Sunlight spilled through the classroom windows, carving sharp lines across the scuffed floor. The classroom was noisy; people telling weekend stories which layered over each other, laughter ricocheting off the walls. Someone near the front was showing off a hand trick. A group by the door was still arguing about yesterday's duel.
Aiden sat by the window, his forehead pressed to the desk, and his eyes half-shut. The voices blurred into static. His head felt heavy cause he hadn't slept much.
Something light smacked the back of his skull.
He lifted his head slightly to see a crumpled paper ball rested by his boot. He didn't need to look to know who threw it. Across the room, Joren leaned back in his chair, grinning wide, Dace and Korrin flanking him like always. All three were watching him, laughing. He was the punchline again.
Aiden's jaw tightened and he opened his mouth—
Then chairs scraped the floor and bodies scrambled back into their seats. The chatter was cut off in seconds.
"Good morning, students."
Professor Veylan stood just inside the doorway, tall and sharp-eyed, his dark coat buttoned to the collar. He set a leather folio on the desk with a soft thud and scanned the room. People sat straighter under that gaze.
"Good morning, Professor Veylan," the class chorused back with uneven voices.
"I trust you all had a pleasant weekend." His tone was flat, almost bored.
This time, the response was weaker. A few murmurs, some nods. Most students were already pulling out notebooks or fiddling with pens, settling into routine.
"Now then." Veylan clasped his hands behind his back. "We have a transfer student joining us today."
A ripple of disinterest moved through the room. A couple of people exchanged glances. One girl yawned into her palm. Transfer students showed up all the time.
Veylan gestured toward the door. "Come in."
She stepped inside, and the room went still.
Aiden who had been staring at a stain on his desk didn't know when he looked up.
She was tall, composed, with dark hair pulled back in a loose tie. Her uniform was crisp. Her posture was straight without being stiff. She moved like she didn't need to prove anything. Her eyes swept the room once.
"Introduce yourself, please," Veylan said.
"I'm Seris Solomon."
Her voice was soft, Clear, and Steady.
The name hit like a stone dropped in still water.
"Solomon?" someone whispered from the middle row.
"Wait—*that* Solomon?"
"The one who summoned seventy-two 72 demons?"
"This is his daughter. My cousin said she cleared a Rift zone solo last year."
The whispers spread fast, threading through the room in tight, electric bursts. Aiden caught pieces of it. He didn't know the details. But he knew what the name meant. Power. Real power.
She's a big shot, he thought. Something twisted in his chest. Not envy. Just… distance. Like watching someone through glass you couldn't break.
"At least we got a real deal this time."
Joren's voice cut through the murmurs. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, smirk plastered across his face. "Not like the clown who calls himself the son of a war hero."
Laughter exploded. A few people clapped. Dace whistled.
Aiden didn't move. His eyes went back to the stain on the desk. He'd heard worse. He'd hear it again tomorrow.
"That's enough."
Veylan's voice cracked through the noise like a whip. The laughter died.
He looked directly at Joren. "Detention. Break period."
Joren's smirk flickered. He shrugged. "Sure, Professor."
Veylan turned back to Seris. His expression softened slightly. "Take a seat. There's one open in the back."
The only empty desk was directly behind Aiden.
Seris walked down the aisle. Her footsteps were quiet, steady. As she passed Joren's row, he leaned forward.
"Hey. You want to switch seats? Wouldn't want you catching whatever he's got."
More laughter. Quieter this time, but still there.
Seris didn't look at him. She walked past, pulled the chair out, and sat.
Veylan slapped his palm flat on the desk. The sound rang out, sharp and final.
Silence.
He glanced at Joren again. Joren just shrugged, slouching lower in his seat.
Veylan said nothing. Aiden knew why. The academy had rules—on paper. But strength decided everything here. If you couldn't back yourself up, you were prey. That was just how it worked.
Aiden turned his head toward the window.
The sky was pale blue, streaked with thin clouds. One drifted across the sun, dimming the light before sliding past. He watched as it moved slowly and Weightlessly.
Veylan started the lecture. Something about resonance fields and anchor points. Aiden heard the words, but they didn't stick. His thoughts kept slipping. He'd read the textbook later. He was good at that—remembering things after the fact. Maybe the only thing he was good at.
His head still stung where the paper ball had hit.
The bell rang.
Chairs scraped the floor and the voices rose again. Veylan gathered his folio and paused at the door. "Joren. Detention. Don't make me come find you."
Joren muttered something under his breath but nodded.
As soon as Veylan left, a cluster of girls and guys swarmed Seris's desk, all smiles and eager voices.
Aiden stood, slinging his bag over one shoulder. He kept his eyes down and headed for the door.
He was two steps into the hallway when his foot caught on something—someone's boot, maybe, or a bag strap. He stumbled forward, arms flailing, and crashed straight into Joren's back.
Joren spun around. His face twisted the second he saw Aiden.
"Are you mad?"
He swung. His hand cracked across Aiden's cheek, snapping his head to the side.
Aiden tasted copper. His vision blurred for half a second. Heat spread across his face, sharp and stinging.
The hallway went quiet. A few people glanced over, then went back to their business while most kept walking. They were used to it by now.
Aiden blinked, steadying himself. His gaze caught on Seris, still seated at her desk. She was looking at him. Her expression was flat, unreadable, like she was observing something distant. Something beneath notice.
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Blood smeared across his knuckles.
Joren had already turned, heading down the hall with Dace and Korrin at his sides.
Aiden's voice came out quiet. "Joren."
Joren stopped, but didn't turn around.
"Just walk away, man," Dace muttered, glancing back. "You're embarrassing yourself."
Joren raised a hand, silencing him. He started to turn, mouth opening—
Aiden's fist slammed into his nose.
The crack was loud.
Joren staggered back, eyes wide, hands flying to his face. Blood spilled between his fingers. He dropped on his ass, gasping, staring up at Aiden like he didn't recognize him.
The hallway erupted.
"Holy—"
"Did he just—"
"No way."
Joren didn't move. He just sat there, breathing hard, eyes glazed with shock.
Aiden's heart pounded in his chest. His knuckles throbbed. He barely had time to pull his arm back before Dace grabbed him from behind. Korrin came in from the side. Fists landed on his ribs, his stomach, his jaw. One after another. Aiden's knees buckled, but he didn't try to block. He just let it happen.
His mouth was full of blood.
But he was smiling.
Worth it.
"What is going on here?!"