The day dragged on, each passing minute stretching into eternity as Ezra lay sprawled across his bed. He had no intention of attending class—skipping was the only reasonable option at this point. The thought of sitting through another dull lecture felt unbearable.
Across from him, Silas sat on his own bed, completely absorbed in his sketchbook.
Various paints and brushes were scattered beside him, yet his movements were precise, controlled. His delicate, almost otherworldly features were drawn into deep concentration, his brows slightly furrowed as he worked.
Ezra found himself watching him, his gaze lingering on the way Silas's fingers moved over the paper, each stroke deliberate and effortless. There was something mesmerizing about it—the quiet focus, the fluidity of his motions. For a moment, Ezra forgot about his own boredom, simply observing the scene unfold before him.
"Stop staring at me. Find something else to do," Silas called out without looking up, snapping Ezra out of his trance.
Ezra huffed, rolling onto his side. "I'm bored. There's nothing else to do."
Silas finally turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "Practice for the Ember Games. Or your finals. They're about a month away."
Ezra groaned, burying his face into his pillow. "Ugh. Don't remind me."
A beat of silence passed before he lifted his head slightly, his gaze drifting toward Silas's mask. "By the way… what's with the mask?" he asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.
Silas's fingers briefly paused over his sketchbook before resuming their careful movements. His voice was calm, but something about it felt distant. "It's a gift," he said simply.
Ezra frowned at the vague response, sensing there was more to it. "From who?"
Silas didn't answer immediately. Instead, he closed his sketchbook, setting it aside as he met Ezra's gaze. "Someone important," he finally said, his tone softer but firm, as if that was all he was willing to reveal.
Ezra studied him for a moment before sighing. "Mysterious as always, huh?"
There was a pause before he spoke again.
"Where are you from?"
Silas exhaled sharply, his irritation barely concealed. "Lived in District 3," he replied curtly.
Ezra raised an eyebrow at his tone but didn't back down. "Huh. Never been there. What's it like?"
Silas shot him a pointed look, his patience wearing thin. "Stop with the questions. It's getting ridiculous."
Ezra smirked, leaning back against his pillow. "Hey, there's no harm in getting to know my roommate," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "We live together, might as well have a conversation."
Silas rolled his eyes in irritation, turning his back to Ezra, clearly hoping to end the conversation.
"Any siblings?" Ezra pressed, ignoring the clear signs of annoyance. Then, with a teasing grin, he added, "Also, why do you look like a girl?"
Silas stiffened. Slowly, he turned back around, an eyebrow raised, his expression etched with barely concealed irritation. His jaw tightened as he exhaled sharply through his nose, as if forcing himself to remain composed.
"Just one," he finally muttered through gritted teeth." I probably take after my mother."
Annoyed with the relentless questions, Silas, now visibly irritated, barely lifted his fingers, flicking them in a lazy motion. A soft shimmer rippled through the air, distorting the space around Ezra. The sensation was immediate—his stomach flipped, his vision blurred, and suddenly, everything felt wrong.
'Huh? What's happening…?'
He glanced down at his hands—except they weren't his hands.
Instead of his normal fingers, webbed, frog-like limbs covered in greenish skin stared back at him. His heart pounded as he frantically turned toward the window, and there—a small, bug-eyed gremlin gawked at him, its grotesque features exaggerated under the dim lighting. His reflection mimicked his every move, its wide, gaping mouth opening in unison with his own.
Ezra lifted his trembling hands—or rather, his skinny, clawed arms—his breath catching in horror.
His brain finally caught up with what had happened.
He let out a panicked yelp, stumbling backward.
"WHAT THE FU—"
Except—what left his mouth wasn't words.
A sharp, high-pitched croak echoed through the room.
His eyes widened in horror.
Silas, completely unfazed, flipped a page in his book with a bored expression.
"Congratulations. You're a toad. Maybe now you'll stop croaking in my ear."
Ezra's jaw dropped—another croak came out instead of a curse. He clenched his fists (or what used to be fists) and glared at Silas, but the effect was somewhat lost considering he looked like a horrified amphibian.
'This bastard—!'
He hopped forward—literally hopped, his legs springing like a reflex he hadn't agreed to.
"Fix. This." He tried to say, but all that came out was a furious sequence of frantic croaks.
" Ordering me around won't work , it'll only make me resist more ."Silas finally looked up, his lips twitching into a smirk. "Wow, you even sound like one. Impressive."
Ezra fumed, hopping toward him aggressively. He wanted to grab Silas by the collar and shake him, but instead, he just flailed his tiny, useless gremlin arms at him.
Silas leaned back against the headboard, eyes half-lidded with amusement. "You'll be fine. It's just a glamour. You'll turn back in an day."
A. Day.
Ezra froze.
Silas quirked an eyebrow, feigning curiosity. "Unless… you prefer staying this way?"
Ezra shot him a murderous glare—or at least, the best a toad-gremlin could manage.