Blue flames again. Blue flames, blue fire, and now, the faint voice: "Hush now, sleep now, weep ye no more, ye now protected under the bosom, the goddess bores." The heat was unbearable. All he could see was the pervasive blue light the flames cast, shadowing a figure in front of him—a person, perhaps the one singing? Alex wondered as he reached out his hand. Just as the figure turned around, Alex woke up in shock.
He was breathing hard, drenched in cold sweat. He looked over to find Marin staring at him, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you alright, mate?" Marin whispered gently, noticing Alex's discomfort.
Alex glanced at him, then looked out the window, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. "Yeah, I'm okay," he replied, though his voice betrayed him slightly.
"Does this happen often?" Marin asked, his tone filled with concern.
Alex met Marin's gaze briefly, then shifted his eyes to the ground. "For as long as I can remember," he admitted quietly.
Marin could sense Alex's reluctance to delve deeper into the topic of his dreams. As the first light of dawn began to fill the room, he decided to shift the focus. "It's morning, mate," he said in a reassuring voice. "Let's grab some breakfast and get on with our day."
As Alex and Marin rose from their beds, a knock sounded at the door. Marin walked over to open it, revealing a small servant woman with a large rolling bag in tow.
"Lord Blue," she announced, her voice steady.
Alex corrected her gently, "You mean Alex Blue."
The woman recoiled slightly; it was nearly a faux pas for a servant to address a lord by their first name. "Here," she said, her voice now hesitant and shaky as she handed over the bag.
Alex took the heavy bag, puzzled. "What's this?" he inquired.
"The Lord Drake instructed me to bring this to you," she explained, quickly making her exit. Alex noticed the strain it must have taken her to maneuver such a weighty item and felt a pang of guilt.
"Look, Alex, there's a note on it," Marin pointed out, drawing his attention to a letter attached to the bag.
Alex unfolded the note. It read:
Dear Alex,
I have taken the liberty of purchasing some new clothing for you until you design the sigil of your house. From this day forward, you will be my ward.
Alex let the letter slip from his fingers, landing softly on the floor. Despite his unfamiliarity with the customs of the wealthy, he sensed the magnitude of what had just transpired. The brother of the King of Dragkos, adopting him as a ward—this was monumental. Questions swirled in his mind. What about Tuff and Mother Mable? Would he ever see them again? The realization tugged at his heart.
He hastily opened the bag to find clothes in black and red, each piece adorned with the image of a red flame engulfing a dragon. The collection included both night and day attire. Professor Drake had even provided new toiletries—a toothbrush, soap, and underwear. It was as though he was being transformed into a Drake in all but name.
Glancing over at Marin, Alex noticed his astonishment. Marin was staring at the letter, evidently shocked. "You—you are the ward of the headmaster?" he stammered.
The Drakes, descendants of Drakos the Powerful, the demigod, were a monumental family, and becoming a ward of their house was a significant elevation in status for Alex. Overwhelmed, Alex looked at Marin, struggling to find words. "I—I had no idea," he managed, his eyes wide as he surveyed the expansive assortment of clothing in the bag.
