CIX
The mirror embedded in the closet had been quiet all evening—just a soft, smoky grey shimmer, like it was breathing in its sleep. I'd almost forgotten it was there. Almost.
My eyes finally grew heavy. I set the pad on the bedside table, waving my hand to dim the lamp, and letting the mattress cradle my body in its engineered warmth. The room felt too new, too blank, too expectant. A slate waiting for color. A life waiting for shape.
I turned away from the mirror.
I felt him before I saw him.
A hand—warm, familiar—settled on my shoulder, moving aside my hair.
I jolted upright, heart hammering.
"Baby, I can't stay there alone."
His voice was soft, almost pitiful. You turned, and there he was: the hat‑man in his human form, shadow flickering at the edges, eyes wide with dramatic suffering. His head nodded forward, gold curls covering his eyes.
"There aren't any roommates yet," he said, leaning into your space like a cat begging for warmth. "It's too quiet."
Of course. Mirrors were his realm. No locked dorm door would stop him. No hallway distance. No gravity shift. He could slip through reflective surfaces like they were open windows.
I sighed, rubbing your face. "You scared me."
He wilted, shoulders drooping. "I'm sorry, darling. I just… can't stay there alone."
I understood. This place was lonely. Too new. Too empty. You'd slept in the same bed during the cruise, and the silence here felt heavier than the gravity.
"Fine," I said, pointing a warning finger at him. "But no funny business."
His smile bloomed instantly wide, relieved, almost childlike.
"I promise, darling."
He slid into the bed behind me, curling himself into my back with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times. His arms wrapped around my waist, gentle and warm, holding you like you were the only solid thing in a shifting universe.
I felt his breath against your shoulder, steady and soft.
He wasn't a king here. He wasn't a shadow‑creature. He was just Daryl.
And tonight, in this strange new world, I let him stay.
His breath was warm against my neck. How could I shadow phantom breathe?
His breath shouldn't have felt warm. It shouldn't have brushed the back of my neck like that—soft, human, rhythmic. Shadows weren't supposed to breathe. Dimensional phantoms weren't supposed to have heartbeats. But Daryl's body, the one he'd shaped from magic and resonance and stubborn desire, behaved like flesh. It held heat. It exhaled. It curled around you with the weight of someone who had chosen to exist. He must have rested his shadow self in the mirror before he'd entered my room.
"Baby, please relax, you're all stiff. His arms tightened." His warm breath huffed, and I could feel his smile spread. I could feel hard teeth against my neck, scraping against delicate blood vessels. Small sounds escaped me as nerves awoke.
"You're so mean Daryll" I whispered, elbowing him gently.
"I'm not, wifey." He replied, his hands roaming, massaging sore muscles. He squeezed and pushed at my body gently, small noises escaping as stressed muscles loosened and breathing eased in soft gasps of displaced air. I passed out under his professional ministrations.
I woke facing him.
Sometime in the night, I'd turned toward him, my forehead resting against his bare chest, his arms wrapped around me like he'd been afraid you'd vanish if he let go. The mattress warmed beneath me, adjusting to my waking pulse. The room brightened gradually, the walls shifting from soft twilight to a gentle gold—Miridani's artificial sunrise.
A chime rang overhead, clear and melodic.
"Eight a.m. Miridani standard time."
The voice was feminine, calm, and unmistakably artificial. The lighting rose another degree, mimicking dawn on a world that wasn't Earth.
I blinked up at Daryl.
His golden curls were tousled. His lashes fluttered as he stirred. His shadow stretched lazily across the bed like a cat waking from a nap. Daryll yawned and stretched, bare chest widening. His long, lithe abdominal muscles spread and moved beautifully as he moved them up and back as he stretched, revealing them from the edge of the sheets.
He smiled—slow, sleepy, warm.
"Morning, darling."
His voice was rough with sleep, and something in my chest tightened. He looked so human like this. So impossibly normal. As if he hadn't once been a creature who hunted souls in a mirror realm.
My face warmed, I exhaled, letting the reality settle.
I was on planet Miridani in a dorm built for interstellar cadets.
With a shadow‑being curled around me like a lover.
And a future waiting outside my door.
Port didn't bother with subtlety—her knock was sharp enough to rattle the doorframe, followed immediately by her bright, chirping voice.
"Wakey wakey!"
You dragged yourself out of bed, still warm from the mattress and from Daryl's arms, and opened the door. Port swept in like a burst of orange sunlight, tail flicking, ears perked, already tapping something on her pad.
She paused mid‑stride.
"Oh wow."
Her eyes landed on Daryl—shirtless, hair tousled, shadow stretching lazily behind him—just as he stepped out of your room and into the hallway. He didn't even look embarrassed. He just gave her a polite nod and padded across to his own door like this was the most normal thing in the universe.
Port blinked twice, then recovered with professional speed.
"Anyway!" she chirped, swiping a glowing packet of data onto both your pads. "Here's the additional information you need for orientation."
Your pad vibrated as the files loaded—campus maps, safety protocols, species‑compatibility charts, and a revised list of audit classes.
Port continued, "I've also updated your class list based on the courses you requested. And—oh!—Dr. Marlo wants to meet with you."
You frowned. "Who's Dr. Marlo?"
Port's ears twitched. "Astrophysics and Resonance Dynamics professor. Very respected. Very brilliant. Very… eccentric."
She leaned in conspiratorially.
"He was contacted by the admissions office about your resonance issue before you arrived. He thinks he has research that might help stabilize things."
Your stomach tightened. "Is it dangerous?"
Port shook her head, orange fur shimmering. "No, no. Nothing like that. Your resonance shouldn't affect anyone here—Miridani's dimensional fabric is much stronger than Earth's. But Dr. Marlo is fascinated by anomalies, and you're… well…"
She gestured vaguely at you.
"You're interesting."
Behind you, Daryl snorted.
Port ignored him and continued, "He'll explain everything. He's very kind. A little intense. But kind."
She tapped your pad again, highlighting a glowing appointment slot.
"Your meeting with him is scheduled for tomorrow morning. Don't be late—he gets twitchy."
You nodded, still absorbing everything.
Port clapped her hands. "Great! Orientation starts in thirty minutes. Get dressed, grab breakfast, and meet me at the central plaza."
She bounced toward the door, tail swishing.
"Oh—and tell your half naked boyfriend to put on a shirt. You'll be meeting your roommates in a few minutes."
Daryl's voice drifted from across the hall.
"I heard that."
Port grinned. "Good."
The new dorm felt like a tiny ecosystem—one designed to keep half the galaxy alive under one roof—and meeting the other oxygen‑breathing cadets made it feel suddenly real.
They arrived in little clusters, curious, bright‑eyed, carrying bags that hummed, glowed, or crawled depending on the species. Daryl stood near the doorway as Port introduced everyone, her tail flicking with excitement as she showed them in.
The cat‑people arrived first—sleek fur, long tails, eyes that glowed faintly in the dim hallway. One girl with silver stripes leaned in close, sniffing you politely before smiling.
"Nice to meet you, you smell good, my name is Atta," she said, delighted, her cat ears turning pink in a blush, whiskers shivering. The lizard‑folk came next—scales in jewel tones, eyes with vertical pupils, movements smooth and deliberate. One tall girl with emerald scales bowed her head. "I am Rodda, from Riri Seven. Hello roommates." Her tail swished back and forth as she settled on the couch.
I nodded. "Nice to meet you all." The chime on my watch signaled. "We need to get to Orientation!"
They arrived like a small storm front—three figures stepping into the hallway with the kind of coordinated precision that only came from military training. You didn't need Port's subtle double‑take to realize these weren't ordinary cadets. They moved like they were used to armor, used to formation, used to danger.
And Daryll froze.
Not in fear—more like recognition.
The first one through the door was a Felinid, tall and broad‑shouldered, orange‑striped fur and sharp amber eyes. He spotted Atta—the silver‑striped cat‑girl from your dorm—and his face lit up. She squealed, tail puffing with joy, and launched herself at him.
"Cousin!" she cried, hugging him so tightly his armor creaked.
He laughed, lifting her off the ground. "Atta! I thought you were still on the northern continent!"
Behind him came a Vulpinid—sleek, russet‑furred, fox‑like, with a long tail that swayed in a slow, assessing arc. His eyes flicked over you, then Daryll, then the dorm layout, calculating everything in a heartbeat.
The third was an Ursinid, massive and stone‑faced, dark fur rippling over muscles that looked carved from basalt. He ducked slightly to clear the doorway, rumbling a greeting that vibrated the floor.
Port's ears shot straight up.
"Oh stars," she muttered, tapping her pad rapidly. "You three weren't supposed to arrive until tomorrow."
The Felinid cousin set Atta down and saluted Port with crisp precision. "Transport schedule changed. Dimensional turbulence."
Port sighed but smiled. "Fine, fine. I'll add you to my roster."
Her pad chimed as she registered them, and then she turned to you and Daryll.
"These three," she said, gesturing at the soldiers, "are from the same planet as Atta. Each continent has its own dominant carnivorid‑humanoid species. Felinid, Vulpinid, Ursinid."
The Vulpinid nodded. "We enrolled together. Same academy. Same intake year."
The Ursinid rumbled, "Same mission track."
Port added, "And now—same dorm cluster."
Daryll's expression shifted from curiosity to something more complicated. Recognition. Maybe even a little dread. He'd known from this pad that these were his new roommates.
The Felinid soldier clapped him on the shoulder. "Roomie."
Daryll winced. "Don't call me that."
The Vulpinid smirked. "We will."
Atta giggled behind her cousin. "They're teasing you already."
Port leaned toward you, whispering, "They're good soldiers. Very disciplined. Very protective. And very used to theatrics."
Daryll's shadow curled defensively.
You watched the three soldiers settle into the hallway—Atta hugging her cousin again, the Vulpinid scanning the dorm layout, the Ursinid gently adjusting the ceiling panel he'd bumped.
They weren't just roommates.
They were a squad. A unit.