above it all

The cafeteria at East Ridge always felt like a siege. A grand, vaulted hall once intended for banquets and declarations of knighthood, now sullied with plastic trays, mismatched chairs, and the sour echo of hormone-fueled chaos. The stained-glass windows bled fractured light across the uneven stone floor, and the chandeliers, strung with cobwebs, trembled every time someone slammed a tray down too hard.

I sat with the other boys near the back wall where the ceiling drooped with black mildew. This was our assigned territory, unofficial but unchallenged. A broken suit of armor stood guard beside our table, a relic from a time when chivalry meant something. Now it was just a joke—like everything else here.

The boys were loud, as always. Not in the joyful, conspiratorial way I imagine brothers once were. No, this was the noise of false bravado—steel clanking against steel, jokes sharpened into blades, laughter used to draw blood.

They wore their mandatory knight's armor like it was a second skin—some polished it obsessively, others let it rust like they didn't give a damn. Wraith had etched skulls and baroque chains into his black breastplate. Draken had added snake motifs to his pauldrons, his crimson cape always dragging just enough on the floor to look dramatic but not enough to trip him. I hadn't altered mine at all. I didn't have to. Silence was enough of a statement.

Today's lunch: salted crab meat, mashed roots, and whatever half-rotted vegetables the kitchen foraged from the school gardens. No one cared what it tasted like. The real meat was gossip.

"I'm dumping Khari this week," said Thorn, his chin resting on one gauntleted fist. "She's started asking questions. Like, where I go after fencing. Like I owe her explanations."

"Ugh," said someone else. "Just get rid of her already. Everyone's sick of her. She cried again last week when you ignored her in Spellcraft class."

"She's always crying," Wraith chimed in cheerfully, taking a long sip from a pewter mug that probably didn't hold anything stronger than cider. "Tears are the language of prey."

The table laughed. I didn't.

These guys talked about their girlfriends like managers discussing livestock—who was underperforming, who needed to be culled, which ones were still 'breedworthy.' It was disgusting. But that didn't stop me from sitting here.

Because out there? The rest of East Ridge wasn't any better. It was worse.

The girls ruled everything. Not with whispered notes and shy glances like some pre-apocalypse rom-com. No, here the girls had antlers like war spears, wore their dominance on their hips and shoulders, and fought like Roman generals. Stag maidens—the term for those girls who grew horns and took over entire cliques—could break your ribs and then demand you take them to prom. And you'd say yes. Because if you didn't, they'd find a way to ruin you.

Venus stags were the softer ones—prettier, smarter, terrifying in a different way. They didn't beat you with their antlers. They beat you with expectations and charm. They were the real power, wrapped in delicate velvet and perfumed lies.

I watched the room swirl with them—packs of girls gliding past like wolves in makeup. Their hooves clacked on the floor, their eyes scanning the room constantly for weakness. The second you broke from your group? They pounced.

Somewhere across the room, Nova sat on her usual throne. Not a literal one, but it may as well have been. Elevated table. Better lighting. Girls fawning. She wore fur cuffs on her school blazer, and her antlers were polished so perfectly they reflected candlelight. She didn't need to say anything—people just knew what she wanted.

Near her were Sika and Barashinga—one elegant, the other razor-tongued. They weren't Nova's pets, exactly, but more like independent rulers in uneasy alliance. Sika, always composed, always floating like a swan in a lake of blood. Barashinga, smart and mean, the kind of girl who could smile at you while hacking your social standing to pieces with a spreadsheet. Even Dama was there, lounging sideways, one leg kicked over the bench like she owned it. The rebel. The only one who openly challenged Nova's reign and hadn't yet been destroyed for it. Probably because she was too magnetic. Too fast.

I hated all of it.

I stared into my tin cup. Coffee. Black. Bitter. Cold. It was the only thing that ever made sense.

"They've been circling your table again," Wraith said beside me. His voice was low, conspiratorial. "I saw Nova watching you during third bell."

"Let her watch," I muttered.

"You could join her table, you know," Draken added with a sly grin. "Flash a little smirk, say something brooding, and bam—instant throne."

I didn't respond. They knew I wouldn't. The idea of sitting with those girls made my stomach twist. I could already feel their painted nails around my throat, their sugar-coated questions, their eyes measuring and weighing me like I was a piece of fruit at market.

"What's the point?" I asked.

Draken leaned back, hands behind his head. "Same as always. Power."

"And to get rid of this lot," Wraith added, nudging the other boys. "They're all idiots."

"They are," I agreed quietly.

Skamper stumbled in at that moment, dragging his armor with all the grace of a raccoon falling down a chimney. His breastplate was barely on. His hair was gelled to the gods. He had lipstick stains on his neck. He looked onehundredtwelve. Probably because he was—Skamper had been accelerated two grades up due to some nonsense about 'emotional aptitude' and 'seduction IQ.'

He plopped down beside me with a grin so wide it probably cracked something in his smug little face.

"Guess who made Sika cry during third bell?" he announced.

I groaned. "Don't tell me."

"She asked if I meant it when I said I wanted to meet her parents. I said which ones."

Even Draken winced.

"You're evil," Wraith muttered with something approaching admiration.

Skamper took it as a compliment. "She's too clingy anyway. Girls like her shouldn't expect promises. They should be happy to be near me."

"You're going to get gutted one day," I said flatly.

He beamed. "I hope she makes it look good for the cameras."

That was the table. My table. The boys of East Ridge, armored and bitter and broken in different ways. Skamper, the little monster with the big smile. Wraith, our cheery nihilist. Draken, the scarlet snake always whispering ideas. And me.

Cazpin.

The quiet one.

"We're all gonna fail calculus, lose our herds, and get drafted by the Venus Guard the moment our test scores drop," Draken said, flashing that absurdly white grin.

Wraith leaned forward, fangs glinting. "Good. Then I don't have to pretend to like Kyla anymore. She's got that look now. That clingy, too-soft, pre-mating mood. It's disgusting. The way she makes eye contact like she means it. Gag me."

The table laughed.

I didn't.

Wraith leaned over to me, voice low and bored. "You still putting up with Taiga?"

I didn't answer. He already knew the answer. I'd stopped seeing her a week ago. I just hadn't told her.

"She cried in the hallway," Draken said, tilting his head like a curious snake. "It was adorable. You should see if she'll cry in class too."

Skamper pitched in. "Get this," he said, eyes glittering. "I told Priscilla that her thighs were perfect for breeding, and she slapped me, so I kissed her best friend right in front of her. She screamed. Like, actual lungs-and-snot screamed. Can you believe it?"

He was beaming. Beaming.

"Cazpin," he said, snapping his fingers at me like a pet. "Tell me I'm evil."

"You're evil."

He giggled like a spoiled noble at a public hanging.

"But you're my best friend," he said, leaning in. "So it doesn't count. Besides. She was ugly crying. That's a sin."

I chuckled because I hated that girl. She had tried to harass me on my way home with my stepsister, and I don't put up with people's bullshit after class.

Wraith was now talking about how his girlfriend tried to surprise him with a violin serenade during fencing practice.

"She played like it was a funeral," he said. "And honestly? Appropriate."

Draken howled. "You're going to hell."

Wraith grinned. "I hope so."