The corridors of the Sternenkrone Academy were a maze of stone and mana in the early morning light. Sun filtered through high arched windows, casting long golden beams that danced with motes of dust and faint glowing runes on the walls. The air smelled of fresh-baked bread wafting from the kitchens and the sharp tang of polishing spells on the floors. Students bustled past—first-years like me hurrying with books clutched tight, upper-years strolling with the confidence of those who knew the maze by heart. Whispers followed us, as they always did now.
Elara walked on my left, her short brown hair catching the light, uniform crisp and authoritative. Lyra on my right, red hair loose and wild, amulet dangling like a talisman. They flanked me without making it obvious, but it was there—a protective formation born from last night's chaos.
My arms still ached. The scars were pink and fresh, the black veins gone thanks to Miss Vaelith's purification, but the cold lingered under my skin like frost that refused to thaw. Every step pulled at the wounds, a reminder that the poison wasn't fully purged. My mana felt… off. Colder in places, slower to respond. I kept my sleeves rolled down to hide the bandages, but I could feel them there, stiff and binding.
"Head up," Lyra muttered, bumping my shoulder lightly. "You look like you're heading to your execution."
I straightened a little. "Feels like it sometimes."
Elara's voice was low, calm. "You're alive. That's more than most can say after facing watchers."
I glanced at her. "You two act like it's normal."
Lyra grinned. "Normal? No. But it's not the first time we've dealt with weird stuff. Elara's family is full of rune nuts. And me? I climbed from F-Class by breaking rules. Anomalies are kind of our thing."
I nodded, but the word "anomalies" sent a chill through me. The book had called me that. The watchers had. But no one else knew. Not yet. And I wasn't ready to share.
We turned a corner, the cafeteria entrance ahead—wide double doors flung open, the hum of voices and clinking trays spilling out. The smell hit me—bread, porridge, something sweet like honey cakes. My stomach growled despite the ache.
Lyra laughed. "See? Even glitches need food."
We entered.
The cafeteria was massive—long tables divided by rank. Nobles and high-class students near the windows with fresh fruit, meats, glowing mana-infused pastries. Low nobles in the middle with decent spreads. F-Class at the far end—basic porridge, bread, watery fruit. No mixing. No crossing lines.
We headed for the F-Class line. Elara and Lyra didn't hesitate. Heads turned. Whispers started.
"Is that Thorne and Solstice with the F-Class kid?"
"The one with the violet hair?"
"Undefined affinity, right? The late one?"
I kept my eyes on the tray line. Stay invisible. But with two third-years at my side, that ship had sailed.
We loaded trays—porridge and bread for me, extra honey cakes for Lyra, herbal tea and grilled fish for Elara. We found a table in the F-Class corner, away from the main crowd but still visible. I sat with my back to the wall. Old habit.
Lyra dropped into the seat across from me, already tearing into a cake. "Eat. You need the energy."
I picked at the porridge. My stomach was knotted—nerves, pain, the lingering chill of last night. "I'm not very hungry."
Elara sat beside me, closer than necessary. "You need to eat anyway. The poison took a toll. Your body's still recovering."
I forced a spoonful down. It tasted like ash.
We ate in relative quiet for a few minutes. Then Lyra leaned forward, voice low. "So… what now? We can't just pretend last night didn't happen."
Elara sipped her tea. "We need a plan. The book. The watchers. Eryndor's… condition." She glanced at me. "We start with research, we're not going in the library, its too open. My private study is warded. No one gets in without permission. We read the book there—together. Carefully."
Lyra nodded. "And we train you. Properly. You held your own last night, but you're still Novice. We can fix that."
I looked at my hands. The scars were already fading slightly—academy healing was fast—but the memory of the pain lingered. "I don't want to be a burden."
Lyra snorted. "You're not a burden. You're a mystery. And mysteries are fun."
Elara's voice was softer. "You're not a burden. You're one of us now. Whether you like it or not."
I almost smiled. Almost.
Then a shadow fell across the table.
"Well, well. Look who's eating with the big kids."
I looked up.
Draven Blackthorn stood there, tray in hand, smirking. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair slicked back, low-noble uniform perfectly pressed. Two followers flanked him—low-noble boys with matching smirks. He looked down at me like I was something he'd stepped in.
"Vale," he said, drawing out the name. "F-Class trash sitting with Thorne and Solstice? Did you bribe them? Or did they lose a bet?"
Lyra's fork paused halfway to her mouth. Elara's tea cup stopped mid-sip.
I kept my eyes on my porridge. Stay invisible. But Draven wasn't letting it go.
He leaned in, voice loud enough for nearby tables to hear. "Oh, I'm just curious. Undefined affinity, no bloodline, weird hair… and now you're cozy with third-years? What's your secret, commoner? You sell potions? Blackmail? Or are you just that pathetic?"
The cafeteria quieted slightly. Heads turned.
Lyra set her fork down. "Back off, Draven. He's eating."
Draven laughed. "Oh, Solstice speaks. How cute. Protecting the stray?"
Elara put her cup down. Slowly. Deliberately. "You're interrupting breakfast. Leave."
Draven's smirk widened. "Or what? You'll duel me? Or send your pet after me?" He looked at me. "Nothing to say, Vale? Figures. Trash like you—"
I looked up. Quiet. Steady.
"I'm not bothering anyone," I said. "Would you just take a Walk, yeah?, We're trying to enjoy our meal."
I gave him a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes
Elara and Lyra cast me a sideways glance, disbelief flashing between them. The faintest smile crept onto their lips before they masked it and turned to Draven—only to see—
Draven's face reddened, contempt flashing across his features like a spark before an explosion. He leaned closer. "Or what, trash? You'll beat me to death?"
Lyra stood. "He said walk away."
Elara stood too. Her presence was suddenly… heavy. Like the air itself pressed down.
Draven hesitated. His followers shifted uncomfortably.
He straightened, still smirking. "This isn't over, Vale. You don't belong here. And people like me make sure Trash disappears."
He turned, walked off. His friends followed.
The cafeteria slowly returned to normal. Whispers lingered.
I looked down at my porridge. My appetite was gone.
Lyra sat back down. "Ignore him. Draven's all bark. He's been picking on F-Class kids since day one."
Elara's voice was cold. "He's low noble. Jealous of anyone climbing. He'll try to humiliate you publicly. We'll be ready."
I nodded. "I don't want to drag you into my fights."
Lyra bumped my shoulder. "Too late. You're our glitch now."
I looked at them—Elara's steady gaze, Lyra's crooked grin. For the first time, the weight on my chest felt a little lighter.
"Thank you," I said. And this time, I meant it.
Elara stood. "Come on. Breakfast is over. Lets go to my Private Study. We have a book to read. And probably a war to prepare for."
Lyra grinned. "I didn't sign up for a War..but whatever, bring it on"
"A war, huh?, what a start of my Academy Life—"
I stood, legs shaky but holding.
But—
For the first time, I didn't feel like I was walking alone.