The firework display had begun.
High above the courtyard, color bloomed in the sky like a painter had spilled magic across the stars. The students gasped and laughed, their cheers echoing between the spires of the academy as each glittering explosion unfurled—scarlet roses, silver spirals, cascades of shimmering blue.
But I barely noticed any of it.
Because they were all here.
Lillian stood close beside me, our shoulders brushing. She was radiant under the golden burst of light above, her pink hair shimmering as she tilted her head slightly, just enough that I caught the soft curve of her smile. Her fingers grazed mine, not holding—but not far from it.
Diana leaned on the balcony railing just ahead of us, her expression unreadable to most, but I could see it now. The subtle shift in her eyes as she looked at me—something between calculation and quiet affection. Like she was still planning three moves ahead but already knew her heart had given something away.
Camille stood quietly to my right, her arms folded delicately. Her ice-blue eyes reflected every spark in the sky, but she wasn't watching the fireworks either. She was watching me. She always had this way of observing—of seeing, not just looking. There was something reverent about the way her gaze softened, as if the moment itself was sacred.
Claire had squeezed in between me and Camille, as bold and energetic as ever. She had a cherry pastry in hand—how she managed to sneak one even now was a mystery—and she was halfway through a dramatic retelling of a prank she'd pulled during setup earlier. But her eyes kept darting to me between sentences, as if checking that I was still here, still smiling, still listening.
Tessa stood just behind us, partially in the shadows. Her red eyes flickered as each light bloomed above us, and she remained silent. Always watching, always near. But this time, her silence felt different—less guarded, more... patient. Like she was waiting for the right moment to step forward. Or maybe just waiting for me to be ready.
The magic in the air wasn't just from the fireworks. It was between us. Quiet touches. Lingering glances. The thrum of feelings too big for words. The ache of knowing that no matter how much I wanted to stay in this moment… life was still moving.
I inhaled deeply, the scent of distant roses and baked sugar carried on the breeze. My heart beat a little too loud in my chest.
A burst of blue lit the sky, bright enough to make Lillian's earrings glitter.
"You're quiet," she said gently, her voice nearly lost beneath the applause from the courtyard below.
"I'm always quiet when I'm overwhelmed," I said, not quite looking at her.
"Is it us?" she asked. Not accusing—just curious. Open.
I turned toward her then, really turned, and met her gaze. "It's... everything. This. You. All of you. It's too much and not enough. All at once."
Lillian's smile softened. "Then let it be too much. Just for tonight."
Her hand found mine again, fingers weaving together like they belonged there. I let her.
Diana turned, catching the motion, her gaze sharpening faintly. "Are we doing confessions again? I could prepare a speech."
Claire grinned. "Only if it ends with you swearing fealty to me and naming me the official pastry queen of the academy."
Camille chuckled under her breath. "If there's one person who could make Diana Hayes kneel, it would be you—though not for pastries."
Diana shot Camille a warning look. Camille only smiled wider.
Tessa stepped forward finally, her voice soft but certain. "This is the last time it'll be like this. Isn't it?"
No one answered right away.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
Because she was right.
The air was full of that finality—beautiful and terrifying. A chapter ending with fireworks instead of ink. A farewell that hadn't yet been spoken, but sat heavy in every glance, every touch.
But not yet.
"I don't want to think about that," I said quietly.
"Then don't," Diana murmured, stepping beside me. "Not yet."
The sky exploded again, red and white and gold, casting their faces in fleeting, brilliant light.
For just a few minutes more, the world held its breath.
And so did I.
And with the final burst of fireworks faded into a gentle shower of silver sparks, the applause and cheer from below gradually softened into quiet murmurs and whispers. Students began dispersing, some heading off to the dance, others wandering back to their dorms or finding quieter spaces among the softly glowing lanterns.
We lingered longer on that balcony, none of us quite willing to break the spell.
But eventually, Diana shifted gracefully from her spot, exhaling softly. "We should go. We're drawing stares."
Claire smirked. "Jealousy is understandable."
Diana raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."
We moved slowly, descending the balcony steps, our footsteps echoing softly against polished stone. The night had grown deeper now, stars clearer against the velvet sky, their faint glimmers reflected in the academy's large, ornate windows.
Outside the courtyard, clusters of students drifted past us—some laughing, others in quiet, earnest conversations. Lillian's hand still lightly brushed against mine, Diana walked just ahead, and Camille, Claire, and Tessa fell into comfortable rhythm behind us.
But with every step we took, a quiet tension returned. The unspoken truth: tonight felt precious precisely because it might never happen again.
"I wish nights like this lasted longer," Claire said softly, almost as if to herself.
Camille glanced at her gently. "We can't stop time, unfortunately."
"Perhaps not," Diana murmured, "but we can hold onto the memories."
"Poetic," Claire teased.
"I have my moments," Diana replied dryly.
I smiled quietly at their banter, but the ache in my chest deepened. The warmth of their closeness was becoming almost too much to bear—the sweetness of it edged with the quiet bitterness of inevitable change.
Tessa's quiet voice suddenly filled the silence. "It's late. Should we return to the dorms?"
We slowed to a gentle stop. I knew she was right—logically. But emotionally, I wasn't ready to let go just yet.
Claire turned to me, violet eyes softly searching mine. "What do you think, Sera?"
I hesitated. "Actually…I don't think I'm ready to end the night yet."
A gentle smile flickered across Lillian's lips. "Then let's not."
I blinked in surprise as the others quietly agreed, nodding softly or smiling in gentle support.
Camille tilted her head thoughtfully. "How about the gardens? No one goes there this late."
"Perfect," Claire grinned softly. "It's practically our secret spot, anyway."
Quietly, carefully, we moved through dimly lit pathways, past quiet fountains and shadowed archways until we reached our familiar sanctuary. The garden felt different at night—almost enchanted, moonlight silvering the edges of leaves and petals.
We settled onto the soft grass, clustered close together, our shoulders brushing. Lillian leaned gently against me, her pink hair glowing softly in the moonlight, while Diana arranged herself gracefully beside Claire, whose legs sprawled comfortably in the grass. Camille sat near my other side, her calm, quiet presence soothing. Tessa remained nearby, quieter than ever, watchful but calm.
For a while, no one spoke, letting the quiet beauty of the night embrace us. Crickets sang softly in the distance, the gentle rustle of leaves overhead whispering faint secrets.
"Do you think…" I began softly, words slipping out almost on their own, "do you think things would've been different, if we'd met differently?"
They looked at me curiously.
Diana smiled faintly, eyes shimmering softly in the darkness. "Perhaps. But I'm glad we met exactly as we did."
Claire nodded gently. "Me too."
"Every path we walked led us here," Camille added softly, "I wouldn't trade any of it."
Tessa's quiet voice followed. "Even if some paths were harder."
Lillian squeezed my hand gently, her touch warm and steady. "It doesn't matter how we met, only that we did."
I looked at each of them in turn, moonlight catching in their eyes. My chest tightened, heart swelling painfully yet beautifully. Each of them had become something indescribable to me—something precious, deep, and irreplaceable.
"You've all changed me," I said softly. "I didn't think I'd ever find something like this."
"Something like what?" Claire whispered gently, violet eyes softening.
I swallowed, voice barely audible. "Home."
The silence afterward felt sacred, as though I'd given voice to something we'd all been quietly feeling but never quite said aloud.
Lillian leaned closer, voice tender and gentle. "You'll always have it with us. No matter where life takes you."
My breath caught softly, eyes burning faintly, though no tears came.
I nodded, leaning into her warmth, into the comfort of all of them around me.
We stayed there under moonlight and stars, wrapped in quiet tenderness, hearts open and raw, sharing something we knew could never truly be repeated or forgotten.
Because even if life eventually pulled us apart—even if this was the last time we'd sit here, just like this—at least we'd had it.
And maybe, in the end, that was enough.
Eventually, the garden's gentle quiet began to deepen, the coolness of the night gently pressing closer around us. Stars shimmered softly overhead, distant and eternal. It felt as though time itself had paused for us, holding its breath, allowing us to linger in this small, perfect moment.
Claire yawned softly, stretching her arms over her head with an exaggerated sigh. "I could sleep right here."
"You'd regret it," Diana murmured. "Insects love you."
Claire made a face. "I'm sweet, it's not my fault."
Lillian laughed quietly, her voice a warm, soothing melody in the darkness. "As much as I'd love to stay here all night, we probably should head back."
She was right, of course. We all knew it, though no one moved immediately. The unspoken reluctance hung heavily in the air.
Camille sighed softly. "I suppose tomorrow still expects us."
"Tomorrow always does," Diana said lightly, rising gracefully and brushing stray grass from her gown. "Whether we're ready or not."
Slowly, we stood together, brushing away grass and petals, exchanging quiet smiles as we began the slow, reluctant walk back to the dormitories.
But something made me pause at the edge of the garden, a sudden weight settling gently on my chest. "You all go ahead. I'll catch up soon."
They hesitated, glancing back with concern. Lillian touched my shoulder gently, questioning.
"I just need a moment," I said softly, reassuringly. "Promise."
After a pause, they nodded gently and continued slowly toward the dorms, their silhouettes slowly fading into soft shadow.
Left alone, I stepped back deeper into the garden. I wasn't sure why, exactly. Perhaps I needed one more quiet moment here, a small goodbye whispered into the leaves and petals, something just for myself.
I turned a corner into a smaller alcove of roses and violets, fragrant in the moonlight. And then, suddenly, I felt a familiar presence—a gentle warmth beside me.
Tessa.
She had stayed, silently waiting, unseen until now.
"Tessa?" I murmured quietly.
She stepped into the soft glow of moonlight, eyes gentle yet unreadable. "You didn't really think I'd leave you alone here, did you?"
I smiled faintly, warmth blooming softly in my chest. "No, I suppose not."
We stood quietly together, the air soft between us, comfortable silence wrapped like a gentle cloak.
Then, very quietly, she asked, "Are you really planning to leave?"
I felt my heart twist faintly. I hadn't spoken it yet, but somehow she knew. She always did.
"Maybe," I admitted softly, eyes cast toward the moonlit petals. "I think…maybe I have to. Even if just for a little while."
She nodded gently, her gaze thoughtful yet steady. "If you do, promise you'll tell me first."
"Of course," I whispered, looking up again to meet her gaze. "But why?"
"Because I'll understand," she said softly, simply. "I've always understood you."
Her quiet confidence, the calm steadiness of her presence, wrapped around me warmly. Without another word, she stepped forward and hugged me gently—brief, careful, yet deep and meaningful.
When she pulled back, she touched my cheek softly. "Whatever happens, Sera, never doubt that you're loved."
She stepped away quietly, blending back into the gentle shadows before I could say anything more.
When I finally turned to leave the garden, I felt strangely lighter and heavier all at once. Each step back toward the dorms seemed to carry me closer to something inevitable—an ending, a choice, a goodbye.
But now, even in that weight, there was also clarity.
I wouldn't run away from this—not anymore.
Whatever was coming, I would face it openly.
Because, just as Tessa had quietly reminded me, no matter what happened, I wasn't alone.