Thalen followed the gold-eyed guard through the winding courtyard, trying not to stare at everything and fail miserably.
The buildings seemed to shift if he looked at them too long — a balcony that wasn't there a second ago, a window that vanished when he blinked. The rain no longer fell inside the gates, though the clouds still churned overhead.
"You'll find the dormitory just ahead," the guard said, pointing toward a tall tower shaped like a spiral seashell. "East Wing, Room 23. Don't be late to the Headmaster's welcome address."
Before Thalen could ask for directions to the Headmaster's hall, the guard had turned and melted into the crowd.
The East Wing's common hall smelled faintly of smoke and bread. Students lounged on worn couches around a crackling fireplace. A trio of dragonkin boys — their scaled forearms glinting in the firelight — were locked in an arm-wrestling contest, the table groaning under the strain.
Ignoring the curious glances that followed him, Thalen found the narrow staircase and climbed until he reached the second landing. Room 23 was halfway down, its door slightly ajar.
He pushed it open.
The first thing he noticed was the mess. Clothes were strewn across the floor, a stack of playing cards balanced dangerously on a teetering pile of books, and in the center of it all sat a boy with chestnut hair and a grin that looked like it got him out of trouble as often as into it.
"Finally!" the boy said, tossing a small, floating sphere from one hand to the other without touching it. "Thought they'd stuck me with a ghost."
Thalen hesitated in the doorway. "You're…?"
"Finn Rook. Human. Telekinesis minor, troublemaking major." Finn gestured grandly toward the empty bed by the window. "And you must be the mystery they're all whispering about."
Thalen set his satchel down, careful not to knock over the leaning tower of books. "They're whispering?"
"Oh yeah." Finn leaned back in his chair, the floating sphere still bobbing between his hands. "No race, no family name, storms chasing you up the mountain? You're practically begging for rumors."
Before Thalen could reply, the door swung wider, and a tall boy with silver hair and storm-grey eyes stepped inside. He wore the sharp uniform of the dragonkin dorms — deep crimson trim, scales just visible along his jawline.
"Well, well," the newcomer said, his voice dripping with amusement. "The race-less wonder himself."
Finn sighed. "Cade, it's been less than an hour. Can we not start this yet?"
Cade ignored him, stepping closer to Thalen. "Just curious how you got in. This place isn't for charity cases."
Something hot prickled in Thalen's chest, but he kept his voice even. "Guess you'll have to stay curious."
Cade's smile thinned. "Careful, stranger. Some of us bite."
Finn floated the sphere right between them like a peace offering. "And some of us juggle shiny objects to distract angry dragonkin from doing something stupid."
Cade gave a low chuckle and stepped back. "See you around… storm boy." Then he left, the door shutting hard behind him.
Thalen sat on the edge of his bed. "Friendly place."
Finn smirked. "Oh, you have no idea."
Outside the window, lightning flickered far above the Academy — and for just a second, Thalen could've sworn it took the shape of a pair of glowing eyes staring right at him.