Octavia's Point of View
By the time I reach my dorm room, the sun has slipped low enough that the windows catch firelight. The academy looks calm from the outside, almost normal, but normal feels like a word that does not belong here anymore.
Clary hums softly behind me as she unpacks, the sound faint and almost comforting. She is already halfway through reorganizing her shelves, muttering something about how her things always end up in chaos after every trip. I wish I could focus on something that simple.
Instead, I find myself standing by the window, my fingers brushing the cool glass. Outside, the trees sway lazily, the last of the light glinting off the leaves. It should feel safe here, but it does not.
I cannot stop thinking about what that man said in the cell, the way his eyes w
