Page 5 of The Fractured Veil

When I reached the top floor, I found another hallway lined with doors, each one uniquely decorated, reflecting a different personality. I stopped at the door marked with a simple plaque: 313, just as it said in my paperwork. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open and stepped into my new sanctuary.

Inside, the room had deep green hues that matched the foyer downstairs. A large window with diamond-patterned panes overlooked the courtyard, allowing the moonlight to spill in, casting a silvery glow across the room. Heavy, dark curtains framed the window, their thick fabric lending an air of privacy.

To the left, an inviting small bed was tucked against the wall, dressed in deep green and dark gray linens, with a few throw pillows in muted crimson. A small black dresser sat beside it, which was more than enough room for what little I had. Against the opposite wall, a sturdy desk sat bathed in the warm glow of a brass lamp. Placing my suitcase on the bed, I glanced out the window, letting the weight of my new reality settle in.

This was it. My new room. This wasn't a joke, though a nagging voice whispered the possibility of a trap. But why? What did I have that anyone would want? Like Vicki would say, I needed to start looking at life as a glass half full instead of perpetually empty. Shaking my head slightly, I pushed away the lingering unease. Maybe this was my time—maybe this was the start of the exciting new life I'd always dreamed of. A small smile touched my lips as I started to settle in.

* * *

The next morning,I found myself staring into the mirror of the tiny ensuite bathroom, the unfamiliar weight of my new uniform settling heavily on my shoulders. There were six uniforms hanging in the small closet in the bathroom, crisp and identical—a stark contrast to the worn, mismatched clothes I was used to. Folded neatly on the shelf above were several thick white towels and a basket filled with basic hygiene products—soap, shampoo, even a new toothbrush. The deep blue blazer, trimmed with silver accents, felt more like a costume than a uniform, and the crisp white blouse beneath it did little to stop the rising tide of imposter syndrome.

What am I doing here?I thought, the question echoing the nervous flutter in my chest.

Following the map I found in my welcome packet, I followed the cobblestone path towards Leyndell Hall. Rushing into my first class of the day, I slipped into the middle row, hoping to blend into the background. The room buzzed with the energy of students already engaged in lively conversations, their easy confidence only intensifying my anxiety.

The classroom itself was grand, with the branded high-arched windows lined the far wall, letting in soft, diffused light across the wooden floor. The room was arranged in a semicircle, with tiered rows that rose up like a theater, giving every student an unobstructed view of the professor.

The dark wood of the desks was polished to a gleaming finish. Paintings of distinguished-looking individuals hung between the windows—I assumed to be past professors or scholars.

As I settled into my seat, a prickling sensation danced across my skin. I turned my head to find a massive, broad-shouldered figure slouched in the back row. His posture exuded an aura of quiet authority, his broad shoulders tense, hinting at a disciplined strength. Intense emerald eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes, were fixed intently on mine—his gaze unwavering and almost predatory.

He was undeniably striking. His sharp, angular features were perfectly proportioned, and his dark hair, styled in loose curls, framed his face with effortless grace. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in the depths of those emerald eyes, sending a jolt of electricity through my veins.

A shiver ran down my spine as I tore my gaze away, my cheeks flushing with a heat that had nothing to do with the stuffy classroom. Sure, he was ridiculously handsome, but was I seriously blushing? Over a guy who looked like he'd murder someone for breathing wrong in his direction?

Get it together, Thalia.

Before I could dwell on the hot stranger, the loud thud of the door shutting took my attention toward the professor—an older man with a permanent frown etched into his face. The hum of conversation faded into silence as he made his way to the front of the room.

"Good morning," he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that commanded instant attention. "Today, we delve into the fascinating world of ancient runes."

I attempted to focus as the lecture began, scribbling notes on the origins of different runes and their mystical properties—which, honestly, sounded like a completely foreign language.Sigils for protection, symbols of power, gateways to other realms…My hand cramped as I tried to keep up, the symbols blurring together in a dizzying swirl of lines and curves. Was it even possible to memorize all of this? I glanced around the room, wondering if anyone else felt as lost as I did. But the feeling of eyes boring into my back persisted, and I couldn't resist stealing another glance towards the back row. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding had gone from an unreadable expression to full-on scowling. Before I could even begin to understand the reason for his sudden mood shift, he abruptly stood up, his chair scraping against the polished floor with the screech of a banshee. Without a word, he stormed out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the very foundations of the academy.

A wave of whispers rippled through the room. The professor cleared his throat, momentarily silencing them. He gave a weary shake of his head, a gesture that spoke volumes about the temperamental stranger, before launching back into his lecture.

With a few minutes to spare, the professor's eyes narrowed as he scanned the room, his gaze landing on me. “You. The newcomer.”

I held my breath for a second, feeling the weight of all everyone's eyes on me.

“Would you care to share your gift with the class?” His tone was sharp, almost accusatory, as if he were daring me to admit I didn’t belong here.

"I—I don't… I'm not sure…" I stammered, my throat constricting with a mixture of fear and embarrassment. Was he really calling me out in front of everyone? On my first day?

The professor's eyebrow arched. "Not sure?" he echoed, a hint of amusement lacing his gravelly voice. "Then perhaps you should think about that. Quickly. This sacred institution is reserved for the most gifted and powerful in Nexera, not for those who wander in blindly." His smile was tight as his eyes studied me.

Heat flooded my cheeks as the whispers erupted once more:

"What is she doing here, if she doesn't even know what she can do? Do you think she's even Gifted?"

"That's so pathetic. How did she think coming here was okay?"

"How did she get an invite? There are so many Gifted who’d kill for her spot."

I felt like a deer caught in headlights, paralyzed by the scrutiny and judgment. The weight of their eyes was suffocating, each snicker cutting deeper than the last. My throat tightened, and I desperately searched for words—anything to defend myself—but nothing came. I grabbed my things and fled the room, my heart pounding as the whispers got louder, their laughter following me out into the hallway.

* * *

Enteringthe cafeteria that looked more like a cathedral, the design echoed the Evermore Hall with soaring arches and expansive floor-to-ceiling windows. The room filled with students gathered in groups, their laughter and chatter filling the grand hall. Tall columns twisted upward to meet at the carved ceiling, covered with symbols and glowing accents that gave an otherworldly effect. Grand chandeliers hung above, casting flickering patterns across the stone floor and rows of long wooden tables. It was more a banquet hall than a cafeteria, with its grandeur and enchanting atmosphere.

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