1st Period: The Morning Before School

As the new dawn broke, I gradually peeled open my eyes, their gunmetal blue hue mirroring the early morning sky. Waking up, a routine yet mystifying act, was akin to the unveiling of a hibernating machine, gears revving as consciousness returned. 

I felt the twin sun's gentle embrace warming my rough, blue-gray skin. Emerging from the cocoon of my sleeping quarters, my limbs tingled with a vibrational excitement that echoed the promise of a new day. Anticipation hummed beneath my skin; the vast unknown of the day's events awaited, ready to unfurl with each step I took. 

As I ventured from my sanctuary of sleep, my father quietly acknowledged my presence with a knowing nod. His attention was absorbed by the holographic display device streaming in front of him, embedded in the hallway wall. I nodded back, a silent conversation exchanged between us, and continued my journey toward the balcony. 

The news bulletin echoed in the background, an ominous soundtrack to our otherwise peaceful morning. The holograph flickered, casting a cold light along the hallway, as the newscaster relayed the latest updates. 

"Attention, citizens! This is an emergency broadcast brought to you by Ashton of the Rittenhouse House. Brace yourselves, as the headline is not for the faint-hearted. Caution is advised as the Legionaries continue to spread their reign of terror throughout the districts. Reports are flooding in from various areas across the planet, detailing their nefarious activities, which have escalated to an unprecedented level," the news anchor said. 

"In the wake of the recent and unsettling disappearance of many children from the Brightwood District, the terror of 'Legion' has begun to hit home harder than ever before. The Legionaries, as they have become known, were given their powers from Legion and he taught them to spread destruction wherever they go. They have begun moving like shadows, their victims disappearing without a trace. Authorities are doing their utmost to unravel this web of kidnappings and bring the perpetrators to justice. 

However, the elusive nature of Legion's leadership fuels the anxiety that pervades our society. The more we try to understand, the less we seem to know. Our planet is on high alert, where every whisper of Legion's activities sends shockwaves through our world. Despite the relentless efforts of our intelligence agencies, the identity of Legion remains an enigma," the news broadcaster continued. 

In the midst of the chaos displayed on the holographic display, I pulled out my Devilan Notebook to gather more information on the Rittenhouse House Crest, prominently displayed on the news reporter's right arm. 

After listening intently to the news broadcast, I couldn't help but feel a wave of distress wash over me. These kidnappings and attacks on the districts had become a normal occurrence on my beloved planet, weighing heavily on my mind. I felt a deep sense of unease, a foreboding that was impossible to shake off. Soon after, I shifted my attention back to the Devilan Notebook and studied the Rittenhouse House Crest. 

The Rittenhouse House Crest symbolizes the sheer power of words and the influence they wield in shaping societal perceptions. The quill in the crest represents the writer's tool, indicative of the house's literary prowess. The inkpot suggests the depth of knowledge and wisdom that the house possesses and shares through its journalistic endeavors. The open book at the crest's center symbolizes transparency and open dialogue, signifying the house's commitment to unbiased reporting and truth. The laurel wreath encircling the crest signifies honor and prestige, acknowledging the house's established reputation in the field of journalism. 

The crest's presence on the news reporter's arm is not merely decorative. It is a symbol of the reporter's allegiance to the House of Rittenhouse, a badge of honor showcasing a commitment to delivering news with the utmost integrity, courage, and truthfulness. 

 As I glanced back at the holographic display, my focus shifted from the facing terror of Legion to the subtle yet powerful influence of the House of Rittenhouse. The House Crest, worn by each House, is woven into the very fabric of our society. It serves as a constant reminder of the different Houses in our society, each carrying their own enduring strength and values that have shaped our planet. 

With a heavy heart, I decided to step outside. With a gentle press of a button, the balcony door parted, and the sliding door opened; a pleasant breeze caressed my face as it blew past my dark, coarse, bristly hair. I reached the balcony, hoping the fresh air might help clear my thoughts. 

While observing the scenery before me, I felt a presence behind me. I turned to find my father standing there, the holographic images from the television now nothing more than a faint glow in the background. He stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I soon found myself standing under the vast expanse of the twin sun's overhead, hoping to find some measure of peace outside. 

"Henry, my son," he said. 

"We must not let the news broadcasts cloud our judgment or dampen our spirit. We have duties to perform, responsibilities that far outweigh the speculations of the media," my father paused for a brief moment, letting his words sink in. 

He gestured towards the vast cosmos overhead, as the twin suns reflected brightly in his eyes. 

"See those twin stars, son? They do not falter in their path, regardless of the storms they weather. We must be like those twin stars, resolute and unwavering. The path that lies ahead will surely be a tough one, but I have faith that you will rise to the challenge. Seek out the truth and let it guide your way," he said. 

His words held a quiet fortitude, a resolve as unshakeable as the celestial bodies he referred to. I took a deep breath, the weight of his words settling in my mind, a beacon of hope in the midst of such uncertainty.

A sudden gust of wind swept across the arid landscape, sending a cloud of dust spiraling into the air. The chill cut through the heat, sending a shiver down my spine. As the dust settled, my eyes fell upon a mansion in the far distance as the twin suns cast their long shadows over the terrain. 

"Son, do you see the mansion in the distance over there? That mansion belongs to the Rosewood House," my father said, his gaze fixed upon the structure. It was an imposing edifice, a testament to the resilience and strength of our people. He continued without waiting for my response, "They, too, have faced many trials and tribulations. Yet, they have always stood firm. Like us, they are bound by duty and honor." 

As the twin suns began their descent, casting a serene glow over the landscape, he prepared to delve into a conversation about responsibilities. This was a conversation he'd been meaning to have with me for quite some time. It would be about the possibility of marrying into the Rosewood House. 

The world beyond our domicile was a symphony of colors. The vibrant greenery of the flora reached towards the balcony, gently brushing against my skin. Beyond the transparent boundary, a dance of bio-luminescent flora ignited the landscape with a pulsating spectacle of colors, their glow casting surreal shadows. The melodic birdsong filled the air, providing a soothing soundtrack to the dawn of a new day. 

The view from where I was standing was breathtaking; it almost seemed too perfect to be real. With the press of another button, a patio chair quickly unfolded before me from the balcony floor, its metallic frame gleaming under the soft light of the flora. I stepped back, sinking into the plush cushioning of the chair, feeling the cool synthetic material beneath my palms. It hummed to life, adjusting to my body shape and weight, providing an almost floating sensation.

As the chair tilted back slightly, I looked out onto the mesmerizing vista before me. The neon hues of blues, purples, and greens intermingled, casting an ethereal glow on the landscape. The bio-luminescent plants pulsed rhythmically, mimicking the heartbeat of this world. As they swayed in the breeze, they created a surreal spectacle of light and shade—a performance that only a mere mortal could appreciate and understand. 

Leaning back further, I let the scene wash over me, taking in the pulsating lights and the serene birdsong. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, feeling the light breeze carry the unusual but pleasant scent of the flora. It was a perfect moment, a peaceful interlude before the frantic pace of the day began. This was another morning on the planet Mithraeum, and I was here, basking in its glow. 

My father had been meaning to have this conversation with me for quite some time. I didn't pay much attention. As I sat there, I only half-listened to his words as he discussed the usual responsibilities. As his words washed over me, my thoughts traveled to the upcoming "Solstice of Solara." This would be the equivalent of the summer season. 

This was a time when the sky would clothe itself in an ethereal sheen, the stars taking a step back to make way for the vibrant hues that the universe painted across the endless canvas. A season I planned to spend with Athena, my closest childhood friend. Her Household had made arrangements for us to stay at one of the many Rosewood House vacation homes. Our agenda? To explore the peculiar, supernatural abilities that had recently surfaced within us, presumably a result of our extraordinarily deep connection with each other. 

Athena's mother believed that her great-aunt might have some insight that would help us better understand these supernatural abilities. So, we decided that it was best to take this journey together in an attempt to uncover more information about this Aeonian Bond that had been formed between the two of us.

"Son, do you understand what all this really means?" my father asked, his deep voice echoing outside, his eyes meeting mine. 

"As you step into the Rosewood House with Athena, there's more than just exploration awaiting you. There will be responsibilities and expectations waiting for you…" my father continued speaking.

I nodded, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. Athena and I were entwined not merely by friendship, but by an Aeonian Bond that had birthed supernatural abilities within us, abilities we had yet to understand.

"Yes, Father, I understand what you are trying to tell me," I replied, my voice steady. 

"You expect me to uphold not only our Household's reputation of honor and the excellence that Eliwood House strives for but also that of the Rosewood House as well... I will not falter," I proclaimed. 

Father nodded, a stern yet proud expression on his face. 

"It's good to hear you say that. Just remember, society will look upon you as a beacon. A beacon of integrity and fairness. You must stand tall, my son, unwavering in your dedication to truth and to the pursuit of justice," he said, hoping that I understood his words. 

Michelle of the Eliwood House spoke up, her voice emerging from the holographic panel near the balcony door. "Son, when you finish upstairs, I need to talk with you about something important." 

My mother's voice sounded serene, a stark contrast to my father's stern lecture. 

"Of course, Mother, I understand," I replied, managing to keep my voice steady. "Father was just... sharing the Eliwood House's expectations of me," I added in a serious tone. 

"Your father means well; he just has a peculiar way of expressing it," said my mother, her tone gentle yet reassuring. 

"Just remember, we must always strive to live up to the expectations placed upon us by the head of our respective House. After all, the only thing that really matters in this life is how well we represent the Eliwood House and our Household as we strive to stay true to the values they have placed upon us."

Her words brought solace, drawing a faint smile to my face. 

"I do understand, Mother, and I shall always strive to honor the ways of the Eliwood House and our Household as I continue to move forward from here on out," I explained. 

"Henry, when you have finished talking with your father, I need you to come downstairs. I don't want you to miss Solara Dawnmeal with your Household," my mother said. 

In the intricate societal fabric of our world, a Household is formed by individuals brought to life through the marvel of Artificial Womb technology. This groundbreaking technique necessitates the collection of genetic samples from certified parents, each representing their respective Houses. The certification, a mark of approval and tradition, is bestowed by the heads of their respective Houses, ensuring the lineage is preserved and enhanced. 

During that time, my father was upstairs relaxing on the balcony in the lawn chairs, enjoying his morning drink, while I rushed downstairs to catch Solara Dawnmeal with my mother and sister. After I finished eating my Solara Dawnmeal, which was the first meal of the day, I received the usual lecture from my mother.

"Now that I have your undivided attention, I need to discuss something important with you. It's about you learning to be more responsible. One day, you will be expected to leave this Household and hopefully start your own Household. You're 14 years old already, and this is going to be your last week at Dalton Middle School. Do you understand what I am trying to say to you?" she asked as she finished preparing Solara Dawnmeal for my 4-year-old sister Erica. 

"I do understand what you are saying, Mother, and I'm very sorry for my poor performance," I replied. 

The reason she is saying this is that she also harbors expectations of my eventual alliance with the Rosewood House. The Rosewood House carries an illustrious reputation, revered for its members' uncanny skill in discerning truth. This distinguished House has always held a pivotal role in judicial proceedings and conflict resolutions. Their uncanny ability to sift through layers of deceit and arrive at the core of truth has always held them in high regard in our community. This potential future for me casts a heavy mantle of responsibility, setting the bar high for my conduct and demeanor. 

The judges from the Rosewood House are individuals who have gone through rigorous training and have demonstrated impeccable ethical standards, proving their qualifications. They possess a keen ability to analyze and interpret multi-faceted issues, enabling them to deliver fair and sound judgments. Moreover, their innate truth perception gift, which is quite rare and highly respected, ensures that they always see beyond surface-level information. This unique ability, coupled with their unwavering dedication to justice, earns them universal respect. Therefore, the Rosewood House's reputation stands as a beacon of integrity and fairness in the law. 

Members of a House will often seek marriage into another House, often bringing their spouse with them, choosing the House with the greater rank or influence within society. 

The Houses often try to get spouses to marry into their respective houses and adopt their houses as their own. The Heads of the House typically arranged engagements and have been used to entice members to join their respective House. 

Afterward, I caught a ride from my mother, who drove me to school. Upon arrival, I recognized the discipline underlying this apparent moment. There was a certain sense of order and structure that veiled the vibrancy of the scene. Students moved in organized lines, their uniforms crisp and neat, their voices pitched just right so as not to disrupt the harmony. When the school bell rang, it gave off a resonant tone, and the students immediately ceased their conversations, turning to their classrooms with almost soldier-like precision. This was the last week of school, and it promised to be an experience quite like no other. 

The final week at Dalton Middle School had a different vibe to it. When the end-of-day bell pealed its final note, we were greeted with the onset of The Equinox of Bloomara. It was during The Equinox of Bloomara that we would bid farewell to the confines of our institution, its academic rigors momentarily suspended as we embraced the liberty and luminescence of the season. 

During the final week of the school year, the atmosphere was bittersweet. Athena and I strolled through the expansive double doors of the school, the tiles echoing our footsteps as if to magnify the significance of these closing days. The once bustling hallways were now an echo chamber of our shared memories, each locker a testament to the friendships formed and challenges surmounted. 

As the sunlight filtered in through the high windows, it cast long, dancing shadows that flickered over the trophy case and bulletin boards filled with photos from previous school events. The familiarity of the scene was both comforting and sad, a gentle reminder of the impending farewell to our middle school until we return again next year.