The mist was relentless that morning, clinging to the stone walls of the school like sorrow that refused to be shaken off. It draped itself in heavy rivulets across the courtyard, pressing down on the children who shuffled through the early light. Their laughter, faint and fleeting, seemed almost rebellious against the weight of burdens they should never have carried.
Connor stood beneath the mistletoe, his face tilted upward, eyes wide with a kind of innocence that felt almost foreign in this place. My sweet boy—how could he be so naive? His breath escaped in little clouds, catching the dim light and scattering it like fragments of sparkle. For a moment, it was as if joy itself had taken shape.
Sam, beside me, struggled to contain his amusement. His shoulders shook, his grin threatening to break free. I nudged his foot sharply, desperate for him to hush. Laughter here felt wrong, like mockery of the fragile beauty before us. Yet I understood his impulse—sometimes absurdity was the only shield against despair.
Across the hall, Amantha and Reyna were already awake. Of course they were. Reyna, restless as ever, interrogated her new friend with the kind of intensity that made dawn itself seem sluggish. Amantha listened, her brow furrowed, her patience stretched thin but unbroken. Their voices carried softly, weaving into the mist like threads of defiance.
I sighed, the sound heavy with regret. Connor's joy pressed against me like a bruise, tender and painful. I wanted to gather them all up, to tell them the truth—that the world was harsher than this fleeting moment, that laughter would not always be safe. But the words lodged in my chest, unspoken. I could not shield them forever.
"Connor," I said finally, my voice low but firm, "forgive me, but I do believe it's a must to gather your sister, Reyna, and Amantha before we truly start to delve into this."
His grin faltered at the mention of Leah. The silence that followed was telling.
Those two—Connor and Leah—needed to get along. Their similarities were striking, almost uncanny. The same glint in their eyes, the same stubborn set of their jaw, the same explosive risk when their tempers flared—quite literally. It was endearing and infuriating all at once, like watching two mirrors argue with each other.
"Connor, you and Leah will have to learn to get together," I told him, the words carrying more weight than I intended.
Without hesitation, he turned and raced up the stairs to the shared dorm. His footsteps echoed against the stone, a rhythm of urgency and defiance. I imagined Leah waiting there, her irritation simmering, her patience frayed. She must be very annoyed right now.
The mist thickened outside, swallowing the sparkle Connnor had left behind. And as I stood there, listening to the fading sound of his steps, I knew the fragile balance between them would soon demand more than words.
I knew Connor wouldn't make any effort on his side, his pride more important than necessities.
Sam waited patiently beside me, ready to move at a moment's notice. The first term was coming to an end and his control had improved impressively. I could only hope the other's would be that competent.
I hoped, I really did.