The Academy cafeteria was a blend of polished floors, enchanted chandeliers, and the loud chaos of lunchtime. The air smelled of herb-roasted chicken and fire-spiced bread rolls, the tables buzzing with cliques trading gossip, homework, and laughter.
Mason Reed walked in like he owned the place, head held high, his jacket slung over one shoulder with practiced ease. His hair was perfectly tousled, smile casually dazzling as he scanned the room beside Tessa.
"So this is where the magic happens," Mason said, voice dipped in charm. "And here I was thinking the classrooms were dramatic."
Tessa rolled her eyes playfully. "Please don't say something flirty to the mashed potatoes."
"Only if they wink first."
Logan spotted them from across the room and waved them over. "Finally. Thought you'd decided to make a grand entrance."
"Would it be me if I didn't?" Mason shot back smoothly, sliding into the seat beside Logan like he'd always belonged there.
Lilliana sat across from them, attention flickering between a book and her food. She barely looked up until Logan nudged her.
"Lil, this is Mason Reed. The transfer I told you about."
Mason gave a little wave. "Enchanté."
Lilliana glanced at him, expression unreadable. "You're more dramatic in person."
"I get that a lot," Mason replied with a wink.
Despite the initial stiffness, the group slipped into conversation. Logan filled Mason in on some of the teachers' quirks while Lilliana threw in sharp commentary every now and then. Tessa was already half-laughing through her juice.
Mason fit in with ease—his confidence wasn't arrogance, more like performance art. He liked the attention but didn't demand it. He charmed with intention, letting silences land when they needed to.
As they passed around jokes about rune mishaps and magical misfires, Mason tilted his head thoughtfully.
"Okay," he said, eyes narrowing slightly. "So far I've met Logan, Lilliana, and Tessa. But unless my sources are wrong, there's supposed to be a third Hayes sibling."
Tessa paused mid-bite. "Oh. Caleb."
Lilliana didn't look up. "He's usually busy."
"Like, intentionally avoids this place," Logan added. "He's... not a cafeteria person."
Mason raised an intrigued brow. "Is he a person at all, or just a myth with a jawline?"
Before anyone could respond, the cafeteria door opened.
Caleb Hayes walked in, his presence a stark contrast to Mason's golden glow. Dressed in a sleek Academy uniform, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, his expression was cool, unreadable. The kind of quiet that felt intentional—like he saw everything and chose silence over indulgence.
Mason's attention snapped straight to him.
"...And there he is," Mason murmured under his breath.
Caleb's eyes found their table. He made his way over with steady, unhurried steps.
"Logan. Tessa. Lilliana." His voice was low but clear.
Logan nodded toward him. "Hey, Caleb. This is Mason Reed—Tessa's new roommate and my newest regret."
Mason leaned in just a fraction, flashing a bright smile. "It's a pleasure."
Caleb glanced briefly at him, nodded once, and didn't offer a hand.
Mason didn't seem offended. "I've heard a lot about you. Silent. Smart. Serious. And devastatingly—"
"Combat class is in ten," Caleb interrupted, voice cool.
He turned and walked away, not giving Mason a second glance.
"Oh, he's good," Mason muttered, eyes following him. "So composed. So broody. I love a challenge."
Lilliana groaned. "Please don't flirt with my brother. That's just... unnecessary chaos."
"Too late," Tessa added with a grin.
Logan shook his head. "He's not used to people like you."
"I'll adjust the curve," Mason replied, eyes gleaming.
Combat Class - Later That Afternoon
The training hall was colder than the rest of the Academy, lined with enchanted dummies and sparring mats that glowed with rune sigils. Professor Rourke, a stern man with a scar cutting through one brow, paced before them like a soldier itching for a fight.
"Today," he barked, "we test discipline. Focus. And control."
He scanned the rows of students until his eyes landed on Caleb. Something shifted—just enough to be noticed.
"You." He pointed. "Hayes. Pair with Reed."
Caleb stepped forward without a word. Mason, already grinning, joined him on the mat.
"Try to keep up," Mason whispered with a wink.
Rourke narrowed his eyes. "Hayes, let's hope you can manage not to embarrass the family name today."
A few students snickered.
Caleb's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Mason's eyes flicked to the professor, then back to Caleb. "He always this... charming?"
"He's consistent," Caleb said, sliding into stance.
The whistle blew.
They clashed—lightly at first. Mason was fast and agile, all flash and fluid movement. Caleb countered every step with sharp precision, calm and calculated. A dance of two completely different energies.
"Don't hold back," Mason said, stepping in close. "I won't break."
"I might."
The comment was soft. Dangerous.
And for a moment—just a flicker—Mason looked genuinely intrigued.
Their fight ended in a draw, much to Professor Rourke's annoyance.
"Again!" he snapped. "This time, show me something worth your placement here, Hayes."
Mason's smile dropped. "Sir, he did just fine."
Rourke glared at him. "I didn't ask for your opinion, Reed."
Mason stepped in front of Caleb just slightly. "And yet here I am. Giving it."
For the first time, Caleb's lips twitched—almost a smile.
Rourke stormed off without another word.
Mason turned his head. "Was that... amusement?"
"Don't get used to it," Caleb said quietly. But he didn't walk away.
And Mason just smiled.
The tension from combat class still lingered like smoke, but it quickly evaporated once the group spilled out into the corridor, their boots thudding against the stone floor.
"That was amazing," Tessa gushed, practically skipping beside Mason. "Did you see his face when you stood up to Rourke? You had the audacity of a fire spirit."
Mason flipped an imaginary lock of hair over his shoulder. "What can I say? I'm a menace with great bone structure."
Logan laughed. "He's never been challenged like that. You're going to be a problem, Reed."
"I prefer the term 'gift to the Academy,'" Mason replied, grinning.
Lilliana walked beside Caleb, arms crossed, clearly holding back a smirk. "I think Rourke hated you just a little more after that."
Caleb didn't answer. He simply kept walking, calm as ever.
"But seriously," Mason said, now slightly more serious, "what is his issue with you?"
Logan sighed. "It's a long story. Professor Rourke used to work closely with our parents. He's kind of obsessed with bloodlines, tradition, all that ancient superiority garbage. He thinks Caleb got in on name alone."
"But he didn't?" Mason asked.
"Caleb had the highest entry scores," Lilliana said. "The Academy practically begged him to join."
"He just doesn't talk about it," Logan added. "Rourke hates that too. He can't read him, so he assumes the worst."
Mason gave Caleb a sideways glance. "You really are a man of mystery, huh?"
Caleb didn't even blink. "You talk enough for both of us."
"Ouch," Mason said with a hand over his heart. "Was that a smile I sensed or just a mild stroke?"
They turned a corner toward the courtyard when it happened.
Caleb, walking slightly ahead, rounded the bend and collided with a small-framed boy carrying a stack of books. The books flew everywhere with a loud thud, and the poor student stumbled back like he'd hit a wall.
"I didn't see you—I'm sorry—I'm so sorry, please don't hex me!" the boy squeaked, wide-eyed. He bent down in a rush, fumbling with his books as if they might vanish from existence.
Caleb just stared. "... but."
The boy yelped, grabbed his last book, and scrambled off like his robes were on fire.
A pause followed. Then Tessa snorted.
"Oh my God."
Logan doubled over, laughing. "You didn't even glare! You just said 'but'!"
Lilliana had to lean against the wall. "You scared that poor guy into an existential crisis!"
Mason was nearly crying. "He looked like he was about to write his will. I've never seen someone apologize for existing that fast."
"I literally said one word," Caleb muttered, confused.
"Exactly," Mason replied. "You're terrifying. It's a gift."
Caleb narrowed his eyes at them. "I'm not."
"Keep telling yourself that, shadow prince," Mason said with a wink.
Tessa wiped her eyes. "Can we make a rule? No letting Caleb talk to underclassmen unsupervised."
"Or librarians," Logan added. "Last week one nearly passed out when he asked for a restricted text."
"It was just a request," Caleb muttered again, but there was something in his tone—a subtle shift. Amusement.
The kind that came from being surrounded by people who didn't flinch away. Who found his quiet a mystery, not a threat. And Mason caught that flicker of warmth, even if it disappeared quickly.
He leaned a little closer. "You know, I think I like it when you terrify people. It makes me feel a little safer."
Caleb looked at him. "I don't need to scare people to protect you."
"Oh?" Mason arched a brow. "So you would protect me?"
Caleb didn't answer.
But Mason's smile widened anyway.
Just as Mason opened his mouth to toss another teasing remark at Caleb, a crisp chime rang through the air. Magic vibrated through the Academy's walls, humming softly—a signal.
"All students to the main courtyard immediately. Headmistress Freya Hayes will now address the opening gathering."
The voice echoed across the entire campus, smooth and authoritative.
"Oh, great," Logan said, stretching. "Here comes the annual monologue."
"You make it sound like a theatre show," Tessa joked.
Mason tilted his head. "Freya Hayes. Why does that sound... familiar?"
Lilliana grinned. "You'll see."
Students flooded into the walkways like flowing rivers of navy cloaks and clacking boots. The courtyard quickly became a sea of uniforms, lined in neat rows. The stone fountain in the center glowed with soft blue runes, casting a magical sheen over the raised platform at the front.
A hush fell.
Then she appeared.
Freya Hayes.
Mason felt the air shift—not magically, but from pure presence. She stepped up onto the platform in heels sharp enough to cut diamonds, wearing a tailored navy coat lined with silver embroidery, a vision of power and elegance. Her platinum hair was twisted into an intricate bun, and her eyes—cold steel—swept across the students like a queen surveying her kingdom.
"Students," she began, her voice clear and confident, "welcome to the most prestigious magical institution in the realm. If you've made it this far, congratulations. You've survived mediocrity."
A few chuckles echoed from the older students.
Freya gave them a tight-lipped smile. "But let me make something abundantly clear—this Academy is not here to cradle your talent. It is here to refine it. Sharpen it. Break it, if necessary. Because I do not produce average. I produce legends."
Mason blinked. "Okay, wow. She's... intense."
"She's always like that," Logan whispered.
Freya began pacing slowly, her heels clicking. "Magic does not care about your bloodline. Nor your sob story. Nor how shiny your wand is. What matters is your ability. Your will. Your discipline. And if you're lucky—your flair."
Her eyes sparkled faintly with that last word. She stopped, facing them all with a smile both beautiful and terrifying.
"Make this year memorable. Or make it your last. That will be all."
With a graceful wave of her hand, she turned and descended the steps, her long coat flaring behind her. The murmurs began almost instantly.
"Okay, who is that?" Mason asked, blinking after her. "She's like if intimidation and style had a baby."
"She's our mother," Lilliana said, casually.
Mason choked. "Wait—what?"
"Our mom," Logan confirmed, amused by his reaction. "Freya Hayes. Headmistress. Living legend. Regular nightmare."
"Holy hell," Mason whispered, looking from one sibling to the next. "That explains so much. The cheekbones. The sass. The surname. The trauma."
"I don't have trauma," Caleb said flatly.
Mason shot him a smirk. "Give it time."
Logan snorted. "Welcome to the family, Reed."
And for once, Mason didn't have a comeback. Just a stunned expression and a slow grin that said, well, this is going to be fun.