I didn't sleep. I couldn't.
The thought of Eli and the unfamiliar feeling of this new and strange place made my body sizzle of unease.
Of course, I was used to tough days and especially the even tougher nights. But no matter how tired, cold, hungry or confused I had ever been, Eli was always there. Comforting me, with hid big, crooked smile and stupid jokes.
Lyla had been kind enough to offer picking me up in the morning instead of giving me the tour right after arrival. She'd taken one look at me, her eyes darting over my face like she could read the fatigue under my skin, and said lightly, "You won't remember a word I say right now, so sleep first. You'll thank me later."
I had only managed a nod. Somehow, her voice had been the first thing all day that didn't sound like a command.
She led me to a small room in the east wing. Stopping outside the door, I thanked her – even this small act of politeness, feeling too overwhelming for my body. Before she could say another word, I hurried inside and closed the door behind me.
I took a deep breath. This was the first time I was alone. Since everything, this was my first breath of respite.
The room was small and had no resemblance to the beauty of the rest of the Academy. This had to be an old wing, I thought, or closed down for renovations perhaps. The lights in the room were dimmed, only one candle burning on the desk, set by the window. The small window overlooked the gardens, darkness and green stretching into mist. The furniture in the room looked used, but with a layer of dust, that made it obvious that it had not been occupied for a long time.
The minute I sat on the bed, the memories began to unspool... the house, the gunshot, the light bursting from my chest. I tried to hold myself still, to breathe, to be calm, but my body had other plans. The tears came silently at first, then all at once. Everything felt surreal, yet everything seemed more real than anything ever had felt. The feeling of power bubbling inside of me. Wanting release. Was unlike anything else, I had ever felt.
By the time sunlight began creeping through the curtains pale and almost too gentle, I'd given up trying to sleep. My body felt heavy, but my mind was sharp and restless. And my stomach... it desperately needed food.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten something that wasn't dry or stale. I was used to it, but after yesterdays events, my stomach was craving more sustenance than usual, like the energy inside me, was burning quicker.
When I caught my reflection in the mirror across from the bed, I froze.
My skin looked... brighter. Not exactly glowing, but the light seemed to cling to it, as if it recognized me. I leaned closer, heartbeat quickening. Under my ribs, I could see a faint light – and I knew it to be, what the Headmistress had called a Core. It felt... normal. Like it had always been there. I leaned in closer, trying to catch the distinct colour in my glow, but then a sudden knock shattered the silence, sending me face first into the mirror.
"Morning!" Before I could answer, the door cracked open, Lyla's bright curls and grin appearing in the gap. "Permission to enter? She continues, non bothering waiting for an answer. In an instant she's already walking around the room. "Uh-huh" I say, while gently trying to smooth out the bump, that was starting to form on the top of my forehead.
She looked exactly the same as last night: hair wild, cheeks flushed from the climb, her uniform untidy like she'd thrown it on in a hurry. There was an effortless energy about her, a kind of constant motion, like her body was always one thought ahead of her mind.
"Wow," she said, spinning slowly to take in my room. "They really gave you the bare minimum, huh?"
I blinked, unsure how to respond.
"Don't worry," she added, laughing softly at my expression. "Once they figure out your Core, you'll get reassigned. We're sorted by emotion, hope, rage, desire, all that. You'll probably move after the test."
"But first, you need a uniform. And food. Definitely food. You look like you haven't eaten since last century." I glanced back into the mirror. She wasn't wrong, I both looked and felt like I hadn't eaten for a century.
Lyla dropped the folded uniform onto the bed and perched on the edge beside it, watching me with a tilt of her head that was almost predatory, not in a dangerous way, but like she was cataloguing every flicker of expression I made. I could see the faint shimmer of her Core, through the fabric of her uniform, spreading from her chest and out – violet, pulsing like a slow heartbeat.
"You didn't sleep." she said softly.
"Is it that obvious?"
"With the whole hollow-eyed stare into the void thing?" Her tone was teasing, but there was kindness buried in it. "Yeah - You're not the first though. First nights here are brutal."
I pulled the white and gold uniform over my head. The fabric feeling way too clean and fragile on my skin. It was strange, wearing something that hadn't belonged to someone else first. It felt smooth and almost too flawless. I hesitated before the mirror again. My Core shimmered faintly beneath the fabric, a flicker that pulsed once, then steadied. "It actually suits you." Lyla smirks, beaming in violet.
The path to the dining hall – or the Atrium – as Lyla called it seemed like it might have gone on forever. The Academy was huge, and the corridors seemed to bend and twist in random directions, making it impossible to reach a destination by the same route twice. For Lyla this seemed like the most ordinary thing in the world – and instead of seeing it as an inconvenience, she just laughed, brushed it off and went with it.
The corridors of the Academy were brighter than I remembered from last night, sunlight streaming through tall glass arches, sigils faintly glowing in the walls. Each hall seemed to breathe, the light shifting like it responded to whoever walked through it.
Lyla chattered as we went, pointing out classrooms and people, each story a patchwork of gossip and advice.
"That girl, there" She points to a girl, with long black hair, two thin streaks of red hair, framing her face. "She's are rage core... She actually burned down one of the dorm rooms last year, they tend to be... a bit dramatic." She grinned, glancing sideways at me.
Stepping into the Atrium, I felt my breath catching. The space opened like a cathedral carved from glass, sunlight cascading through high windows, scattering across polished stone and hanging vines. Tables filled the centre, alive with laughter and clatter.
Some students glowed faintly, their emotions leaking like mist. Others seemed dimmer, quiet, the calm ones, maybe, or those who'd learned to control it. Uniforms shimmered in every colour of the spectrum, resulting in a burst of colour on the clean walls of the Atrium.
I followed Lyla through the tables, clutching my new uniform like armour. The smell of food was overwhelming, warm bread and sweet fruit. My stomach growled so loudly that Lyla turned and grinned. Her laughter carried through the air, and for a second, I caught other students glancing our way. She seemed to shine in this place and filled every space like it belonged to her.
She led us toward a long table by the windows, and the sunlight poured through, warm and honey-coloured. I hesitated, unsure of where to sit. The other students were so loud, so alive. Every sound felt amplified, the clatter of dishes, bursts of laughter, snippets of conversation about training or tests or Cores.
Lyla noticed. "Don't overthink it," she murmured, nudging my arm. "They'll stare for two seconds, then move on to someone else's drama."
"People are staring?"
"New Cores always get a lot of attention." She said , smiling.
I tried a small, uncertain smile back. It was hard not to like her, hard not to get pulled into the gravity of her confidence.
We sat, and Lyla immediately began piling food on my plate: bread, fruit, eggs, something that smelled faintly sweet and spiced. "Eat. You'll feel better after," she said, already taking her own advice.
I took a cautious bite. The bread was still warm, soft enough that it melted in my mouth. The taste was so real, so alive, that it startled me. I swallowed quickly, blinking too fast, pretending I wasn't close to crying over breakfast. Don't cry.
People didn't stare outright, but I could feel it, that faint ripple of attention following me. Looking out into the atrium, I suddenly realized the different shining in the morning light. Every uniform carried a different trim of colour, gold, violet, crimson, deep blue, silver.
I leaned closer to Lyla. "The colours... do they mean something?"
"Colours show what kind of Core you have," Lyla said between bites, her voice muffled with food.
She pointed with her fork toward a group across the hall. I followed her gaze. The students in gold seemed to glow from withing, laughing too easily, their voices soft and bright. "Gold?" I guessed.
"Hope," Lyla said. "You can spot them a mile away. Always optimistic, always volunteering for things no one wants to do. Sweet, but exhausting."
I laughed quietly. "And the red ones?"
"Anger," she said with a grin. "Don't spar with them unless you want a black eye or second-degree burns." She twisted her left arm, exposing a burn-scar just above the elbow as proof.
I arched a brow. "They did that to you?"
"Some of them are fire hazards, when they lose their temper" she laughs.
One of the red-trimmed students slams their cup down, flames licking briefly at the rim before fading. Lyla grinned. "See? Breakfast with drama."
"What about you?" I asked. "Violet?"
I see the small tinge of pink creeping up her cheeks but straightens proudly "Desire." She speaks.
"Desire?" I echoed, trying not to sound as unsure as I felt.
"Oh, don't do that tone," Lyla said immediately, pointing her fork at me with mock offense. "Everyone hears Desire and thinks candles and dramatic violins."
I raised a brow. "Isn't it?"
She laughed bright and unbothered. "Okay, yes, we do tend to be... passionate. And maybe we're very good at flirting." She leaned in conspiratorially. "And yes, before you ask... We are also incredible in bed."
"But Desire's not just about lust or romance. It's about wanting – no matter what it is, we feel it in every bone." She continued.
"So... big emotions, big appetites," I said, a little teasing.
"Exactly!" She snapped her fingers.
"The blues... Fear." she continued, pointing towards two younger boys sitting by the edge of the atrium. "They're... different. Quiet. They feel danger before anyone else. It makes them cautious — or brave, depending on the day.
"And the silvers?" I asked, noticing a bigger group who sat apart from the others — composed, elegant, like ghosts of the storm. "Grief," Lyla said simply. "They carry loss like it's stitched into them. Not sad, exactly — just aware of endings in a way the rest of us try to ignore."
"Instructor Kael, the one doing the Unveiling tests – he's a Grief Core.
The fork in my hand froze halfway to my mouth. "Right... The test."
"Don't look so terrified." Lyla grinned, but there was a flicker of sympathy behind it. "Everyone hates it. The name makes it sound so dramatic — The Unveiling."
"But it's not bad, I promise. He just... sees things. Feelings, memories, echoes — whatever your Core is holding onto. He dives in, finds the strongest emotion at your centre, and that tells them what you are."
My stomach turned. "He goes into my memories?"
Lyla nodded, her tone gentler now. "Only the ones that left marks. The moments that made your Core stir. You'll feel it — like reliving something half-forgotten. But he's careful. He doesn't push deeper than he has to."
"Has anyone ever—" I stopped, unsure how to phrase it. "Refused?"
Lyla's expression flickered, just for a moment, then smoothed over again. "Sometimes," she admitted. "It's rare. People usually end up doing it, in the end. It's kinda big around here - learning the powers of your Core."
The idea of someone diving into my mind made my skin prickle. "What if I don't want him to see everything?"
"No one does," Lyla said softly. "But that's kind of the point. The Unveiling isn't about who you pretend to be. It's about what's already burning underneath."
She reached for her cup and took a sip, studying me over the rim. "Hey," she said after a moment. "You'll be fine. I can tell. There's something... steady in you. Scared, sure, but steady."
I raised a brow. "You can tell that just from looking?"
She smirked, setting the cup down. "Desire Core, remember? We're very good at reading people."
After finishing our breakfast, I felt fuller than I had in years. I followed Lyla through corridors of white stone and gold-veined floors. The Academy was endless, open courtyards, vast training arenas where students would practice, whatever it was, they were practising here. Libraries that rose like towers, classrooms filled with golden light and by the time we had reached the destination my mind was scrambled with lesson names, different wings of the Academy and directions.
We turned a corner, and the noise of the Academy faded. The walls here were golden streaks that pulsed softly, like living veins of light. At the end hall stood a tall door. This one darker than the rest.
Lyla stopped.
"This is it," she said quietly. "The Hall of Mirrors. Where they do the Unveiling."
The words seemed to thrum in the air.
She turned to me, her usual brightness dimming, eyes more serious than I'd seen them. "Listen, Serra. The Unveiling isn't like a normal test. It's personal. Professor Kael's good — gentle, even — but you need to be ready. If your Core pushes back, if it overheats..."
She trailed off, then forced a quick smile. "Just... stay calm in there."
I nodded, though my pulse had already quickened. I swallowed, staring at the dark door, the gold sigils pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
The Hall of Mirrors was colder than the rest of the Academy. Even before Lyla opened the door, I could feel it — a stillness pressing against my skin, humming faintly under the surface of my thoughts.
When the door swung open, I half expected to see rows of mirrors, like the name suggested. Instead, the room was dark, circular, and mostly empty. The walls were lined with tall, narrow panes of glass that didn't reflect light so much as swallow it. Each one seemed alive, the faintest ripples shifting across their surfaces like breath.
At the centre stood two chairs, facing each other across a patch of bare stone, no desk, no candles, no instruments of any kind. Just space.
I hesitated at the threshold, arms crossing over my chest as if that could stop the trembling underneath.
"Okay," Lyla said beside me, her usual brightness dimmed to something almost reverent. "This is where I leave you. Instructor Kael will be here in a second."
She lingered in the doorway. For once, she looked like she wanted to say something serious — but whatever it was, she swallowed it and gave me a small, uneven smile. "You'll be fine," she said softly, then slipped out.
The door closed behind her with a sound too final.