"Virelya…" Lunavere's voice trembled as she leaned closer, anxiety etched into her features. "I think… we need to talk to Headmaster Vornalyse."
I nodded, the lump in my throat barely letting me speak. "Yeah. I think you're right."
We found his office after wandering through two long, echoing halls. The door opened with a quiet click as we stepped inside—and there he was. Seated behind a vast, obsidian desk, Headmaster Kaelrion Vornalyse looked up with calm eyes that seemed to see everything.
"I knew you'd come," he said smoothly, folding his hands. "I just don't know why."
Okay, wow. He was unfairly handsome. Like, if he weren't a whole decade older and technically my academic superior, I might've accidentally fallen in love right there. Lunavere caught my glance, as if she had the same thought.
He stood, and with a voice like a velvet blade, said, "Sit."
We obeyed, the tension in our shoulders as tight as drawn bows.
A heavy silence.
Then we both took a synchronized deep breath.
"Headmaster—" I started.
"Just Kaelrion. Or better yet... Kuya Kaelrion, when it's only us." He flashed a smile. Too casual. Too charming. Too weird.
Did he just say Kuya?
"U-um… Kuya Kaelrion," I stammered, instantly regretting everything, "I think there's been a mistake. We were placed in Class 1-A, but honestly… we don't belong there. If there's a lower class, that's where we should be."
Lunavere nodded furiously. "She's right. I'm hopeless in every subject—especially English. I get nosebleeds just hearing British accents!"
"We're really not trying to stir trouble," I added quickly. "But please—just move us to a different class."
It wasn't even about fear. It was about survival. All our lives, Lunavere and I had always ended up in the "safe" sections. The ones where you didn't need to be a genius to pass. Being thrown into 1-A felt like being asked to wrestle dragons with a wooden spoon.
Kuya Kaelrion looked at us with a glimmer of something I couldn't read. Then, as he opened his mouth, I felt a cold wash of dread.
"I'm sorry. But we didn't choose your class placements." He said it gently. Like bad news wrapped in silk.
"Huh? Then who did?" Lunavere asked, confused.
The answer walked in before he could respond. A woman—regal and radiant, like she had stepped out of a fantasy painting—entered the room.
"You were assessed the moment you crossed the gates," she said, her voice elegant and eerie all at once. "Didn't you feel it?"
Lunavere and I shared a glance. That strange sensation when we walked in—like something reaching into our souls.
"That feeling," the woman continued, "was the barrier reading your essence. It doesn't react to ordinary people. Only those marked." She smiled. "You are what we call non-standard entrants. No exam required. You were chosen. And Class 1-A is where you belong."
I swallowed. "But… we're not good enough."
Kaelrion's gaze hardened slightly as another figure appeared in the doorway—tall, imposing, with deep-set eyes.
"Nytheria is right," he said. "The gate is a construct of the Twelve Phantom. It recognizes what most eyes cannot. You'll learn more in your history modules soon. But for now…" He looked at both of us. "This isn't something we can change. You were chosen by forces beyond our hand."
I felt the wind knocked from my lungs.
We left the office—empty-handed, helpless.
Now we sat beneath the dusky sky on a bench near the academy's soccer field. The horizon stretched out like a taunt, while Lunavere stared at the grass like it might offer answers.
"AHH!" she suddenly screamed, ruffling her own hair. "I'm going to lose my mind, Virelya!"
I sighed, shoulders slumping. "You're not alone. I'm right behind you, ready to go fully insane."
I didn't know what to do anymore. Competing with actual geniuses? I wasn't built for that. I had nothing to prove. The only reason I was even here was because Mom forced me.
Flashback
I'd just gotten home from school when I saw her—my mom—talking to a man in a tuxedo. A tuxedo, in the middle of the afternoon.
Curious, I walked over and kissed her on the cheek, pretending like I wasn't listening in.
"Perfect timing," she said, beaming at me. "This is my daughter, Virelya Aevarinne Draventha."
The man looked at me—and I swear, something in his stare made every hair on my arms stand upright.
"Greetings. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm here to inform you… you've been officially accepted into Velmorith Arcantheon Academy."
The words hung in the air like a lightning strike.
Mom and I both blinked, stunned into silence. I mean, what kind of normal Tuesday afternoon starts with a man in a crisp black suit arriving at your doorstep with an academic announcement that sounds more like a prophecy?
"Wait—this has to be a mistake," Mom said, her brows knitting together. "You must be looking for someone else. My daughter, Oravielle, well… she's not exactly Ivy League material."
I nodded. Hard.
The man didn't flinch. He simply handed Mom a dark emerald envelope, sealed with an insignia that shimmered like starlight. She opened it, and as she read, her hands began to tremble. I braced myself. I thought she'd explode. Scream. Panic. Instead—
"Oh my stars… I told you you were special!" she gasped, eyes misting with tears.
"Special?" I scoffed, arms crossed. "Mom, I flunked my algebra test last week. I'm as average as they come."
The man ignored my protest and reached for a sleek silver box. "Your uniform and ID are inside. Your assigned class will be displayed on the card as soon as you enter the school grounds."
"Whoa. That's some sci-fi level stuff," Mom muttered as she eagerly took the box from him like he'd handed her a box of diamonds.
"I'll be leaving now," the man said with a graceful bow.
"Let me walk you out!" Mom chirped.
As the door shut behind them, I just stared at the box. It was glowing faintly. That wasn't metaphor. It was literally glowing.
"If you keep staring at it, it'll burn a hole through your soul," Mom joked as she walked back in.
"Mom, you know I don't belong in some elite magic-smart kid academy."
She smiled with that mysterious little tilt to her lips that always meant she knew something I didn't. "You won't know that until you've seen it for yourself."
"Do I have a choice?"
"Nope!" she said, grinning like a maniac.
End of Flashback.
Lunavere and I exhaled in sync, like a balloon slowly deflating into hopelessness.
"Big problem, huh?" a voice broke the silence.
We looked up.
A girl stood there, dressed like us but with an aura of effortless mischief and confidence.
"Hey," she smiled, plopping down beside us. "Name's Sylmirae Velcrynne."
"Virelya." My tone was flatter than a forgotten soda.
"Lunavere," my best friend said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Wow. You two sound like you just lost a kingdom."?" Sylmirae raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"
"We got thrown into Class 1-A," I muttered. "We don't belong there."
"Correction," Lunavere deadpanned. £We're definitely not smart enough for 1-A."
Both of us sighed dramatically at the same time. Sylmirae burst into laughter, earning her a matched pair of dagger-glances from us.
"Relax. That was my problem too, remember?" she said, waving her hand like the whole thing was a joke. "Kuya Kaelrion told me the same thing—there's nothing we can do. So now I just laugh about it. Save your stress, girls. It'll only give you wrinkles."
Lunavere and I exchanged a wary glance.
Wait... what if everyone in Class 1-A felt like imposters?
"No, not everyone feels that way."
We turned. Another girl approached, her steps graceful, her presence commanding.
"I'm Aurelyndra Thalovarre," she said with a soft but confident smile. "Also from Class 1-A. Let's head to the dorms—everyone's gathering for introductions."
As we followed her through the corridor, I couldn't help noticing—we all wore the same uniform. No fancy colors. No flashy ranks. It was a far cry from my old school where your blazer practically screamed your GPA.
We stepped into the dorm's common room and the noise died instantly. It was spacious, warm, and filled with faces that mirrored our own confusion and curiosity.
When the introductions were done, someone finally asked what we were worried about. Of course, Lunavere and Sylmirae spilled every last anxious thought we'd had. I braced for judgment.
But instead, something completely unexpected happened.
They listened. They empathized. And they shared their own fears.
Somewhere between Sylmirae's sarcasm and Aurelyndra's calm words, I realized something terrifyingly wonderful.
We weren't alone.