Page 6 of Magical Mission

“No thanks to you,” he muttered, dusting off his arms with exaggerated huffs.

I folded my arms, arching a brow at Nova. “Did you know he would be our first student?”

She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but I caught the flicker of surprise in her eyes. “I… had a hunch.”

“A hunch?” I repeated.

Nova straightened. “The Academy’s shifting. Waking up. Things are different now. He’s different.” She gave Twobble a pointed look. “Guess it decided he was finally worthy.”

Twobble stuck his chin in the air. “I wasalwaysworthy.”

“Agreed,” Nova said with a wink. “So where are you going?”

I opened my mouth.

And promptly closed it.

Because honestly?

I hadno idea.

I turned, gesturing vaguely down the softly glowing hallway. “To his room. Obviously.”

Nova tilted her head, amused, and chuckled. “You’ve seen the dormitories?”

“Not exactly.”

Nova snorted. “I’m coming. This should be entertaining.”

Twobble rubbed his hands together, delighted. “Oh, a tour group!”

“Behave,” I muttered, marching forward as confidently as I could manage.

The hallway curved gently, the walls widening into an elegant gallery of soft amber sconces, aged tapestries, and windows overlooking one of the Academy’s forgotten courtyards. The air felt thick with possibility, and the deeper we walked, the warmer it got, as if the Academy wasexpectingus.

How did I know there was a hallway of dorm rooms down this corridor?

How did I even know thereweredorm rooms? I didn’t. I had just embraced blind, magical faith because that was all I had.

I pressed a hand to the cool stone as we passed under an archway. The wall seemed to hum under my fingertips, like it was aware of me. Like it was guiding me.

The thought sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.

We turned the corner, and another hallway to a dormitory stretched before us, dust still settling from years of desertion.

It was incredible and breathed life into the idea of a refuge for magic folk.

The space didn’t feel empty or abandoned. Not with Twobble’s eager footsteps echoing against the stone, not with his chatter filling the space about what kind of snacks he’d stockpile or how many bookshelves he could fit in one room.

This was what the Academy was meant to be.

Not cold halls or forgotten history.

But found family.

Laughter.

Loyalty.