So, there had been a sliiight miscalculation.

Scowling, Eydis realised she had walked out of Math fully expecting immediate detention, only to later learn it was scheduled for after school. Naturally, her dramatic exit had had been reinterpreted as pure disrespect, instead of a simple misunderstanding.

Typical.

While royal tutors had trained her in diplomacy, military tactics, and four dead languages, they had apparently neglected to cover the baffling social codes of twenty-first-century private school.

She could solve Algebra in her sleep. But skipping a class, which clearly meant she didn't want to be there, somehow resulted in being mandated more time at school.

It made perfect sense.

Though three more such strikes would apparently lead to being dragged into some dreaded parent-teacher intervention.

Sighing, she pulled up a map of the science building on her phone, squinting at the confusing hallways. Fifteen minutes and several wrong turns later, her legs were sore, and she was seriously reconsidering this whole "regular student" experiment.

At last, she found Room 3A.

She pushed the door open. Sunlight poured in, washing the room in gold, where a single figure seated at the teacher's desk paused, pen hovering over paper.

Blonde hair framed a face that might have been considered delicate were it not for the striking, sharp golden eyes.

"Well," she said, "if it isn't the infamous Eydis."

Eydis responded with a nod. "A pleasure."

She took the nearest seat. Their eyes met, and in the blonde's irises, something flickered. Light? Power? It vanished before Eydis could be sure.

"Athena," the blonde introduced herself coolly. Then her eyes widened, just barely. The next words sounded almost accidental. "And maybe we move past naming people by their hair colour."

Interesting.

Eydis's gaze narrowed. "Athena. The infamous student president. And here I thought reading private thoughts was still considered rude."

"So the rumours were right. You're sharp. I've been curious to meet the one who got Tiffany expelled."

Eydis's smile widened. She rose with unhurried grace, stepping closer, just enough to lower her voice.

"Curious timing, though. Someone with your Gift, conveniently absent for the whole interrogation? One peek into Tiffany's head, and it would've been over in minutes."

"My ability—"

"—isn't for wasting on someone like me. Sure." Eydis's grin turned cold. "And yet here you are, picking through my thoughts the second I walked in."

She leaned in a little closer. "Go on, President. Look into my eyes. Tell me… what do you see?"

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Athena's gaze flicked toward the window. "I'd rather not."

Is the great Student President afraid of what she might find? Eydis thought, sending the taunt directly her way.

No reaction. Hmm.

"So looking away… that's how you block me out?"

Athena straightened her spine. "Sharp deduction. Especially for someone with such a conveniently missing memory." She glanced at her notes. "Now, if you're finished, I have actual work to do."

"Just between us," Eydis purred, "how about a little white lie? Let's just pretend I sat through this riveting detention."

"Why would I ever agree to that?"

"Kindness?" Eydis shrugged. "A poor, memory-wiped nobody trying to survive while the student council's finest keeps her hands clean. I understand. When it's between a golden girl and the school ghost, you back the one with a spotlight."

Athena's fingers tightened around her pen.

Eydis leaned back slightly. "And if I'm that irrelevant… does it really matter if I was here or not?"

Athena opened her mouth to speak, but thought better and looked away.

"So either you mark me present, or you waste an hour digging through thoughts you clearly don't want to hear," Eydis added. "Your call, Princess."

Athena was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, she reached for her notebook and made a small mark.

"Done. But let's get one thing straight, Eydis. This wasn't about politics. It was about respect. Everyone's fighting something. And even if my gift could've helped…"

She met Eydis's gaze, and this time, there was power buzzing beneath her eyes.

"…it wouldn't have taken down Tiffany in the way that mattered."

Eydis's smirk softened slightly. "Possibly," she allowed.

Without another word, Eydis turned and walked out. Once the door clicked shut, she exhaled, surprised by the tension still gripping her.

That had been a careful balancing act. Athena's mind-reading was unpredictable, and staying too long had felt dangerously close to playing with fire.

She tightened her grip on her bag strap and headed in the opposite direction of the teacher's office.

One thing was clear: she needed to understand these so-called "Gifted."

Because if there were more like Athena, her cover wouldn't hold much longer.

Beneath reinforced concrete and too many levels of clearance, a lab operated off the grid.

Machines worked in silence. A terminal blinked. A projector flared. Code streamed across the screen.

Adrian typed without pause, golden eyes flicking between dense lines of code and the on‑screen drone feed. Beside him, Professor Indigo fine‑tuned a control panel. The drone pushed on, slipping deeper into the dark.

The screen glitched once, twice, then stabilised. There it was: a massive pink eye, suspended in the Alchymian sky, its pupil twitching inside a fleshy casing.

"Charming," Indigo muttered.

Adrian leaned closer. "That's what we're calling it now? Why is the feed glitching? This model's supposed to be top tier."

"There's an interference field around it," Indigo said. "It's stopping the drone getting too close."

He toggled a switch, then paused. "But did you see it?"

"See what?"

Indigo rewound, slowed the footage frame by frame, and tapped the screen. "There."

Adrian squinted. From the iris, a thin ribbon of violet mist flowed downward. "And that means?"

"That the Council's nervous," Indigo said, flat. "They've shifted from solutions to semantics. Delay is, as usual, their tactic."

He saved a still to a folder labelled Urgent Report. "But then he showed up."

"The knight? Damien?"

Indigo nodded. "For now he gets a hotel room and a crash course in our world. If we can trace his origin…" He turned. "Interdimensional power, Adrian."

Adrian smirked. "You sound almost excited."

"I am," Indigo said without apology. "Regardless, the Council has requested our presence in Alchymia."

"To investigate the eye directly?"

"Correct."

Adrian leaned back, stretching. "Please don't tell me we're flying commercial."

"Of course not." Indigo's smile was faint. "While we're on Alchymia… your sister still attends St Kevin's, doesn't she?"

Adrian didn't reply right away, but his fingers twitched. "Yes. It's different now."

"Different how?"

"It isn't just being Gifted that gets you in any more," Adrian said. "It's drawing legacy families who think magic is something you can trade through connections, like equity."

"Sometimes," Indigo said, "they're right."

Adrian paused a moment too long, then changed tack. "Anyway. Any working theories on the Eye yet, Professor?"

Indigo shut his laptop with a soft click. "Not until I see it myself, directly."

"So you believe it's a genuine threat?"

"I believe," Indigo said, voice turning grave, "it's only the beginning."

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