Elara closed the dorm door behind her.
Lyra was standing by the small mirror near the window, humming softly while practicing. Her posture was a little crooked, her expression serious. She lifted her chin, sang a line, then frowned.
"No... that sounded bad," she muttered to herself.
Elara didn’t say anything. She just stood there for a mont, watching her. Her eyes drifted to the schedule board on the wall. On it were training tis, practice rooms, notices written in ssy handwriting. And the date.
She stared at it and her breath slowed. She began counting in her head.
One year. Two. Three. Her fingers clenched slightly.
"...Eleven years," she whispered. Eleven years in the past.
Her heart skipped, then started racing.
How? Why? What if this ends suddenly?
Her chest tightened.
Elara closed her eyes. Calm down.
She took a slow breath. Then another.
Panicking wouldn’t help. Losing control wouldn’t help. She had already lived through worse than this. She opened her eyes again.
Lyra turned her head casually. "Are... you going for training... this evening?", she asked, hesitantly.
Elara paused for half a second. Then she nodded. "Yeah."
Lyra didn’t say anything more. She just nodded back, flashing a forced smile.
She then walked back to her bed and dropped onto it tiredly, spreading her arms out. "I’m exhausted."
Elara also sat down on her bed. The mattress dipped under her weight. She didn’t lie down. She just sat there, staring straight at Lyra.
Lyra felt her gaze. So she shifted on her bed and slowly looked up. "Why are you looking at like that?" she asked, confused. "Do I have sothing on my face?"
Elara didn’t answer right away.
Back then, Elara had never talked to Lyra like this. She barely talked to her at all. They shared a room, shared a space, but not much else. In Elara’s eyes, Lyra was always soone who didn’t know what to do with her life. Soone who tried too hard. Soone who would fail anyway. And she did.
Elara rembered it clearly.
Lyra quitting. Crying quietly while packing her bags. Lyra saying she would go back to Burou and help her parents.
Elara had watched and said nothing. Guilt settling in her chest like a weight.
"Lyra," she said.
Her voice ca out rough and cracked. Like dry wood snapping. She froze. It’s still like this...
Fear enveloped her. What if her voice never recovered? What if this body was broken?
Elara let out a small, awkward laugh. It sounded strange even to her own ears.
"Are you okay?" Lyra asked.
"I guess I am," she replied.
Lyra blinked in confusion. "Are you sure everything is alright?"
Elara looked at her hands. Then back at Lyra.
"Of course..." she paused. Her words felt clumsy. "I just want to say... you practice a lot."
Lyra stiffened as if the person in front of her had been possessed.
"And when do you start caring?", she asked in amazent.
"You’re always practicing, even when you’re tired." Elara continued, evading her question.
Lyra stared at her like she had just spoken a foreign language.
"Are you sick?" Lyra asked. "Or like... head-sick?"
Elara’s smile froze dangling awkwardly on her lips.
"No idea," she replied quietly.
Lyra frowned, thinking that she might be taking it too far. Then scratched her head. "Well. Yeah. I an, I’m not good, so I have to practice more. That’s normal."
Elara nodded. She rembered mocking that way of thinking in her past life.
"You’re not bad," she said.
The words surprised Lyra. Her mouth opened slightly. Then closed. Then opened again. Elara had never complinted her before.
"...You’re definitely sick."
Elara chuckled softly this ti. "Maybe."
Lyra studied her carefully. "You’ve never said anything like that before."
"I know," Elara said quickly.
Lyra went quiet.
Elara took a breath. "I just... think it’s good that you don’t give up easily."
The room fell silent. Lyra looked away first. Her ears had turned red.
"Well, I inherited that trait from my Mom."she muttered, pulling a pillow into her arms.
Lyra glanced at her again. "You’re not planning to suddenly be nice and then go back to ignoring tomorrow, right?"
Elara went quiet for few seconds, then she shook her head. "No."
Lyra squinted. "I don’t believe you."
"I don’t need you to," Elara admitted.
Lyra snorted. "At least you’re honest."
Elara leaned back slightly on her bed. Her head still hurt.
She took a deep breath. Determination shining in her eyes.
–
The sky had already darkened when Elara and Lyra walked into the training hall. The place was loud. Everyone was busy doing a thing or two.
Elara paused at the entrance. Her chest felt tight, and her throat was dry. She swallowed once, but the feeling did not go away. Still, she walked in.
Lyra stayed close to her, hugging her music book to her chest. "It’s really crowded today," she whispered.
Elara nodded, her eyes moving around the hall. She noticed who stood near the front, who stayed at the back, and who was already surrounded by people. So things never changed.
Mrs. Elopee stood near the piano, her arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning the room. "Warm up first," she said firmly. "No excuses."
The trainees lined up. Elara took her place.
When the warm-ups began, the mont she tried to raise her voice, it wavered. The sound ca out uneven, rough at the edges.
Her brows furrowed slightly.
She lowered her voice and adjusted her breathing, rembering how she used to panic if sothing similar to this happened. This ti, she didn’t panic. She just focused on breathing slowly.
Lyra, who stood beside her struggled too, but she didn’t stop. Even when her voice sounded shaky, she kept going, her face red with effort.
Whispers spread quietly among the trainees.
"She still sounds bad."
"Didn’t Lyra said Elara had a fever?"
Elara heard them, but she didn’t react.
Then the door opened. A girl walked in calmly, her steps unhurried. Her training clothes fit her well, clean and neat, as if she had thought carefully before choosing them. Her hair was tied back simply, and her face was composed.
Livienne.
Elara felt her fingers stiffen.
Mrs. Elopee’s expression changed slightly, the sharpness softening just a little. "You’re late," she said. It was obvious that she is fond of her.
"I apologize, I stayed behind to practice privately for few minutes." Livienne explained.
Mrs. Elopee nodded. "Take your place."
Livienne nodded and joined others. So people made way for her to pass while she thanked them sweetly. Others glanced at her with open admiration. While a few looked away, biting their lips in jealousy.
When it was Livienne’s turn to sing, the hall grew quiet. Her voice flowed out smoothly, clear and steady. Each note landed where it should, without shaking or breaking. Her voice was confident, controlled, and practiced.
Applause followed imdiately she stopped.
Elara watched quietly, suppressing the urge to move forward and tear off that facade.
"Elara," Mrs. Elopee called next.
Elara stepped forward imdiately. Her throat tightened again. She started singing.
The first note ca out fine. The second one wavered slightly. Her voice was not stable, and everyone could hear it. But she did not stop. She focused on the feeling and aning of the song, not the sound alone.
The hall was quiet when she finished. Nobody laughed or clapped. Mrs. Elopee nodded once.
"You’re unstable, but your emotion is better than before." She said plainly.
Elara bowed slightly and stepped back. Livienne also glanced at her warmly. Her lips curving into a polite smile. Elara t her gaze but she did not look away.
Later, Mrs. Elopee clapped her hands. "Star Hunt is approaching. Anyone who wants a place should work harder. Training ends for today."
As the trainees began to leave, Elara touched her throat lightly. It still hurt and this feeling still scared her.
But well, she was still standing. And this ti, she would not fall so easily...
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