The First Day

“Liora!”

The shout shattered her sleep.

“Liora, wake up! You’re late!”

Liora bolted upright, heart slamming against her ribs, sunlight already flooding the room.

“No—no, no,” she muttered, throwing the sheets aside. "First day. Omy God not on the first day."

She rushed into the bathroom and splashed water on her face, barely recognizing the girl staring back at her.

Silver-and-gold hair tangled around her shoulders. Blue-green eyes too bright, too sharp for the little sleep she’d had.

She hadn’t dreamed.

At least… She didn’t remember dreaming. Normally she wakes up late after having that particular dream

She rushes downstairs, running her fingers through her hair, and grabs a piece of bread from the kitchen counter.

“Morning, Mom,” she says between breaths, attempting a quick smile.

Her mother stands by the door, keys in hand, worry etched across her face. “Morning? It’s almost eight.

I told you to sleep early,” she said, ushering Liora outside.

“I know. I just—couldn’t,” Liora replies softly

The drive passed in companionable silence. The city stretched awake around them, sunlight spilling across rooftops.

Liora stared out the window.

Her gaze lifted.

The moon still lingered in the pale sky — thin, faded… watching.

A sudden ache pierced her chest, sharp enough to steal her breath.

Liora gasped, fingers digging into her sweater.

Then it vanished.

“You okay?” her mother asked, eyes flicking toward her.

Liora forced a smile. “Yeah. Just nervous.”

Her mother nodded. “That’s normal. New city. New school.”

A pause.

“Just remember our rules.”

Liora groaned. “Mom—”

“I’m serious,” her mother said quietly. “No parties. No staying out late. And absolutely no boys.”

Liora turned to her. “No boys? At a university?”

A smile tugged at her mother’s lips. “It worked for me.”

“You ran away with Dad to another country.”

Her mother laughed — real and warm. “I did.”

For a moment, the tightness in Liora’s chest eased.

Ravencrest University gates rose ahead — old stone, ironwork darkened with age.

Something inside Liora stirred.

She stepped out of the car.

The air felt different immediately — cooler, heavier, as though the world had shifted without asking her permission.

Her mother squeezed her hand, her grip firmer this time. “Did you bring your pills?”

Liora stiffened.

“Yes,” she said quickly, though she didn’t meet her mother’s eyes.

“Liora.” Her mother’s voice softened, but the fear beneath it was impossible to hide. “Did you actually bring them?”

A pause. The traffic roared past them, distant and irrelevant.

“…They’re in my bag.”

Her mother searched her face, as if trying to see past the brave expression Liora was forcing. “You need to take them. The doctor said they’ll help with the delusions. And if the dreams get worse — if anything feels real when it shouldn’t — you call me. Immediately. I don’t care if it’s three in the morning.”

“They’re not delusions,” Liora whispered, her jaw tightening. “They feel real.”

“I know they do.” Her mother’s voice cracked slightly. “That’s the hard part.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile.

Her mother pulled her into her arms without answering right away. She held her tightly, like she was afraid Liora might drift away if she loosened her . “We keep trying. But you don’t go through it alone. Promise me you won’t hide it.”

Liora’s hands trembled as she clutched her mother’s coat. “I promise.”

Her mother leaned back just enough to look at her. “If the dreams worsen, you call me. No matter what they tell you. No matter what you think you’re seeing.”

A tear slid down Liora’s cheek. “Okay.”

Liora nodded.

Reluctantly, her mother let go and walked to the driver’s side. She paused before getting in, looking back one last time as if memorizing her daughter standing there.

Then she opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat.

Liora watched as the engine started. The car slowly pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic, growing smaller and smaller.

She stood there long after it disappeared, her hand tightening around the strap of her bag.

Students streamed past her in clusters, voices echoing across the grounds.

She started toward the residence halls.

Too big.

Too new.

She took a wrong turn, doubled back, hesitated between stone paths. Ivy climbed the buildings like grasping fingers.

Then she felt it.

That pull — subtle but undeniable — tightening low in her chest.

Liora slowed.

Her eyes drifted toward the trees bordering the courtyard.

Shadows pooled beneath their branches. No voices. No movement.

Yet her pulse quickened.

She had the strange, unsettling certainty that if she stepped closer…

Something would answer.

Liora forced herself to look away.

She didn’t know why this place unsettled her.

Only that something here recognized her

Liora reached the hostel doors at last and stepped inside.

Whatever she had felt in the courtyard, she couldn’t put into words — and she forced herself to push it aside.

The room was small but bright, sunlight spilling through a wide window. Two beds sat on opposite sides, neatly made. One side was clearly lived in — books stacked on the desk, clothes folded carefully over a chair.

The other side was empty.

She assumed that would be hers.

Liora set her bag down slowly and walked toward the empty bed, beginning to unpack despite the exhaustion dragging at her limbs. Getting lost in the hallways more times than she cared to admit had drained what little energy she had left.

Lost.

The word echoed through her thoughts.

All her life, that was how she had felt — as though a large part of her was missing. She had tried asking her mother once why she always felt different from everyone else. Why she seemed stronger… faster… than any normal human being.

And her appearance only made things worse. She tried not to draw attention to herself, but she always seemed to fail.

What unsettled her most were her eyes. Sometimes, when she stared too long into the mirror, the blue-green would fade, shifting into a deep shade of red. She constantly told herself it was imagination.

But the reflection never blinked when she did.

“Oh thank God.”

Liora turned.

A girl stood in the doorway, arms wrapped around a box that looked far too heavy for her. Dark curls spilled from a messy bun, and she gave Liora the same stunned look people always did when they first saw her.

“Woo… okay, girl,” the stranger said, her eyes trailing over Liora in open admiration. “You’re really beautiful. I thought they’d assigned me an invisible roommate, but apparently they gave me a goddess.”

Liora let out a small laugh. She liked the girl instantly.

The girl shifted the box on her hip, grinning. “But mamasita,” she added dramatically, lowering her voice, “you’re really late. Orientation is long gone. I was starting to think I’d be living alone and talking to myself for the rest of the semester.”

“I know. I overslept,” Liora admitted with a sigh. “Great. The first day and I’ve already failed.”

The girl waved dismissively. “Relax. I’ll catch you up.” She smiled and extended her hand. “I’m Mara, by the way.”

“Liora.”

“Nice to finally meet you,

Liora-who-survived-the-morning.” Mara glanced toward the empty bed. “Window side’s yours, by the way. I am not a morning person.”

“Deal,” Liora said, relieved.

Mara dropped onto her own bed and grabbed her phone. “Okay, what’s your major?”

“Literature, history… and business,” Liora replied, sliding a notebook into the drawer.

Mara’s head snapped up. “Wait — seriously?”

“Yes?”

A grin spread across Mara’s face. “No way. I’ve got Introduction to Ancient Civilizations with you — and Principles of Business Management on Mondays.”

Liora paused. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.” Mara laughed. “Looks like we’re stuck analyzing empires and profits together.”

A small smile tugged at Liora’s lips, something inside her chest easing for the first time that day.

“Looks like it.”

“Trust me,” Mara said, already scrolling through her schedule. “You’re going to need a friend. This place is… a lot.”

Liora nodded quietly. She had never really had friends.

There was always something that stood in the way — jealousy over her appearance, whispered comparisons, or boys complicating things. Eventually, being alone had felt easier.

Safer.

But as she watched Mara sitting there with an easy smile and boxes stacked awkwardly around her, she wondered if maybe — just maybe — this time could be different.

After finishing unpacking, they left the hostel. Liora made sure her hoodie was pulled securely over her head, silently relieved when Mara didn’t question it.

Mara guided her across campus, pointing out lecture halls, hidden shortcuts between buildings, and places she claimed served “edible food if you squinted.”

Eventually, hunger won, and they headed toward the cafeteria.

As they walked, Mara began listing rules. “Okay, unofficial survival guide,” she said. “Don’t sit in the front row unless you like being volunteered. Avoid the west stairwell at night. And if a senior offers to mentor you, ask why.”

Liora smiled faintly. “Noted.”

Mara slowed just before the cafeteria doors, her voice dropping slightly.

“Okay… one more thing. Whatever you do,” she said quietly, “don’t go near the Crimson Athenaeum after sunset.”

Liora tilted her head. “Why not?”

Mara shrugged, shifting her bag nervously. “It’s one of the rules. Seniors told me it’s… dangerous. Just trust me, okay?”

Liora nodded

She glanced back once as they walked away, the building looming silently behind the trees.

She didn't know why deep down she felt like there was more to that building