Ink & Ivory

2 - Swallow Robin Hall

The air is heavy with the smell of roasted beans and something sweet, like caramel melting over a fire. I take a deep breath as I cradle my to-go cup in both hands, the warmth spreading through my fingers. It's early September, but the mornings in Willowbrook always have a crispness to them, as if the autumn air already decided to settle in. The cobblestone paths leading back to Swallow Robin Hall seemed to hum underfoot, vibrating with the quiet energy of the day.

Audrey walks beside me, sipping from her cup, her steps light and graceful despite the mountain of books in her arms. We'd wandered the campus before returning to the little cafe, a place lined with mismatched chairs, enchanted succulents, and glowing fairy lights that make the whole scene look like something out of a storybook.

"So, what do you think of Willow Hall so far?" Audrey asks, breaking the silence, her voice as soft as the breeze that tugs at our hair.

"It's..." I trail off, unsure of how to capture the feeling in just a few words. "It feels like stepping into someone else's dream." I glance down at my caramel latte, watching the steam curl upward. "In a good way though. Everything here is so alive."

Alive is one way to put it. Since arriving, I've been constantly aware of the soft tingling under my skin, as if the very ground between Willow Hall pulses with magic. I hadn't used the Aether in any way since getting to campus, not even for the most basic spells, but it still clings to me, persistent, like a whisper in my ear I can't quiet shake off.

Audrey smiles knowingly. "It's a lot to take in. But it feels like home, right?"

I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. Home. It's only been a couple of hours but already the idea of Willow Hall—its ivy-covered walls, the sprawling campus nestled between enchanted woods—feels more like home than the place I left behind. Here, I'm not just Charlotte Alcott's daughter, shadowed by my mother's legacy. I'm...someone else. Still figuring that part out, but at least this feels like a start.

As we approach Swallow Robin Hall, the tall, brick building comes into view, its windows glinting in the late-morning light. It isn't the tallest residence hall, nor the grandest, but it has a warmth to it that makes my chest ease every time I see it. It has a way of looking like it belongs here like it had grown out of the ground just as naturally as the trees that surround it. The ivy crawling up the walls moves with the wind, and I swear that I catch a faint shimmer whenever I glance too closely.

Stepping through the front doors is like stepping into another world entirely. The common room on the first floor is buzzing with life—a couple of girls sit at the long, wooden table in the corner, practicing levitation spells on crystals, while another group is gathered near the fireplace, huddled over a tarot spread, the cards glowing faintly under their touch. Soft music plays from an old enchanted record player in the corner, and the faint smell of lavender and vanilla wafts through the air.

Audrey and I make our way up the wide staircase, each step creaking familiarly underfoot. The hall has its quirks—squeaky steps, enchanted doors that sometimes decide to lock on their own—but that only seems to add to its charm. Seventy women live in Swallow Robin Hall, and every corner of it feels like it's been touched by the magic of those who call it home.

The second-floor common area is quieter, though no less inviting. Cream-colored walls are adorned with old photographs of past residents, many of whom have gone on to make names for themselves in the world. I find myself staring at one of the portraits—a group of women in flowing dresses, laughing mid-spell, before Audrey nudges me, steering me toward the oversized, plush chairs near the window.

As we settle into the cushions, the door to the common area creaks open, and in walks a tall, willowy girl with pale blonde hair and a mischievous glint in her eye. Lauren. She is hard to miss, with her bright eyes and the confident sway in her step like she owns every room she walks into. I'd met her briefly during move-in, but we hadn't really talked much since.

"Oh good, you're here!" Lauren grins, dropping into the chair beside Audrey. "I was just about to come find you. I want you to meet our lovely RA, Miss Hattie."

At that, another figure steps through the door. Hattie, our RA, is a vision of calm authority, with dark curls pulled back into a loose bun and a soft smile that seems to ease any nerves left that I might have had. She's wearing a long, flowing cardigan over a lace-trimmed top, and I can't help but notice the tiny charms sewn into the hem of her sleeves—protective charms if I had to make a guess.

Hattie greets us warmly, her voice soothing, like she'd mastered the art of making anyone feel welcome. "I see you two found the best spot on the floor," she says, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she glances toward the window.

"It's perfect," I reply, my fingers curling tighter around my coffee cup. I can feel the magic in the air, gentle and comforting, like the hum of an old lullaby. There is something about this place—the girls, the atmosphere, the way everyone seems to move with a quiet sort of magic—that makes me feel like I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.

"So, how are you liking Willow Hall so far?" Hattie asks, settling into one of the chairs across from us, her cardigan sweeping around her as she moves. She has that effortless grace that I've always admired in older Aether witches, the kind of poise that comes from years of practice.

"It's...amazing," I admit, looking between Hattie, Audrey, and Lauren. "A little overwhelming, but in a good way. I'm still getting used to everything."

Hattie nods, her expression thoughtful. "That's normal. Willow Hall has a way of making an impression on you. The dance program especially—most students feel the weight of it. But don't worry, you'll settle in."

Lauren laughs lightly, leaning back in her chair, her arms draped casually over the armrests. "Yeah, don't let the prestige scare you too much. Everyone here has something to prove, but at the end of the day, we're all just trying to figure it out, too."

I smile faintly, appreciating Lauren's ease with the whole situation. The dance program does feel like a weight, though. Ever since arriving, I've felt its looming presence, like the eyes of every great dancer who'd come before me were watching. And then, of course, there's my mother. That's a whole other weight in itself.

"You'll find your rhythm," Audrey adds slowly, her fingers absentmindedly brushing the delicate silver bracelet around her wrist, a charm for grounding if I'm not mistaken. "It takes time, but it'll come."

"Speaking of rhythms," Hattie says with a grin, "I wanted to remind everyone that we have our first Hall tradition this Friday—Lavender Night. It's been a thing here for decades. We all gather in the common room for tea, lavender cookies, and a little intention-setting ritual for the new semester. It's one of my favorite nights, so make sure you don't miss it."

Audrey's eyes light up. "Lavender Night is the best. It's such a cozy way to start the year. Plus, the cookies are insanely good."

I nod, feeling a little thrill of excitement at the thought. I'm starting to realize that Willow Hall isn't just about dance or magic, but the community. These girls, this place, feels like something I've been missing without ever knowing it.

As we continued to chat about the upcoming tradition, I let myself sink into the feeling of belonging, even if just for a moment. There is a soft buzz of magic in the air—nothing grand or overwhelming, just the steady, comforting hum of being surrounded by people who understand, even if they don't know my story yet.

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