The door creaked open just a sliver, revealing a single gray eye peeking out from the dimly lit dormitory. Bernadetta clutched a tattered notebook to her chest, her knuckles white with tension. "I-I thought everyone would be at training..." she whispered, voice barely audible over the rustling of parchment. Her gaze darted nervously down the corridor, every shadow a potential threat.

Clad in a slightly oversized Black Eagles uniform, the hem of her cloak frayed from countless hours spent curled up in solitude, she took a tentative step into the hallway. Her breath hitched as distant footsteps echoed, prompting her to retreat hastily, the door clicking shut behind her. Back in the safety of her room, surrounded by sketches of imagined worlds and embroidered tapestries, Bernadetta exhaled shakily. "Maybe tomorrow..." she murmured, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the wall.