Tomorrow was the day.
Kaelith was going to start at the Celestian Academy.
The real Celestian Academy. Not some private noble tutoring with scrolls older than the continent or state-sanctioned history lessons from politically sanitized archives.
No. This was the heartbeat of magical innovation. The arena of elite combat disciplines. The place where people argued over spell theory loudly in libraries and got into duels over potion interpretations in the cafeteria.
The academy where people either rose to terrifying greatness or became cautionary tales with hilarious nicknames.
She'd been dreaming of this for years.
And tomorrow finally she'd walk through those marble gates with her head held high and her new uniform perfectly tailored to suggest she respected the institution but could still incinerate anyone who disrespected her.
She had even prepared some introductory lines. Nothing too rehearsed, just a few polished phrases like:
— "Oh, I'm Kaelith, yes, that Kaelith. No, I don't bite unless it's a diplomatic necessity."
Or
— "I was homeschooled. My tutor was the Commander of the Ebon Blades. We sparred between lunch and statecraft."
Or maybe
— "I read your thesis on arcane temporal layering. I liked it, though your defense section lacked spine."
Perfectly balanced. Smart. With just enough menace.
She was ready.
The only problem was that the energy in her room did not reflect her joy.
Because across the room, arms folded, eyes narrow enough to slice obsidian, stood Imeena.
And Imeena was glaring at her like she wanted to incinerate Kaelith's very soul.
Again.
Kaelith raised a brow. "You're really committed to that death-glare, huh?"
No response.
Imeena's eyes narrowed further, as if she could melt the words right off Kaelith's tongue.
Kaelith tilted her head, undeterred. "You know, most people at least pretend to enjoy my company."
Still nothing.
Imeena had been like this for days. Days. Since the moment they'd met.
Cold. Silent. Calculated.
A living blade that never got sheathed, just leaned against the wall and judged everything in the room.
She didn't laugh. She didn't comment. She didn't even sigh. The most reaction Kaelith had gotten out of her was a half-grunt and the occasional Are you serious face when Kaelith tried to climb a roof to shortcut through the garden.
In the past week, Kaelith had:
– Tripped a magical alarm in the greenhouse.
– Offended a minor noble by suggesting his aura was "weirdly beige."
– Gotten into a brief but extremely satisfying rooftop race with Lily involving levitation runes and zero supervision.
Imeena had not smiled. Not once.
She only moved when Kaelith was in actual danger—like when she almost got vaporized by an exploding spell stone, and Imeena tackled her mid-air, slammed them both behind a stone barrier, and then walked away like it hadn't happened.
Didn't even check if Kaelith was okay.
Didn't gloat.
Just returned to her shadowy corner like saving people was a minor inconvenience.
And that, of course, made Kaelith obsessively curious.
Who was this woman? What did she like? Did she even have preferences or just glide through life glaring and occasionally punching death in the face?
Kaelith didn't know, and that was unacceptable.
If this terrifying creature was going to be her bodyguard for the next three years, she would not allow it to be a three-year funeral dirge of awkward silence and looming death vibes.
No. She had a new mission now:
Make Imeena less of a human glacier.
Some might call it a suicide pact. Kaelith called it character development.
But today?
Today Imeena had finally snapped.
And Kaelith was loving every second.
Because right now, in this very room, Imeena Cromwell was pacing—a sure sign of emotional instability—and muttering loud enough to shatter her reputation as an unflinching shadow ghost.
"I'm twenty-six years old," Imeena was saying. "I've walked through the Void. I've survived cursed tombs and demon storms. And now I'm being forced to chaperone an overexcited teenager with a death complex and glittering notebooks."
Kaelith leaned on the wardrobe. "I don't glitter. I shine with promise."
Imeena whirled on her.
"I don't like people in my space."
"Good thing I only invade your emotional space."
"I don't do small talk. I don't gossip. I don't braid hair and I don't make friendship charms. I don't care about tea blends, hairpins, your magic diary, or your academic ambitions."
"I don't keep a diary."
Imeena pointed at the notebook Kaelith had charmed to glow pink when opened. "That's literally enchanted to sing when you write in it."
Kaelith shrugged. "Creative expression."
Imeena's hands clenched at her sides. "This isn't normal."
Kaelith grinned. "Neither am I."
Imeena turned and resumed pacing, muttering something in a forgotten battle dialect that Kaelith was pretty sure translated to "gods give me strength or take me out now."
Kaelith wandered over to her mirror, brushing a stray curl back and watching Imeena's reflection behind her.
It was fascinating, really.
Imeena didn't move like most people. Every step she took was measured, deliberate, like she was always calculating angles, exits, weaknesses.
Her face stayed still even when she was furious. Her magic was barely restrained under her skin, golden chains coiled like sleeping snakes under gloves.
She was elegance and violence, wrapped in a coat and emotional repression.
And Kaelith had never wanted to poke someone more in her entire life.
"It can't be that bad," Kaelith said finally, breaking the silence.
Imeena froze mid-step.
Her eyes slowly turned toward Kaelith. "What."
"This. Me. School. The assignment. It's not that bad."
"Not that bad?" Imeena echoed, voice like winter over broken glass.
Kaelith held up her fingers. "Okay, look. You get to live in a palace, have unlimited access to tea and silence, and occasionally save me from assassination attempts. It's like a hero vacation with mildly chaotic benefits."
Imeena stared at her like she'd just grown a second head. "You think this is a vacation?"
Kaelith turned, smile curling. "I think you're being dramatic."
Imeena's eye twitched.
Kaelith walked past her toward the window, throwing it open to let in the evening air. The breeze stirred her hair and scattered a few loose papers.
She turned back, hands on hips.
"Besides," she added, "you've already committed. Might as well enjoy it."
Imeena exhaled through her nose, quiet and sharp. "Enjoy is not a word I use."
"Not even with cake?"
"Especially not with cake."
Kaelith narrowed her eyes. "We'll work on that."
Imeena groaned quietly and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "this is my punishment for every sin I've ever denied."
Kaelith beamed.
Progress.