"Amara, did you pack your winter cloaks?" Mom called out from the kitchen, her voice competing with the sound of clattering pots. "The capital gets much colder than the province this time of year!"
The quiet of the past month had been nice, but it was officially over. A new session at Arethia University was starting, and the house was a complete mess of half-packed bags, heavy books, and stray sheets of parchment.
"Yes, Mom! Three of them!" I shouted back to her, sitting on the floor of my bedroom as I tried to force a stack of magical theory books into my bag.
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled like baked cinnamon and morning tea. I dragged my boots down the steps, finding Mom furiously wiping down the wooden counters for what felt like the fifth time today. She was stressed. I could tell by the tight line of her shoulders.
"Here, let me help with those," I said, reaching for a stack of heavy ceramic bowls to put them away on the top shelf.
