Mordecai clutched the brass key the registrar had handed him. On the tag, it read: Dormitory West, Room 302.
The hallways of the West Wing were lined with portraits of legendary mages, their eyes seeming to follow him as he walked. Every shadow he passed felt like a potential assassin from the Tower. He kept his head down, his heart doing a nervous dance against his ribs.
'If I can just get inside and lock the door, maybe I can actually breathe for five minutes,' he thought, his fingers tightening around the key.
He reached the heavy oak door marked 302 and turned the lock. The hinges creaked, and he stepped into a room that was far too bright and airy for someone who had spent his life in a stone spire underground.
Mordecai froze.
Sitting on one of the two beds was a boy who looked like he'd been pulled out of a fairy tale. He had messy forest-green hair and eyes the color of a summer sky. But it was the ears that made Mordecai's jaw nearly hit the floor—they were long, elegant, and pointed.
'What the... is that an Elf?'
Mordecai had heard stories in the Tower about the ancient races that lived in the Great Forests, but the Elders had always described them as arrogant, god-like warriors. This kid didn't look like a warrior. He looked like he'd trip over his own shadow. He was thin, wearing a robe that was two sizes too big, and he was currently struggling to untie a knot in a bundle of herbs.
The Elf looked up, his long ears twitching. "Oh! Hello! You must be Mordecai. I'm Lyrin. Lyrin Leafshade."
Mordecai stared at him, his brain struggling to process the sight. "You're... an Elf."
Lyrin blinked, a small, shy smile crossing his face. "Yes. I'm from the Southern Glades. It's my first time in a human city. Everything is so... loud and stone-like, isn't it?"
'He looks weak,' Mordecai thought, his instincts from the Tower immediately scanning the boy for threats. 'His mana signature is faint. Practically non-existent. He's probably just here on a scholarship or some diplomatic gesture. At least he's not a Holy Knight.'
Mordecai tossed his small bag onto the empty bed across the room. "Yeah. Stone-like. I'm Mordecai."
"It's nice to meet you! I was worried I'd get a roommate who was one of those scary nobles," Lyrin said, finally untying his knot. "They all look like they want to duel someone. You look... tired. Are you okay?"
'I'm a fugitive with a primordial void in my chest being hunted by the most dangerous cult on the planet. I'm fantastic.'
"I'm fine. Just the exams," Mordecai grumbled, turning away to hide the blue screen that had just popped up.
[New Contact: Lyrin Leafshade]
[Potential: ???]
[Threat Level: Very Low]
Mordecai let out a long, silent breath. For the first time since he left the Tower, he felt a tiny bit of tension leave his shoulders. An Elf who looked like he couldn't even cast a basic fireball was the perfect roommate for someone trying to hide.
'I can work with this. He's quiet, he's weird, and he won't be snooping into my business. Maybe my luck is finally turning around.'
Lyrin went back to his herbs, humming a soft, melodic tune that smelled faintly of pine needles. Mordecai sat on his bed, staring at the white ceiling.
"Hey, Mordecai?" Lyrin asked, not looking up.
"What?"
"Why do you smell like old parchment and... cold iron?"
Mordecai stiffened, his hand instinctively twitching toward the shadow under his bed. 'He can smell the Tower on me?'
"I told you, I'm a scholar," Mordecai snapped, his voice a little too sharp. "I spent a lot of time in libraries. Old books smell like that."
"Oh. That makes sense," Lyrin said, seemingly satisfied. "I like books too."
'This is going to be a long four years,' Mordecai thought, Closing his eyes. 'Why the fuck is this so hard?'