The next morning came with the loud clang of the academy bells—sharp and clear, echoing across the massive campus. Students hurried through the dorm hallways, adjusting their uniforms, buzzing with excitement for the first official day of classes.
Zane, however, was still asleep. Face buried in his pillow. Light snoring. Absolutely dead to the world.
The door creaked open, and Mira stepped inside. She was already dressed in her academy uniform: a fitted navy coat lined with gold trim, skirt neat, hair tied up elegantly. The uniform hugged her form perfectly, drawing a second glance from anyone who passed her by.
"Zane," Mira said softly at first. No response.
She sighed, stepped closer, and tugged at his blanket. "Zane. Classes start today. You're going to be late."
"Mmmm. Five more years," Zane mumbled into the pillow.
Mira rolled her eyes. "Up. Now."
Zane groaned but finally rolled over, blinking at her. "Do you have to look that shiny this early in the morning? It's blinding."
Before Mira could answer, Asher—still buttoning his jacket unevenly—peeked over and froze. His eyes widened. "Mira…" He cleared his throat, trying to recover his composure. "I must say, that uniform… it—it elevates your beauty to divine levels. Truly, the stars themselves look—"
"Good morning, Asher," Mira cut him off flatly, not even sparing him a second glance. She turned back to Zane. "Get dressed. Now."
Asher winced, clutching his chest as though stabbed, and muttered under his breath, "Cold. Too cold."
Zane dragged himself out of bed, still half-asleep, and pulled on his academy uniform. Unlike Asher, who looked like he fought his clothes before putting them on, Zane's fit him perfectly—neat, sharp, and for some reason, annoyingly effortless.
But then he paused, scanning the room for something. He spotted an old piece of cloth near the drawer, grabbed it, and tore it into a strip.
"What are you doing?" Mira asked, frowning as he tied the cloth around his head, covering his eyes completely. "You won't be able to see anything like that."
Zane adjusted the knot, smirk tugging at his lips. "Believe me, I can."
"Prove it." Mira immediately raised three fingers in front of him. "Ok genius how many fingers am I holding up?"
Zane stilled. Then, concentrating, he let the world fade.
His vision went dark—no, not dark. It shifted. He wasn't looking through his eyes anymore, but through the shadows, he had a headache but it wasn't too serious. The light, the edges, the shapes, everything bled into a strange grayscale. He turned his head toward Mira… and froze.
From her body radiated a golden-blue light, soft and steady, like a lantern burning at midnight. It wasn't just her figure—her very presence seemed to pulse with it.
Zane quickly looked away and turned to Asher instead. What he saw made his head tilt. Asher was… different. His body was wrapped in a chaotic vortex, threads of power stretching out from him like tangled strings. They writhed and shifted, barely contained, as though something inside him didn't want to stay still.
Zane blinked, forcing himself back to Mira's hand. The shadows outlined her fingers clearly. "Three," he said simply.
Mira narrowed her eyes. "Lucky guess." She switched to two fingers. "Now?"
"Two."
She raised five. "Now?"
"Five."
She raised just her pinky, smirking. "Now?"
"Obviously one. Mira, this isn't hard."
Her smirk faded. "…You can really see, can't you?"
Zane leaned back casually, arms crossed. "Told you. My eyes aren't the only ones that work."
Asher finally spoke up, staring at him suspiciously. "…That's not normal. You're not normal."
Zane just shrugged. "Normal's boring.