A Dinner to Remember

Ezra walked through the halls alongside the headmaster, her heels clicking sharply against the polished tiles with every precise step. The sound echoed off the high, stone walls, each tap a reminder of the rigid discipline that clung to the air like a second skin.

She glanced at him briefly, her eyes cool and assessing, as if measuring his worth with a single look. Then, with a slight curl of her lip, she turned her gaze forward, uninterested.

"Blackspire Academy does not tolerate tardiness from its students," she said, her tone crisp and authoritative, each word delivered like a commandment etched in stone. "Lazing around, breaking rules, or failing to abide by curfew will result in immediate expulsion."

Her words were sharp, unwavering, slicing through the air with the finality of a verdict. There was no room for misunderstanding, no space for leniency.

"No fighting. No drinking. No drugs."

She didn't slow her pace, didn't glance back to see if he was keeping up. Her message was clear—this was not a place for second chances.

"Students who fail to pass the required grades set by their instructors will be expelled," she continued, her voice steady and unflinching. "Uniforms must be worn appropriately at all times. Male and female dormitories are strictly separated—" she paused briefly for emphasis, "—and under no circumstances is the opposite gender allowed to enter."

She pushed open a heavy door at the end of the corridor, entering an office without so much as a backward glance. Ezra hesitated at the threshold, uncertain if he was even allowed to follow, but when she didn't tell him otherwise, he stepped in cautiously.

The office was large and imposing, much like the rest of the academy. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, crammed with thick, ancient-looking books. A massive oak desk dominated the center of the room, its surface meticulously organized with stacks of neatly arranged papers.

The headmaster lowered herself into a high-backed leather chair, her posture stiff and commanding. She began shuffling through the papers on her desk with practiced precision, her eyes flickering over each document as if searching for something specific.

Ezra stood awkwardly in the center of the room, unsure whether to speak or stay silent. The only sound was the rustling of paper and the steady tick of a large clock mounted on the wall behind her.

Without looking up, she paused momentarily to glance at the clock, then resumed her search.

Finally, she pulled out a small stack of papers and set them neatly on the desk in front of her.

"Your timetable is here," she said briskly, sliding the sheet toward him without bothering to meet his gaze. "And your room assignment."

Ezra stepped forward hesitantly, taking the papers, his fingers brushing against the cool surface of the desk.

Without pausing, she continued, her tone clipped and efficient.

"Your uniform will be placed on your bed. You will start classes tomorrow."

She finally glanced up at him, her expression unreadable.

"It's time for dinner. You may head to the dining hall."

With that, she returned her attention to the papers in front of her, as if he was already dismissed. The subtle dismissal hung in the air, leaving no doubt that their conversation was over.

He left the office, the heavy door clicking shut behind him, and found himself once again in the vast, unfamiliar corridors of Blackspire Academy.

The hallways stretched endlessly in both directions, their towering walls adorned with intricate carvings and grand statues that loomed over him like silent sentinels. The flickering light from the wall sconces cast long, eerie shadows, making the academy feel more like an ancient fortress than a school.

Ezra walked aimlessly, his footsteps echoing off the stone tiles. The place felt like a maze, every hallway blending into the next, each turn as disorienting as the last.

With a frustrated sigh, he finally pulled out his timetable and room card from the stack of papers the headmaster had given him.

His eyes scanned the room assignment, the bold letters staring back at him:

Room 784.

Ezra folded the card and tucked it into his pocket, just as the distant sound of chattering and footsteps echoed from the corridor ahead. Curiosity pulled him forward, his pace quickening as he followed the noise.

As he rounded a corner, he saw them—students, all dressed in sharp, identical uniforms. The colour scheme was unmistakable: black and deep red. They wore black trousers paired with crisp blazers, each adorned with a silver emblem stitched over the chest, a symbol he didn't recognize but felt the weight of its significance. A dark red streak ran along the edges of their blazers, cutting sharply against the black fabric like a wound.

Ezra slowed, blending into the shadows as he observed them. The students moved in groups, laughing, chatting, some with an air of confidence, others with the stiff posture of those trying to fit in. Their footsteps echoed in unison as they made their way down the corridor, heading toward a gigantic hall at the end of the passage.

The towering doors to the hall stood open, revealing high vaulted ceilings and long rows of tables already filling with students. The noise grew louder, a mix of laughter, conversation, and the clatter of plates, all swirling together in a chaotic harmony that made Ezra's heart pound in his chest.

He walked into the hall, doing his best to stay subtle, keeping his head down and his steps light. But it didn't matter.

The moment he crossed the threshold, a hush fell over the cafeteria like a sudden drop in pressure. Conversations died mid-sentence, and the clatter of cutlery halted.

All eyes were on him.

Ezra could feel their gazes—curious, judgmental, skeptical—burning into his skin like a spotlight he couldn't escape. But he kept his face neutral, forcing himself to ignore them. After everything he'd been through, the stares didn't rattle him the way they might have before.

'Let them look.'

He walked forward, his strides steady, making his way toward the food line. The line of students parted slightly as he approached, their hushed whispers following him like a shadow.

Without acknowledging anyone, he grabbed a plate, sliding into the queue as if he belonged there. The weight of their eyes still lingered, but he focused on the simple, mundane task in front of him.

After the feast he'd devoured with Eli, Ezra wasn't as hungry as before. A simple meal would've sufficed—but he wasn't one to let the opportunity for free food slip by.

Still, the moment he laid eyes on the options, his stomach sank.

The food was horse's ass compared to what he'd eaten earlier. The memory of tender, juicy meat and perfectly seasoned dishes only made the bland cafeteria fare look worse.

With a resigned sigh, he settled for rice topped with overcooked vegetables and grabbed an apple that looked like it had seen better days. Plate in hand, he scanned the room for a spot and made his way to an empty table in the corner.

But the moment he sat down, the entire hall seemed to freeze.

Every head turned toward him, eyes wide, staring at him as if he'd just murdered a child right there in front of them.

For a heartbeat, there was only silence.

Then, the room erupted in gasps and whispers, the once-muted murmurs now a roaring wave of speculation.

Ezra could feel it—every word, every glance, every muttered accusation—but he didn't flinch. He picked up his fork, stabbing at the bland rice, pretending like none of it mattered.

"The people here are weird… what the heck," he mumbled under his breath, stuffing a mouthful of rice into his mouth, the bland taste doing little to distract him from the heavy stares.

But his fragile peace was shattered in an instant.

Something whizzed past his face, a sharp blur of motion, and before he could react, a thin line of pain seared across his cheek.

Blood dripped onto his food, bright red against the dull rice.

"Huh?" he muttered, blinking in confusion as he reached up, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. The warm smear of blood against his skin made it real.

Ezra's eyes slowly lifted forward, scanning the room for the source. The dining hall, once filled with whispers, was now dead silent.