Amberine sighed, her body sinking deeper into the bed as exhaustion finally pulled her into sleep. Ifrit, the ever-watchful fire spirit, stood by her side, his usual fiery form subdued into a gentle warmth that radiated softly. His gaze wandered across the small room, taking in the details that he had often overlooked while she was awake. This time, though, his attention was drawn to every corner, every object, and every worn-out piece of her surroundings.
The room was modest, to say the least, and it carried the weight of her struggles. The shelves were filled with second-hand books, their spines cracked and faded, some with missing pages that had been hastily replaced or mended. He remembered how Amberine would negotiate with her seniors, charming them into parting with their old textbooks, saving her the need to buy new ones. It wasn't out of laziness or a lack of desire to learn—no, it was out of necessity. She simply didn't have the money.
