whatever this is."

Henry looked down at his hands.

"We were chosen."

Nora's voice was steady. "Whether we wanted it or not."

Natasha stood still. "The gods… left something behind. And it found us."

A hush fell over the group.

Five strangers. Now something more.

After their awkward exchange with Caleb, the group slowly drifted apart, each caught in their thoughts. The weight of what happened—or what might have happened—lingered like a dream they hadn't agreed on having.

Kai wandered alone toward the east wing, where the small music studio was tucked beside the old parking lot. His hands were stuffed in his hoodie pocket, earbuds in, head bobbing slightly to some low-fi remix in his ears.

Then he stopped.

Right by the front tyre of a sleek grey sedan was a nail. Sharp, mean-looking. The kind of nail that screamed puncture in progress.

Kai sighed and knelt down.

"Someone's gonna have a real bad day if this pops a tyre."

He reached out to grab the nail, but it was just a little too close under the car for comfort. He leaned forward a bit, steadying himself by pressing one hand on the car's hood.

"Just a tap. Nothing crazy."

Fwump.

The metal folded inward like it was made of paper.

Kai froze.

"...Huh?"

He stared at the massive dent his palm had made. It looked like a soccer ball had slammed into the hood at the speed of light.

"...Wait—WAIT!"

He leapt back instinctively, hands flailing like he'd just been stung by electricity.

"NOPE. Nuh-uh. What was—?! I just… I just TOUCHED it!"

In a panic, he stumbled backward and accidentally pushed the front bumper with his knee.

The car skidded two feet forward.

Skidded.

Without the engine.

Without the brakes.

Kai's eyes bulged. His jaw dropped.

"…OH, COME ON!"

He looked left.

He looked right.

No one.

Not a soul in the parking lot.

"Okay. Okayokayokayokay. Maybe it was already rolling. Maybe gravity did that. Maybe I hallucinated the dent. Maybe—"

He turned to the car.

Nope. Still dented.

Still freakishly moved.

Kai raised his hands like he was being arrested by the universe.

"I didn't ask for this. I JUST WANTED TO MAKE A BEAT."

Then he did what any reasonable, not-at-all-suspicious young man with supernatural strength would do.

He ran.

Full-on anime dash. Hoodie flapping. Bag bouncing. Legs cartoon-blurring.

And as he disappeared down the sidewalk toward the studio, he whispered under his breath:

"Dear gods… if you're gonna give me powers, could you at least wait until I graduate?"

---

Nora needed a break.

Between awkward breakfasts, weird tension at the table, and Henry avoiding eye contact like he owed her money in another life, she decided she deserved one simple joy: a cold, sweet, iced drink.

She walked into the campus café and ordered a tall strawberry lemonade with double ice—because she was not about to settle for a lukewarm disaster like yesterday.

Drink in hand, she took one satisfying sip, sighed, and stepped outside. The sky was bright, the breeze perfect. She was finally getting her little peace—

brrring brrring!

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She checked the screen.

Mom.

"Of course," she muttered, forcing a smile before picking up. "Hi, Mum—yes, I did eat today—yes, it was actual food. No, not just crackers and air."

The call stretched. And stretched.

Nora leaned against a tree. Shifted to the shade. Checked her nails. Counted birds. Mentally drafted an essay. Gave therapy to a ladybug crawling on her shoe.

By the time she hung up, ten full minutes had passed.

She turned back to her drink, ready to reclaim her happiness.

One sip—

Nothing.

She frowned. Sucked harder.

Still nothing.

"Ugh, don't tell me they messed up the straw again." She popped off the lid to fix it.

And blinked.

The entire drink had frozen solid. A pink strawberry-lemon popsicle in a cup.

"What the…?"

She tilted the cup, tapped it, shook it.

Nothing moved.

She squinted at it like it had personally betrayed her.

"Oh, you wanna be frozen now? Where was this energy when I was dying of heatstroke during Orientation?"

She laughed awkwardly, trying to act like she wasn't just talking to her drink. "Okay, weird but... maybe their freezer's broken in the other direction?"

Still puzzled, she left it on a nearby bench like it was haunted and headed for the bathroom inside the admin building to wash the sticky feeling off her fingers.

Inside the washroom, she turned on the tap.

Just a gentle flow.

She rubbed her hands together, muttering to herself, "Great. Now the drink's dead, I have lemonade hands, and I still didn't finish that—"

Suddenly, the water slowed.

Then stopped.

She looked down.

Frozen.

A thin sheet of ice had formed on the inside of the sink, and the tap had a frosty ring around it.

Nora blinked.

"...Okay. Maybe the school's got weird plumbing."

She cautiously touched the frozen water with one finger. It cracked a little.

She recoiled like it bit her.

"Nope. Nope nope. I'm not doing haunted bathroom mysteries today."

She dried her hands on her jeans like a criminal covering up a crime scene and bolted out, muttering,

"If anyone asks, that wasn't me."

---

Natasha wasn't sure why she was even in the gym.

She hated noise. Hated sweat. Hated effort, if she was being honest. But somehow, someone had sweet-talked her into "just checking it out."

Well, not someone. It was that annoyingly energetic girl with the ponytail and braces who'd handed her a flyer about joining the Student Wellness and Motivation Taskforce.

What kind of name was that anyway? It sounded like a cult that held push-up contests.

Now Natasha sat alone on a workout bench, holding the neon-green flyer like it had personally ruined her day. She glared at it. It glared back.

The words "Be your best self!" shone in glitter pen.

"Right," Natasha muttered, "My best self is asleep right now."

She rolled her eyes and made a dramatic motion to toss it into the trash.

But just as her fingers loosened…

FWOOOMPH!

The entire flyer burst into flames.

"WHAT THE—?!"

She recoiled, flinging the flaming paper away like it was radioactive. The ashes floated gently to the gym floor, leaving only a few glowing embers.

Then she looked down.

Her hands were smoking.

Literally.

Faint white wisps curled from her fingertips.

She blinked. "Nope."

The smoke thickened.

"NOPE nope nope—what—?!"

She flailed her hands wildly like she was shooing invisible bees, making confused squeaky noises she would deny ever making.

Panicked, she bolted out of the gym and into the hallway, practically tackling the door to the girls' bathroom. She rushed to the sink and shoved her hands under the tap.

Water splashed.

She expected pain. Blisters. Something.

But—

Nothing.

No sting. No marks. Not even redness.

She flipped her hands over, inspecting them like she was trying to find the instructions printed on her palms.

"Am I... heatproof?"

She turned off the water and stared at her reflection.

Eyes calm.

Face pale.

Hair… annoyingly perfect, even after sprinting.

She blew out a shaky breath.

"I'm not crazy. Just... very warm."

She dried her hands slowly, giving herself one more long look in the mirror.

"I did not start a fire with my thoughts. That would be ridiculous."

She walked out.

The gym hallway light flickered above her.

Just once.

Then steadied.

Natasha didn't look back.

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