<h4>Chapter 88: Gone</h4>


    <strong><i>{Elira}</i></strong>


    ~**^**~


    After breakfast, the hallway outside our dorm buzzed with energy as usual.


    My roommates and I walked together until we reached the row of lockers, where we broke apart to find our own.


    I walked to mine, unlocked it, and traded my backpack for the textbook and notebook I’d need for my first ss: <strong><i>Werewolf History & Governance</i></strong>. I also picked up mypleted assignments.


    My steps were lighter today.


    I made my way to ss with purpose, feeling a quiet sense of confidence.


    As soon as I stepped into the lecture room, I headed straight for Jude—the ss captain.


    He nced up, but before he could say anything, I ced my assignments in the tray and turned away.


    I didn’t want to give him the chance to let out whatever smug or demeaning remark he might have been cooking up.


    He didn’t like me, and he made it so obvious.


    I went straight to my seat in thest row and settled in.


    As I looked around the ssroom, something strange happened—no one was giving me that look. The usual mocking nces... weren’t there.


    My ssmates weren’t whispering or sneering like they normally did.


    I released a slow breath and whispered to myself, <i>’Please let thisst.’</i>


    The professor arrived not long after,unching into a rich lecture on "Post-War Council Reforms in Werewolf Governance."


    It was intense, but interesting. When he tossed a couple of questions at the ss midway, I surprised myself by answering both—and correctly. That earned me a brief, acknowledging nod.


    Lunch came quickly after that. My meal was decent, but my thoughts had wandered again—to my mother, to the yearbook, to ESA itself.


    The mystery of her past kept echoing in my head like a quiet drum.


    By the time I returned to my ss for Mathematics, my brain was already fogged over with thoughts.


    I tried to focus, really—but the forms were a blur. The professor moved fast, and while I took notes as best as I could, I knew I wasn’t getting it.


    There were too many gaps. There were too many things I’d missed before being admitted.


    Still, I made a mental note to ask Cambria for helpter.


    I couldn’t let the excuse of resumingter than others rob me of making good results this semester.


    As soon as ss ended, I gathered my things and walked out. Pulling out my phone, I sent a quick message in our dorm room group chat:


    [Hey guys, heading to the Archive room for a bit. Should be back to the dorm in an hour or less.]


    The moment I hit send, I blinked at the message. That... was new. Me voluntarily sharing where I was going?


    This was definitely a first.


    Nari’s reply came in quickly.


    Nari: [Why in the world would you go to that boring ce?]


    A small smile tugged at my lips. I typed back almost immediately:


    [My quest for knowledge drove me.]


    The others joined in soon after.


    Juniper: [I’m already on my way to the dorm.]


    Cambria: [I’m at my homeroom professor’s office, submitting assignments for my ss, and it’s looking like this will take a little longer than expected.]


    I quickly replied Cambria’s message:


    [Now, I can see it’s not easy being a ss captain. Goodluck with that.]


    Tamryn: [I will stop by the library to grab a book first.]


    I slipped my phone back into my pocket to avoid identally bumping into any student as I walked towards the the locker area.


    I remembered the request I had for Cambria as soon as I arrived at my locker. Leaning my shoulder against the cool metal, I sent a private message to her.


    [Hey, do you think you could help me with mathter?]


    Just as I began opening my locker, my phone chimed again.


    Cambria sent me a smiling emoji along with a text. [Tamryn’s better at math than me, honestly. But if you’d rather have me, I don’t mind!]


    Reading it twice, I smiled and typed back:


    [Thanks for the information. I will decide soon.]


    Cambria sent a hug emoji along with; [Okay.]


    I reached into my locker and pulled out my backpack, sliding in a couple of textbooks and notebooks I’d need for the night.


    My hand brushed against the familiar sheet of paper tucked inside.


    Right. The form Rennon gave mest Friday. I had filled it outst night. I slid it into my bag as well.


    Zipping up the bag, I closed my locker door with a soft click.


    ---


    The Archive Room felt cooler than the rest of the building, with that old-book smell that somehow always calmed me.


    Rennon was seated behind the desk near the entrance, cataloguing something when I stepped in.


    I approached him slowly, my backpack slung over one shoulder. "Good afternoon, Professor."


    He looked up and smiled gently, the calm in his gaze instantly soothing some of my nerves. "Good afternoon, Elira."


    There were a few other students inside, scattered between shelves, browsing the older sections in hushed focus.


    Rennon nodded to the small cubby station by the door. "You know the rules. No bags past this point."


    "Of course," I said, unzipping my backpack and carefully pulling out the form.


    After storing my bag away, I walked back to Rennon and handed him the form.


    He scanned it briefly, then looked up at me again. "Congrattions," he said warmly. "You’ve made the right decision—bing a keeper of history and knowledge."


    "Thank you," I said, trying to keep the pride from blooming too obviously across my face. I didn’t know why, but that title—keeper of history—felt heavier, deeper than I expected.


    "I wanted to start by checking the yearbook from 1988," I added. "I’d like to look through it more... to see if there is more information about my mother here."


    His expression shifted into something softer—gentler. "Of course. Go ahead," he said. "I will file this and prepare your Archive ess card. You will be able toe in at your convenience starting tomorrow."


    My chest lifted a little. "Thanks again."


    Turning away, I walked straight to the tall shelvesbelled Yearbooks, where I had first discovered the truth—that my mother had once walked the same hallways I now did.


    I found the familiar row, fingers trailing the spines until I reached the mid-80s. I crouched, eyes scanning for the green-bound volume I remembered clearly.


    I scanned the dates...


    1984


    1985


    1986


    1987


    ...


    1989


    My brows knit together.


    <i>Where was 1988?</i>


    I stepped back and looked again. My fingers grazed each book to be sure. But it wasn’t there.


    I wasn’t mistaken. The 1988 yearbook was missing.


    I stood there, frozen in ce, a sharp chill sweeping through my chest as a realization hit me.


    Someone had taken it.