Cynthia: "So… um… what do you like, besides… well…"
She made a vague gesture with her hand, unable to finish her sentence.
Petra rolled her eyes.
Petra: "Apart from what people have decided to stick on her, you mean?"
Cynthia scratched her cheek, a little embarrassed.
Cynthia: "Yeah... that's it."
Minerva gave a small smile, not offended.
Minerva: "I like to read... and observe nature."
She laughed nervously.
Petra: "And you, Cynthia, tell us a little about yourself."
Cynthia straightened her back enthusiastically.
Cynthia: "Me?"
"Easy!"
"I want to become a great knight, super strong, super famous!"
She clenched her fist, beaming.
Minerva observed her boundless energy with a certain admiration.
Minerva: "She's loud... but sincere."
Petra, more composed, spoke up.
Petra: "I prefer strategy and support magic."
"I don't like pointless fighting."
Minerva nodded.
Minerva: "That... that reassures me."
A short silence followed, but it wasn't awkward.
Cynthia looked at Minerva for a longer moment, then sighed.
Cynthia: "Well... I'll be honest."
"At first, I was really scared."
Minerva lowered her eyes slightly.
Cynthia: "But now... you don't seem mean."
"Just... a little sad."
Minerva looked up, surprised.
Minerva: "Maybe a little… yes."
Cynthia smiled awkwardly.
Cynthia: "As long as you don't eat me, we'll get along just fine."
Petra sighed.
Petra: "Cynthia…"
But Minerva let out a small laugh, shy but sincere.
Minerva: "I promise."
The tension gradually dissipated.
The conversation continued, simple, almost mundane:
- Their villages
- Their reasons for coming to the Academy
- Their hopes.
Cynthia was no longer afraid like before.
Not completely reassured… but she had understood one essential thing.
Minerva wasn't a bad person.
And in room 7, as night gently settled over the Academy, a fragile beginning of trust had just been born.
The curfew was finally announced by the deep tolling of a bell that echoed throughout the dormitory.
The lanterns in the corridor gradually went out, plunging the first-year floor into a soothing twilight.
In room 7, the three girls prepared for sleep.
Cynthia climbed onto the top bunk of the bunk bed, still slightly tense.
Petra lay down calmly on the bottom bunk.
Minerva slipped under the covers of her single bed.
Cynthia: "…Good night."
Petra: "Good night."
Minerva: "Good night."
The light went out.
In the darkness, Cynthia instinctively clutched her blanket to her chest.
Cynthia: "Please... don't let her eat me... or Petra..."
Beside her, Petra was already breathing slowly, peacefully.
Minerva closed her eyes.
At first, sleep came quickly, carrying away the day's fatigue.
But in the dead of night...
Her body began to react.
Minerva frowned in her sleep.
She shifted slightly, seeking a more comfortable position.
Then the sensation appeared.
A dull, deep pain.
Like a tearing.
It began at the small of her back, then slowly traveled up her spine to the top of her shoulder blades.
Minerva moaned softly.
Minerva: "...it... hurts..."
CCCCCCCCCCCCCCccccccccrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
She felt the skin on her back tearing.
Her fingers unconsciously gripped the sheets.
The pain wasn't sudden, but constant, drawn out, as if something were pushing from within.
Her back burned.
Then pulled.
Then burned again.
Minerva arched slightly, her breath coming in short gasps, trapped in her sleep.
In the darkness of room 7, while the other two girls slept unsuspectingly, something was changing.
Something Minerva could neither see…nor yet understand.
In her restless sleep, the sensation intensified.
Minerva felt as if her back was opening up.
Not like a brutal wound, nor a clean cut… but as if her skin, her muscles, suddenly refused to stay the way they were.
Minerva squirmed further, her brows furrowed, her lips parted with uneven breathing.
Minerva: "…it pulls…it cracks…"
The pain was strange.
Deep.
Extensive.
As if something were trying to take her place, to get out, not violently but with no possibility of going back.
An unbearable pressure built between her shoulder blades.
Her body reacted involuntarily, her back arching slowly, her fingers clenching the sheets.
In the darkness, a slight shiver ran through her skin.
Then the sensation changed.
It was no longer just pain.
It was a release.
As if the accumulated tension had finally found an outlet.
Minerva inhaled sharply, without waking.
Minerva: "..."
Her back seemed to open up to the air, to space, to something new.
A strange feeling of lightness mingled with the persistent burning sensation.
A few feet away, Cynthia stirred slightly in her bed, muttering something incomprehensible, then immediately fell back asleep.
Petra, on the other hand, slept soundly, unaware of what was happening.
Minerva, trapped in this half-sleep, had only one vague certainty.
Minerva: "Something... is changing..."
The pain gradually faded, replaced by an unfamiliar sensation, almost alien to her own body.
Her breathing slowed.
Her muscles relaxed.
And as night silently enveloped the first-year dormitory, Minerva drifted back into a deep sleep…
Unaware that, in the morning, nothing would be quite the same.
The next day:
The next day, with the first light of dawn, room N7 was softly illuminated by the golden light filtering through the window.
Cynthia was the first to stir.
She stretched out on the top bunk, yawning uncontrollably.
Cynthia: "Mmmh… already morning…"
She jumped out of bed, still half asleep.
Petra, on the other hand, had already sat up in bed.
She calmly tied her hair back, looking fully awake.
Petra: "Did you sleep well?"
Cynthia shrugged.
Cynthia: "I had a weird dream… but otherwise, yeah."
She glanced quickly at Minerva, who was still fast asleep on her single bed.
The sunlight filtered through the curtains, making the room dim, and she didn't notice how her new friend was sleeping.
Cynthia: "She's sleeping like a log..."
Petra got up and took a few steps into the room.
Then
Plop
Petra stopped dead in her tracks.
She looked down.
Petra: "...?"
The floor was damp beneath her bare foot.
Petra frowned in surprise.
Petra: "Cynthia...?"
"Did we spill water last night?"
Cynthia turned her head.
Cynthia: "Huh?"
"No, why?"
SSSSHHhhrriitt
Petra drew back the curtain that blocked the light in the room.
She leaned forward slightly…and her gaze froze.
It wasn't water.
It was blood.
Petra felt her stomach clench.
Petra: "…Cynthia."
Her tone had changed.
Cynthia immediately understood that something was wrong.
Cynthia: "What?"
Petra slowly raised her head…and looked at Minerva's bed.
The sheets were stained.
Dark stains, dried in some places, still fresh in others.
They were mainly on her back, but also along her arms, as if the pain had radiated outwards.
Minerva was still asleep.
Petra: "Minerva!"
Her face was pale, but surprisingly peaceful.
Cynthia brought a hand to her mouth.
Cynthia: "I-is that blood...?"
Petra approached the bed quietly, careful not to make a sound.
Petra: "Minerva..."
No response.
Petra looked more closely.
The fabric of Minerva's nightgown clung slightly to her skin, darkened in several places on her back.
Petra: "This isn't just a simple injury..."
Cynthia began to panic.
Cynthia: "She hurt herself?!"
"During the night?!"
Petra raised a hand, gesturing for her to calm down.
Petra: "Shh ...... She's breathing normally."
Minerva: "A—ah…!"
Her muffled cry echoed through the room as she doubled over, clutching her back.
Her breath was short and ragged, as if she had just woken from a nightmare that felt all too real.
Minerva: "That… hurts…!"
Cynthia jumped.
Cynthia: "MINERVA!"
She immediately leaped to her side, closely followed by Petra.
They both knelt beside the bed.
Petra: "Don't move."
"Breathe slowly."
But no sooner had she spoken than Cynthia noticed something was wrong.
Cynthia: "Petra… her back…"
The fabric of Minerva's nightgown was billowing.
Cccccccrrrrrrrrrrr
Slowly.
Ominously.
As if something were pushing from within, trying to break free.
The canvas was stretching dangerously, the seams trembling.
Cynthia: "It's... it's tearing..."
Minerva moaned, her eyes wide, panicked.
Minerva: "I... I don't understand...!"
Petra observed the scene with icy clarity.
She understood immediately.
Petra: "Cynthia."
Her tone was sharp.
Authoritarian.
Petra: "CYNTHIA, GIVE ME YOUR SCISSORS QUICKLY!"
Cynthia blinked.
Cynthia: "My—ah! Yes!"
She hurriedly rummaged in her bag, her hands trembling, then handed Petra a pair of scissors.
Without hesitation, Petra positioned herself behind Minerva.
Petra: "This is going to be noisy… but it's necessary."
"Don't move."
Minerva: " ................... "
Minerva nodded weakly, tears welling in her eyes.
Petra took a deep breath… then ripped open the back of the shirt with a swift, clean cut.
CRRRRRSH
The fabric gave way.
And what was revealed made Cynthia take a step back.
Large wings sprouted from Minerva's back.
Butterfly wings, immense, still slightly trembling, in red, black, and white, arranged in complex, almost hypnotic patterns.
Their surface seemed alive, rippling with delicate movements.
The morning light reflected off them, revealing details of unsettling beauty… and disturbing strangeness.
Cynthia was speechless.
Cynthia: "…It's… magnificent…"
Petra remained silent, her eyes fixed on the wings.
Petra: "This isn't an illusion..."
Minerva gasped, her back exposed, feeling the cool air glide along structures she'd never experienced before.
Minerva: "W-what is it...?"
She tried to turn around, but a new wave of pain forced her to stop.
Petra gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
Petra: "Minerva... I think... your ability has just awakened."
In the silence that followed, only one certainty dawned on the three girls.
Minerva slowly lowered her eyes... then felt the weight, the foreign presence clinging to her back.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Minerva: "W-what is... what is THIS?!"
Chapter 12: Metamorphosis
The End