Tara stood at the doorway, stunned. The girl sitting at the table looked just like Lily.
"Who... are you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The girl didn't look up. "Me? I'm Jisa. And who are you?"
"… Jisa?" Tara repeated, confusion thick in her tone.
Finally, Jisa looked up, a slight frown creasing her brow. Her features—so familiar, so heartbreakingly close to Lily's—tightened in irritation.
"Why are you in our room?" she snapped. "We don't need a new roommate."
Tara's eyes scanned the room. The table next to the bed was cluttered with books, papers, and a few personal trinkets. A mess of pens and notebooks were spread around like a chaotic halo. Clearly Jisa's side of the room was lived-in.
"I'm supposed to stay here," Tara said, uncertainly.
Before she could explain further, another figure entered the room. Nadia. Her arms were folded, her tone brisk.
"Mr. Rayan said she'll stay with me."
Jisa raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She just shrugged and returned to her phone, the blue glow reflecting off her face as she resumed her game.
Tara hesitated, then stepped inside. She tried not to overthink it. If someone who looked like her existed in this world, maybe someone like Lily could too. Maybe she didn't need answers yet. Not tonight.
Her gaze shifted to the girl sprawled across the second bed, headphones in and eyes glued to her screen. The bed was a mess, clothes and wrappers scattered without concern.
"That's Rose," Nadia said, voice full of disapproval.
Rose barely acknowledged them, giving a slight glance before turning her attention back to her screen.
"Go to sleep," Nadia said flatly. "Class starts at 7 AM sharp."
Tara sighed and sank into the edge of her bed. She had no idea what tomorrow would bring—but at least she was starting to learn more about this strange, new world.
---
Chapter 5: The Morning Confusion
Morning light crept in through the tall windows, but Tara was already awake. She wandered the hallways, lost. The academy was massive—black-and-white themed walls stretching into distant corridors, polished floors echoing under her steps. Outside the windows, towering mountains loomed, and the sky shimmered with unfamiliar hues.
"You're lost, aren't you?"
Tara spun around. Jisa stood behind her, grinning.
"Uh… yeah, kind of," Tara admitted.
"Come on, I'll show you," Jisa said nonchalantly, walking ahead.
Tara followed, still unsure what to make of her doppelgänger roommate. Eventually, they arrived at a large, arched doorway. Inside, students chatted while finding their seats. At the back, Nadia waved her over.
"Tara! Sit here!"
Tara slipped into the seat beside her just as the door creaked open. A tall woman with a sharp posture entered the room, and an immediate hush fell over the students.
"That's Miss Lipy," Nadia whispered. "She's strict. Don't mess up."
"I am Miss Lipy," the woman said, her voice firm, clear. "I will be teaching you how to control your powers. First, introduce yourselves."
One by one, students stood and introduced themselves. When Nadia's turn came—
"I already know who you are," Miss Lipy interrupted curtly. "Next."
Nadia smirked, unfazed. When it was Tara's turn, she stood hesitantly.
"I'm Tara. I… don't know what my power is yet."
Laughter erupted across the room. Miss Lipy's sharp gaze silenced them in an instant.
"You have the ability to create weapons from fire, generated from a specific part of your body."
Tara blinked. Her birthmark. She stared at her left hand, a sudden memory surfacing.
Miss Lipy lit a metal container on fire. The flames danced, contained but bright.
"Expand the flames," she instructed.
Tara focused with her eyes—nothing. She tried with her right hand—still nothing. Then, tentatively, she lifted her left hand. The flame responded, flaring outward with intensity.
She gasped. It was connected to her birthmark.
Now shaking, she focused harder, trying to mold the fire into a shape. A blade. A sword. But it was difficult—slippery, intangible. Just as frustration began to cloud her thoughts, Jisa spoke from across the room.
"Think of your happiest and most painful moments… Feel the power."
Miss Lipy turned sharply. "You seem to know a lot. Show us your power, then."
Jisa stood. She raised her hands, and a sudden swirl of wind burst around her. It coiled and thickened, brushing past everyone like a sudden storm. A vortex formed around her, pulling at notebooks and loose hair.
Miss Lipy nodded, satisfied. The rest of the class took turns demonstrating their powers, and finally, the lesson ended.
Later, Tara wandered the academy's vast courtyard, hoping for peace and clarity. The grass was tall and untamed, rustling softly in the breeze. Trees dotted the field, casting long shadows under the dim, strange sky.
She stood alone, looking at her hands.
"Think of your happiest and most painful moments…"
She closed her eyes, letting memories flood in. Moments with Lily—their laughter, their secrets, and the silence that came after Lily left. It hurt. It warmed her too. A mix of sorrow and joy, old and aching.
Her left hand began to heat up. She opened her eyes.
A blade of fire flickered into form in her palm. Wavering, uncertain—but real. She smiled, even if just for a moment.
A sound behind her made her turn quickly. The fire vanished.
Principal Z stood at a distance, his expression unreadable.
"You've got potential, Tara," he said calmly. "But you need to control your emotions."
Tara lowered her eyes, cheeks flushing. "I'm trying… but it's hard."
"We all struggle at first," he said, voice softer. "Keep practicing. You'll get there."
Tara nodded, something in his presence oddly comforting. But the quiet was broken again—this time by sharp footsteps.
Nadia approached, her expression cautious and curious.
"You still don't know your power well," she said slowly, "but you're already making fire swords?"
Tara blinked, unsure if it was accusation or awe.
"I… I don't know how," she admitted. "But I made it."
Nadia's eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't even know your power yet… so how did you make it? How did you get here?"
The questions struck her like cold water. Tara froze.
The answer sat heavy on her tongue, but she couldn't speak it—not yet.