The heat died with a sudden, suffocating snap. The girl collapsed to her knees, the smell of scorched wool clinging to her hair as the last of the orange embers flickered out against the cold, sandy ground. She looked down, her long hair falling like a veil to hide her piercing blue eyes. Her lips trembled, the words catching in her throat.
"I-I-It’s g-got t-to be a j-j-joke!" she whispered. Tears tracked silver lines down her soot-stained cheeks, dripping onto the dry earth.
Another girl, her dark orange hair pulled back in a high, practical ponytail, stepped forward. She reached down, her grip firm and grounding as she helped her stand.
"Do you need to go to your dorm?" she asked softly, wiping a smudge of ash from Macy's cheek. "I’m Rosey."
"Thanks, Rosey," Macy managed a small, shaky nod. "I’m Macy."
Rosey gave a quick, sharp wave to Ura and Quinn before bolting off. Her speed was uncanny—when she leapt over the low stone wall, she didn’t just jump; she seemed to dance through the air, her feet barely touching the sky before she vanished toward the dormitories.
But as the dust settled, a new shadow fell over the courtyard.
"Oh, dear," Ura said, his voice dripping with a mock sympathy that sent a chill down the spine. "What should we do with you?"
"Isn’t it clear?" Lucia scoffed, stepping forward with a jagged, cruel smile. Her eyes narrowed into predatory slits. "Send her down to Ignus! Let him deal with the leftovers."
"Lucia," Quinn interrupted, his voice steady and cold. "Watch your language. The walls here have ears, and Ignus doesn't take kindly to those who speak his name in jest."
"Sorry!" Lucia laughed, though there was no humor in it. "Just joking. Don’t take it so seriously."
A younger girl, Ella, bowed her head deeply. "Ms. Lucia... it’s time for geography class."
Lucia nodded, her expression shifting instantly to one of bored command. "Let’s go, Ella!" Before she turned to leave, she shot Eilara a look of pure, concentrated hate—a silent promise that this conversation wasn't over.
In the geography wing, the air smelled of old parchment and stagnant dust. Eilara sat at the very back of the room, the wood of the desk feeling unnaturally cold beneath her palms. Kael sat like a statue to her left, his presence a heavy, silent weight, while Mary Beth chewed nervously on the end of her quill. To her right, Zedvick was lost in his own world, his fingers stained with ink.
Across the room, Macy sat huddled between Rosey and Lucia, who was flanked by her usual circle of whispering minions.
"Today we will be studying grasslands!" Professor Mole announced, his voice cracking the silence. A collective groan rippled through the room.
As the lesson went on, Mole tapped a long wooden pointer against a massive map of Nyxarium. He spoke of trade routes and soil, his pointer dancing across the various fields of the kingdom. But as Eilara watched, she noticed a pattern. There was a small, jagged patch of gray on the map—a void that Mole’s pointer purposely skipped every time it passed.
Eilara’s hand shot into the air, cutting through the stagnant air of the classroom.
"Yes?" Mole pointed at her. "Go ahead, Miss Moore."
"You missed one," Eilara said, her voice echoing in the sudden quiet. She pointed directly at the gray smudge. "That small area right there. That is also a grassland, isn't it?"
The chalk snapped in the Professor’s hand. The color drained from his face, leaving his skin the gray of old parchment. He didn't look at Eilara; he looked at the heavy oak doors of the classroom, as if checking for listening shadows.
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"We do not talk about that, Miss Moore," he whispered, his voice trembling with a sudden, sharp terror. "That place is... forbidden."62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgssh3MK0e5
and then Add to home screen.