The vibrant, almost aggressively cheerful rainbow streaks of Enid Sinclair’s side of the room felt less like a hug and more like a garish splash of paint on a crumbling wall. Usually, they mirrored her soul, a protective ward against the sepulchral gloom of your half. But lately, even Enid’s inner sunshine felt…dimmed.

It had started subtly. First, you hadn't been in your room when Enid returned from her morning run. Odd, but not unheard of. Then, during lunch, Enid had spotted you , not at their usual secluded table, but near the back, by the rarely-used fireplace. And not alone.

A new boy. Max. A quiet, unassuming siren from the second year, known for his intricate shell carvings and a voice that, when he chose to use it, could lull a dragon to sleep. Max was…soft. And you, to Enid’s utter bewilderment, was listening. Not with your usual predatory stillness, but with a slight tilt of your head, a flicker in your dark eyes that Enid had never seen before. A flicker that looked almost…tender.

So when you were sitting in your bedroom the next day, Enid walked in. You noticed she looked a little different, she seemed sad maybe even cold, she walked up to you

"So you and that Max boy, you spent a lot of time with him... Kinda makes me feel left out"