"Pumpkin, we'll be expecting a phone call to hear how you're adjusting," her father said with a warm smile, the weight of his words carrying both love and subtle concern.
"Room 102," her other father chimed in, gesturing toward the number etched on the sleek dorm door.
"You've got the keycard? And did you sync it to the Vorthain?"
Zuria nodded, her fingers brushing against the bracelet wrapped snugly around her wrist. It was warm to the touch, alive in a way that felt uncanny. With a practiced motion, she placed her hand on the door. A soft hum vibrated against her skin as the bracelet responded, unlocking the room with a faint click. As she stepped inside, her feet shifted from the cool concrete hallway to the smooth wood floor, and she instinctively scanned her surroundings through the subtle vibrations beneath her soles.
Her father's voice broke the silence, reverent and full of wonder. "Zuria, what you hold on your wrist is no ordinary tool. It's the pinnacle of merged Elementalist sciences and ancient dragon magic. The Vorthain is not just a bracelet or band—it's a conduit to realms of possibility and a guardian crafted with your needs in mind."
Her fingers ran over its textured surface as her other father took over, his tone laced with pride. "Although it's designed to look simple, it's anything but. We worked with your cousins to create something more sophisticated than a mere tool. With this, you're never alone."
He tapped the bracelet lightly, and it shifted subtly against her wrist, tightening as if acknowledging the contact. "Your cousins' idea was a touch-screen interface, but for you, we wanted something even more adaptive. Place your fingers on the larger button—it's voice-activated. You can request anything: your keycard, campus directions, your timetable, access the internet or even lecture notes. And because we know how much you hate waking up in the mornings, it'll also ensure you're up on time."
Zuria smirked faintly at that, already dreading the relentless precision of the bracelet's alarms.
Her first father continued, his voice lowering with a touch of mystery. "Now, the smaller button is my personal addition. Tap it twice, and it will materialise your school notes in braille in the printer here and with the printer you connect to. We also funded and coordinated with your professors to ensure your notes are prepared in advance, but if you ever need a digital download, the Vorthain will translate and print it for you instantly."
"And that's not all," the second father added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"The Vorthain has an internal auditory system—tap the side, and it projects a nearly invisible earpiece. This allows you to listen to directions, hear environmental alerts, or receive sound-based confirmations. It's synced with your electronics, your surroundings, and even the pulse of the earth itself. It knows you, Zuria. It adapts to your being."
Zuria tilted her head, her fingers trailing over the bracelet. Its surface shifted under her touch—smooth where it wrapped around her wrist but intricate and etched with what felt like runes further along its external curve. These symbols vibrated faintly as though alive, humming softly in tandem with her heartbeat.
"Is it… alive?" she asked softly, her words carrying both awe and trepidation.
Her first father smiled knowingly. "Alive? No. But aware? Yes. The Vorthain is bound to your essence. Its dragon magic ensures it resonates with your energy, while the angelic tech amplifies its capabilities. It listens to you, moves with you, and even protects you when you cannot see the danger ahead. It will grow as you grow, unlocking secrets and strengths you don't yet know you possess."
"And," her second father added, "it's more than a tool or even a companion. The bracelet carries the wisdom of its dragon forger and the precision of its angelic engineers. It's a bridge between our worlds, and it will only ever belong to you. Tawen will also be bound and when you miss home allow your dragon to bring you back home."
As Zuria stood in the quiet dorm room, she felt the Vorthain pulse gently, syncing with the rhythm of her breath. The soft vibrations beneath her feet, the energy coursing through the bracelet, and the warmth of her fathers' love anchored her in this moment. This was no ordinary accessory—it was a lifeline, a gift, and perhaps, her destiny.
"Your roommate hasn't arrived yet," one of her fathers said, his voice steady with an unspoken reassurance. "Do you want to pick a room?"
She nodded, her fingers brushing lightly against the walls as she walked, guided by the vibrations beneath her feet. She chose the room with the least light—an instinctive decision, as her world wasn't governed by sight but by sound, touch, and the rhythmic hum of the earth. This room felt quieter, more private, a sanctuary perfectly suited to her.
"Good choice," her father said as they began unloading her belongings.
The room was clean, but its emptiness hung heavily in the air. "I'll put your luggage on your bed and grab the rest from the living room," one father offered, his voice brimming with a love that softened the starkness of the new space.
By the time everything was inside, Zuria was already at work. She moved methodically, her hands gliding over surfaces to familiarize herself with the layout. On the desk, she carefully placed frames—one of her entire family, another of just her and her fathers, and the newest addition: her holding an ultrasound picture. She couldn't see the images, but each frame spoke to her in a language beyond sight. The cold metal edges of the ultrasound frame held a warmth that whispered of hope and legacy, while the smooth surface of the family photo radiated unshakable unity.
She arranged her clothes in the wardrobe, each fold deliberate and precise, ensuring she could locate everything by memory. The bedding was swapped with her own, chosen for its texture rather than its look. She placed the original sheets and pillows neatly on a chair near the door.
"Black, blue and purple?" her father asked, watching as the colours transformed the sterile space into something uniquely hers.
"Harmonious, right?" she said, her voice soft but with an undercurrent of pride.
"Not bad," he replied with a grin, though he knew the colors meant little to her. For Zuria, it was the feel of the fabric, the subtle weave that hinted at strength and comfort, that truly mattered.
Her world was built on sensations most overlooked—the vibrations of footsteps on wood, the warmth of sunlight against her skin, the faint scent of lavender from her pillowcases. While others relied on sight, she pieced together her reality through connection and intuition, grounding herself in the tactile and the tangible. This space, though unfamiliar, was already beginning to feel like hers.
Once everything was arranged—the bags, her custom-made shoes, and her toiletries—they stood back to take it all in. Her shoes, specially designed for her comfort and mobility, were crafted in different styles that wouldn't draw attention but still allowed her to feel grounded.
"We stocked the pantry and fridge on one side, leaving room for your roommate," her father explained. "We also put essentials in the laundry room cupboard and got new bowls, cups, and utensils to make things easier to find."
"Thank you. You're the best parents alive," she said sincerely.
After exchanging hugs, her father kissed the top of her head and handed her an emergency card. She instinctively knew its purpose—it was to be kept on her at all times, just like her phone. Though the metal band on her wrist offered protection, she still appreciated the gesture. She placed the card in her bedside drawer for safekeeping.
"I'm leaving now," her dad said, his voice filled with emotion. "Remember, Zu, this is your story. Be brave."
"Have a safe trip," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "Don't forget to thank Pop-Pop and Leo and stitch again."
As they left, her hand instinctively brushed over the band on her wrist, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to feel the weight of both her past and the promise of her future.