Chapter 40
As we followed Joelle toward what everyone referred to as the Wardrobe Hall, my mind refused to let go of everything that could have happened in Vuduarus.
With every step, I imagined another disaster.
Each one worse than the last.
The thoughts wouldn't let me sleep.
Wouldn't let me focus on anything else.
"So you're all aware," Joelle said over her shoulder, "first-years have never been allowed to leave Istmond during Selection preparation."
"If anyone finds out about this little trip..."
Her lips curled into a dry smile.
"...I'll be the one taking the blame."
I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to stop spiraling.
Instead, I focused on the people around me.
And almost immediately, I noticed how different everyone seemed this morning.
Gianna had been unusually quiet since breakfast.
She looked offended by something but hadn't said a single word about it.
Stasia, on the other hand, appeared perfectly composed.
Although after Airis and Tarven had left last night, I'd had the distinct impression she'd wanted to tell me something.
Aars wasn't hovering nearby today.
Neither were Mortz and Luis.
In fact, I hadn't seen either of them for several days.
"As far as I know," Stasia said, pulling me from my thoughts, "quite a few people made it to the festival yesterday."
"Not me," Gianna replied softly.
The disappointment in her voice was impossible to miss.
For a moment, it almost felt deliberate.
As though she wanted one of us to feel guilty.
Personally...
I couldn't see the point.
We weren't nearly close enough for me to feel responsible for her feelings.
"And I'm glad at least one person around here knows what discipline looks like," Joelle remarked.
According to Joelle, the Wardrobe Hall was located inside one of the academy's academic buildings.
It had its own separate entrance, which meant we still hadn't seen the classrooms where we'd soon be spending most of our time.
The moment we stepped inside, I stopped.
The room was enormous.
Everything—from the walls to the ceiling—was immaculate white.
Across the floor stood a series of circular platforms that immediately reminded me of the spheres we'd seen during one of the exhibitions on Ruel Island.
Only these were different.
Each one rose slightly above the floor, more like a pedestal than a platform.
Beside each platform stood a compact device roughly the size of a handheld laser scanner, covered in buttons and fitted with two glowing screens.
"Madame Zhivorzhinette?" Joelle called.
I instinctively glanced around, expecting someone to emerge from another room.
Instead...
A woman materialized out of thin air.
She looked...
Almost mechanical.
Instantly, I remembered the elevator in Magicslan and Airis's explanation that the Realm of Lightning supplied Istarus with advanced technology.
"Welcome to my kingdom," the woman said warmly.
Despite her perfectly fluid movements, there was something almost impossibly precise about the way she carried herself.
Her luminous green eyes swept across each of us before the corners of her lips curved into an elegant smile.
"I am Madame Zhivorzhinette—Istmond Academy's stylist and fashion designer."
I hadn't expected anything like this.
She looked effortlessly fashionable, combining deep navy leather with delicate ivory lace.
For some reason, I'd always imagined magical worlds as something ancient.
Exactly the way books and movies loved to portray them.
Istarus continued proving me wrong.
"It's wonderful to meet you," Gianna said, her cheerful tone returning almost instantly.
Madame Zhivorzhinette smiled politely before gesturing for us to follow.
She led us toward the platforms.
"My atelier receives technological upgrades every three months," she announced proudly.
"You won't find a more advanced fitting system anywhere."
I only wished I understood how any of it worked.
Otherwise, I was going to look completely ridiculous.
"Please."
She motioned toward the platforms.
"You'll each receive a design perfectly suited to your personal taste."
She gave us a playful wink.
I still had absolutely no idea what she meant.
Was there really only one dress to choose from?
And...
Where exactly were the dresses?
Stasia and Gianna each stepped onto separate platforms.
I followed.
Madame Zhivorzhinette approached Stasia first, fastening two sleek bracelets around her wrists.
Thin cables connected them to the nearby console.
Next, she placed a delicate circlet across Stasia's forehead before moving on to Gianna and repeating the process.
When she finally stopped in front of me, her smile widened ever so slightly.
For a brief moment, her glowing eyes seemed to scan me.
They flashed twice.
Brighter than before.
The bracelets were almost weightless.
A pleasant warmth spread through my skin the moment they touched me.
The circlet felt exactly the same.
Standing before the three platforms, Madame Zhivorzhinette clasped her hands together.
"Well then..."
Her smile deepened.
"I'll see you again very soon, ladies."
She snapped her fingers.
The sharp sound echoed through the room.
My eyes closed on their own.
For one dizzying second, I felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath my feet.
Then...
Everything went dark.
*******
When I opened my eyes, I found myself staring at the familiar blush-pink walls of my bedroom in Manchester.
Realizing I was lying on my bed, I frowned and pushed myself up onto my elbows, completely unable to understand what was happening.
A single thought struck me.
What if everything that had happened in Istarus had been nothing more than a dream?
"I wouldn't recommend thinking of our meeting as an escape from reality."
Madame Zhivorzhinette's voice made me jump.
My gaze snapped toward her.
She was sitting comfortably in my desk chair as though she had always belonged there.
"We've simply moved into one of the places where your mind feels safest."
"...I'm completely lost," I admitted, sitting upright.
"Weren't we supposed to be choosing a gown for the ball?"
"I seriously doubt you'll find anything suitable in my wardrobe."
I gestured toward the enormous white wardrobe that had once been my greatest source of pride—and undeniable proof of my shopping addiction.
"You understood correctly."
She offered me a professional smile.
"My work isn't merely about choosing a dress that flatters someone's appearance."
"It's about finding one that reflects who they truly are."
"I also need to understand your goals."
"Your preferences."
"The way you naturally express yourself."
She studied me thoughtfully.
"Whether your style should be built around your Ascendant..."
"...your Venus..."
"...your Sun..."
She paused.
"Though in your case..."
"I rather doubt it's your Moon."
I blinked.
"My what?"
"Were those planets?"
Madame Zhivorzhinette laughed softly.
"It's a branch of modern astrology."
"It connects personal style with one's natal chart."
"The very same system Noveris itself was built upon."
"Every chart is unique."
"It changes according to the exact date, time, and place of a person's birth."
"Since I don't have access to your official birth records..."
"I decided the best way to understand you was through your subconscious instead."
"So..."
I folded my arms.
"Stasia and Gianna are probably choosing their dresses already while I'm busy serving as your experimental subject?"
Warm laughter filled the room.
"I do appreciate intelligent clients."
She winked.
"Now tell me..."
"What color makes you feel safest?"
"What color feels like home?"
I sighed.
It was becoming increasingly obvious that I wasn't going to outsmart her.
"Pink."
I gestured around the room.
As though the answer hadn't already been painfully obvious.
With a graceful wave of her hand, an enormous screen appeared before us.
It stretched almost from floor to ceiling.
Three columns filled its surface.
The first displayed an exact digital model of my body, complete with every imaginable measurement.
The second showed another silhouette—this one highlighting my personal color palette.
And the third resembled a profile.
My magical affinity.
My personal preferences.
Several empty spaces beside the names of different celestial placements.
One of them suddenly filled itself in.
Moon — Pink
"The Moon in a natal chart governs a person's comfort zone," Madame Zhivorzhinette explained.
"For now, color is simply the easiest place to begin."
I nodded silently.
I still wasn't entirely used to the idea that astrology could influence something as ordinary as clothing.
"So..." she continued.
"Would you like to wear pink for the Selection?"
I shook my head without the slightest hesitation.
"Absolutely not."
"I prefer bold colors."
"Strong contrasts."
"If I had to choose, I'd wear either red... or black."
With a graceful wave of her hand, a new note appeared on the floating display.
Style Preference: Bold colors. High contrast.
"Red would suit a fire mage perfectly," she mused.
I nodded.
For a brief moment, I wondered if my attraction to black came from the magic of Death.
Then another thought occurred to me.
"Wait..."
"How did you know I'm a fire mage?"
"I have access to the records of every new student," she replied with a casual shrug.
"Though I've been pestering the developers for years to upgrade the system."
She sighed dramatically.
"It should perform a complete scan of every person who steps onto the platform—including their magical affinities."
I silently thanked those mysterious developers for continuing to ignore her requests.
"So..."
"Red."
Madame Zhivorzhinette tapped the screen.
My colored silhouette expanded.
With another snap of her fingers, dresses began appearing one after another around the digital figure.
Each design instantly adjusted itself to my proportions, allowing me to see exactly how it would look on me.
"We'll create several options here first."
"Then I'll transfer the finalists into reality."
"You'll try them on..."
"And together we'll choose the perfect one."
I leaned back against the headboard.
For the first time since arriving, I actually relaxed.