Page 7 of Magical Mission
And maybe a goblin or two.
When the corridor finally spilled into a long, arched hallway lined with doors, I stopped dead.
And for once, even Twobble shut up.
The dormitory wing was… beautiful.
The space was alive. The floors were polished wood, gleaming under the soft light of floating orbs that drifted lazily above our heads like sleepy fireflies. The doors were all uniquely carved in different woods and painted in gentle hues, with some little brass plaques and others with stained glass insets. They were warm and inviting, like little front doors to miniature homes.
And the smell!
Fresh linen. Old paper.
That cozy, safe scent that reminded me of curling up by Stella’s tea shop fireplace with a cup of something sweet and a book that didn’t end the way you expected.
I swallowed hard.
“It’s…” I breathed, trailing off.
“Nice digs,” Twobble whispered, his voice filled with awe. “Better than my den. No offense to my den. She’s got character. But this…” His eyes gleamed, taking in every curve, every cozy detail. “This is somethin’ else. I feel fancy.”
Nova smirked. “Bet you didn’t thinkyou’dever get a room here, huh?”
Twobble didn’t answer. He was too busy tiptoeing toward the nearest door, his fingertips hovering just shy of the handle like he was afraid he might break it.
I stepped beside him, something in my chest squeezing tight.
“Pick one,” I said softly.
He blinked up at me. “Me?”
“Yes, you. First student gets first pick.”
His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.
Nova leaned in, whispering just loud enough for us both to hear, “He might faint.”
“I might,” Twobble croaked, but his hand shot forward, gripping the doorknob before he lost his nerve.
The door opened without protest, and the room inside—oh my.
It was perfect.
A little bed with a patchwork quilt, nearly identical to the vest he wore today.
A sturdy desk with space for piles of books. A round window with a cushioned nook overlooking the courtyard. Even a squat stove in the corner, waiting to be lit.
It was… home.
Twobble stood frozen in the doorway, his breath catching audibly.
“It’s yours, Twobble,” I whispered.
He blinked rapidly, brushing at his eyes with his fingers. “I… it’s...”
Nova leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, but even she had softened.
“See?” I said, stepping inside. “You belong here.”
