The scent of fresh paint still lingered in the air, thick and pungent, but Sienna couldn't care less. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork with a smug tilt of her lips. The once neutral walls of her side of the dormitory had been transformed into a display of vibrant, chaotic strokes—wild splashes of gold and crimson that bled into midnight black. It was extravagant, overwhelming, and most importantly, a reminder that she was here to leave her mark.
She strolled over to the open window, the golden hues of the setting sun bathing her in a warm glow. With the grace of someone born to be admired, she pulled out her phone and captured the moment—a perfect picture to remind the world of her brilliance.
Turning back to the room, she flicked her long, manicured nails against the wooden surface of the desk. "I might have agreed to taking one side of the room," she announced, her voice dripping with arrogance, "but that doesn't mean you get to dictate what I do with it." Her shoulders squared, chin lifting in defiance, as if daring anyone to challenge her.
She didn't wait for a response. Nor did she bother cleaning up the mess she had created—paint-stained brushes scattered across the floor, open cans left unattended, and smudges of color smeared along the once-pristine furniture. No, Sienna Lancaster was not the kind of girl to clean up after herself. That was a problem for someone else.
With a flick of her hair, she strutted out, leaving Cora and Amelia in the aftermath of her artistic rampage.
"I don't know why the dean thought we'd be the best people to accommodate that girl," Amelia muttered, arms crossed as she glared at the mess.
Cora exhaled slowly, gripping the broom she had picked up. "I just hope we can coexist without killing each other."
She had no such illusions, though. Sienna was a walking storm, and she doubted peace was in the forecast.
Meanwhile, in Roseline's new dormitory—a place that more closely resembled a luxury hotel suite than student housing—a sharp knock echoed against the heavy door. Before she could respond, it swung open, revealing two familiar figures.
Maximilian strolled in first, hands in his pockets, his sharp green eyes twinkling with amusement. "I heard you finally decided to join us on Oscar Island," he said, his voice light with mockery. "Thought I'd check for myself."
Leonard followed in silence, his gaze sweeping over the lavish decor before settling on Roseline.
Her eyes flickered past them, disappointment flashing across her delicate features when she realized no one else had come. They noticed, of course.
"Damien didn't come," Maximilian remarked, throwing himself onto one of the velvet sofas with the ease of someone who belonged there. "I thought you got over him after he rejected you?"
Roseline's expression tightened, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, she rolled her eyes and turned away, picking up a crystal glass filled with deep red liquid. She took a slow sip, the rim of the glass kissing her lips as she ignored his taunt entirely.
Leonard leaned against the doorframe, studying her. "I didn't expect you to get a room this fast," he said after a moment.
Roseline met his gaze, her own unreadable before she looked away. "The dean wouldn't dare leave me roomless," she said with the confidence of someone who had always gotten what she wanted.
Maximilian chuckled. "Of course not. Wouldn't want our dear Roseline to throw a tantrum."
Leonard, however, watched her with a different expression—one laced with something softer, something unreadable. He had known her for years, seen her grow from a spoiled little girl into a woman who now carried herself like a queen, even if she was still just as arrogant.
He knew her fascination with Damien had been all-consuming, but he had never admitted—to himself or anyone else—how much it had annoyed him.
Cora's phone buzzed, breaking her focus as she swept the remnants of Sienna's artistic disaster. A message from Damien.
She wiped her hands on her jeans before heading for the door, stepping out just as Damien approached. He stood there, all sharp lines and effortless arrogance, looking as though the world itself bent at his feet.
His eyes—dark and knowing—flickered over her before shifting to the room behind her. His lips curved into a smirk. "I didn't expect you to room with Sienna. Are you okay with it?"
Cora folded her arms, already exasperated by his knowing tone. "Not really, but it's not like the school cares what we think."
Damien stepped closer, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. The touch was light, fleeting, but the weight of his presence was anything but. "My offer still stands," he murmured, his voice rich with amusement. "All you need to do is say the word."
Cora exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. "My answer is still no."
He chuckled, pulling a book from under his arm and pressing it into her hands. "You say that now, little bird," he mused, tilting his head, "but if you're ever feel like changing rooms my door is always opened to you ."
Heat crept up her cheeks, and she immediately looked away, focusing on the book instead.
"It contains a lot," Damien said, his tone shifting slightly, though the smugness never fully faded. "Not everything, but enough. The sea doesn't give up its secrets so easily."
Cora frowned, flipping through the pages. "It just looks like an encyclopedia on marine life."
Damien hummed in approval. "Exactly. To the untrained eye."
She glanced up at him, suspicion narrowing her eyes. "You're saying it's coded?"
"Everything connected to the sea is," he said, his gaze locking onto hers. "You just have to know how to look."
Cora nodded, tucking the book against her chest. "Thanks, Damien."
His smirk returned in full force. "Don't thank me when you already belong to me, little bird."
Cora's heart stuttered, warmth blooming in her chest.
Desperate to change the subject, she cleared her throat. "Sienna… she's not a night creature, is she?"
Damien's expression darkened slightly, but his answer was immediate. "She's not. If she was, she wouldn't still be rooming with you. I would've… taken care of it."
There was something unsettling in the way he said it, a casual promise of violence hidden beneath the words. But Cora simply nodded, trusting him.
As night descended, Sienna returned—only after updating her social media with a perfectly curated post. She barely acknowledged Cora or Amelia before collapsing onto her bed, her phone still in her hand as she drifted off.
Silence crept into the room. Cora let out a breath, exhaustion weighing her down as she finally let herself sleep.
But the moment she closed her eyes—
She was gone.
A sharp pull, like something had reached through the darkness and yanked her from her body.
When her vision cleared, she was no longer in her dormitory.
She stood in the west wing of the school, staring at the hauntingly familiar portrait.
Cold fear prickled across her skin, her breath hitching.
What was she doing here?