The mana here was thick. Too thick to ignore.
It moved in every direction — wild, refined, ancient, pulsing. The kind of power that came from bloodlines and decades of training, stitched into the air like a second skin. And I could feel all of them.
Dozens of students. Some already walking confidently through the outer ward. Some waiting in the courtyard. So many outlines — tangled shapes in motion, spiked with excitement or dull with practiced calm.
Some moved with strange auras. I caught a bond with a liquid-like pulse — maybe a riversnake. Another was low and crouched, with heavy paws and steady breath. A tiger. There was a spirit-bound student too, faint strands of otherworldly mana curled behind their shoulders like phantom wings.
One small presence glowed like burning coal. It perched on someone's shoulder, unmoving.
Dragon. Young. But old enough to scare me.
I stepped through the gates with Salem at my side.
She didn't speak. She never really had to. Her mana was still restrained — controlled, like she was trying to shrink herself. But even that couldn't hide what she was.
I heard the whispering almost instantly.
A pause in steps. A change in breathing.
Then:
"What the hell is that?"
It came from someone nearby. A student maybe a few years older, walking with two others. His outline was tall, shoulders squared. His mana was refined, steady — trained in full forms, probably elemental. The kind of noble-born that had a sword, a hawk, and a last name that everyone knew.
"Look at that thing beside her," he said. "Purple veins… that hair… gods, her aura's warped. What is that, A demon?"
He moved closer. I felt his presence drift in, overconfident.
"Hey," he said toward us, "is it house pet day or something? Or did someone forget to burn the garbage after summoning?"
I stopped walking.
So did Salem.
I turned slightly. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear the amusement in his voice — the thick, smug mana that came from someone who had never been scared a day in his life.
"She doesn't talk?" he added. "Figures. Probably too busy draining whatever magic she can get out of you. Honestly, what's wrong with her skin? Those cracks look like she's rotting from the inside. Altho her body outside of that looks great, it's probably a slut demon"
Salem's mana twitched.
Just once. Barely.
But it was cold. Not angry. Not sharp. Just cold, like the kind of silence that happens before a storm.
I didn't move for a second.
Then I stepped toward him, slowly. Just two paces. Enough to let my own mana spread a little further — metal, sharpened, concentrated. I didn't need to raise my voice.
"If you say one more word," I said, "I'll make sure they forget your name before your bones stop twitching."
Silence.
Even his bird bond stopped moving.
Then I turned, and walked on.
Salem followed, as she always did — her steps soundless, her presence quieter now. I reached out and found her arm with the edge of my hand.
She stayed close.
Some recognized us.
But no one stopped us.
⸻
The dorm was in the southern wing. The hall creaked underfoot. The outlines of other students shimmered through the walls, some loud, some whispering, some burning with the kind of energy I didn't understand yet.
Our room was at the end of the corridor.
Salem opened the door before I could touch it.
Inside, I felt the space through pressure and outline. One bed. No bond accommodation. Just a blanket, a desk, a window facing the gardens. Barely enough for me. Definitely not made for two.
Salem stepped in behind me and immediately moved toward the floor.
"Don't," I said before she could say anything.
"But there's only—"
"I'm not letting you sleep on the floor," I said. "We've slept like this for over a year. This won't change anything."
She hesitated.
I turned toward her outline, then reached forward until my hand brushed hers.
She relaxed.
⸻
That night, Salem lay beside me like always. Her breathing evened out slowly, her limbs awkward at first — like she was scared of taking up space. But eventually she curled close, the top of her head against my neck, her hand gently resting between mine.
This closeness had become normal. Not romantic. I don't know if it'll ever be that. For now it's something we hadn't named yet. Something we didn't need to.
Just warmth. Trust. A kind of safety I never thought I'd feel again.
Tomorrow was Entrance Day. That meant uniform distribution, rank evaluations, class sorting, dorm checks. They'd test our bonds too. See what we could do. What we couldn't.
I'd be the youngest student in the academy's history.
And Salem would be the only demon who ever stepped foot inside it.
We'd make it work.
One way or another.