I kept moving down the corridor, the note in my sleeve tapping against my arm like it had opinions about my priorities. A room first. The rest of the world could wait until I was fed, horizontal, and not surrounded by people who stared like I'd accidentally summoned a demon.
The hallway forked, then twisted, then doubled back on itself for reasons known only to the architect and whatever curses lived in the walls. I was halfway convinced the Academy rearranged itself when a voice shot toward me:
"Farrell!"
A boy stumbled into my path, panting hard enough to wobble. Without explanation, he shoved a folded slip into my hand.
"Dorm — assignment— North Wing — room 217 — please don't ask questions..."
And he vanished before I could do exactly that.
"…Sure," I muttered. "Totally normal."
The North Wing felt older — narrower halls, low lanterns, the kind of quiet that didn't trust newcomers. Room 217 waited behind a door carved with numbers that leaned like they were trying to escape.
I pushed it open carefully, out of habit more than paranoia.
Inside, a girl lounged on the windowsill like it was a throne and she owned shares in the sky outside. Chin-length black hair with a copper streak, boots up, posture lethal and bored at the same time. One eyebrow lifted the moment she saw me.
"Oh," she said, voice velvet-dry. "So that's the girl they sent me."
"…Sent you?" I repeated, stepping inside.
She slid off the windowsill with the grace of someone who judged everyone else for making noise.
"Rhea Ashford," she announced. "Your new roommate, emotional support cynic, and part-time predictor of doom. You're late."
"I didn't know we were on a strict schedule."
"We're not," she said. "I just enjoy pointing out flaws in others. It keeps the day interesting."
She circled me once— literally circled, like I was a mildly disappointing artifact she needed to catalogue.
"No escort? No friends? No luggage cart?"A pause, then she clicked her tongue thoughtfully, like diagnosing a medical condition."You're either very independent or very inconvenient. It's fine — I collect inconvenient people. They make the semester less boring."
"Independent," I said.
"Pity. Inconvenient would've been more fun."
She pointed lazily to the left bed.
"That one's yours. Don't touch my books. Don't touch my desk. Don't breathe near the window at sunrise — it ruins the aesthetic."
"Wonderful," I said. "I'll try to keep my breathing discreet."
Rhea smiled. It was slow, dangerous, and entirely satisfied.
I dropped my pack beside the bed and sat. The mattress was soft enough to be suspicious. My muscles didn't know what to do with comfort anymore. Rhea watched me settle like she was conducting a study on foreign wildlife.
"So," she said, crossing her arms, "you were in the assignment hall earlier."
I stilled.
"That little… dramatic moment with the seal."She twirled her hand in the air. "Boom. Flash. Gasps. People nearly fainting from excitement or jealousy — very moving. That was you, right?"
"It wasn't intentional."
Rhea snorted."Please. Nothing in this place is intentional. Except bad hairstyles and poor decisions."
She hopped back onto the windowsill, boots knocking lightly against the stone.
"Aether Arts, though. Bold pick."
"I didn't pick anything."
"Uh-huh." She tilted her head. "Look, I don't know much about Aether, and I don't want to— too many stories about people glowing or exploding or accidentally summoning their ancestor's goat— but even I know it's the division professors whisper about when they drink."
I blinked. "That's supposed to reassure me?"
"Reassure? Oh, no." She waved a hand. "I'm just setting expectations."
She leaned forward a little, eyes narrowing in thought.
"And Kael Averren noticed you."She said it like she was pointing out a plague outbreak.
"That… means something?" I asked carefully.
Rhea rolled her eyes so hard her entire head moved.
"He doesn't just look at people. He inspects, evaluates, and then decides if they're worth tripping over."
"That's an awful metaphor."
"And yet accurate." She pointed at me with a lazy flick. "Whatever you did, sunshine-boy took interest. Congratulations. Or apologies. Depends on your pain tolerance."
I stared at her. She stared back. Then shrugged, already bored.
Outside, the sky shifted to evening— deep blue sliding into indigo. Lanterns in the hallway flickered awake with uneven, throaty hums.
Rhea stretched her legs along the windowsill.
"Foundations Class tomorrow," she said. "Mandatory. Last year a girl skipped it and three professors hunted her across campus like she'd insulted their ancestors."
"Sounds dramatic."
"This place thrives on dramatic," she muttered.
I lay back on the bed. The blanket smelled faintly of soap and sun, nothing like the harsh metal and smoke I'd grown used to. The cracked remains of my bracelet pressed against my skin, a quiet wrongness I forced myself not to dwell on.
Somewhere deeper in the Academy, a bell chimed—low, resonant, as if reminding first-years they now belonged to something bigger, stranger, and far less forgiving.
Rhea yawned without covering her mouth.
"One more thing," she said, pointing at me without looking. "If you plan on doing anything weird at night — glowing, levitating, screaming into mirrors — warn me first. I won't stop you. I just want to be emotionally prepared."
"I'll… keep that in mind."
"Excellent. I'd hate to waste my sarcasm on someone hopeless."
She flopped back against the window like she was folding herself into shadows.
I closed my eyes. Sleep tugged at me faster than expected. Maybe exhaustion finally won, or maybe the mattress bribed my spine into cooperation.
Either way, the last thing I remember was the quiet rustle of the note in my sleeve — like it wanted to remind me of the path I'd already stepped onto.
A room. A bed. A door I could close — that was all I needed for now.Everything else could wait its turn.
The Academy and all its shiny divisions didn't matter; the stares and whispers mattered even less. What mattered was the mission. Find the target. Finish the task. Leave before anyone even noticed I'd been here.
If this place wanted to bury me under rules, schedules, and smug nobles, let it try. I only needed one person, one hint, one thread to pull — and the moment I found it, I'd be gone.
But that was a problem for tomorrow.Right now I needed sleep… and enough strength to start digging when the sun came up.