The academy's courtyard was quiet this morning—too quiet for the season of Blooming.
Root sat on the edge of a stone bench, his fists clenched tight in the pockets of his worn academy jacket. Around him, clusters of students beamed, showing off the vivid, glowing patterns that had bloomed over their skin overnight—their first sigils, each one marking the birth of a life-bonded summon.
His chest remained bare. No light. No heat. No pattern.
Nothing.
Again.
His stomach twisted. The instructors said it could still happen. Some sigils took longer to surface, especially for late-binders. But this was Root's second Blooming, and still, no sigil. No spark. No summon. Just whispers behind his back and the sympathetic glances of teachers who had stopped calling on him in class.
"Maybe it's broken," someone muttered a few feet away.
Root didn't turn. He didn't have to. The voice belonged to Klem, one of the favored few whose summon had bloomed early. His arm bore a shining blue glyph that shimmered like frost. A rare affinity. A prized sigil.
"Don't be an ass, Klem," another voice said—a girl's voice, sharp and familiar.
Root glanced up. It was Lyra. Small, wild-haired, and wide-eyed behind round glasses. Her cheeks were flushed red with anger, though her own sigil—shaped like coiled lightning—was proudly exposed across her collarbone.
"Face it," Klem said with a smirk. "If his sigil didn't bloom now, it never will. Maybe there's just… nothing in there."
That got a few chuckles.
Root stood up slowly, his shadow long in the morning sun. He didn't say anything. Didn't need to. Silence worked better than any insult.
Lyra caught his eye, gave a tiny nod, then turned back toward the dorms.
He followed. Not because he needed help. But because she never looked at him with pity. Only frustration. Like she was mad he hadn't figured out how to unlock his potential yet.
They walked in silence until they reached the edge of the academy's living quarters. Lyra finally stopped and spun around, arms crossed.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on with you, or are you just going to keep sulking like a Hollowed?"
Root opened his mouth, then closed it again. There were no words for this ache. No logic behind it. It wasn't just the sigil that hadn't bloomed. It was everything. His place here. His path. His worth.
"I don't know," he said at last. "I feel like I'm here, but not really part of anything. Like I'm… out of sync."
Lyra's expression softened.
"I believe you have a sigil. I know you do. I've seen how you train when no one's watching. How you read the old summon theory books like they hold the answers to life. Something's in there, Root."
He looked down at his palm, clenching it tight.
"I wish I could see it."
"You will," she said. "But not if you keep hiding from it."
She walked off, leaving him standing at the edge of the courtyard, a lone figure in a sea of newly minted bonders.
He turned his head to the sky.
Still nothing.
That night, Root sat cross-legged on the floor of his shared dorm room. His roommate was gone—probably celebrating with the others. The room felt hollow without the usual chatter or the quiet hum of a summoned companion resting nearby.
A candle flickered beside him. Not for light, but for focus. He had no sigil. No summon. But he had discipline. And something deep inside him—an itch that wouldn't go away.
He closed his eyes.
Introspection.
Meditation.
Breathe in.
Hold.
Breathe out.
He had read about techniques used before Blooming. Some bonders claimed they felt their summon before the sigil ever appeared. A whisper. A shape. A presence watching from behind the eyes.
But for Root, there was only darkness.
Until—
—a flicker.
Not of light. But of space.
His breath hitched.
It was faint, but he felt something shift. His mind expanded—not outward but inward. A pull at the edge of his thoughts, like a string had been tied to the center of his soul and was now being gently tugged.
The darkness behind his eyes cracked.
And in its place…
A room.
Not a memory. Not a dream. An actual space suspended in the void of his mind. It was empty. Vast. A floating island of polished stone surrounded by shifting clouds of black and white, like a sea of shadow and moonlight.
He gasped.
This wasn't normal.
He looked down—his body was whole. His hands, real. But his skin glowed faintly with symbols he didn't recognize. At the center of the stone platform was a pool. Shallow. Still. Like a mirror cut into the ground.
When he stepped forward and looked into it, he saw—
himself.
—but hollow-eyed. Empty-chested. A faint outline of a sigil flickering just beneath the surface of his skin. Unstable. Locked.
Then something stirred.
From behind him, a soft sound. Not a growl, not a breeze.
A breath.
Root turned.
A shape was forming at the edge of the platform. Small. Humanoid. But with stretched proportions. Big round eyes. Delicate frame. Its face was masked—half cracked porcelain, half void.
Its voice rang out, dry and curious.
"Well… took you long enough."
Root stepped back instinctively.
"What are you?"
The figure cocked its head.
"Your summon, obviously. Though, I must say… I expected someone taller. Or at least awake."
It walked up, hands behind its back like a bored librarian.
"You were supposed to bloom months ago. I've been waiting in this dump of a mind-space ever since. You know how boring the void is without books? Or chairs?"
Root blinked. "You're my…?"
"Summon. Familiar. Bound Aspect. Soul Twin. Call it what you like. Name's Veyr. I've got some notes about your progress, by the way."
Veyr gestured, and a floating scroll appeared, rolled open mid-air.
"One: You eat too many carbs.
Two: Your mental fortress is sad.
Three: No decor? Really? This place is depressing."
Root opened his mouth, then shut it again.
"What even are you?"
Veyr's cracked mask tilted with what might have been a grin.
"You'll find out. Eventually. But let's keep it simple for now. You've got a Sigil that refused to bloom because your body wasn't ready for me. So the system locked me out."
Root narrowed his eyes. "The system?"
Veyr snapped his fingers.
A translucent screen appeared in the air.
[HOLLOW SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
Name: Root
Sigil Status: Dormant
Hollow Points: 0
Veinbind: Incomplete
Summon: Veyr [Unmanifested]
Inner Space: Discovered
System Note: Unlock martial and mental pathways to stabilize summoning channel. Points will be awarded through introspection, devouring, and completing Hollow Quests.
Root stared at the floating text.
"This is… real?"
"Real enough to kill you if you mess it up," Veyr said, nonchalantly kicking a pebble off the edge of the platform. "Now. Welcome to the grind, partner."
And with a flick of his finger, the screen shattered into dust.