By the time Liam returned to his dormitory building, that irritation had settled firmly beneath his skin.
The walk back had not helped. The cold outside had been sharp, mean-spirited, and persistent, the kind that slipped into every space between coat, collar, and skin as if personally invested in making him hate the season more. He had kept fire-aligned Myst moving inwardly to preserve warmth, but the effort only made the weather feel more insulting. A person should not have to use magic simply to cross academy grounds without being harassed by air.
He climbed the stairs to his floor without speaking to anyone, ignored the few students in the lounge who glanced his way, and reached his room with the same flat expression he wore when the world had tested his patience one too many times in a day.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
