KNOCK. KNOCK.
"Mirror… body… thirty-nine eyes… despair?"
Since the moment Vael jolted awake, those words hadn't left him. They pulsed at the edge of his thoughts, stubborn and shapeless.
No dream lingered to explain them. No images. No clues. Just the echo.
So he wrote them down, hoping their meaning might surface later.
Despite his exhaustion, waking in the middle of the night had felt unnatural. But once the words were on the page, sleep claimed him again without resistance.
Now, morning had arrived. The sun spilled through his window like an uninvited guest. He realized he'd collapsed on the bed this time—and, admittedly, it was far more comfortable than the floor.
Getting dressed was a chore, but he wasn't in a rush. Or so he thought.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
"Hurry up! We're gonna be late!"
The voice carried through the door, sharp with irritation. Kiera's.
"Yeah, yeah. Coming." His reply came out hoarse, as if he'd been trampled by a warhorse.
Yet, as he reached for his boots, his hand froze for half a second. That knocking… it didn't just sound like someone rapping at a door. It carried a weight that was hard to describe, like the thud of a drum in a cavern, reverberating longer than it should.
It wasn't alarming, not exactly. Just… important. As though he'd missed something crucial hidden in the sound. A message written in rhythm, slipping through his grasp before he could catch it.
He shook his head, forcing the thought away. Kiera's voice had been sharp enough to snap him back. It was just her. Just her knock. Nothing more.
And yet, somewhere beneath the surface, a ripple lingered.
Once ready, Vael stepped out of his room into the hallway.
Significantly more packed than yesterday. Twice as much.
The diplomats. It was their first day today.
Kiera was waiting just outside, arms crossed, her gaze flicking over him with a strange intensity.
"What? Do I have something on my face?" Vael asked, his tone uncertain.
"No," she said slowly, tilting her head. "You just look… off. Did you sleep well? Or is the fight still bothering you?"
Vael's mind flicked back to last night—the cryptic words, the strange sensation from the knocking.
"I slept fine. For the most part, at least. Anyway, what do we start with?"
"Magic History. Supposedly the most boring class here," Kiera answered.
"Perfect. I'll be able to catch up on sleep, then."
"Pfft. Come on, let's go," Kiera replied, fighting back a laugh.
Together, they left the dorms, heading toward their first class—the start of a new day.