It was a rather cool day, the morning sun had just begun to rise, and the mist that usually covered the island every night was starting to clear. The birds within the folds of green surrounding the campus chirped audibly, probably a few hundred of them, announcing the day's breaking.
Tristan walked outside his room and even the boy's hostel to find himself before one of the three statues that arose within the academy's courtyard. They seemed to have a separate purpose than just adorning that wide space.
His tall frame stood still before the figurine that was the mother of inheritors, and for some reason, he felt drawn to it.
Tristan had woken up with another strange dream. They had become more frequent, and he had no idea why. But this particular one had been different. It had birthed the feeling of nostalgia or longing.