The first few weeks of life at the academy were a rough adjustment for the newly formed squad of Chimera House. From the start, it seemed as though fate itself conspired against them. Their barracks were always the farthest from every classroom, tucked so deep into the grounds that the path wound like a maze through overgrown courtyards and half-forgotten halls. Deliveries often arrived hours late because messengers became lost in the twisting passages, and visitors almost never bothered to attempt the journey at all.
The barracks themselves felt strange, as though they had been built in a different age and never meant to stand among the other houses. The walls were darker, the windows narrower, and the stone seemed to drink the light of torches instead of reflecting it. Students from other houses whispered that even the air felt heavier inside Chimera, carrying a chill no fire could fully chase away.
The stigma of the house followed them everywhere. When they entered the dining halls, nearby conversations dipped into uneasy murmurs. Other Guardian squads exchanged glances and shifted their seats to put more distance between themselves and the "cursed house." A few bold students crossed themselves with small sigils of protection whenever Chimera walked by, muttering charms under their breath. Even their fellow Guardians—who prided themselves on fearlessness—refused to partner with them for training drills, afraid that simply standing beside Chimera would invite misfortune.
At first, the squad tried to shrug it off. They told themselves the rumors were only childish superstition, exaggerated to keep the house unpopular. But the weeks dragged on, and isolation weighed heavier with each passing day. Bonds frayed at the edges. Whispers of resentment spread quietly among them, always returning to the same root: Daxom's choice.
It wasn't fair, some thought, that one decision should doom them all. More than one squadmate admitted privately that they felt betrayed, that Daxom had doomed their reputations before they'd even had the chance to prove themselves. It was one thing to train hard and fail on their own merit. It was another to live under the shadow of a curse they'd never agreed to carry.
Even the small victories—passing a difficult exercise, impressing an instructor—seemed hollow when the other houses rolled their eyes and muttered, "Chimera got lucky this time."
The barracks that should have been their home felt like a prison of stone and whispers. And in the middle of it all, Daxom carried the silent burden of his choice, feeling the weight of every doubtful stare. A soft knock broke the silence of Daxom's quarters. He looked up from the parchment on his desk, quill still in hand, already guessing who it was.
"Come in, Axel."
The door creaked open. Axel's sandy head appeared, his brows lifting in surprise. "How did you know it was me?"
Daxom allowed himself the faintest smile. "You're the only one who knocks three times, with a pause in the middle. No one else in the house is that predictable."
Axel stepped in, closing the door carefully behind him. "Fair point." He shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyway… I wanted to talk. About how things are going for us as a house."
Daxom set his quill aside, reading the concern in his friend's posture. He gestured to the worn couch by the wall. "Sit down."
Axel dropped into the cushions with a sigh. Daxom pulled a chair close and sat facing him, waiting.
"It's not just me," Axel admitted after a pause. "It's everyone. Even Taya—and you know Sagittarians never admit when something's bothering them. We've all been saying it: maybe choosing Chimera wasn't the best idea."
The words hung in the air like smoke. Daxom leaned back, folding his hands together, expression calm though the sting pricked at him. "I understand, Axel. Believe me, I've wondered the same thing myself. But I need you to hear me on this."
Axel raised a skeptical brow.
"This is a good thing," Daxom continued. "We just don't see it yet. You and I—we've been through worse than whispers and long walks." His eyes softened as memories surfaced. "Remember when our parents dragged us across half of Semsara? Every time I'd get settled in one place, I'd have to pack up and start over. And who was always there, hauling boxes with me, learning the names of strangers, dealing with the new schools and new stares?"
Axel gave a wry smile. "Yeah. Me. Moving buddies for life."
"Exactly," Daxom said. "That wasn't easy. But we got through it. We always do."
Axel chuckled under his breath. "You know, it's not easy for a Libra and a Virgo to be on the same page. But maybe you being a cusp helps us meet in the middle."
Daxom laughed with him, but his tone turned serious again. "I need you to trust me, Axel. Have I ever given you a reason not to? In all the years we've known each other?"
Axel leaned back, pretending to think it over. "Well…"
Daxom swatted his arm playfully.
"Alright, alright!" Axel grinned. "No, you haven't."
Daxom extended his hand, palm steady. Their old handshake was more than habit; it was a pact. "Then trust me now. I won't let anything happen to this team."
Axel clasped his hand firmly, grip strong. "Alright, boss. I'm with you."
When Daxom and Axel finally came down the stairwell, the common room was silent. The rest of the squad sat waiting, eyes flicking up like children bracing for punishment. Every pair of shoulders was tense, every glance sharp with suspicion.
The sight of the two boys descending side by side, laughing faintly as though nothing were wrong, caught them off guard.
Vin, the more anxious of the Gemini twins, immediately sprang to his feet. "Called it! We're finished. We're all going to be charged with mutiny, and then executed, or expelled, or worse—"
"Vinny." Reed, his mirror and opposite, leaned back against the table with a lazy grin. "You really should think positive for once. Not every conversation ends in doom. Sometimes it ends in dessert."
"It's never dessert!" Vin groaned, throwing up his hands. "It's always disaster."
Together, they embodied what the academy called a True Gemini—children born directly in the center of their sign's span, carrying duality in its purest form. Most Gemini leaned one way or the other, borrowing traits from their neighboring signs. But True Gemini existed in extremes. Vin radiated constant negativity and paranoia; Reed countered with endless optimism and bravado. The result was a never-ending duet of contradiction.
"Besides, mutiny is only on ships," Daxom cut in dryly, his voice carrying calm authority. "And last I checked, we're on dry land."
A ripple of nervous laughter ran through the squad, breaking the tension.
Daxom stepped fully into the room, Axel close at his side. "Listen, I want to be clear. I'm not angry at anyone for voicing concerns. In fact, I respect it. It takes courage to speak against authority. It takes even more to speak against a friend. So don't hold your tongues. If you've got an opinion, I want to hear it—loud."
The group exchanged uncertain looks. Slowly, they relaxed, the hard edge of fear softening into curiosity.
"I understand it's not easy to follow someone you barely know," Daxom went on. "But ask Axel—he's known me since we were young. We've been through years of chaos together. And if there's one thing he can tell you, it's that I'll never abandon those I call my own. All I want is for this team to succeed. And I promise, I'll fight for every single one of you as long as you fight for each other."
Silence lingered for a moment, then Vin muttered, "So… no mutiny?"
Reed elbowed him. "No mutiny. Dinner, maybe."
That earned a genuine laugh from the group, and with it came relief. The heavy weight that had been pressing on the common room seemed to lift at last.
What followed was the first true night of bonding Chimera House had known. They pulled chairs close, spread books across tables, and began helping each other with assignments. Between study sessions came jokes, stories from home, and small competitions over who could finish exercises fastest. For a few fleeting hours, Chimera wasn't cursed—it was just another squad of friends figuring out their place in the academy.
And when the candles finally burned low, no one wanted the night to end. Fortunately, there were no classes in the morning. So the laughter went on, echoing down the halls of their "cursed" house until the moon had long since crossed the sky.
The morning after their night of rare camaraderie hit like a hammer. Though no classes were scheduled, the headmaster had ordered a full assembly for all Casters and Guardians, a mandatory gathering to set the tone for the year.
For most squads, it was a minor inconvenience. For Chimera, it was torture.
They arrived last, of course—shuffling into the great hall with the slow, awkward gait of soldiers already defeated by battle. Their attempts at stealth were pitiful. Boots scuffed too loudly, cloaks snagged on doorframes, and at least one chair screeched as they tried to slide past an occupied row.
Laughter bubbled in the audience before the headmaster even acknowledged them. Ella, seated among the Casters, caught sight of Daxom and stifled a gasp. His usual composure was cracked—eyes shadowed, jaw clenched, shoulders stiff as though every sound in the hall were a hammer blow. She pressed a hand to her mouth, laughter spilling through her fingers despite herself.
Headmaster Andros, standing tall at the dais, folded his hands behind his back. His voice rang clear. "How nice of Chimera House to join us this morning."
The entire hall turned.
"I'm certain everyone here is dying to know why you were late," he continued, his lips twitching toward a smirk. "But from the looks of you…" His eyes roamed over their pale faces, glassy stares, and awkward steps. "…the answer is obvious."
He raised one hand in mock formality. "Let's give Chimera House a round of applause for their effort."
The chamber erupted.
It wasn't applause so much as thunder—loud, merciless, and punishing. Hundreds of hands clapped in unison, echoing like rolling storm clouds. For a hungover student, the sound was agony.
Daxom clenched his jaw and tried to walk with dignity, but the twitch in his temple betrayed the battle raging inside his skull. His squadmates fared no better.
Vin and Reed had improvised a solution—taking turns wearing a blindfold, leading the other by the hand as if the dimmed light might ease their headache. The sight drew more laughter from nearby students.
Taya chewed grimly on a bundle of bitter herbs, a so-called Sagittarian remedy her grandmother swore by. It tasted foul, smelled worse, and did nothing at all—though she pretended otherwise.
Axel came prepared, as always. He wore enchanted earplugs that muted the applause to a bearable thrum and tinted shades that shielded his eyes. He nodded solemnly at Daxom as if to say, you should've asked me last night, I had extras.
The squad collapsed into their seats at the very back of the hall, the applause finally subsiding into scattered chuckles. Daxom exhaled slowly, trying to regain his composure. But the message was clear: their reputation as the cursed house had just gotten worse.
Andros allowed the room to settle before speaking again. His voice carried easily, crisp and commanding, each word echoing against the vaulted ceiling.
"Today," he announced, "I am proud to reveal the commencement of the Seven Hundred Forty-Third Annual Tournament of Magic."
A murmur swept the hall, excitement sparking instantly. Even the most jaded students leaned forward, eager to hear the details.
"This tournament," Andros continued, "is open to all students of the academy, both Guardians and Casters. It is not a test of raw strength alone, nor of rare gifts, but of discipline, creativity, and adaptability. Magic in the contest will be restricted to spells that every student here is capable of learning, so victory will not come from secret blessings or obscure talents. Victory will belong to the clever, the prepared, and the determined. It will end," he paused, letting anticipation thicken, "only when one remains standing."
Gasps rippled through the younger students. Whispers of "last one standing" passed from bench to bench. The older students smirked knowingly; they had seen the bruises and scars that last year's tournament left behind.
Andros raised his hand. A servant stepped forward, carrying a gleaming silver case. With deliberate ceremony, the headmaster opened it to reveal a vial of glowing powder. The fine dust shimmered like starlight caught in liquid, each grain reflecting dozens of colors at once.
"The prizes," Andros said, letting the words drip with weight, "are worthy of the challenge. The first: glory. Your squad's name engraved upon the Tournament Trophy for all of Semsara to see. The second: a vial of ground unicorn horn for each member of the victorious squad."
The hall erupted into whispers again. Unicorn horn was rare, forbidden outside of sacred channels, and whispered to amplify magic beyond normal limits.
"And the final prize…" Andros closed the case and gestured toward the dais behind him. A glass dome rose slowly from the floor, revealing a single golden grain of sand suspended in a cushion of light.
"…a grain of sand from the Temple of Tempus itself. With it, the bearer may shift time forward or backward by two minutes."
The crowd exploded. Students gasped, shouted, clapped, and even stood on benches to get a better look. Some eyes glistened with awe; others burned with envy. The chance to hold even a fragment of temporal power was enough to change a life forever.
At the back of the hall, Axel leaned forward, his excitement barely contained. "We need this," he hissed. "This is exactly what Chimera House needs. If we win, we'll shake off the curse forever."
"Calm down, Axel," Daxom whispered back, trying to steady him. "It's not that simple. We need to think about what each of us brings to the fight, weigh the pros and cons—"
"Let's do it!" Vin and Reed burst out in unison, their voices far too loud.
The entire row turned toward them.
Andros' eyes narrowed, gaze locking onto the back row. "Something Chimera House would like to share with everyone?"
Every head in the chamber twisted to stare at Daxom's squad. Heat rose in his chest as he stood hesitantly, scrambling for words.
"Well… um… we're just excited, Headmaster," Daxom managed. "Excited enough that, for the first time in a long while, Chimera House will be entering the tournament in full."
The hall gasped. His squad whipped toward him, mouths open.
"WHAT?!" they shouted together.
Andros smiled faintly, enjoying the chaos. "Daxom Tyrell, and House Chimera—it is an honor to have your participation. However…" His tone darkened, sharp as a blade. "One of your members is dangerously behind in their studies. Should they fail to meet the academic standard, your pledge will be broken. And the consequence will be shared by the entire house—both inside and outside of the tournament."
The roar of whispers surged again.
Daxom felt the weight of his squad's glares burning into him. He bowed his head slightly. "We will work tirelessly, Headmaster. Together, we'll raise our marks and ensure everyone qualifies."
Andros' expression softened into a knowing smile. "I believe you will."
The chamber buzzed with murmurs as the announcement closed, but all Daxom could feel were the dagger-like eyes of his own squad boring into his back.
By the time they returned to their barracks, the air around Chimera House felt heavier than stone. The moment the door shut behind them, the squad rounded on Daxom like a pack of wolves.
"Dax, what in the gods' names was that back there?" Axel demanded, his voice sharp.
Shen threw his arms up. "You pledged all of us! To the whole school!"
Even usually calm Lilith crossed her arms, her silver eyes narrowed. "Do you even realize what you've done?"
Daxom raised his hands, trying to steady the tide. "I'm sorry, alright? I panicked. Andros put us on the spot. If I'd said nothing, he would have humiliated us worse in front of everyone."
"You could have blamed it on a sneeze," Axel snapped, his tone biting.
The simplicity of it hit Daxom like a blade. His jaw tightened. In his mind he replayed the moment, Andros' eyes boring into him, the whole hall watching. A sneeze. A cough. Anything would have been better than what he'd actually done.
He groaned, dragging his hand down his face. "What have I done?"
The squad's frustration simmered in silence. For the first time, Daxom felt their confidence in him teetering on the edge of collapse.
A knock at the door broke the tension.
The Academy messenger stood waiting, scroll in hand. "Daxom Tyrell," he announced. "A message from the headmaster."
The squad parted, giving the messenger a wide berth as though the scroll itself carried a curse. Daxom took it with trembling fingers, the wax seal heavy with the Libra crest.
He broke it open and unrolled the parchment. The ink gleamed dark for a moment before his eyes:
Daxom Tyrell of House Chimera,
Below are the grades of your house members. Improvements must be made to ensure all are eligible. I look forward to seeing ALL of Chimera House at the tournament.
– Headmaster Andros Mars
Axel Fawks: B, C, B, B, A, B
Taya: A, A, B, A, B, B
Vin and Reed Tangelous: B, B, C, B, B, C
Daxom Tyrell: C, B, C, C, A, F
I expect a great improvement, Mr. Tyrell.
The ink shimmered once, then dissolved into the parchment, vanishing until the scroll was blank. Only Daxom's memory carried the truth.
His chest tightened. He could almost feel his squad's eyes on him, waiting, expecting. If he told them the truth—if they learned their leader was the one dragging them down—it could shatter them before the tournament even began.
"Well?" Axel pressed, arms folded. "What did it say?"
Daxom forced a steady tone, folding the scroll. "Nothing important. Just that the headmaster wants us all working harder so no one falls behind. He's looking forward to seeing Chimera House compete together."
The squad exchanged uneasy glances. No one pressed further, though doubt lingered in the air.
Axel's eyes lingered on Daxom a beat too long. His friend's stare said what his words did not: I know you're hiding something.
Another knock came at the barracks door. The squad stiffened, half-expecting more bad news, but when it swung open, the tension broke instantly. Rose stepped inside, carrying a scroll tied neatly with ribbon.
Her presence was like sunlight breaking through cloud—warm, bright, impossible to ignore. A smile spread across Daxom's face despite himself, and Rose's lips mirrored it. She had always had that effect on him: a way of softening sharp edges in a room.
"Hey, Dax," Rose greeted, her tone cheerful.
"Rose," Daxom replied, standing to meet her. "What brings you here?"
"Well," she said with a teasing tilt of her head, "Ella couldn't make it out herself, so I agreed to deliver this." She held out the scroll. Even before he touched it, Daxom caught the faintest trace of Ella's perfume clinging to the ribbon—sweet, familiar, and painfully intimate. His heart tightened in his chest.
Axel, however, didn't notice the perfume. His attention was fixed entirely on Rose. He had begged Daxom for introductions before, yet every time opportunity struck, his courage failed him. Now, with Rose standing only a few paces away, his mind raced in circles.
Rose noticed his gaze and turned toward him, smiling softly. "Hi, Axel."
Axel froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. For a moment he actually glanced around the room as if searching for another Axel. When he realized she meant him, he jabbed a thumb at his own chest. "Who? Me?"
Rose chuckled, covering her mouth. "Yes, you, silly."
Something like hope flickered in Axel's eyes. He straightened, took one bold step toward her—and immediately tripped over the rug, collapsing face-first with a spectacular thud.
The squad erupted in laughter.
Rose gasped, rushing forward. "Oh my gods, Axel! Are you alright?"
His voice came muffled from the floor. "I think the rug has it out for me today."
That only made the others laugh harder. Even Daxom, while unrolling Ella's scroll, couldn't suppress a grin. Rose helped Axel up, her hand lingering in his longer than strictly necessary, and the poor boy's ears turned crimson.
Meanwhile, Daxom's world narrowed to the words written in Ella's familiar hand:
Dearest Daxom,
I heard you promise that your whole house would compete. If you need help with your studies, please let me know. I can meet you to review, and Rose has also agreed to help—she's passing that class.
Yes, I know which one you're failing. And yes, I still believe in you.
All my love,
Ella
The letters swam slightly before his eyes. Relief and dread mingled in his chest. Relief that Ella knew and did not judge him; dread that she saw through him so easily. Her faith in him was a blessing and a burden both.
He folded the scroll carefully, clutching it tighter than he meant to before tucking it away. Around him, the squad's laughter lingered, but his mind was already racing ahead. If they were to survive Chimera's curse, he would have to prove Ella right—prove he could carry them all.
Rose steadied Axel back onto his feet, her hand lingering a moment longer than she meant to. The others teased him with snickers, but when Daxom's expression stayed serious, Axel tried to lighten the mood.
"So…" Axel muttered, rubbing his neck. "Anyone else failing classes too?"
The entire squad turned toward him with eyes sharp enough to cut steel.
Rose, still at his side, elbowed him discreetly and whispered, "Why would you say that?"
From the back of the room, Taya's voice rang out matter-of-factly. "Like it's a secret? We all know Dax is failing a class."
The room froze. Everyone except Rose turned toward her with the same death-stare they'd just given Axel.
"What?" Taya shrugged, utterly unbothered.
A beat of silence passed before Daxom stepped forward. His voice was steady, his posture tall, though the truth of her words burned inside him. "Yes. I am struggling in one class. But that's not going to stop me, and it's not going to stop us."
The squad blinked, surprised by his blunt admission.
Daxom continued, voice rising. "I plan on passing. We all will. Because Chimera isn't just going to compete—we're going to win. We'll win the tournament. We'll prove ourselves in the classroom. And when it's over, we won't be the cursed house anymore. We'll be the top house in this academy."
One by one, the doubt in their faces shifted. Vin frowned but nodded reluctantly. Reed grinned like he'd been waiting for this speech all along. Taya crossed her arms, then tilted her head in grudging agreement. Axel gave the firm nod of a soldier ready to follow his commander into fire.
Daxom raised his fist. "Who's with me?"
The room erupted. "WE ARE!"
His voice thundered again, louder this time. "Who are we?"
Every voice roared in unison, shaking the walls. "CHIMERA HOUSE!"
The chant echoed, rolling through the old stone barracks, reverberating into the dark halls that had once seemed so cursed. For the first time since choosing Chimera, the squad didn't feel like outcasts. They felt like a team.
And though the whispers of the house's dark reputation lingered in the shadows, that night, for a moment, Chimera stood defiant—loud, united, and unafraid.