Omen of a Bluebell

Fighting the warmth in my core, I pull my badge out and march into the barrier. Thankfully, passing through is as simple as Taruq promised. It peels open around us without resistance, the shimmer that blurred the interior disappearing.

As it does, three sprawling buildings are revealed, encircling a wide central plaza and oriented around a grand fountain. It throws arcs of water into the air, shedding mist into rainbows like it’s trying to show off.

The buildings themselves are nearly identical, each a tall, elegant structure of pale stone and deep blue tile, all clean lines and right angles.

They look… regal. In the way old noble estates do, but without all the embellishments or gaudiness I'd have expected.

Rows of windows march up the facades in perfect symmetry, balconies jutting out at regular intervals. Most are neat and plain, though a handful already sport bursts of personality.

Splashes of curtain colors, hanging plants, a wind chime or two glinting in the sunlight. Little hints of the people already living within.

Two of the dorms—the ones flanking the plaza—each have a compact tower above their main entrance. On their faces, the numbers Two and Three are carved prominently into the stone.

The third, directly behind the fountain opposite the platform entryway, is a bit harder to miss.

Its tower rises several stories above the others, crowned with a massive clock whose polished hands gleam even from here. A bell hangs just beneath it in an open space built into the structure, silent for now.

Below that is the number One.

“That must be us,” I say, pointing.

Cari just grins, takes my hand, and all but drags me forward, shivering with uncontained excitement once more. The plaza itself is quiet this time of day, but a few students cross our path as we move. Each is dressed in uniforms like Taruq’s—some fitted with skirts, others with trousers or shorts.

I even see a couple of maids rushing about.

When we step through the double doors into the entrance hall, it opens into a space so bright and polished it takes me a moment to adjust.

High overhead hangs a massive chandelier, its framework shaped from delicately carved metal branches that cradle dozens of arcanite crystals, each lighting the space with soft blues and warm whites.

Long rugs—plush, deep blue, and edged in silver—run in neat paths from the doors to the sweeping staircases on either side of the lobby. They curve upward in graceful arcs, meeting at a balcony that overlooks the entire hall. Between them, partially recessed into the wall, a circular elevator glides down its track.

It’s like a small, in-building version of the transit platforms outside. Students step on and off in twos and threes, and it lifts again, drifting up and disappearing behind the balcony toward the higher floors.

Two other stairways bracket the room, enclosed but not hidden, each marked with discrete signage.

Emergency routes?

Clusters of seating fill the floor, with cushioned chairs arranged around low tables, plush couches angled toward each other for conversation, and a few small alcoves meant for quieter moments.

I even catch the faint scent of tea and pastries from a table at the far wall, where a pair of students chat softly over steaming cups.

A few dozen women move through the space, some gliding with the easy elegance of noble daughters, others speaking freely and lounging in postures far more relaxed. Most are human, as expected, but there is a surprisingly eclectic mix of races in this room alone.

Despite that, no one seems out of place.

In the midst of it all, maids in pristine black uniforms sweep gracefully through the lobby, attending to students so naturally that I nearly mistake them as part of the decor.

One carries a stack of folded linens. Another refreshes the tea set at the far table. Never intrusive, but always there.

Eyes drift toward us out of mild curiosity, but again, there’s no judgment. Just the natural interest of people watching newcomers arrive before returning to their own conversation.

We barely make it three steps inside when one of the maids breaks away from her path, dips her head politely to us, and approaches with a warm, professional smile.

“Welcome to Dorm One. I take it you’re both new here?” At our nods, she continues. “Then would you like assistance in finding your rooms? Do you already know which one you’re in?”

“Yes, please! We’re both in 10A,” Cari says excitedly, her voice loud enough that several others overhear her.

For whatever reason, her words garner us much more attention.

It’s still not hostile, but there’s clear interest in the eyes of our onlookers. A few conversations pause to listen in, while one of the girls seated near the tea tables looks us over with a more academic interest.

Among them, the only other beastkin I can see in the room—a lone wolfkin lounging in a corner alcove—happens to look up.

For an instant, I'm captivated, my instincts momentarily getting the better of me.

Sun-kissed skin, dark hair, bright yellow eyes. They lock onto me. Her posture stays relaxed, half-sprawled on a cushioned seat, but her ears flick once, quick and reflexive.

Curious.

On instinct, my own ear mirrors the motion.

That gets the faintest curl of amusement at the edge of her lips.

Then she pauses. A small breath through her nose, subtle enough most wouldn’t notice... but I do.

Her head tilts, just a fraction, ears angling in my direction for half a heartbeat. There’s a moment of recognition that flickers across her features, her eyes widening ever so slightly, lips parting just a fraction.

She looks away again, her face turning back into a mask of disinterest… except for the faint smile that lingers, like she’s privately amused. She doesn’t spare me another glance, though.

While the urge to inspect her has thankfully faded entirely after that, the heat still crawls up my neck.

Because I know exactly what she just picked up on.

Maybe I should take Serena up on her offer to seclude me from the other students? That sounds like a great idea right about now.

As I die inside, the maid guides us towards the platform at the back wall. As we move, I try to focus on Cari and take some pleasure from her giddiness. Normally that would help. Normally that would be enough.

But the medicine isn’t doing half as well as it was this morning, and it’s only been a little over two hours.

Will the next dose even work? Will it last me until the end of the day?

Serena promised me a new medicine, but if I can’t stay sane until then… I’m not sure what to do.

The platform returns then, a slight shimmer of light signifying its landing. Three girls step off with hushed giggles at some unheard joke, and we take their place. The maid steps to the terminal at the back of the platform and taps the option labeled Ten without hesitation.

Then we’re moving.

Unlike the transit platforms, this is more like an elevator in that there’s no magical shielding to prevent us from feeling the shifts in momentum.

And gods, is it fast.

Not so fast my knees buckle, but fast enough that I grip the nearest railing on instinct, knuckles whitening, and Cari’s hand grips my own even tighter. The maid, on the other hand, stands in the center of the platform, her poise as perfect as it’s been since she stopped up to greet us.

Blessedly, we don’t stop for extra passengers on the way up. I’m not sure my nerves could handle much more socializing today.

Then the platform slows rapidly enough that I half expect us to float off the floor.

Thankfully we don’t, but I'm almost certain it’s a close thing.

Surprisingly, the maids perfect skirts don’t so much as budge under the shifts in movement, despite the suddenness.

Some kind of barrier? Enchantment?

The hallway that opens up before us is elaborate in every sense of the word.

White walls, with gold filigree traces along the corners. Dark crimson runners that look incredibly soft and fluffy lining the sides. Velvet drapery in wine-dark purples hanging at perfect intervals.

Each section of wall between the longest curtains holds a painting. Landscapes, magical phenomena, abstracts, portraits that look nearly too realistic…

It feels less like a dorm hallway and more like a gallery.

“Whoa,” Cari murmurs.

“Whoa,” I agree.

The maid gives us just enough time to gawk before continuing forward. She leads us past several doors before stopping in front of one on the right, a elegant golden ‘A’ affixed to its center at eye level.

“Here we are,” the maid says. “To enter, all you need do is press your ID’s here.”

She taps a small section in the door frame that’s flatter than the rest, with a small glowing rune at its center.

“The door will close and lock itself should you ever forget to do so. If you wish to invite guests, they need only step in with you present, and the door will not attempt to bar their passage. Do you have any questions before I take my leave?”

Even if I could think of a question to ask—which I couldn’t at the moment—Cari’s response is so fast that I wouldn’t have had time to anyways.

“Nope! Thank you so much!” she says, beaming so brightly at the maid that I’m surprised she isn’t blinding her.

The maid offers a flawless curtsy before slipping away and returning to the elevator. The moment she’s gone, Cari rounds on me.

“Let’s go, Emi! Hurry, hurry!”

She's a blur as her ID taps against the indent in the door frame several times in rapid succession.

The door clicks audibly before swinging wide open all on its own.

Cari drags us in immediately, the door closes with a soft click behind us.

The first thing I think upon entering is that the room is far larger than it has any right to be.

The exterior of the building didn’t promise anything close to this much space, given the number of rooms I’ve seen inside already, but much like the trains, these appear to be much, much bigger on the inside.

Just how many enchantments...

It’s shaped in a soft circle, with the outer wall lined by curved couches upholstered in deep, velvety crimson. They’re spaced neatly between low tables of polished darkwood, each with a small enchanted lamp that glows warmly.

To the right, near the entrance, is a compact but masterfully arranged kitchen sitting behind an elegant bar-style counter. It's all white stone and gold veins, with faintly humming cooling cabinets and a tiny stove inset with runes.

As if that wasn't already enough, there's a tea station that looks like it’d fit in an alchemists lab, if not for the tea kettle sitting prominently at its center. It lets out gentle puffs of steam, the station already having been put to use.

On the opposite side of the room sits a round dining table, large enough for six but small enough not to dominate the space. Light shines down, gentle and indirect, emanating from floating crystal beads that drift in lazy loops around the ceiling’s rim.

They give the space an almost luxurious glow. A few doors branch off from the main room—likely bedrooms, given that each is marked with our initials in elegant script.

There are three in total, with the one on the far left is labeled EK, the one on the right CW, and the one in the center is AB.

Despite all the touches of wealth, the space doesn’t feel ostentatious. It feels more… comfortable. Lived-in, almost. Like it’s meant for relaxation, rather than posturing.

But the room is too warm. The air too thick with a familiar scent.

My eyes are drawn to the third person in the room.

She sits at the table in the center, sipping a cup of tea with a level of grace that puts most of the noble ladies I’ve seen today to shame.

The hint of spices tickles at my senses dangerously.

It’s Bella.

AB. As in Arabella von Bysm.

Of course she’s our roommate.

I take a deep breath to calm down and instantly regret it the moment her scent fills my mind with anything but calm.

“Ow, ow,” Cari complains to my side, and I find my hand clenching hers with more force than she deserves.

Easily more than she can handle.

I send a quick pulse of Arcane Regulation into her, just in case, and force myself to loosen my grip.

“Oh, there you two are!” Bella says cheerily. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. I’m glad the Headmistress was willing to accommodate us.”

“What do you mean accommodate us?” Cari asks, just as confused as I am.

She lifts her cup again, casual in a way that feels a little too practiced. “I simply requested companions I could rely on to behave… sensibly. Given recent circumstances.”

Then she takes a sip, and I can see the tension in her hands where she grips the cup.

“She agreed,” she finishes, sparing me a glance.

She might speak loops around the topic, trying to remain vague and maintain some semblance of regal poise… but I can see it.

She’s still scared.

For a moment, I'm distracted by a strange sense of protectiveness...

Then I remember the words she last spoke to me before we parted for our enrollment processes, and my face is flooded with warmth all over again.