Lyra stood in the center of her room, arms loosely folded, eyes drifting from the soft lines of the unfamiliar furnishings to the faint shimmer of light moving along the wall.
She saw nothing in particular; or rather, everything felt too particular, too new and sharp-edged to settle her nerves.
Her home in Celestia had been built of crystal, song, and the comfort of well-worn routines. This place was all smooth wood, humming machines, and the scent of cheap soap and unknown flowers.
The Crystal Archive pulsed quietly in the living room beyond her door, but Lyra ignored it.
Alayah's performance still gnawed at the back of her mind—the ease, the fluid grace, the offhand confidence as she had collected her first crystal without so much as a hint of effort.
Lyra's pride stung, but more than that, she felt a strange, hollow amusement at how far outside her own expertise this challenge truly was.
Flirting had never been her talent. She could be charming when she wanted—her mentors and the councilors knew as much—but that was a cultivated charm, all angles and tactics. Real seduction?
She exhaled, letting the breath fall from her lungs like a forgotten song.
The afternoon light slanted golden across the window. University would not begin until morning.
There were hours yet to fill, and she refused to spend them sulking over a rival's trick. If nothing else, she could make herself familiar with the campus.
She eyed her cloak formal, impractical, a flag of her otherness and decided against it. Instead, she opened the wardrobe provided for her and sifted through the unfamiliar fabrics.
She selected a dress, pale violet and sleeveless, that skimmed her figure and ended just above her knees. It was comfortable, and, she admitted, cute.
She let her hair down, running her fingers through it until the silver waves fell freely over her shoulders.
She caught her reflection in the mirror—tall, elegant, her skin almost luminous in the evening light.
She looked, she supposed, like someone who belonged here. Or at least like someone who might be mistaken for a visiting model.
She stepped outside, closing the door softly behind her. The street was quiet, lined with flower boxes and young trees, the houses painted in friendly shades of blue, pink, and pale yellow.
Students passed in twos and threes, laughter trailing in their wake. Lyra let herself wander, following the paths at random.
As she walked, she caught the ripple of whispers:
"Is she a model?"
"I've never seen her before—do you think she's here for a photo shoot?"
"She's so pretty—look at her hair. She must be European, right?"
A group of students on the steps of the next house watched her pass, one elbowing the others.
Lyra smiled a little to herself, the expression half amusement, half embarrassment. She could feel the weight of their eyes on her, but not the kind of attention she feared—no, just ordinary mortal curiosity, tinged with awe and envy.
Two boys, arms around each other's shoulders, started to approach her, hesitating as if drawing straws in their heads about who would dare to speak first.
Lyra veered off the main path before they could decide, taking a narrow walkway between a row of rose bushes and a low stone wall.
The campus expanded around her—lawns, glassy lakes, more students sprawled across the grass, each caught up in their own small dramas and ambitions. It was, she realized, almost peaceful.
She rounded a corner—and collided, full-force, with another body.
"Oof—!"
Lyra stumbled, reaching out instinctively to steady the girl who had bounced off her shoulder.
The girl was short at least compared to Lyra with wild brown hair, a heart-shaped face, and the brightest green eyes Lyra had ever seen.
Her backpack looked heavy enough to crush a lesser mortal, yet she wore it as if it weighed nothing.
"Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry—!" The girl's apology came in a single, breathless rush. She straightened, brushing hair out of her eyes, and blinked up at Lyra.
"I didn't see you there! Are you okay? Oh my god, you didn't drop anything, did you?"
Lyra blinked, bemused. "No, I'm fine. You're… energetic."
The girl laughed a sound like bubbles in spring water.
"Yeah, I get that a lot! I'm just so late—well, not late-late, but I like to check where everything is before classes start, you know? So I got distracted by this really cute cat, and then I realized I was in the wrong quad, and then I thought, 'Hey, maybe I'll just wander around and get lost and see what happens!' And then—boom! Here you are. Which is pretty lucky for me, actually, because maybe you can help?"
That girl speak so much, Lyra arched an eyebrow. "Help with what?"
The girl dug into her backpack, pulling out a battered campus map, several pens, and a half-eaten granola bar.
"Do you know where the IS building is? Or the—wait, do you even go here? You have that look, you know, the 'I belong everywhere and nowhere' look. Or maybe you're a transfer. Or a ghost? Are you a ghost?" Her eyes widened, playful and dramatic.
Lyra had to bite back a smile. "Not a ghost. At least, not yet. I'm new too—I arrived today. So I'm afraid I'm just as lost as you."
The girl stared at her for a moment, as if weighing the honesty in her eyes, and then grinned. "Awesome! Well, that means we can get lost together. I'm Zoe, by the way—Zoe Beaulieu."
Lyra accepted the handshake with careful amusement. "Lyra. Just Lyra."
"Lyra—nice! Like the constellation? Oh, that's so pretty. You're not from around here, are you? Never mind, you don't have to answer. Mystery is good! C'mon, let's find this building before I melt into a puddle of confusion."
Without waiting for an answer, Zoe looped her arm through Lyra's and started walking at a brisk pace, half-dragging, half-guiding her along the winding paths.
Lyra found herself swept along by sheer force of personality, bemused and a little grateful for the interruption.
"See, the trick," Zoe confided, "is to walk like you know where you're going. No one will question you. Unless you're carrying a sword or something—wait, you're not, right? Please say you're not. I had a cousin who brought his fencing sabre to orientation and got mistaken for an extra in a vampire movie. Anyway—"
She pointed out a squat, modern building. "That's the science center, I think. Or maybe the gym. Oh, are you into sports? You look like you could bench press a car."
Lyra snorted. "Not a car, I don't think."
Zoe grinned, delighted. "See? You do have a sense of humor! I was worried you'd be all mysterious and brooding, but I like mysterious and brooding as long as there's a little bit of snark under it."
They passed a group of older students in matching jackets, who gave them curious looks.
Zoe gave them a friendly wave, as if she'd known them all her life. Lyra could feel the tension in her own shoulders loosening, bit by bit, in the girl's presence.
"So," Zoe said, swinging their joined arms back and forth, "tell me one thing about you. Anything! It can be a secret, or a favorite food, or your evil villain origin story. I'll go first: I hate raisins. Seriously, if I see a raisin in a cookie, I throw the whole thing out. Your turn."
Lyra hesitated, then shrugged. "I prefer silence to small talk."
Zoe made an exaggerated face of mock horror. "Oh no! A conversational minimalist! My greatest weakness!" She giggled, her energy contagious. "That's okay. I talk enough for two people. Three, even. Four on a good day."
They turned another corner, following a sign marked "Science departement." Zoe paused, examining the map upside down.
"Wait, did we just walk in a circle? Never mind, that just means we're learning the campus extra well. Also are you really sure you're not a model? Because if you are, I have about fifteen people I'd like you to intimidate on my behalf."
Lyra rolled her eyes, but she felt her lips curve upward. "Sorry to disappoint."
"Oh, you will. Give it a week. Everyone here is a little weird, you'll fit right in. Or you won't, and then you'll be a legend, and I can say I met you before you were cool. Which is all anyone really wants in college, right?"
Lyra was not used to being led, physically or otherwise, but Zoe's easy warmth made it hard to resist. She allowed herself to be swept up in the momentum, content for once to follow.
They reached the entrance to the science building, where a crowd of first-years milled around, trading schedules and complaints.
Zoe let go of Lyra's arm, beaming up at her. "Okay, mystery girl. It's official—you're my first campus friend. I'll show you where the best coffee is tomorrow, and if you ever need a study buddy or a partner in crime, I'm your girl. Let's be friends!"
Lyra opened her mouth, caught off guard by the sheer force of the offer. She almost said no—out of habit.
But looking at Zoe, bright and genuine and already scribbling her phone number on Lyra's palm in pen, she found herself smiling instead.
"Let's be friend," she said, surprising herself.
Zoe punched the air in triumph. "Yes! Victory! See you tomorrow, Lyra. Don't get lost without me!"
Lyra watched her new friend disappear into the crowd, the world suddenly a little less sharp around the edges.