Nyx
The Red Dorm was unusually quiet that night, wrapped in a heavy, oppressive silence that pressed down on everyone like an invisible storm cloud refusing to break.
It wasn't the peaceful kind of quiet that came after exhaustion or victory. This was the loaded, brooding kind, the sort that settled over people carrying far too many unresolved thoughts, too much pain, and not nearly enough emotional energy left to confront any of it properly.
Bags lay open and gaping across unmade beds, chairs, and even parts of the floor, while clothes, books, scattered notes, and random academy supplies created a chaotic mosaic of disorganization throughout the shared space.
The faint scent of old parchment, dried herbs from Ysara's earlier spells, and the metallic tang still clinging to my skin hung in the air, mixing with the distant night breeze drifting through the cracked window.
