Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 18

Building A Home I’ve Never Had.

By the time we rattled back into the Academy’s courtyard, the sky had gone dark and the lanterns lining the paths glowed like captured fireflies. The air was

quiet, save for the faint hum of laughter and chatter spilling from the food hall. Thank the gods. The last thing I needed was anyone seeing me haul a small

fortune in furniture through the boys‘ dorm. The enchanted tokens floated in behind us like obedient ducklings, glowing faintly as they trailed into the

stairwell. Tessa stifled a giggle the whole way, and by the time we pushed open the attic door, we both burst out laughing.

“Alright,” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “Let’s make some magic.”

The first thing we unlocked was the bathroom. We placed the tiny rune–crate at the far end of the attic, whispered unlock, and stepped back fast. The box

pulsed once, then burst open in a whirl of light. The air shimmered, folding outward as tiles laid themselves across the floor, pipes snaking into place with a

hiss. In seconds, a fully fitted bathroom stood neatly against the far wall, sleek dark stone, glass shower, brass fixtures gleaming under enchanted lights. A

stack of fluffy dark green towels appeared folded on the counter like they’d been waiting for me.

I stood there looking through the open door, stunned. “Holy shit.”

Tessa just grinned. “Told you.”

The kitchen went next, slotting in right beside it. This one opened with a warm rush of air smelling faintly of bread. Cabinets snapped into place, dark oak wood with tiny golden knobs shaped like leaves. A stone sink filled itself with water, a stove clicked on with a cheerful hum, and an open wall revealed the

ent of the pretty dark stone kitchen island, perfect for serving or chatting. We set the little dining table and chairs just in front space,

then unrolled the

enchanted carpet to anchor the space. Black, soft as moss, it shimmered faintly under the lamplight as it crawled along the floor, silver threads glinting like hidden constellations. I noticed that it went over the vent covers along the floor, but didn’t take away access to them, cutting out the shapes as it went and

only hiding them a little better.

“Kitchen and bath: check.” Tessa clapped her hands, eyes sparkling.

We didn’t stop there. We shoved the old wardrobe near the door and began laying out the rest. Directly in front of the door, we carved out a living space. A pair of large soft dark green chairs sank into place, angled toward the wall where the enchanted television blinked to life. Between them, we spread a

whimsical rug patterned with stars and moons, its fabric glowing faintly like a night sky. It grounded the space, cozy and welcoming.

Then came the bed. We wrestled the old frame out of the way with more groaning than grace, and I unlocked the cloud–bed crate. The mattress expanded in

a puff of air, settling directly beneath the massive stained–glass window. It was ridiculous. Enormous. Fluffy to the point of absurdity. But the moment I

pressed my hand to it, I nearly melted. We dressed it in dark green sheets, topped it with a thick black doona, and piled so many pillows against the black

winged headboard that it looked like a fortress. Beside it went the new wardrobe, sleek and charmed, and a study table with drawers that clicked with quiet

satisfaction. We hung midnight velvet curtains that swallowed light, and placed matching lamps on the bedside tables. The attic’s cold, dusty shell melted

away piece by piece.

By the time we’d finished unpacking, the space didn’t feel like punishment anymore. It felt.. lived in. Homey. Earthy tones spread everywhere: dark greens, deep browns, soft blacks, with the occasional glint of silver from the enchanted touches. The rug in the living space glowed faintly, the lamps shifted their

warmth to match the cozy hum of the room, and the carpet underfoot was softer than anything I’d ever stepped on. And tucked in behind where you came

through the front door, we built my workspace. A sturdy desk, bookcases climbing high around it, vials and jars lined neatly across shelves. We stacked Hill’s

list of books in a tidy pile, along with cauldrons, stirring rods, and bundles of herbs Tessa insisted were essential. A green–shaded lamp perched on the

corner of the desk, its light clear and focused, perfect for hours of practice. When we finally dumped our bags and collapsed onto the couches in the middle

of it all, I just… stared. The stained–glass window poured moonlight across my new bed. The starry rug shimmered faintly beneath our feet. The kitchen

counters gleamed like they’d always been there. It was warm. Safe. Mine. I exhaled slowly, sinking deeper into the cushions.

Tessa stretched her arms above her head, groaning as she sank further into the couch. “Not bad at all,” she echoed. Then her eyes lit up suddenly, that mischievous sparkle back. “Oh! Wait, there’s just one more thing.”

She dug through one of the enchanted bags until she pulled out a small velvet box and tossed it at me.

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Building A Home I’ve Never Had.

I caught it, frowning. “What is this?”

“The ceiling enchantment,” she said, grinning like she’d been waiting all night for this reveal. “You didn’t think I was going to let you sleep under dusty

rafters forever, did you?”

A slow smile tugged at my lips. I rose from the couch, flipped the box open, and pulled out the crystal inside. It shimmered faintly with blue and silver,

humming against my palm like it had been waiting for me.

Tessa hopped to her feet, practically bouncing. We locked eyes, grinning like conspirators.

I threw the crystal up into the air and shouted, “Unlock!”

The stone burst in a shower of sparks, dissolving as the magic spread across the attic roof. The wooden beams shimmered, then faded away. Above us stretched the night sky, endless and impossibly clear. Stars twinkled in silver clusters, the moon casting its glow across the stained–glass window and the fortress of pillows beneath it. Wisps of clouds drifted lazily, and faint streaks of shooting stars flashed across the black velvet sky. We both stood there, heads tilted back, laughter bubbling out of us in awe.

“Now,” Tessa whispered, her voice soft but brimming with triumph, “it’s perfect.”

Tessa clapped her hands together. “Okay, food time before I faint.”

I laughed, shaking my head, and reached for the bags we’d hauled back from town. The rich smell filled the room the second I opened them. Pastries still glittered faintly with sugar charms, and the little meat pies were warm as though they’d just left the oven. Tessa flipped on the television, and we sprawled across the couches, plates balanced on our knees as we dug in.

“Oh gods,” Tessa groaned around a mouthful of potato. “This is so much better than dining hall slop.”

“Mm,” I hummed, chewing carefully. The meat was tender, flavoured with something herby I couldn’t quite place. Better than anything I’d eaten in years.