Chapter 10 – The Morning After
(Third perosn Zamira's POV)
The first light of dawn bled across the marble arches of Qasratul Jinan, painting the halls gold. For once, Zamira didn't wake to chaos. No alarms, no explosions, no Rami throwing his pillow at her door. Just silence.
Her eyes opened slowly, the memory of last night washing over her like a gentle ache. Lucas's cracked voice, the sound of him whispering maybe they can see me now.
She turned on her side and saw Nova still asleep in the next bed, her pale hair fanned out like silk. The healer always slept like she trusted the world not to fall apart.
Zamira almost envied that.
By the time she got dressed and headed down the spiral stairs toward the dining hall, the sun had already climbed high enough to touch the hanging glass chandeliers. The smell of saffron bread and honey tea drifted through the air.
Rami waved her over immediately, mouth already full. "Zamira! You look like you wrestled a cloud."
"I didn't sleep much," she muttered, grabbing a plate.
Across from him sat Lucas, quiet but awake. His usual mischievous grin was gone, replaced by something calmer, softer. He caught her eye for half a second and smiled — not a fake one this time. Just… real.
Rosalith dropped into the seat beside them, yawning dramatically. "Remus kept me up again talking about magical theory. I swear if he says the words 'etheric currents' one more time I'll set his notes on fire."
"You wouldn't dare," came Remus's voice as he appeared behind her, holding a mug of steaming coffee like it was sacred. "You wouldn't survive without my brilliance."
"Your brilliance put my hair out yesterday."
"That was an accident."
"You set my sleeve on fire!"
Rami leaned toward Zamira. "They're flirting."
"They're fighting."
"Same thing," he said, smirking.
Lucas chuckled quietly — the first real laugh from him that morning — and Zamira felt something ease in her chest. Maybe they were all healing in their own messy ways.
---
The classroom smelled faintly of dust and cinnamon ink. Tall windows let light fall across the stacked shelves of scrolls.
Professor Hadrien stood at the front, an elderly elf with silver eyes and a permanent scowl. "Today," he announced, "we continue our discussion of the Era of Broken Crowns. Quills ready."
Rami groaned. "Broken Crowns? Sounds like my report card."
Zamira bit back a laugh as the professor shot him a look sharp enough to cut.
The first half hour dragged. Names, dates, wars. Zamira's hand cramped halfway through taking notes. But she noticed Lucas was oddly focused, eyes distant — like he'd wandered into his thoughts.
When she nudged him, he blinked. "Huh?"
"You're scribbling on the same line again."
He looked down. The words Don't forget where you came from were etched over and over in his handwriting.
Zamira didn't comment. She just flipped his page to a clean one, pretending not to notice when he whispered a quiet, "Thanks."
---
Now this class was chaos.
The training yard shimmered with wards and shimmering circles. Professor Althea — young, fierce, and definitely unbothered by fireballs flying over her head — barked out commands.
"All right, pairs! Controlled bursts only! If anyone explodes something, you're scrubbing the practice stones by hand."
Rami grinned at Zamira. "You heard her. Try not to explode me."
"You always explode yourself."
He spread his hands. "It's called style."
"Style doesn't mean singeing your eyebrows off again."
Even Lucas laughed this time.
They paired off — Rami and Zamira in one circle, Lucas and Remus in another, and Rosalith somehow convincing Althea to let her watch from the edge "for observation purposes," which really meant avoiding exercise.
The air thickened with heat and energy as students summoned fire, wind, shadow, and lightning. Rami flicked a flame into existence, spinning it like a coin.
Zamira's shadows rose to meet it — soft, fluid, shimmering like oil in water. When the two collided, the explosion sent a ripple through the warded ground, scattering golden sparks.
"Nice," Rami grinned, brushing soot from his sleeve. "You're getting stronger."
She smiled slightly. "So are you. Less… burny this time."
"Hey!"
"Progress."
Across the yard, Lucas dodged a wave of wind with easy grace. He wasn't showy like the others — every move efficient, clean. But Zamira caught a flash in his eyes when he summoned light — golden and warm, nothing like the harsh brightness of flame magic.
He still had pieces of the sun in him, she thought. Even after everything.
---
The cafeteria buzzed with noise. Students crammed around tables, laughter echoing off stone walls.
Zamira, Rami, Rosalith, Remus, Nova, Sirius, and Lucas took their usual spot by the wide windows overlooking the gardens.
"Okay," Rosalith declared, slamming her tray down, "we're officially starting the 'No Classes, No Chaos' lunch club."
Nova blinked. "That's not what it's called."
"It is now."
Rami grinned. "I second that. No classes, no chaos, and no kale."
Lucas glanced up, amused. "I like kale."
"Of course you do," Rami said, pretending to gag. "You're too pure."
Zamira snorted tea through her nose. "Pure? He literally threw enchanted glue on Kael's chair yesterday."
"Hey, that was a team effort," Lucas protested, hands raised. "Rosalith supplied the glue."
"And I did not tell you to use it on Kael's chair."
"Yes you did."
"No, I— okay, maybe I did a little."
Their laughter filled the room. Even Sirius cracked a half-smile before hiding it behind his cup.
For a brief moment, it felt like nothing bad could reach them here.
By the time afternoon rolled in, the sky outside turned the color of burnt sugar.
Alchemy was Zamira's least favorite. Too many measurements, too much patience. But Lucas seemed at home among the bubbling vials and swirling colors.
He leaned toward her during the lecture. "You're supposed to measure, not guess."
"I am measuring."
"That's not measuring, that's chaos."
Her vial hissed. Smoke billowed out, tinted faintly purple.
Lucas sighed. "See?"
"It's lavender," she said proudly.
"It's acid."
Rami, two seats over, whispered, "Ten silver says she blows up the table again."
Zamira gave him a deadpan look. "Make it twenty."
The explosion was small.
Mostly.
The rest of the class survived — though Remus's notebook caught fire, and Rosalith swore her eyebrows had singed. Lucas spent five minutes coughing but grinning anyway.
When the smoke cleared, Professor Elara gave Zamira a long stare. "Miss Zamira, your enthusiasm is… explosive."
"Thank you," Zamira said cheerfully.
"That was not a compliment."
---
By sunset, the day had melted into a slow calm.
Most students lounged on the lawn or wandered the glass courtyards, the sky above streaked in orange and rose. Zamira and Lucas sat on the low wall by the fountain, the same one from last night.
He tossed crumbs to the silverfish gliding through the water.
"You ever think," he said quietly, "that maybe this is the happiest we'll ever be?"
She looked up at him. "Why would you say that?"
"Because moments like this never last."
Zamira's gaze softened. "Then maybe that's why we have to live them twice as hard."
He smiled faintly. "That's very poetic of you."
"I'm full of surprises."
"I know."
The light dimmed. Students' laughter echoed faintly from the upper balconies. Somewhere, Rami shouted something about "revenge for the glue prank," and Rosalith screamed in response.
Lucas laughed, shaking his head. "You know, I think I'm starting to like this chaos."
Zamira smiled, watching the ripples shimmer. "You already did. You just forgot."
---