Freya’s POV continues~~~
The hallway stretched into a pathway for girls. It seemed this was the way to the girls’ hostel because since Brianna and I had begun walking, all I’d seen were female students.
The pathway seemed like a seemingly endless tunnel of glossy oak doors, each bearing a polished brass number. The air reeked of fresh paint and industrial cleaner, undercut by the thumping bass of someone’s music in the distance, muffled by laughter of a conversation I wasn’t part of.
“Seriously, I’m tired. We’ve been walking for ages. When are we reaching my room? My legs hurt already.”
Brianna rolled her eyes. “We supernaturals don’t get tired out easily.”
“Easy for you to say. I’m human, not supernatural.”
“You really should stop saying that, Freya, or you’ll be seen as weak.”
“Whatever.”
Maybe this is a fresh start for me, I thought, a fragile hope blooming in my chest. No more popular kids bullying an orphan like me. Maybe I might actually like it here.
Finally, we stopped before a door. Unlike the others, its brass nameplate was already filled in. Beneath “307,” a single name was etched in a sharp, angular script: Avery Holstein, with a blank space waiting to be filled.
“Oh no,” I muttered. “This just got a lot worse.”
“This is it, Freya. My tour with you ends here for now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hope you'll be fine?
I nodded and then she waved me goodbye.
Of course, I didn’t want her to leave—at least she could’ve followed me inside and maybe helped me out with whatever drama I was about to meet. But my pride got in the way, and I watched her leave.
I opened the door slowly before going in, and what I saw instantly killed the only hope I had left.
The room was a study in controlled opulence and stark contrast. My side was bare—just a standard-issue bed, desk, and empty wardrobe, looking institutional.
The other side, Avery’s, was a lavishly decorated oasis. A silk duvet in a deep emerald green was draped artfully over her bed, with matching velvet pillows piled high. A pristine, expensive-looking skincare routine covered the desk, arranged with military precision. A faint, cloying scent of jasmine and sandalwood perfume hung heavy in the artificially chilled air.
And in the center of it all stood Avery. She leaned against her plush headboard, one long leg crossed over the other, examining her perfectly manicured nail. She didn’t even look up at me as I entered.
“Well,” Avery said, her voice low. “Look what the cat dragged in. And here I was hoping for someone more… relevant.”
Finally, her eyes—cool, dispassionate grey in color—flicked up to take me in, from my worn-out sneakers upward. A slow, condescending smile tugged at her lips.
“Since you’re here, we’ll establish the rules. Now. Curfew in this room is 9 PM. And you must maintain absolute silence when in this room. I shouldn’t even hear you breathe.
“The bathroom is mine from 7 to 7:30 AM—you will schedule around that. No visitors, ever, except if we come to a common ground agreement.
“Your… things…” she said the word like it was contagious, “…will remain strictly on your side of this invisible line.” She gestured a sharp line down the center of the room with her finger.
“And you will not, under any circumstances, touch anything of mine. Are we understood?”
Heat flooded my cheeks. My fists clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms. Every instinct of mine screamed to shove that superior smirk right off Avery’s face, to tip over the neat row of lotions.
But the weight of what she might do to me kept playing in my head. And yet, I didn’t want the despairing familiarity of being at the bottom of any place again.
I was already drained just from listening to her annoying rules, and what was left of me was a cold, hard knot of tension in my stomach. I simply gave a tight nod.
I shut the door behind me, feeling more like I was stuck in a prison rather than the fresh start I had hoped for.
****
Later that night, after coming to terms with my new life of misery, I lay on my bed to finally rest my head when my daring roommate decided to test my patience.
The night had been endless for me. Avery had been on her phone for hours, her voice low—but still loud enough that a passerby close to our door could hear all her conversations. I knew for a fact she was purposely doing this just to spite and annoy me.
But I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt. I grabbed my pillow and pressed it over my ears, shutting my eyes tightly.
When I finally dozed off, the unfamiliarity of the latent magic of the academy hummed through my bones, a constant, and unsettling buzz.
***
The next morning, the alarm shattered my peaceful silence. It was a piercing, ringing screech that felt like it was drilling directly into my skull. I jolted upright, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Disoriented and panicked, I rushed to find the source, my legs tangled in the sheets. The world tilted as I pitched forward, my limbs cartwheeling until I landed with a hard thud on the cold wooden floor. The breath was knocked out of my lungs before I could even say a word.
A sharp, cruel laugh cut through, echoing in my ears.
From her bed, Avery was propped on an elbow, her face full of amusement. “Graceful,” she smirked, her eyes raking over my rumpled pajamas. “It really inspires confidence.” She mocked me with a tilt of her lips.
My face burned as I untangled myself and stood up, every muscle aching from humiliation.
“Don’t just stand there gawking,” Avery said, nodding toward the wardrobe on my bare side of the room. “Your uniforms are in there. Consider it a… welcome gift from the student auxiliary fund. Or whatever they call charity here.”
“Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?” I asked suspiciously.
Avery raised one brow. “Wait—you think me showing you your uniform set is nice? You’re really so naïve. Anyways, I’ve nothing against you. You were brave trying to act as a hero yesterday. But know this new girl, never interrupt me again."
I took in whatever she said and walked tentatively to my wardrobe door. Inside were three sets of uniforms. The fabric was a rich, heavy wool, the tailoring impeccable, the silver buttons engraved with the academy’s crest.
They were intimidatingly beautiful and, I realized with a sinking feeling, a perfect fit. The precision of it was invasive, a reminder that every detail of my life here was known—and would be judged.
Avery swung her legs out of bed, smirking. “Try not to look like a complete idiot in it. It’s the only one you’ll be getting.”
The words landed like a physical blow, hitting my deepest insecurity—that I was an outsider, like a scholarship case, and everyone could see it.
