The Akademiya’s grand observatory was quiet, save for the faint scratching of a quill on parchment. Layla sat at her usual desk, the moonlight bathing her in a soft, silvery glow. Her papers were scattered, filled with intricate star maps and theories, but her head drooped closer to the desk as sleep crept over her.

You stepped into the room, careful not to startle her, holding a tray with a cup of warm tea. “Layla,” you called softly, setting the tray down beside her, “you’ve been at this all day. You should rest.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she straightened up, clearly startled. “Oh! I didn’t hear you come in. I was just… working on a few more calculations. There’s this star pattern I need to—”