By the time the final bell rang, the molten evening light outside the academy towers had deepened into shades of ember-red and bruise-purple. Aria followed the stream of first-years across a narrow stone bridge toward the residential wing.
The dormitory building rose like a cathedral carved from volcanic rock—tall archways, gargoyle spouts, windows glowing with warm gold light. Despite the imposing architecture, laughter echoed faintly inside, like the building exhaled when students returned each night.
Aria tightened her grip on her satchel.
First night. Don't let them smell fear.
As she stepped through the entry arch, a rush of heat washed over her—comforting, almost like stepping into a hearth.
A tall wooden sign pointed different directions:
North Wing — Elementalists East Wing — Artificers & Rune Scholars
West Wing — Necromancy, Lifeweavers, Alchemists
Common Hall — All Students
She blinked.
"West Wing," she murmured.
Of course they put her with the necromancers.
Riven appeared at her side as if summoned.
"Oho," he said, reading the sign. "You're with the spooky kids."
"You're an Elementalist," she countered. "Go enjoy the North Wing with the rest of the pyromaniacs."
He placed a hand over his heart. "It's not pyromania. It's passion."
"Sure."
He grinned, but his eyes softened for a moment. "Good luck, Death-To—Aria. If anyone gives you trouble, tell me. Or burn them first. Either works."
"Goodbye, Riven," she said, pushing him toward the North Wing.
Selene passed them with perfect posture, her robe immaculate despite the long day. She offered Aria a curt nod.
"The necromancer dorms are quieter," she said. "Mostly. Mind the wards. Some of them… react."
"That's not comforting," Aria said.
"It wasn't meant to be."
Then Selene disappeared down the East Wing corridor.
Aria inhaled once, steadying herself, and entered the West Wing.
The air here was different. Cooler. Still. A faint metallic scent lingered—like old spell residue or dust disturbed by moonlight.
Magelight orbs drifted along the ceiling, dimmer than the others she'd seen on campus. Their pale glow made the hallway look submerged, like she was walking underwater.
Doors lined both sides, each carved with the student's name and a runic ward meant to prevent… incidents.
Her room was near the far end:
Aria Thorne — Room 3W-17
She forced a breath and touched the doorknob.
It was warm.
Alive-warm.
The door clicked open on its own—inviting her inside.
It was small but not unpleasant. Stone walls softened with dark tapestries, a narrow bed with deep blue blankets, a writing desk, and a high window overlooking the academy's courtyard.
A faint hum came from the runic circle inscribed beneath the bed—a protection ward. But unlike the others she'd seen today, this one pulsed a shade too cold.
As though it recognized her.
"Not creepy at all," Aria muttered.
A soft scratching noise made her spin.
A black-furred creature sat on the windowsill—a dorm guardian, shaped like a cat but with glowing white eyes and a forked tail.
It blinked slowly and hopped down, circling her.
"Hello?" she whispered.
It brushed against her leg once, then settled beside the bed, curling in a perfect protective coil.
A guardian.
Assigned to her room.
"…Do you like me, or are you here to keep me contained?" she asked.
The creature merely stared.
Then someone knocked sharply on her door.
Aria's heart jumped.
She opened it to find a tall boy with pale, almost silver hair and dark circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted… or haunted.
"Roommate?" Aria asked uncertainly.
"No," he said, voice quiet but oddly intense. "Rooms here are single-occupancy. I'm Kairon. West Wing Resident Assistant."
"Oh. Nice to meet you."
He leaned against the doorframe, studying her like she was some rare specimen.
"The guardian takes to you," he said softly. "They don't choose easily."
Aria swallowed. "Is that… good?"
"Depends what you are."
His smile was thin.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
But knowing.
"Don't wander at night," he said. "Some wards misfire after midnight."
"Why?"
"They get hungry."
He turned and walked away before she could ask another question.
Later, after unpacking, Aria made her way to the Common Hall—an enormous room with long tables, floating crystal lanterns, and a crackling hearth. Students gathered in clusters, talking about their first day.
A cup of hot spiced tea appeared on the counter when she approached—a charm responding to need.
As she lifted the cup, a voice spoke beside her.
"Long day?"
She nearly jumped.
Professor Malrec stood there—again impossibly quiet on his feet. But his expression was warm, polite.
"It was… enlightening," Aria managed.
"I'm glad," he said. "The first night can be unsettling."
"It's quieter than I expected."
"This building holds… interesting history." His eyes crinkled. "If walls could speak, we might lose our minds listening."
Aria took a sip to hide her discomfort.
"Professor… why are the wards in the West Wing different?"
"Because the students here require different protections."
A pause.
"From the world. And from themselves."
Aria stiffened.
He noticed.
He always noticed.
"Sleep well, Miss Thorne," he murmured. "Tomorrow will challenge you."
He stepped away, leaving a faint scent of old ink and cold stone.
Aria watched him go, unease coiling in her stomach.
There was something off about him.
Something shadowed beneath the kindness.
But for now, she was too exhausted to care.
The guardian creature hopped onto her bed as she sat down, curling beside her pillow.
As Aria lay back, moonlight streamed through her window, cold as silver.
Her thoughts drifted to the God of Death—the echo of its presence like a pulse in the back of her mind.
You did well, the voice whispered faintly.
A good beginning.
"…What's waiting for me tomorrow?" she whispered back.
A soft, ancient chuckle.
Everything.
Sleep pulled her under, heavy and dark.
Outside her room, down the hall, a faint rune flickered and hissed as if reacting to her presence.
And in the shadows of the hallway…
someone watched her door for a long, silent minute.
Then left.