Morning light spilled through the heavy, velvet-trimmed windows of the Honor Class dormitory, catching dust motes that drifted lazily in the quiet air. In the center of the opulent room, tangled within a chaotic nest of silk sheets, Celeste Devreux slept with the chaotic grace of a discarded doll. One leg dangled precariously off the edge of the sprawling mattress, while her right arm was flung aggressively outward, her teal-cyan hair splayed across the pillows in a messy, vibrant halo.
The silence held for a moment longer. Then, it retreated.
Celeste burst upward, the silk sheets launching into the air. A wide, toothy grin instantly split her face, stretching her features into an expression of radiant, overwhelming energy. Her amber-gold eyes sparkled as she threw her hands up in greeting to the wall opposite her bed.
"Good morning, Father! Good morning, Mother!" she chirped, her voice ringing with bright, childish sincerity.
She beamed at the two massive, gilded frames dominating the room. Within them hung the grand portraits of the Grand Duke and Duchess of Devreux. Or, at least, what remained of them. The distinguished visages of her parents had been reduced to a chaotic lattice of jagged canvas strips, their painted eyes completely gouged out by a localized storm of violence.
Humming a bouncy, tuneless melody, Celeste kicked her legs out of bed and skipped over to her mahogany nightstand. Resting upon a velvet cushion was a magnificent dagger. It was a masterpiece of artisan indulgence—a wicked, platinum blade culminating in a hilt encrusted with teardrop-cut sapphires and diamonds.
She snatched it up, the jewels catching the morning light, and pranced to the center of the room. With a theatrical twirl, she drove the platinum blade through the chest of her father's portrait, pulling downward with a crisp shhhhk of tearing canvas. She immediately pivoted, granting her mother's portrait the exact same treatment.
"Eighty-nine, plus one... ninety!" she cheered to the empty room, her grin widening as she admired the fresh canvas ribbons. "Ninety days in this flying castle. Ninety for you, and ninety for you! That makes one-hundred and eighty little reminders! Oh, I am so good at math."
Satisfied, she tossed the priceless dagger back onto the nightstand with a careless clatter and skipped toward the bathing chambers.
Inside the washroom, she ignored the polished brass faucets entirely. Why rely on crude plumbing when you were a Rank 2 mage? With a playful flick of her wrist and a quiet hum of her magic circuits, the ambient mana in the room shifted. A sphere of pristine, crystal-clear water coalesced from the air itself, swirling effortlessly around her. She manipulated the floating current with lazy, practiced twirls of her fingers, allowing the cool, conjured water to wash over her skin.
Stepping out a moment later, she leaned over the marble vanity, bracing her hands against the sink as she beamed at her own reflection. She didn't bother to fix the messy layers of her teal hair, preferring the wild, untamed aesthetic.
"Perfect," she declared to the mirror, winking at herself.
She hummed the same bouncy tune while dressing, effortlessly pulling on the high-collared navy-blue Academy uniform, snapping her silver combatant epaulettes into place. Fully dressed, she turned back to the ruined portraits, waving enthusiastically.
"Have a wonderful day, Mother and Father! Don't miss me too much!"
Before reaching the heavy oak door to the hallway, she paused. Her gaze dropped to a patch of empty carpet near the doorway. Her expression softened, a rare, gentle coo escaping her lips.
"Who's a good Beastie?" she whispered, dropping to a crouch. "Are you going to guard the room for me? Yes, you are."
She extended her hand, her fingers curling slightly as she stroked the empty air. She moved her hand in rhythmic, soothing motions, tracing the silhouette of a small, soft head that wasn't there. For several long seconds, the grand, ruined room was completely silent save for her affectionate whispers.
Celeste Devreux smiled warmly at the empty carpet, entirely alone in her infinite reverie.