***
(Hours earlier.)
Elara stood in front of the bathroom mirror still wearing her full academy uniform. The crisp white blouse, the dark skirt, uniform, the stockings— none of it felt real anymore.
Her face in the glass was flushed a deep, uneven pink.
There was almost no thought behind her eyes, only a restless, low burn that had been growing since everything started to come to her.
She watched her own fingers move as if they belonged to someone else.
The first button of the blouse came undone. Then the second. Then the rest, one after another, until the fabric hung open and the black bra with its delicate rose pattern was fully exposed.
She slipped the blouse off her shoulders and let it fall to the tile.
Her hands rose, cupped the soft weight of her own breasts through the lace, then slowly peeled the bra away.
The cool air touched her bare skin.
She held herself for a moment, thumbs brushing over the already hardened nipples, before she reached for the skirt.
