A SCHOOL DAY

The classroom was already buzzing when Tasha and her friends slipped into their seats. The wooden desks, worn from years of use, carried the carved initials of past students—silent ghosts of rebellion. A soft breeze drifted through the open windows, stirring the heavy velvet curtains that framed the tall, arched openings. The scent of old books and chalk lingered in the air, blending with the quiet murmur of last-minute gossip.

Then, the door creaked open, and the classroom fell into silence.

Mr. Aldric strode in, his presence commanding immediate attention. He was a towering man, broad-shouldered, with salt-and-pepper hair that framed his angular face. Deep-set eyes peered over thin, wire-framed glasses, giving him an almost predatory sharpness. His long coat billowed behind him as he moved, resembling the sweeping robes of an ancient scholar. Despite his intimidating stature, there was something oddly theatrical about the way he carried himself—like a stage actor in the wrong era.

The students had a name for him: The Raven.

No one knew exactly how the nickname started, but the general consensus was that it fit. Maybe it was his dark, sweeping coat, or the way he always seemed to appear silently, like a shadow stretching across the floor. Some swore they'd seen him watching from the corridors long before he actually entered the classroom. Others joked that he never walked—he glided.

"Alright," Mr. Aldric's voice was smooth but firm, laced with an accent no one could quite place. He set his leather-bound book on the desk with a soft thud. "I trust you all had a riveting night of studying, rather than whatever mischief you lot usually get up to."

A few nervous chuckles rippled through the class.

"Good," he said, though his smirk suggested he didn't believe a word of it. "Now, open your books. Let's see who actually did their reading, shall we?"

A collective groan rippled through the classroom as students reluctantly flipped open their textbooks. Mr. Aldric's sharp gaze scanned the room, landing on a boy slouched over his desk, his book still closed.

"Mr. Whitmore," Aldric drawled, clasping his hands behind his back. "Would you like to enlighten the class on last night's reading?"

The boy, caught off guard, blinked rapidly. "Uh… w-well, sir…"

"Ah, the classic scholar's response—'uh… well, sir.'" Aldric tapped his chin in mock contemplation. "Tell me, was that particular phrase in the text? Perhaps hidden between the lines?"

The class stifled laughter as Whitmore shrank into his seat.

Aldric sighed dramatically. "I'm disappointed. And here I was, hoping for an era of intellectual rebirth. Instead, I find myself drowning in mediocrity." He turned, flipping through the book in his hands. "But very well. Since Mr. Whitmore is too modest to share his wisdom, I shall bestow upon you all the knowledge myself. Try to keep up, children."

He launched into his lecture, his words weaving an intricate tale of history, literature, and philosophy, peppered with his signature dry humor. Despite the initial reluctance, the class couldn't help but be drawn in. Mr. Aldric had a way of making even the most tedious subjects feel like grand epics, and though no one would admit it, most students actually enjoyed his lessons.

Tasha, perched at the edge of her seat, scribbled notes furiously, while Lina leaned back, half-listening, half-doodling in the margins of her book.

---

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of class, a collective sigh of relief filled the room.

"That was brutal," Lina muttered as they packed up.

Tasha grinned. "You mean interesting?"

"Only if 'interesting' means watching Mr. Whitmore nearly pass out from fear."

As they stepped into the bustling corridor, voices and footsteps created a chaotic symphony. Students moved like a restless tide, flowing toward their next destinations. But just as Tasha and Lina turned the corner, a voice cut through the noise.

"Well, well. If it isn't the little countryside charity case."

Tasha froze mid-step.

Standing ahead, leaning casually against the wall with a smug smirk, was Celeste—the undisputed 'Star' of the school. With cascading golden hair and piercing blue eyes, she looked every bit the noble princess she imagined herself to be. Her pristine uniform clung to her slender frame, as if tailored just for her.

Behind her, her usual clique giggled, their eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

Lina's expression darkened immediately. "Say that again."

Celeste didn't even look at her. Her gaze remained fixed on Tasha, eyes alight with mockery. "You're quite lucky, you know? The school has such generous scholarship programs. It must be humbling to breathe the same air as the rest of us."

Tasha felt heat creep up her neck, shame and anger mixing in a sickening swirl. She had never cared about the whispers behind her back—she knew she wasn't like the other students, but hearing it said so openly… it stung.

Lina, however, had no such tolerance. "You arrogant little—"

She moved fast, stepping right up to Celeste, her brown eyes blazing. Celeste barely flinched, though her smirk faltered slightly.

"Is your life so empty that you have to pick on people just to feel important?" Lina's voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

Celeste tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Oh? Did I hurt your little friend's feelings? I didn't realize we were playing the 'tragic victim' game today."

Lina's fist clenched.

"Lina, don't," Tasha murmured, placing a hand on her arm.

But Celeste, ever the performer, took it a step further. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "I suppose I shouldn't expect much from someone who doesn't belong here."

And that was it.

Before Tasha could react, Lina lunged.

A gasp rippled through the corridor as Lina shoved Celeste back against the wall, her fist poised to strike. Celeste's eyes widened, her mask of composure slipping for the first time.

But before the punch could land—

"ENOUGH!"

The voice echoed through the hall, silencing everything.

Standing at the end of the corridor, her presence an unshakable force, was Headmistress Grimshaw.

She didn't yell, didn't move with hurried steps. She simply stood, her sharp gaze locking onto the scene before her.

Lina, breathing heavily, slowly let go of Celeste's collar, stepping back.

Celeste, ever the dramatist, smoothed her uniform, regaining her composure in seconds. "Headmistress, I—"

"Silence." Grimshaw's voice was like a blade cutting through the air.

She stepped forward, each click of her heels a warning. Her dark robes billowed slightly, her silver-streaked hair tied into an unyielding bun. Her lined face, though aged, held a presence that could make even the most rebellious student crumble.

She surveyed the scene—Lina's clenched fists, Tasha's worried expression, Celeste's feigned innocence. Her sharp eyes lingered on Celeste longer than expected.

"I don't have the patience for petty schoolyard brawls," Grimshaw said coldly. "Miss Celeste, detention. I suggest you reflect on your endless talent for provocation."

Celeste's mouth fell open. "But—"

"Would you like me to add another week?"

Celeste snapped her lips shut, her face burning with frustration.

Grimshaw turned to Lina. "And you, Lina. You may be lucky this time, but if I ever catch you raising your hands again, there will be consequences. Understood?"

Lina exhaled sharply, then nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now, disperse."

With that, the tension broke, and students quickly scattered.

Tasha tugged Lina's sleeve. "Come on."

As they walked away, Lina grumbled, "I should've punched her when I had the chance."

Tasha sighed. "And that's why you're not in detention right now."

Lina huffed, but the ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips. "Still. Worth it."

"And where the hell is Naomi" Lina asked, looking all around the corridor.

"Speak of the devil" Tasha said, pulling Lina back from her "investigation " she's here already.

Naomi, jogging happily to her friends beaming with smile

"Sorry guys, I went to meet Mr Alex for the book I asked for"

"What book" Tasha asked

" It's just a storybook I saw him reading at the library, so I asked for it, it's called__" she pull out the book, reading with a slight squint " NYXARA"

"Whatever" Lina said, wading the discussion off. " We almost got beaten while you were away Nyxara miss" she said, posing dramatically.

Tasha tugging her sleeve " let's go, please don't start that discussion again"

" She's on detention now though, so I care less about whatever happened to her"

The girls with happy souls and mind, jog joyfully to the room