Octavia's Point of View
The morning sunlight spills through the dorm window, cutting a golden stripe across my bed. For a moment, I forget where I am. My mind still lingers on the sharp scent of smoke, the heavy quiet of Noctwyn’s ruined fields, and the haunted eyes of the survivors.
Then the school bell rings in the distance, and reality snaps back into place.
The academy feels wrong today. Too normal after the devastation at Noctwyn.
Clary hums softly as she ties her hair, pretending like she is not glancing at me every few seconds. I have barely said a word since we came back. My body is here, but my mind is still standing in that border forest, listening for movement in the dark.
“You are going to be late for Combat Theory,” Clary warns, tossing me my jacket.
I catch it, sighing.
