The Boy with No Shadow

The next evening, Elowen Hall finally began to feel like a school.

Students had arrived. Dozens of them, maybe more, wandering through the corridors in dark uniforms with silver trim. Their faces were tired but curious, eyes wide with that same quiet confusion Aria felt. Everyone had questions. No one asked them out loud

Aria walked through the dining hall alone. A huge chandelier hung above the long tables, its candles flickering like stars. The food smelled strange sweet, spicy, and unfamiliar. She picked at a plate of bread and fruit and listened to the low hum of conversation all around her.

Then she saw him.

A boy sitting by himself at the far end of the hall.

He wasn’t eating. Just staring at a blank page in front of him, like he was trying to remember how to read. His hair was black and messy, his uniform a little too big. His expression didn’t change when people passed him. He didn’t look up.

What caught her attention wasn’t his face.

It was the floor beneath his chair.

He had no shadow.

Aria blinked.

Everyone else cast long, soft shadows in the candlelight, but not him. The surrounding space was just… empty.

She wasn’t sure why she stood up and walked over. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe something quieter something in her gut that said he’s like you.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked.

He looked up at her, eyes dark and unreadable. Then, after a pause, he shook his head.

She sat down.

They didn’t talk at first. He kept his gaze fixed on the page in front of him. Aria didn’t know what to say. It felt like being beside a thunderstorm calm for now, but full of something waiting to break.

“I’m Aria,” she said finally.

The boy glanced at her, then looked away. “Nathaniel.”

“You’re new too?”

He gave a small nod. “I guess.”

They fell into silence again. The sound of spoons and laughter echoed around them, but their little corner felt far away from it all.

After a moment, he spoke. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

Aria’s heart jumped. “Saw what?”

“The door,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “In the dream. With an eye on it.”

She stared at him, stunned. Her hands went cold.

“How did you know?” she whispered back.

He looked at her. His eyes were tired. Not with sleep, but with knowing too much.

“I dreamed it too,” he said. “Last year.”