Chapter 5

Day Two

I hadn’t really slept. The mattress was soft and the blankets warm, but none of it could quiet the buzzing in my chest. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the note pinned to my door: Hope you don’t explode again.

The words haunted me. They clung to the inside of my skull like mold. I didn’t need a signature to know who wrote it, or why. Someone already saw me as dangerous. A threat. And once that idea took root in people’s minds, it rarely died. I knew that lesson well.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I’d ever truly feel safe here. The walls didn’t feel like a prison, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still being watched.

When the tower bells chimed six times, a quiet resonance that pulsed through the stone walls, I finally moved. I slipped from the bed and padded barefoot to the tall window. The orchard below was cloaked in early morning mist, the soft glow of magic curling between the trees like dream vapor.

It should have been beautiful.

But all I felt was the tight knot in my chest.

I showered quickly, letting the enchanted water warm me from the inside out. The mirror flashed words again—“You’re not what they say.” I didn’t know if the enchantment was smart enough to know what I’d been thinking or if it was just a coincidence. Either way, it startled something inside me.

I got dressed slowly, pulling on the uniform blazer, pressing down the collar, straightening the blue hybrid scarf. I hated how it felt, how it broadcasted what I was before anyone even knew my name. Not that most people cared about names. Not when labels were so much easier to judge.

By the time I made it to the dining hall, the first wave of students had already arrived. The space buzzed with energy, both magical and mundane. I caught fragments of conversations, someone complaining about Potion Science, someone else bragging about surviving a duel in Combat yesterday. There were laughs. Teasing. Banter.

It all felt so... normal.

Naomi waved me over to the same corner table we sat at the day before. She had a cup of something purple and steaming that smelled like lavender and ash.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, eyeing me over the rim of her mug.

I slid into the seat across from her and pulled out the note. It was wrinkled and creased from being clenched in my hand half the night.

She read it once, then again, her smile vanishing.

“Okay. Now I definitely want to hex someone.”

“No,” I said. “Not yet.”

“You’re way too calm about this.”

“I’m used to it.”

She leaned back, her curls bouncing slightly. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve heard all morning.”

I gave a half-smile and picked at a piece of bread that buttered itself. “At least the food is better than what I’m used to.”

Naomi didn’t push, and I appreciated that. We finished breakfast mostly in silence.

Our first class of the day was Hybrid Control.

I knew from the name alone that it was going to be awful.

The classroom was a circular chamber buried in the stone belly of one of the academy’s towers. Faint silver glyphs shimmered across the walls, pulsing like a heartbeat. Professor Kael stood at the center. She was terrifying, tall, elegant, with skin like polished marble and eyes the color of glaciers.

“Hybrids,” she said, voice sharp and clipped. “You are the most volatile magic-bearers this academy will ever see. And the most likely to self-destruct.”

Not a great start.

She walked slowly around the circle of students. “Control is your only path to survival. Lose it, and you burn. Burn others. Burn yourself. Do not assume that because you were accepted here, you are safe. Magic does not care for acceptance.”

I swallowed hard.

We were instructed to step forward, one at a time, and place our hand on a magical orb that would register our stability level. Naomi went before me. When she touched it, it shimmered softly, glowing green with faint golden sparks. Stable.

Then it was my turn.

I didn’t want to move. My feet felt like they were made of stone. But Kael didn’t break her gaze. I stepped forward.

The moment my fingers met the orb, a wave of heat shot up my arm. The orb flared, brilliant silver light burst from within, so bright I had to look away. A thin crack zigzagged down the crystal, and a low chime rang through the room.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Interesting,” Professor Kael murmured, writing something down.

A boy in the back chuckled. “Freak alert.”

I turned, locking eyes with him. I didn’t know his name, but his face was the kind I recognized: smug, entitled, the kind that always saw me as less. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, her growl low and hungry.

Kael didn’t say anything else. She just moved on. I returned to my seat, my body stiff, hands trembling beneath the desk.

“I thought it was kind of beautiful,” Naomi whispered.

I didn’t reply.

Magical Ethics was next. A lecture-style course in a tall lecture hall lined with enchanted skylights. The professor, a dry, skeletal vampire named Horst, spent the entire hour discussing magical consent and political neutrality in inter-realm diplomacy.

My thoughts drifted. I couldn’t stop replaying the orb’s light, the crack, the looks from the other students.

I wanted to be invisible. But it was too late for that.

At lunch, I tried to sit at a new table. I didn’t want Naomi to feel like she had to babysit me.

Big mistake.

As soon as I sat down, the conversation around the table died. A girl with platinum hair and amber eyes stared at me for a long moment.

Then she said loudly, “I heard she burned down half her old pack’s grounds. Left them with a crater.”

Someone snickered.

“I heard she tried to kill their Alpha’s son.”

“She’s probably cursed. Look at those eyes.”

I stood, hands clenched into fists, and left before I could do something I’d regret.

Naomi found me near the east courtyard again, by the koi pond.

“You’ve got a hell of a rumor mill following you,” she said.

“I didn’t do half the things they say.”

“And the other half?”

I looked away. “Not on purpose.”

Combat class was the final straw.

The arena was a massive structure beneath the training wing. Black stone floors. Runes etched into the ceiling. I felt it the moment I walked in, every instinct in me screamed danger.

Commander Ashwin was built like a siege tower. Scarred, grim, and clearly not interested in small talk.

“You fight or you fall,” he barked. “I don’t care where you came from. I care what you can do.”

He paired us off. Guess who I got?

Platinum-hair’s best friend. The smug one from earlier. His name was Zane. Of course it was.

He smirked, stretching his shoulders. “Try not to cry when I knock you flat.”

I stayed silent. Always better that way.

He lunged first, fast and clean. He knew how to fight. But so did I. Pain taught me. Survival taught me. I ducked, twisted, and swept his feet out from under him before he could land a second blow.

He hit the mat with a grunt, rolled, and came up again, this time, angry.

His fist flew toward my face.

I blocked.

And then it happened.

A burst of light exploded from my palm. Silver flames arced across the space between us, singing the air.

He fell back, eyes wide. Students scrambled away. Some cheered. Others whispered.

Commander Ashwin walked toward me slowly, like approaching a live bomb.

“You’ve got a spark,” he said. “But no control. You’ll either kill someone or burn out.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I said quietly.

He didn’t blink. “Meet me here at dawn tomorrow. Private sessions. Or don’t bother coming back.”

I stood there for a long time after class, watching the scorch mark fade from the stone.

That night, I returned to my room exhausted. My bones ached. My thoughts buzzed. I dropped my bag and collapsed onto the bed.

There was a second note waiting on the floor.

You won’t last the week. Hybrids never do.

I stared at it.

And then I burned it.

I sat there in the dark for a long time, staring at the flames until they were gone.

They didn’t know me. Not yet.

But they would.

I would last the week.

I would last the year.

And when I left this place, I wouldn’t be their mistake.

I’d be their reckoning.