Page 30 of House Ignis

A heavy silence stretched between us, filled only by the crackle of Luna's flickering fur.

"His shadows were choking me," I added, my voice losing its steadiness.

"Wrapping around my throat. My chest. Pulling me under. I couldn't breathe, Em. It felt real. Not like a nightmare. Like it was actually happening to my body."

Ember's jaw tightened, but her tone remained deliberately even, anchored in logic.

"You were attacked tonight. Zorian's boundling cut you off from Aether. Then Asher's shadows wrapped around Zorian in the courtyard right in front of you. Your mind is just replaying the trauma. Twisting the pieces together."

I nodded because it made sense. Because I desperately needed it to.

"Yeah," I murmured, my fingers tightening deep into Aether's thick fur.

The room felt lighter, the heavy dread of the nightmare finally dissipating under the weight of Ember's relentless energy. Her mouth curved into a grin, bright as sunlight breaking through a storm.

"Now," she said, grabbing a plush pillow and hurling it straight at my face, "can we please get ready for our first day already?"

I laughed—an actual, genuine laugh—and caught the pillow a mere inch from my nose.

"Fine! Let me get ready, you chaos demon."

I dressed slowly, the lingering haze of the dream making my movements heavy as I pulled on the official Lyr'n'dell Academy uniform. The skirt was far too short for my comfort, barely brushing mid-thigh, and the crisp white button-up beneath the black blazer was tailored with a precision that revealed more than I preferred.

The blazer itself was stiff, trimmed in gold with the House Ignis sigil stitched over my heart: a crimson phoenix rising from the ashes of a stylized flame.

It looked powerful. Proud. It also felt like a walking display case, which was the last thing I wanted to be.

"I hate this," I muttered, tugging futilely at the hem of the skirt.

That was when Ember strode out of her room like she owned the entire continent.

Her uniform fit her flawlessly, every line sharp and intentional, her own skirt looking as though it had been designed purely to tempt fate and break hearts.

"Gods, you're hot," I said.

"I know," she replied with a lethal smirk. "But I cannot wait to ditch this outfit and get back into our combat leathers."

She looked me over slowly, her eyes traveling from my boots to my collar, and then she grinned.

"Jeremy's going to lose his mind when he sees your legs. And the rest of them? Please. They'll be lining up just to breathe the same air as you."

"Oh my gods, Em, stop," I groaned, heat creeping up my neck as I shoved my fingers through my messy hair.

"Nope," she said, already grabbing my shoulders and spinning me toward the vanity mirror. "No side braids today. We're doing something better."

I sighed, bracing myself. "Fine. But if you pull too hard—"

"I will," she chirped, already yanking at my roots with practiced ruthlessness. "Beauty is pain, babe."

I yelped as she twisted a section of hair. "Are you braiding my hair or summoning demons?"

By the time she finished, my scalp was throbbing and a dull headache pulsed behind my eyes. Ember stepped back anyway, beaming at her handiwork.

"There," she declared, crossing her arms. "Stunning. And your freckles? Adorable."

I swatted at her hand. "You know I hate those."

"Which is exactly why they're my favorite," she shot back, unbothered.