Her eyes cracked open.
Air rushed into her lungs like she had been drowning.
She hated sleeping.
Hated the dark stillness of it.
Hated the dreams she could never remember but always woke from with her heart racing.
She pushed the blanket aside and sat up.
Morning light spilled across her room.
After a quiet bath, she stood before the mirror.
Long, silky silver hair fell past her waist, almost glowing in the light.
Not dull gray—no.
It shimmered like polished moonlight.
Her skin was pale but warm, not fragile.
Her large white-silver eyes stared back at her, bright and strange, with the faintest shade of pink resting beneath them as if she were always slightly flushed.
A tiny mole sat just under her left eye.
Her lips were soft pink, natural, calm.
She gathered her hair and tied it back—not quite a ponytail, not quite loose. It fell in a low, half-bound style, strands framing her face.
She pulled on her white long-sleeve shirt and a fitted black skirt, simple but neat.
Her backpack rested against her shoulder a moment later.
Normal.
She was trying very hard to be normal.
Downstairs, voices drifted through the house.
Her family was already at the table.
Her mother, Seraphina Vale, stood by the stove.
She had warm brown eyes that carried both strength and softness, the kind that noticed everything without speaking about it.
Her black hair was tied neatly at the nape of her neck as she served breakfast with quiet precision.
At the table sat her older siblings.
Her sister, Aurelia Vale, elegant even in casual clothes, had long black hair and striking pink eyes that seemed almost luminous.
Aurelia always moved like she was thinking three steps ahead, protective without being obvious.
And then there was her brother.
Caelan Vale.
Messy black hair.
Sharp green eyes.
A grin that meant trouble.
He looked up the moment she entered. "Well, look who decided to join the living."
She rolled her white eyes slightly. "Good morning to you too."
He narrowed his eyes dramatically. "You breathe too loudly when you sleep."
"I do not."
"You do. Like a dying dragon."
She blinked. "You don't even know what a dragon sounds like."
"I imagine it sounds like you."
Aurelia flicked Caelan's forehead lightly. "Leave her alone."
"I'm strengthening her spirit," he defended.
"You're being annoying," Aurelia corrected smoothly.
Seraphina placed a plate in front of her silver-haired daughter. "Eat before it gets cold."
There was something about the way her mother looked at her—gentle, but searching. As if checking for something unseen.
She ignored the feeling and started eating.
Caelan leaned back in his chair. "We're going to be late."
"We?" she asked.
"Yes, we. Same school grounds, remember? Mine is just the boys' division."
Their academy was divided—same campus, separate buildings.
Order.
Tradition.
Aurelia sipped her tea calmly. "I'll be leaving soon too. I have a lecture."
College suited Aurelia.
She carried herself like she belonged in larger rooms.
When breakfast ended, Seraphina fixed her daughter's collar gently. "Have a good day, Lira."
Lira Vale.
That was her name now.
Caelan slung his bag over his shoulder. "Come on, Storm Cloud."
She frowned at the nickname. "Stop calling me that."
He grinned wider. "Make me."
Aurelia kissed the top of Lira's head softly before stepping away. "Text me if you need anything."
Outside, the morning air was cool.
Lira and Caelan walked side by side down the street, sunlight catching strangely in her silver hair.
For a moment—just a second—the wind stirred unnaturally around her.
Caelan glanced at her.
"Did you feel that?"
She blinked. "Feel what?"
The air stilled.
He shrugged. "Nothing."
They arrived at the academy gates just as the first bell echoed through the morning air.
The campus was grand—two identical marble buildings standing across from each other like reflections.
One for boys. One for girls.
Tall arched windows. Ivy crawling along the pale stone walls. A silver crest mounted between them—balanced, symmetrical, divided.
Like everything else.
Caelan adjusted his bag. "Try not to scare anyone with your ghost act."
She gave him a flat look.
He grinned and walked toward the boys' building, green eyes flashing in the sun.
Lira watched him go.
Then she let out a long, quiet sigh.
School had never been easy.
Whispers followed her in hallways. Eyes lingered too long. Some curious. Most cruel.
Silver hair.White eyes.Too pale. Too strange. Too different.
She didn't understand why she endured it.
Why she kept coming back every day.
Maybe routine felt safer than questioning herself.
Maybe part of her believed if she kept acting normal, she would eventually feel normal.
She turned and stepped into the girls' building.
Inside, the halls were polished and bright. White floors gleamed under soft golden chandeliers.
Lockers lined the walls in neat rows.
Girls gathered in clusters, laughter echoing, perfume lingering faintly in the air.
And then there was her.
A streak of silver moving through black and brown heads.
Conversations dipped slightly as she passed.
She stopped at her locker and began pulling out her books quietly.
Suddenly—
"BOO!"
She flinched.
"Stormlight!"
Lira spun around.
"Joy!" she gasped.
Joy burst into laughter, nearly dropping her own books. "You jump every time!"
Joy Rivera—short bobbed brown hair framing her round face, thin glasses sliding slightly down her nose, and big warm brown eyes that always seemed to shine like she was holding a secret happiness inside them.
Lira placed a hand over her chest. "Don't do that."
"But your face is priceless," Joy teased, bumping her shoulder gently.
Despite herself, Lira smiled faintly.
Joy looped her arm through Lira's. "Come on. If we're late again, Ms. Ardent will stare into my soul."
They walked toward class together.
As they entered, Lira's smile faded automatically.
Her posture shifted.
Head slightly bowed. Steps quieter.
She reached her desk.
And saw it.
Black marker scratched across the surface.
"Witch Freak."
"Go dye your hair."
"Are you sick?"
"Monster eyes."
There was even a badly drawn ghost beside her name.
For a moment, she just stared.
The room buzzed around her, pretending not to notice.
She let out a slow breath.
It wasn't new. It wasn't surprising.
It still hurt.
Quietly, she pulled her sleeve over her hand and tried to rub part of it off. The ink smeared but didn't disappear.
Joy noticed.
Her expression darkened. "They did it again?"
Lira sat down gently. "It's fine."
It wasn't.
Joy clenched her jaw but didn't make a scene. Instead, she sat beside her like she always did—solid, steady.
Lira stared at the words carved into the wood.
For a split second—
The lights above flickered.
Just once.
A faint static buzz brushed the air.
Her fingers tingled.
Then it stopped.
She blinked.
No one else reacted.
She lowered her gaze again.
If she was a monster—
She wished she knew why.