Elara woke to the sound of rustling fabric and the unmistakable voice of Sylv humming an overly dramatic tune.
"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Sylv sang, yanking open the curtains and flooding the room with blinding morning light.
Elara groaned and buried her head under the pillow. "Why do you always do that?"
"Because it's fun," Sylv replied sweetly. "And because the world deserves to witness your transformation from gremlin to goddess each morning."
Across the room, Lyria was already half-dressed, brushing her long hair in front of the shared mirror. "Morning, Elara! Better hurry or Sylv will steal your toast again."
Elara peeked out from under the pillow. "That's not a joke. She actually does it."
"Only when you move too slow," Sylv said with a wink.
Elara groaned again but sat up reluctantly. The morning energy in the room was annoyingly infectious. She shuffled over to her wardrobe and blinked at the options.
There, lined up neatly on the shelf, were the heels. The same polished navy-blue ones from yesterday. They seemed to sparkle with expectation.
"Don't do it," she muttered.
But she was already reaching for them.
Down in the main hall, heads turned. It wasn't the uniform. Every girl wore the same navy-and-gold outfit. It was how Elara wore it. Or rather, how the heels made her wear it.
She walked without thinking. Hips swaying slightly. Shoulders back. Each step clicked with a confidence that betrayed the hurricane of doubt swirling in her head.
Sylv's voice sliced through the crowd.
"Oh, now you've done it."
Elara turned. Sylv was leaning against a column, arms crossed, grinning like a cat with a bowl of cream.
"Done what, exactly?"
"Weaponized elegance. You can't just walk around like that and expect people not to swoon."
"I'm not—!" Elara hissed. "I'm just walking!"
Lyria jogged up beside them. "She's not wrong. You look like you stepped out of a painting. Or a dream. Or one of those forbidden noble fashion books."
"I hate all of you."
"We love you too," Sylv replied sweetly.
First Class: Magical Defense & Rune Barriers
The morning began with Professor Harlen, a gruff man with a permanent scowl and a surprising fondness for precise rune geometry.
"Today, you'll pair up. Design a basic defense circle against a hypothetical directional fire spell."
The class buzzed. Teams formed. Elara, Sylv, and Lyria ended up together, of course. Though the stares from the rest of the room were growing more intense.
Elara knelt down near the practice tiles, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of eyes burning into her back. She sketched runes with calm precision, fingers moving like they had minds of their own.
Sylv leaned in. "You know they're watching you, right?"
"I know."
"You don't want to say something about it?"
"No."
"Even when that guy in the back just asked if your hair is naturally that shiny?"
Elara groaned. "Why is my existence a social event?"
Lyria chuckled. "Because you're pretty, mysterious, smart, and apparently the only girl in school who can walk in heels without falling on her face. That's a combo."
"It's a curse."
"No," Sylv corrected. "It's a threat."
The barrier circle lit up. Perfect symmetry. Professor Harlen grunted approvingly.
Lunch: Fan Service
Elara barely made it to the cafeteria before she was swarmed. Not by enemies. By volunteers.
"I saved you a seat, Elara!"
"Would you like extra sauce on your stew?"
"Do you want me to carry your tray?"
Sylv and Lyria watched in silent amusement as Elara tried to deflect affection with polite, awkward thanks.
"She's gonna snap," Sylv said.
"She's glowing," Lyria whispered. "Like... actual glow. Is that a Rune thing?"
"No. That's embarrassment compressed into energy."
Afternoon: Runic Compatibility Workshop
Professor Melli was one of the oldest instructors at the academy, and one of the gentlest. She wore robes that trailed dust and spectacles enchanted to shimmer when detecting improper syntax.
"Today," she said in a breathy voice, "we'll test personal compatibility with base runes and alternate charge triggers. Please try not to explode."
Elara sat at her station, a basic rune circle laid before her. She adjusted the vectors with ease, running a mana pulse through it.
Melli wandered over.
"Oh, dear. That's... rather efficient. Your control is unusually stable."
Elara nodded. "I had some experience."
"Oh? Where from?"
She paused. "Home... schooling."
The professor nodded and moved on.
Behind her, a student's circle cracked in half.
Sylv leaned over. "You could teach this class."
"Don't tempt me."
"You already are."
By the end of class, Elara had corrected two spell matrices, helped three students avoid mana blowback, and offered advice to the professor—accidentally.
She left the classroom mentally exhausted but academically smug.
Evening: Thoughts & Threads
In her dorm, Elara sat cross-legged on her bed. The heels were beside her again.
Sylv walked in, paused, and smirked.
"You're not going to sleep in those, are you?"
"I was considering it."
"...You scare me sometimes."
Elara sighed, laying back.
"Is it weird," she asked the ceiling, "that I'm starting to like how I look in these stupid shoes?"
"No," Sylv replied. "It's weird that you didn't realize it sooner."
Lyria popped her head in. "Did I miss a confession?"
"Yes," Elara deadpanned. "I'm secretly a fashion icon now."
They all laughed. But under the laughter, Elara felt a tremor.
Something was changing.
And this time, she wasn't sure if she was fighting it... or dancing with it.