Aurelia
The dorms were like every other part of the Academy. Grey stone walls, high ceilings, and long, echoing corridors filled with the hum of voices and the sharp click of boots on tile.
We arrived just after sunset. The sky outside was streaked with fading orange, and Avantika had accompanied me in the jeep. My bow was slung over my back, and she rolled my small suitcase behind us as we followed one of the coordinators down the hall.
The woman didn't smile. She barely glanced at Avantika before saying, "There will be no personal helpers in the dorms. We have all the staff we need."
Avantika flustered, murmuring, "Of course," and handed me the suitcase. She scurried away before I could even thank her.
The coordinator began reading names and room assignments straight from her clipboard, not pausing for breath.
"Room 26. Angelou and Smith."
"Room 27. Ferguson and Reynard."
I blinked. "What?"
She didn't look up. "Ferguson, Aurelia. Reynard, Elira. Room 27."
For a second, I thought maybe she'd made a mistake. But when I turned to Elira, she was already walking ahead….back straight, shoulders taut, completely unfazed.
Of course.
I rolled my suitcase behind her in quiet dismay.
The door was slightly ajar, with a pair of keys dangling from the handle. Inside was a simple, square room: two beds, two desks, two wardrobes. Cream-colored walls, matching linens, and a shared bathroom. Nothing special.
I stepped in, tension curling in my shoulders.
Elira dropped her suitcase onto the bed by the window without a word. She didn't look at me. I crossed to the other bed.
We both started unpacking in silence. The only sounds were the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional creak of the floorboards. At one point, I caught her watching me in the mirror above the desk. I said nothing.
"Just so you know," I said finally, "I didn't ask for this either."
"I didn't think you did," she replied coolly. "And I don't mind sharing. Just keep your fire out of my sight."
"Right. No fires. I'm not five anymore, Elira. I can't believe you still won't let it go."
She turned to meet my eyes, steady and sharp. "I won't." Then she turned away again and plugged in her earphones.
By the time night settled in, we were both in bed. Backs turned, the silence between us humming like a live wire. Moonlight spilled across the floor, soft and silver.
This was supposed to be where we prepared. Focused. Strengthened.
Now I had to do all of that with her breathing four feet away.
I closed my eyes and tried not to think about how much worse this could get.
And how, deep down, a part of me wasn't entirely sure it would be the worst thing in the world.