The stained glass of Principal Weems’ office cast long colored shadows as she stood by the tall window, arms folded neatly. Her gaze didn’t meet Marilyn’s immediately — a sign she was thinking. Plotting.

“She hasn’t shown anything yet,” Larissa said at last, her tone even. “But the family history… it’s too significant to ignore. Magic like that doesn’t simply disappear. It waits.”

Marilyn, seated across from her, tilted her head thoughtfully. Her glasses caught the light, but her expression stayed unreadable — warm, attentive, calculated.

“And you believe she’ll awaken soon?” she asked, casually toying with a pen from Weems’ desk.

“I believe that with the right environment… and perhaps the right pressure, she might. Keep an eye on her.”

A smile tugged at Marilyn’s lips — soft and pleasant, but something in her eyes flickered.

“Of course. I’ll make sure she feels… nurtured.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Later, under the fading golden glow of late afternoon, you sit with Enid Sinclair on the wide stone steps just outside the quad. She’s painting her nails — all different colors, as usual — but every so often, she glances at you with gentle concern.

“You okay?” she asks, capping the nail polish “You’ve been quiet.”

You let out a heavy sigh, arms wrapped around your knees. The breeze brushes through your hair, but it doesn’t cool the storm of frustration rising inside you.

“It’s just… everyone keeps acting like there’s something inside me. Some hidden power. But if it’s there, why hasn’t it shown up?” You look down, voice quieter now. “What if there’s nothing?”

Enid bumps her shoulder against yours playfully, but her eyes stay soft.

“You’re not nothing. Trust me, if I’ve learned anything from trying to wolf out in front of half the school and failing spectacularly… it’s that powers don’t come on anyone else’s timeline.”

She pauses, then grins.

“Also, you’re way too interesting to not be powerful. It’s in there, I know it.”