Diana and Reina go to their assigned Dorm rooms. their rooms were in the class A dorm rooms in the first floor.
John says good bye then he goes into the elevator to the fourth floor where his room was situated.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and John stepped out into the main hallway of the residential wing. The effect was instantaneous. The hum of dozens of conversations died a sudden, awkward death.
Students froze in mid-step, their eyes fixed on him. To some, he was a legend; to others, a cautionary tale. The name John Wintlock carried a weight that tended to suck the air out of a room.
"Is that him?" a voice whispered from the back of the cluster. "The Wintlock heir?"
"Shut up," another hissed, pulling their friend back. "Do you want him to hear you?"
John let out a weary sigh, the sound echoing in the unnatural silence. He kept his eyes forward, but just as the elevator doors began to hiss shut behind him, a hand clamped between them, forcing them back open.
"John? You actually enrolled."
The voice was like silk—sweet, melodic, and carrying a hint of genuine surprise. "I never thought you'd actually show your face here."
John stopped and turned. Standing in the center of the lift was Serena. She looked as effortless as ever, her blonde hair perfectly caught in the overhead light, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. She stepped out into the hall, her presence demanding just as much attention as John's, but for entirely different reasons.
"It's been a long time, Serena," John said, his voice softening slightly. "How have you been?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she swept a slow, amused gaze over the crowd of students who were still gawking at them like they were exhibits in a museum.
"Oh, I've been well," she purred, stepping closer to him. "Though it seems you've brought a bit of a storm with you. Are they all your fans, John? Or are they just waiting for you to do something terrifying so they can run away?"
John didn't give the crowd the satisfaction of a glance. He simply turned and began walking down the corridor. Serena didn't hesitate; she fell into step beside him, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor. The sea of students parted like she was leading him through a minefield.
They reached the end of the hall where the numbers climbed into the four-hundreds. John came to a halt in front of a heavy, dark-wood door.
"Room 412," John muttered, checking his keycard. He turned to her, nodding slightly. "Alright. I'll see you around, Serena."
He expected her to keep walking toward the elite suites, but she didn't move. Instead, she leaned against the wall, a playful smirk dancing in her eyes as she gestured to the door directly opposite his.
"Actually," she said, her voice dropping to a mischievous lilt, "you'll see me sooner than you think. It seems the Academy has a sense of humor."
She tapped her own keycard against the reader of Room 413. The lock clicked open.
"We're neighbors, John. Try not to keep me up with your 'training'—I need my beauty sleep if I'm going to keep up with your reputation."
John smiles "good luck with your roommate"
John opens the room with the keycard and goes inside
The suite was massive—far too clean and expensive for a pair of guys who usually had dirt under their fingernails. John walked through the sleek living room toward the first bedroom, hearing the distinct sound of a blade being sharpened.
He pushed the door open to find Michael sitting on the edge of a pristine white bed, looking entirely out of place.
Michael looked up, his eyes hard for a second before they crinkled into a dark, knowing smirk. "Well, look at that. They let the bitch in through the front door."
John let out a short, sharp laugh. "Yeah, and I see they let the bastard in through the trash chute. Good to see you're still breathing, Mike."
John leaned against the doorframe, sweeping a hand across the air with mock-grandeur. "Come on, man. The best years of your life are about to begin. You're at Aethercore! Smile a little. It's what a hero would do."
Michael's grin vanished. His hand drifted to his jaw, his thumb tracing the jagged line of his scar. "Fuck off," he spat, the sarcasm hitting a nerve. "Seriously, John. Look at this place. Do I look like a hero to you? Do any of us?"
He stood up, pacing the small space like a caged animal. "I know who our parents were. I know the legends people tell about yours and mine. But look at us. We haven't done a damn thing to deserve this. We're just legacies riding on bloodlines that are too big for us to carry. It's all utter bullshit."
He stopped, staring at the floor, before letting out a long, ragged sigh that deflated his anger. "Whatever. Fuck it. We're here now."
John watched him for a moment. He knew that feeling—the weight of a name you hadn't earned yet. But instead of getting heavy, he just gave Michael a mocking salute. "Spoken like a true poet, dickhead. Try not to set the room on fire while I go find my bed."
John turned and left, his own smile fading just a fraction once Michael couldn't see it anymore.
then John goes into his bedroom then it was night time now. he had classes tomorrow. he slowly lied down on his bed and went to sleep.
The silence of the night was shattered by a sound that didn't belong in a school: a raw, blood-curdling scream that seemed to vibrate through the very walls.
John bolted upright, his heart hammering against his ribs. He didn't wait. He threw back the covers and reached the living room just as Michael stepped out of his own bedroom, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of a combat knife he'd kept under his pillow.
"You heard that too?" Michael's voice was a low growl.
John nodded, his face grim. "A girl. Just outside."
They stepped into the hallway and were met with chaos. Doors were flung open, and students were huddled in groups, whispering in hushed, terrified tones. At the center of the hall, a girl was collapsed on the floor, sobbing hysterically while a few brave students tried to console her.
The door to the opposite suite clicked open, and Serena stepped out. Even half-asleep and wrapped in a silk robe, she looked regal, though her eyes were sharp with alarm. "What is this? Why is there a riot at three in the morning?"
"Whatever it is," Michael muttered, his eyes narrowed at the crying girl, "it better be worth the lost sleep."
John didn't wait for an explanation. He pushed through the crowd, his presence acting like a cold front that silenced the murmurs. He knelt in front of the sobbing girl. "Alright, enough," he said, his voice quiet but commanding. "What happened?"
The girl looked up, her face pale with terror. She pointed a trembling finger toward her open dorm room. "My roommate... she's gone mad. The shadows—they just started moving!"
"It's the Witch," a boy in the back whispered, his voice trembling. "The Blackwood girl. I told you she was cursed."
The name sent a chill through the hallway. Everyone knew the story of the Blackwood family. A prestigious bloodline wiped out in a single, crimson night, leaving only a young red-haired girl behind. The rumors said Wanda Blackwood hadn't survived the massacre—she had caused it.
John stood up and walked toward the room. Serena and Michael followed close behind, the rest of the students keeping a safe distance.
Inside, the scene was unsettling. Several upperclassmen had used reinforced mana-ropes to tie a girl to a chair. Wanda sat there, her head bowed, her long red hair shielding her face. She was eerily still.
John stepped toward her, the temperature in the room seemingly dropping with every step. He reached out, tilting her chin up.
The moment their eyes met, Wanda's face split into a wide, unnatural grin. She began to laugh—a high-pitched, manic sound that didn't sound human. As the laughter grew louder, the windows began to spider-web, the glass groaning under a sudden, invisible pressure.
"She's losing it!" Michael warned, his hand tightening on his blade.
John didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He leaned in, pressing his right index finger firmly against Wanda's forehead.
In an instant, the golden light of the room seemed to get sucked into his pupils. John's eyes turned a void-like, pitch black.
"BEGONE."
The word wasn't a shout; it was a command that echoed in their very souls.
The pressure in the room vanished. The cracking glass stopped. Wanda's laughter was cut short as her eyes rolled back, and her head slumped forward into John's hand. The darkness in John's eyes receded just as quickly as it had appeared.
A minute of heavy silence passed before Wanda groaned, her eyes fluttering open—this time, they were clear, though filled with a deep, aching sadness.
Serena moved in quickly, her hands glowing with a soft, diagnostic light as she checked Wanda's pulse. "How are you feeling, Wanda?"
The girl looked up at the three of them, her lip trembling before she broke into quiet, jagged sobs. "I'm fine... I'm so sorry. It happened again, didn't it?"
John looked down at her, his expression unreadable, but his tone was softer than before. "It's over now. It won't happen again tonight."
Michael walked to the doorway, leaning against the frame as he glared at the roommate still shivering in the hall. "You can come back in now," he called out, his voice dripping with annoyance. "The show's over. Go to sleep."
"I'm not sleeping in there with that!" the girl shouted, her voice shrill. "She's a monster! She needs to be kicked out!"
Michael's jaw clenched, his patience finally snapping. "Then sleep in the hallway for all I care. Stop acting like a brat and shut up so the rest of us can get some rest."
John looked at the crying roommate, then back at Wanda, who looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.
Serena sighed, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on Wanda's shoulder. "You shouldn't stay here tonight. Come to my room. You can take the guest bed, if that's okay with you?"
Wanda looked at Serena with wide, disbelieving eyes, then nodded slowly. Serena led her out of the room, shielding her from the hateful glares of the other students as they disappeared into room 413.
The crowd dispersed quickly once the "Witch" was gone, leaving John and Michael alone in the hallway.
"That trick with your eyes," Michael said quietly, looking at John. "That's new."
"Let's just go to sleep, Mike," John replied, turning back toward their suite. "We have class in four hours."