Aragon academy
You cross the courtyard before the thing can fully drag her across the flagstones. Up close, the trunk looks half alive — the wood is veined with pale green lines, and thin roots are pushing through the seams like they’re trying to escape.
“Need a hand?” you call, sidestepping as a vine whips past your shoulder.
“Desperately!” she huffs, wrestling it back down. “It wasn’t doing this when I packed it, I swear!”
You grab the opposite end, the surface warm and faintly pulsing beneath your palms. The lid strains upward against your weight.
“What’s in this thing?” you grunt.
“Laundry! Books! Just all my stuff”
The vines snap at your wrists. She yelps, you both push down hard, and the latch finally clicks shut. The trunk shudders once, then goes still.
You straighten, catching your breath. The girl exhales loudly, then bursts out laughing — not a nervous laugh, just one that spills over without restraint.
“Thank the gods,” she says, brushing hair out of her face. Her hands are covered in smudges of dirt and ink. “I’m Eliora. Eliora Wex. I owe you, big time.”
“Brianne,” you say. “It’s fine. What's wrong with it?"
“Oh, It’s my cousin’s fault — he enchanted the thing to ‘preserve plants.’ I told him what about everything else, but does he listen? No.” She points at the trunk. “Now I’m travelling with a houseplant that eats socks.”
You can’t help it — you grin, Eliora's constant chatter is infectious. She grins wide at that, already hoisting the trunk upright again despite its size.
“Anyway,” she continues without pause, “first day and I’m already making an idiot of myself. Good start, right? You new too? You look new. Everyone looks new.”
Before you can answer, she’s already gesturing toward the main doors, where a tall figure in blue robes is calling names from a scroll that floats in the air beside them.
“Come on,” she says, tugging her trunk along like it might bolt if she stops talking. “They’re doing introductions or dorm lists or something. If we’re lucky, maybe lunch.
You fall into step beside her.
“Need a hand?” you call, sidestepping as a vine whips past your shoulder.
“Desperately!” she huffs, wrestling it back down. “It wasn’t doing this when I packed it, I swear!”
You grab the opposite end, the surface warm and faintly pulsing beneath your palms. The lid strains upward against your weight.
“What’s in this thing?” you grunt.
“Laundry! Books! Just all my stuff”
The vines snap at your wrists. She yelps, you both push down hard, and the latch finally clicks shut. The trunk shudders once, then goes still.
You straighten, catching your breath. The girl exhales loudly, then bursts out laughing — not a nervous laugh, just one that spills over without restraint.
“Thank the gods,” she says, brushing hair out of her face. Her hands are covered in smudges of dirt and ink. “I’m Eliora. Eliora Wex. I owe you, big time.”
“Brianne,” you say. “It’s fine. What's wrong with it?"
“Oh, It’s my cousin’s fault — he enchanted the thing to ‘preserve plants.’ I told him what about everything else, but does he listen? No.” She points at the trunk. “Now I’m travelling with a houseplant that eats socks.”
You can’t help it — you grin, Eliora's constant chatter is infectious. She grins wide at that, already hoisting the trunk upright again despite its size.
“Anyway,” she continues without pause, “first day and I’m already making an idiot of myself. Good start, right? You new too? You look new. Everyone looks new.”
Before you can answer, she’s already gesturing toward the main doors, where a tall figure in blue robes is calling names from a scroll that floats in the air beside them.
“Come on,” she says, tugging her trunk along like it might bolt if she stops talking. “They’re doing introductions or dorm lists or something. If we’re lucky, maybe lunch.
You fall into step beside her.