Chapter 4 - Burning Gazes and Whispers of Shadows

Classroom 14-B of the Arcane School of Luxflutuante was a universe unto itself. The walls pulsed with luminous veins that shimmered in shades of amber and purple, as if the very stone were alive. The ceiling, a translucent membrane, revealed a sky where stars danced in hypnotic patterns, defying the laws of physics that Gabriel held so dear. He entered hesitantly, feeling the weight of dozens of exotic gazes upon him – as if he were a rare insect being examined under a microscope, and not just any microscope, but one made of bones and magic. Elves with feline eyes that seemed to read his soul and find only irrelevant data, fairies with glass wings that chimed with every movement, like wind chimes in a cemetery, and a teenage troll chewing on what appeared to be a chair leg (Gabriel very much hoped it was only apparently a chair leg, and not literally the severed limb of some unfortunate).

In the center of the room, Seraphine Noctaria shone like a beacon in the darkness – or rather, an elegant black hole? Her pink hair fell in perfect waves to her waist, contrasting with the black velvet dress that absorbed the surrounding light, as if she carried a piece of the night in her fabric. She didn't look at Gabriel — she didn't need to. Her reflection multiplied on every surface: in the silver goblet of a neighboring vampire, which seemed to contain blood, not wine, on the blade of a dagger abandoned on a table, as if someone had just used it for… something Gabriel preferred not to imagine, and even in the water bubbles that floated around the mermaid Lira, sitting in a living coral tank at the back of the room, the iridescent bubbles reflecting Seraphine's face like small, distorted mirrors.

When Gabriel sat down, a cold breeze wrapped around his neck, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. — "Human," — whispered a voice that echoed directly in his skull, making Gabriel wonder if he had accidentally swallowed a radio, or if his sanity was finally fading. — "your aura is so… desperately mundane. Amusing. For me, of course. You're probably terrified."

"Oh, the famous mundane aura!" Fay mocked, in his mind. Her voice, a mixture of childish enthusiasm and divine cruelty, made the stamp on his hand tingle. — "It smells of boredom, incompetence, and… chips? What a disappointment, Player! Do this, help meeeee mommy! The vampire wants to suck me! " Fay's stamp spins, giving a giggle.

He turned and found Seraphine still with her back turned, but her reflection in a nearby potion bottle – a purple, bubbling liquid that looked like pure poison – smiled at him, sharp teeth glinting like small ivory daggers. Gabriel wondered, not for the first time that day, if he had entered a lucid nightmare or a hell of devilish Lolitas.

The Lesson of Things That Shouldn't Be Touched

Professor Ignatius Voss, a mage whose beard housed an entire ecosystem – fire ants carrying parchment leaves that looked like miniature maps, beetles that spat ink in vibrant colors, and, Gabriel swore he saw, a tiny family of squirrels living there, complete with a mini-smoking chimney – slammed his staff on the floor, producing a sound reminiscent of a detuned gong.

"Today," he announced, as a firebird, "larger than expected and with a decidedly maniacal look", emerged from his hands and incinerated the blackboard, leaving behind only an acrid smell of burnt chalk, a charred bird, and a smoking hole in the wall, "we will study the art of manipulating other people's shame. Oh, wait… it's 'Elemental Transmutation.' At least try not to burn anything… or anyone."

The class laughed, except for Gabriel, who was trying to ignore the cold on his neck and the growing feeling that he was the only sane person in a magical asylum. Seraphine was now sniffing the air in his direction, her nose upturned, as if he exuded some irresistible aroma – or repulsive, depending on a vampire's point of view, Gabriel supposed.

"You…" she murmured, this time physically, turning in her seat with a supernatural grace that would make a professional ballerina envious. "Smell of burnt sugar and fear. Delicious."

Gabriel swallowed hard. The saliva in his mouth seemed like sand. Before he could answer – or, more likely, stammer something incoherent – a soft voice interrupted:

"Sera, stop scaring the newbie. He looks more lost than a gnome in a diamond mine trying to find a way out using only a map written in ancient Elvish and upside down."

It was Greta, the orc. Sitting to Gabriel's right, she was a wall of muscle with a ponytail tied with a blood-red ribbon adorned with poisonous flowers. Her hands, capable of crushing skulls, held a notebook covered in stickers of unicorns and skulls, a combination that, somehow, made perfect sense in that place.

"He's not a newbie," Seraphine retorted, raising a perfect eyebrow in an arc that defied gravity. "He's a Player. A human marked by the Goddess."

The word "Player" echoed in the room like an insult, or perhaps a diagnosis. In the tank, Lira, the peacock-blue scaled mermaid, splashed water on herself — a ritual that repeated every 30 minutes, creating a tiny rainbow above her head, as if she were desperately trying to teleport away from that chaos.

"He has… a curious aura," whispered Lira, while the water in her tank formed undulating letters: C-A-U-T-I-O-N. Gabriel wondered if that was a warning, a prediction, or just a strange interaction from Lira, who seemed to say nothing that made sense.

Gabriel felt awkward, like a lab rat being studied by strange creatures. He shrank into his chair, wishing to be invisible, or, better yet, non-existent.

The Dragon Incident and the Touch That Should Never Have Happened

The class was interrupted by Oscar (Gabriel thought the name ridiculously common for a dragon, as if he had been named by a bored accountant), the teenage dragon whose enthusiasm was inversely proportional to his coordination. While trying to demonstrate a levitation spell, he bumped into a shelf of potions. Bottles fell, and a green, viscous liquid, which smelled of rotten lemons and dirty socks, spread across the floor, gaining a life of its own and forming gelatinous creatures that hummed off-key, like a choir of drunken amoebas.

"Recapture the Coraline Slime!" roared Professor Voss, as one of the jellies stuck to his beard, and the squirrels, panicked, fled to the top of his head.

In the chaos, Seraphine jumped on top of her desk to avoid the liquid, but one of the jellies jumped towards her, with frightening precision. She recoiled — falling onto Gabriel's lap.

"You… you did that on purpose!" she accused, even as she grabbed his shoulders to balance herself, her fingers, cold as ice, sinking into his flesh.

"I didn't do anything!" Gabriel stammered, desperately trying not to notice how his hands, now sweating cold and trembling slightly, were resting on her waist, cold as tombstone marble under the velvet. He could smell her now, a disturbing mixture of roses, rust, and… death?

"Ugh, gross!" Fay commented, with an imaginary grimace.

For a second, the world stopped. Seraphine's shocking pink eyes met his, and for the first time, her air of superiority cracked, revealing something like… surprise? Seraphine sighs and trembles.

"Your heart is racing," she whispered, her lips curving into a dangerous smile that showed the tips of her canines, small but frighteningly sharp. "Fear…?" She brought her face closer to Gabriel's. He could feel her breath, cold, but the smell, was… sweet, intense and attractive? Gabriel thought. Don't get that in your head, man!

Before Gabriel could answer – or, more likely, faint from terror – Greta intervened, grabbing the vampire by the collar and lifting her into the air as if she were a kitten, with an ease that made Gabriel question all the laws of physics he knew.

"The professor said to capture the Slimes, not rub yourself on your boyfriend, Seraphine!"

"Tainted… by a human?!" Seraphine hissed, as if the very idea were a mortal insult, and maybe it was. Her eyes, normally a cold pink, now burned in a furious crimson tone, as if mini-volcanoes had erupted in her orbits. "That… that… insignificant worm…! PERVEEEEERT!"

The last word came out as a high-pitched, almost hysterical scream that made the windows of the room vibrate. Her legs, now suspended in the air thanks to Greta's strength, thrashed in protest, like those of a cat that had just been given an unwanted bath.

Meanwhile, Gabriel sank into his chair, his face on fire, feeling like a piece of raw meat at a vampire banquet. "This girl is completely crazy..." he thought, wishing to evaporate from there, to transform into a subatomic particle and escape through the cracks in the floor.

The Invitation that Smelled of Catastrophe

After class, Gabriel found an impossibly black envelope, as if made of darkness itself, stuffed into his backpack. Upon opening it, he felt a sudden chill, as if the air around him had frozen, and a faint smell of withered roses and… dried blood invaded his nostrils. Red letters, which looked like fresh blood, danced in the air, forming a message that made his stomach churn: "Midnight. Courtyard of Shadows. Bring something sweet (if you don't want to be the main course, my human). — S.N."

As he read, Fay's stamp on his hand pulsed. The Goddess's caricature whisp