The Unwelcome

The headmaster, a man named Master Elara, spent the next hour explaining the academy's curriculum. He spoke of magical arts, elemental control, and the history of the city, all in a tone that suggested this knowledge was as common as breathing. As he spoke, glowing maps of the tower appeared in the air, showing a clear hierarchy from our slums on the first floor all the way up to the fifty-first floor, a place I had never even heard of.

"You will be assigned to the First-Year Basic Elemental Control course," he explained, his eyes piercing. "Your magical aptitude will be assessed in your first week, and you will be placed in a more specialized class from there."

He gave us our class schedules, a map of the academy, and two simple, gray uniforms. They were plain and practical, made of a durable fabric that felt stiff and uncomfortable. They were a stark contrast to the students' elaborate, colorful robes we had seen in the main hall.

Our dorm room was small but clean, with two single beds and a large window overlooking a pristine garden. The moment the headmaster left, Eliza ran to the window, her face alight with excitement.

"Kira, look! A garden! A real garden! The flowers look so… alive!" she gushed.

I simply nodded, my gaze fixed on the gray uniform in my hands. It felt like a brand. A mark that screamed: You don't belong here.

We put on the uniforms and made our way to our first class, Magical Theory. The lecture hall was massive, filled with rows of students who were already settled in their seats. When Eliza and I walked in, every head turned. The room fell silent, and a wave of whispers swept through the hall.

"Are those them?" "The adoptees?" "They're from the lower floors. You can tell by the way they walk."

I ignored them, my jaw clenched. I found two empty seats in the back row and sat down, pulling my uniform's collar up to cover my neck. Eliza sat beside me, her cheerful facade starting to crack under the scrutiny. The lecturer, a frail man with spectacles, cleared his throat and began his lecture. But no matter how hard I tried to listen, I couldn't focus. I could feel the eyes on my back, cold and judgmental.

After class, a group of students approached us. Their uniforms were a pristine white, adorned with shimmering gold embroidery. A girl with perfect blond hair and an arrogant smirk stepped forward.

"So, you're the charity cases from the slums," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "I'm Celeste. This is my brother, Marcus."

I didn't answer. I just stared at her, my expression blank.

"What's wrong, speechless? Don't worry, we won't bite," Marcus said, grinning. His face was a mirror of his sister's smugness. "We just wanted to warn you. People here don't like newcomers, especially not ones who come from... well, from down there."

Eliza found her voice. "We're here to learn, just like you," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Celeste let out a cruel laugh. "Learn? Sweetie, you're not here to learn. You're here to be an experiment. Just a little pet project for the headmaster."

I finally spoke, my voice low and steady. "Move," I commanded, my eyes fixed on Celeste.

She recoiled, her smirk replaced with a look of genuine surprise. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I repeated, my voice now a cold steel. "We're leaving."

We pushed past them and walked out of the classroom, the jeers and laughter from behind us echoing down the hall. I gripped Eliza's arm, my mind a storm of rage. This was the first day, and they were already trying to break us. But they wouldn't. I wouldn't let them.