RAVENNA

Part 25

Nieve's POV

Since making that deal with Professor Vampire, I'd trained my body to wake at three in the morning. Sometimes, I didn't even need the alarm—my nightmare was enough to yank me out of sleep. The same dream, the same woman, over and over. I still didn't know what it meant. At this point, I was considering charging rent for how often she visited my dreams. Maybe it was just the aftermath of everything that happened. And no, don't tell me it's PTSD. I hate therapy.

First thing every morning, I watered the little clay pot on my windowsill. Inside, buried beneath the soil, was the dryad's leaf that must have gotten tangled in my clothes back then. I knew it would never sprout into anything, but I liked the ritual. It felt... grounding.

By 3:30, I was usually the first in the library. According to the librarian, I'd basically claimed the title of earliest bird. Not that I minded—fewer people meant fewer distractions. Well, except for Rhett. who had the uncanny ability to pop out of thin air, helping me revise until we got distracted and ended up turning study sessions into games.

By six, the real crisis hit: starvation. Breakfast wasn't served early, but the moment it was, I made sure to bolt for the first table and pile my plate and glass high. Then it was a bath, then classes. The cycle continued.

Nieth had recovered by then—her fractures healed, though she still needed to take it easy. She'd taken to helping around the school with the smaller chores. Whenever we crossed paths, she'd greet me politely, sometimes taking books off my hands, though she always avoided my friends. Shy? probably.

Meanwhile, the date for the council jury crept closer, and with it came the pressure. Endless revisions of our statements, making sure no word slipped out of place. We drilled our story into the ground until I could probably recite it backward in my sleep. When the day came, we told them everything—from the blast, to taking shelter in the hut, to being chased by that spider-thing, and finally reaching the river.

But the dryads... they never made it into the report. Sebastian was adamant. They didn't want to be found, and if they had chosen to hide, then we would respect it. And We agreed with him—because if those tree people wanted to stay secret, who was I to argue? Besides, the less paperwork for me, the better.

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The day began with a mission: hunting for clothes for Micheal and Liliya's upcoming wedding. Our whole group of buddies set out together, determined to find the perfect outfits. Easier said than done.

Designs, colors, fabrics—every option seemed to spark a new round of indecision. Personally, my philosophy on clothing was simple: comfort above all else. Design and color? Secondary. But the boys—especially Gabriel and Sebastian—were surprisingly choosy, examining every little detail like fashion critics.

What felt like an eternity later, we finally made our decisions, paid for our purchases, and breathed a collective sigh of relief. Just then, our stomachs reminded us of their existence with a loud, undeniable demand: "Fill me up, now!"

Naturally, we obeyed. We headed to the nearest inn, reserved a table, and ordered a feast. Laughter and chatter filled the air as we dug into our meals, the exhaustion of shopping slowly replaced by the comfort of good food and better company.

"This haggis is good," Rob mumbled through a mouthful of food.