This place always carried a chill that clung to the walls, but today it sank deeper into my bones, like a creeping sense of dread. I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked, quickening my pace, eyes darting between the few students left wandering about. Everyone seemed oblivious to the heavy cloud hanging in the air, but something wasn't right. There was tension crackling in the atmosphere, a buzz that made my skin prickle with unease.
I hadn't seen Dragonir in days. That alone was enough to make my heart race and my thoughts spiral. He always disappeared, but this felt different—longer, quieter. And then, just an hour ago, I saw him. A glimpse, barely a flash of his familiar frame. But it was him, unmistakable. Except, he wasn't alone.
I had been making my way past the infirmary, and there he was, leaning heavily on someone else—Seraphina. My stomach twisted, and I froze, watching as they staggered inside. His head lolled to the side, body slumped and weak, his usual strength completely gone. His clothes were torn, streaks of red visible from where I stood. Blood.
The dean had walked out minutes after, looking pale, troubled. That alone was enough to light the fuse of worry inside me. If the dean couldn't fix it, then who could?
Without thinking, I turned back toward the infirmary, feet carrying me faster than I had intended. My chest was tight, but I kept moving, every step pounding out the question that had been nagging me since I saw them. What the hell had happened? And more importantly, why was Seraphina with him? She had only arrived recently, yet here she was, taking care of Dragonir like she'd been in his life for years.
I hated that. Hated how effortlessly she had inserted herself into his world, when I had been trying for so long to stay relevant, to stay close to him. I wasn't about to be pushed aside. Not again.
As I reached the door to the infirmary, I paused, my hand trembling on the handle. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to open it and step inside.
The sight that greeted me knocked the breath from my lungs. Dragonir lay unconscious on one of the cots, bandaged up from head to toe. His face was pale, the bruises stark against his skin, and the rise and fall of his chest was so shallow it barely moved. My heart clenched, and before I could stop myself, I rushed over to him, not even acknowledging Seraphina, who was sitting beside him, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
"What the hell happened?" I demanded, the words coming out harsher than I intended. I didn't care. My chest felt too tight, my hands shaking as I hovered near Dragonir. He looked so broken. So fragile.
Seraphina blinked up at me, startled by my sudden outburst. Her eyes were wide, cautious, like she was bracing herself for whatever storm I was about to unleash.
"I—uh, it's complicated," she stammered, her gaze flitting between me and Dragonir.
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. "Complicated? He's lying here like he's been through a goddamn war, and all you can say is that it's complicated?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could see the way her jaw tightened. She wasn't used to being challenged, was she? Everyone fawned over her, the mysterious new girl with her strange powers and tragic past. But I wasn't about to let her off that easily. Not when Dragonir was involved.
"I brought him back," she said quietly, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. "I found him and got him out."
"And how, exactly, did he end up like this?" I shot back, crossing my arms. "What were you doing with him? Where's the dean? Shouldn't she be doing something about this?"
Her eyes flickered, a hint of something dark crossing her face before she shook her head. "The dean couldn't help… not really. This was beyond what she could fix. I had to get him here, and now I'm waiting for the healers to do what they can."
My stomach dropped. The dean couldn't help? How bad was it, really? My gaze dropped to Dragonir again, the anger I felt toward Seraphina clashing with the overwhelming fear clawing at my chest.
"You should have come to me," I muttered, more to myself than to her. "I've known him for years. I could have done something."
Seraphina looked at me sharply. "I didn't have time to ask for permission."
The way she said it—so matter-of-fact, like she had every right to step in—made my blood boil. Who did she think she was? She didn't know Dragonir. Not like I did. We'd grown up together, been through everything together. And now she thought she could just waltz in and take care of him? I was his friend. I should have been there. I should have been the one by his side, not her.
"I've known him longer than you," I snapped, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "You don't know what's best for him."
She didn't flinch, didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she just looked… tired. Tired and frustrated and, for a split second, almost sad. "This isn't about who's known him the longest," she said softly. "It's about who was there when he needed help. I found him. I brought him back. That's what matters."
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, but I refused to show it. I straightened, lifting my chin. "And where is he now? Lying unconscious, because whatever you did wasn't enough."
Seraphina's eyes flashed, and she stood, stepping closer to me. For the first time, I could see just how exhausted she was, her face pale, dark circles under her eyes. "I did everything I could," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Do you really think I wanted this to happen?"
For a moment, I faltered, caught off guard by the rawness in her voice. She wasn't just tired. She was scared. And maybe, just maybe, she cared more about Dragonir than I had realized.
But that didn't change the fact that I felt like I was losing him.
"Look," I said, softening my tone just a little. "I just want to help. I've known him my whole life. We've always been close. I just… I don't want to be pushed aside."
Seraphina's gaze softened, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of understanding there. "I get it," she murmured. "But this isn't about who's closer to him. This is about making sure he's okay. And right now, we're the only ones here to do that."
I glanced back at Dragonir, my heart aching at the sight of him so still, so quiet. The room felt heavy with silence, the only sound was the soft crackle of the fireplace in the corner. I wanted to do something, anything to make him wake up, to make sure he was alright. But all I could do was stand there, feeling helpless.
Seraphina moved back to his side, gently adjusting the blanket over his chest. She was careful, tender even, in a way I hadn't expected. It made something ugly curl up inside me, that jealousy rearing its head again. She wasn't supposed to be here, taking care of him like she belonged by his side. That was my place. It had always been my place.
But I couldn't deny the truth anymore. She was here now, and I was on the outside looking in.
"Do you think he'll wake up soon?" I asked quietly, my voice wavering despite my best efforts to sound calm.
"I don't know," she admitted, not looking up from him. "But we'll be here when he does."
And as much as I hated it, I knew she was right. Whether I liked it or not, we were both in this now. All we could do was wait, and hope that when he finally opened his eyes, he would still be the Dragonir I knew. The one I had always cared about. The one I wasn't ready to lose.