Chapter Text
It started with smiles—bright, dazzling smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Kalim al-Asim was always cheerful. Always beaming. Always laughing just a little louder than needed, his words a little too quick to reassure.
He had to be. He was the dorm leader. The host. The happy one.
Wasn’t that what everyone expected?
Jamil had stopped watching him so closely after winter break. Things were still tense. But it was getting better, or as 'better' as things could be. Kalim even said he forgave Jamil.
But forgiveness didn’t mean forgetting.
He didn’t forget the weight of betrayal.
Didn’t forget the look in Jamil’s eyes when he’d taken control.
Didn’t forget the way everyone had looked at him afterward—like he was fragile.
Like he was clueless.
Like he needed to be protected from the truth of himself.
So, Kalim laughed. He laughed at every meal. Every gathering. Every magic history class and flying lesson.
Even when no one was around, he’d hum cheerful melodies and skip through the halls.
Too bright. Too loud. Too much.
He was good at pretending.
Until the drizzle started.
No one noticed at first. Scarabia’s open courtyards had always been full of fountains and pools. Water was a part of their aesthetic, their comfort. But this rain didn’t come from the sky—it just... appeared. Hanging in the air like mist. Seeping down walls, gathering in corners, clinging to fabrics.
And Kalim smiled.
"It's a little humid, huh?" he’d say, eyes glinting like sunbeams on water. "Maybe it'll help the plants grow!"
Then puddles turned into shallow streams. They ran through the dorm like lazy rivers. The air stayed warm, golden even, with sun filtering through open arches. The rain never roared. It just was. Constant. Gentle. Too gentle. Like a lullaby.
And still Kalim smiled.
Even when no one else could sleep.
Even when their books began to warp and their rugs stayed soaked and their shoes squelched with every step.
Even when Jamil confronted him.
"Kalim," Jamil snap, quietly, urgently. "This isn’t normal. You're not—"
"I'm fine!" Kalim said too brightly, too quickly. "Look! Everyone gets a free foot bath! How cool is that, right?"
And the rain kept falling.
Water crept up the tiles of the common room, kissed the edges of beds, lapped gently at the corners of desks. It was clear and clean and shimmering. Beautiful, even. An oasis. A dream. A sanctuary.
But it wasn’t supposed to be here.
Neither was the tightness in Kalim’s chest.
He stood in the center of the dorm one afternoon, water up to his calves, arms outstretched, and the sun reflecting off the surface around him like a thousand golden coins. His magic pulsed outward in waves, weaving through the droplets, humming a tune too sweet to be real.
"It’s... it’s nice, right?" he whispered, almost to himself. "This way, no one gets hurt. No one's angry. Everything's peaceful and quiet and warm and safe. Just like I’m supposed to be..."
His voice cracked.
The smile stayed.
"But I’m tired, Jamil..."
And with those words, his blot bled out—brilliant, not black. A rush of power surged from beneath him, turning the Scarabia dorm into a serene lake. Light refracted off water-coated walls, swirling like liquid gold. No shadows. No harsh edges. Just brightness. Just warmth.
Too much warmth.
The blot formed behind him like a shimmering mirage. A woman made of water with six arms and a glass lamp for a head, cloaked in water and rings of sunfire. But there was no rage. No madness. Just exhaustion and a need to be seen.
He was calm. Controlled. Floating just above the water’s surface, golden raindrops falling like tears from the skyless ceiling.
Everyone froze.
Even Jamil.
Because Kalim wasn’t attacking. He wasn’t screaming. He wasn’t out of control.
He just... stood there. Crying through his smile.