Thornhill Academy (By Sheridan Hartin) novel Chapter 19

Is This Heaven?

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We ate and talked, mostly about nothing. Tessa told me about her classes, about how rabbit shifters were seen as “cute but useless” until they got in the way of a wolf’s claws and proved how fast they could be. She described her old dorm room, tiny, crowded, stuffed with giggling girls and how much she preferred my attic. I told her… less. But she didn’t seem to mind filling the space. We laughed more than once, at the ridiculous food charms, at the old enchanted infomercials that popped up on the TV, at Tessa’s impression of a pompous warlock professor who, according to her, thought his beard was a direct gift from the gods. At some point, my cheeks nched from smiling. I leaned back into the cushions, plate empty, stomach full, the soft glow of the lamps warm on my skin. Tessa was still chattering beside me, her braid slipping loose, her eyes bright with energy even after the longest day. And it hit me. I liked her. Not just tolerated her, not just found her helpful, but genuinely liked her. A friend. The thought made something sharp and lonely in my chest ease just a little.

I caught it out of the corner of my eye, Tessa’s jaw stretching wide as she let out a yawn, her hand only half–covering it.

“You tired?” I asked, raising a brow.

She gave me a sheepish smile, checks pinking.

I hesitated, then shrugged. “Do you… want to stay the night?”

Her squeal nearly deafened me. “Yes!” She launched herself across the couch, landing half on me and shaking my shoulders like an overexcited child. “A sleepover! Our first sleepover!”

I laughed so hard I almost tipped off the couch. “Gods, you’re insane.”

“Insanely fun,” she corrected, bouncing to her feet. In a blur, she was at the pile of new clothes still spread across the bed, tossing things into the air as she rummaged through them. “Okay, let’s see, what did we get… oh my gods, these are so soft, these can totally be pyjamas!”

I rolled my eyes, still grinning as I watched her pull out a set of black silk shorts and a loose green top. She held them up against herself, spinning around.

“Perfect,” she declared. Then she looked at me, eyes sparkling. “First shower or second?”

I leaned back against the couch cushions, smirking. “Second. You go squeal over the new bathroom first.”

Tessa squealed again anyway, clutching the pyjamas to her chest as she darted toward the bathroom door like she’d just won a prize.

The sound of running water drifted from the bathroom, Tessa humming happily under her breath‘ as she tested every knob and enchantment. I stayed on the couch, sinking into the cushions and letting my eyes wander. The moonlight spilled through the stained–glass window, scattering soft colours across the black doona and the star–patterned rug. The air smelled faintly of the herbs stacked neatly on my work desk, the lamps glowed warm and steady, and above me, the night sky twinkled with an enchantment that made me feel like I was outside and safe all at once. My chest tightened, not with sadness this time, but something quieter. Softer. Gratitude.

I tilted my head back, whispering into the empty attic, “Wherever you are… thank you. For this. For leaving me something. Even if I never knew who you

were.”

The words felt strange on my tongue, but right. After a moment, I pushed myself up, brushing crumbs from my lap, and padded across the carpet. My eyes landed on the faint outlines where the black fabric had politely trimmed itself around the air vents. Curiosity prickled. I crouched, fingers slipping under the edge of the nearest one, and pried it open just enough to peek through. Below, the dormitory rooms were dark, lit only by the faint glow of wards. A handful of boys sprawled across their beds, fast asleep, breaths steady and deep. My lips curled. I stretched my senses downward, brushing against their magic. Different textures, different flavours. The low, grounding thrum of an earth elemental. The restless spark of a warlock. The sharp, wild flare of a fox shifter. I pulled just a little from each, being careful and precise. Just enough to store, to be ready. They’d never notice. Magic always grew back, after all. The hum built low in my chest as the borrowed energy nestled under my skin, steady and comforting like a hidden blade. I slid the vent shut, smoothing the carpet back over it, and straightened.

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Is This Heaven?

The bathroom door flew open, steaming up the window. Tessa bounced through it like she’d just walked out of a spa, her strawberry–blonde braid now a damp rope hanging over her shoulder. She threw her arms out wide.

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“That,” she declared, eyes sparkling, “is definitely a magical shower. Best one I’ve ever had. So much nicer than the communal ones. Ugh.” She gave an exaggerated shudder, then flopped onto my new bed like she owned it. The mattress dipped under her weight, and she let out a groan loud enough to make

me laugh. “At this point, I might never leave.”

1 shook my head, grabbing the pyjamas she’d set out for me. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

She just burrowed deeper into the pillows, grinning like a cat in cream. I padded across the attic, pushing open the bathroom door. The space was sleek,

polished dark stone lined with flecks of green that glimmered faintly in the lamplight. Brass fixtures gleamed warm gold, enchanted to resist tarnish. The

shower itself stretched almost wall to wall, glass panels etched with curling vine runes that glowed faintly when touched. The air smelled faintly of

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