Alina.
I woke to weak sunlight streaming between the curtains and the usual heaviness in my chest, the feeling that every day here was just another test of endurance. I wasn't sure if I dreaded the routine or if it was the fact that every corner of Umbra Noctis seemed to hold another secret, another trap. I went through the motions; washed my face, straightened my hair, tried to ignore the bruises from yesterday's drills, and headed to breakfast before anyone could notice how slow I was moving.
The dining hall was a blur of noise and early-morning bravado. I'd already learned to keep to the edges, to eat fast and keep my mouth shut, especially when the other dorm boys were watching. They had their rituals, their seating orders, and no matter how many weeks passed, I was still a guest at someone else's table.
Today, though, I was too tired to care. I grabbed the first empty seat I found near a window, in the strip of watery sunlight, and started eating in silence, back hunched, mind far away. The only thing I focused on was not making a scene, not dropping my spoon, not looking up.
But I felt it a ripple, the kind you learn to sense when you're always on edge. A presence at my side. A tray set quietly across from mine.
Elias.
He always found small ways to help me and I never know why. In spellwork, he'd nudged my hand into the right position without saying a word. During a botched potion demo, he'd quietly swapped out my burning flask for a fresh one when the instructor's back was turned. He'd even slipped a charm into my locker once, for steady hands. He didn't treat me like the others did, and sometimes I caught him watching me with a look that was less curious and more… patient. Like he was waiting for me to speak first.
Today, for whatever reason, he sat down.
I risked a glance up. He looked exactly as he always did: calm and quietly amused, as if nothing here could truly surprise him.
"Morning," he said, soft enough that only I could hear it.
"Morning," I replied, too quickly, then regretted the way my voice sounded thin and wary.
He started eating, methodical and quiet. There was no forced small talk. No sidelong stares. It was just the clink of a spoon and the hum of other students around us.
I went back to my food, half expecting him to leave. But he didn't.
Instead, after a few minutes, he spoke again. "Do you always sit alone, or is this just for the atmosphere?"
I didn't look up. "It's quieter here."
He snorted. "That's one way to survive breakfast."
I expected him to tease me, maybe point out the obvious, that everyone else avoided this side of the hall for a reason. But he just kept eating, unfazed.
I chanced another glance. His eyes were fixed on his bowl, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
"You know," he said, "if you tilt your tray like that, your eggs won't slide into your porridge."
I blinked, startled, then realized I'd been balancing my tray awkwardly, half off the edge of the table. I fixed it, and to my embarrassment, he gave a small, approving nod.
"See?" he murmured. "Not so hard."
Something about his tone made me relax, just a little. "You always this helpful?"
He shrugged, pretending to consider. "Depends on the company."
I snorted. "I guess you haven't seen my track record."
He looked at me properly then, eyes bright with humor. "I've seen you in spellwork. You're not nearly as hopeless as everyone says."
I wanted to believe him, but all I could do was roll my eyes. "That's generous."
He grinned genuinely. "You have a habit of making things interesting. Like last week, with the floating ink bottle."
I flushed. "That was an accident."
He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You should've seen Lucien's face."
I couldn't help myself; a small laugh escaped before I could stop it. I clamped a hand over my mouth, but Elias just looked satisfied.
For a while, we ate in companionable silence. The chaos of the hall faded around us. I found myself noticing the way sunlight caught in his hair, or the way his fingers tapped against his mug in rhythm with some song only he could hear.
He didn't push for conversation or try to fill the quiet. But after a few minutes, he spoke again, almost casual. "You ever miss home?"
The question surprised me, not because he asked, but because it sounded like he actually cared about the answer. I hesitated, unsure if it was a trap.
"Sometimes," I admitted. "Mostly I just miss… not having to watch my back all the time."
He nodded like he understood. "You get used to it. Or you learn to pretend you do."
That made me smile; a real one, small and tired. "You seem good at that."
He grinned, shrugging. "Practice."
The rest of breakfast went by faster than I expected. I didn't realize how long we'd been talking until the hall started to empty out and the noise dimmed.
Elias finished the last bite of his toast and stood, slinging his bag over one shoulder. "Walk with me?"
I hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded.
We moved together through the corridors, matching pace without really meaning to. The light outside was still thin, but everything seemed less hostile. For the first time, I didn't feel invisible. I felt seen, in a quiet, safe way.
On the way to class, Elias told me about the time he accidentally set the library curtains on fire and got away with it by blaming a "rogue pixie." I snorted so hard I almost choked.
We parted ways at the staircase, and he offered a little salute. "See you in spellwork, Elowen."
For the rest of the day, I caught myself smiling at odd moments; walking to class, passing Mira in the hall, even during Lucien's relentless corrections in training. For the first time, the ache of being different didn't feel so sharp.
Lunch came, and to my surprise, Elias found me again. This time, I was ready for it.
He dropped into the seat beside me with a grin. "How's your tray balance?"
I smirked. "Better, thanks to expert tutoring."
He raised an eyebrow. "Expert, huh? I'll take it."
We ate together, the conversation coming easier now, little jokes traded back and forth. I found myself telling him about Mira's bizarre obsession with enchanted fruit, and he admitted he sometimes swapped the labels on Lucien's potion bottles just to see if he'd notice.
By the end of the meal, the distance between us felt gone.
After lunch, we walked the courtyard, and he dared me to skip stones in the fountain. It was childish and pointless, but it felt good.
The day ended too soon. As I headed back toward the dorms, I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting him to vanish like a dream.
Instead, he caught my eye and smiled. "Same time tomorrow?"
I n odded, grinning despite myself. For the first time at Umbra Noctis, I was looking forward to the next day.