The cafeteria was alive with noise. Cutlery clinked against trays, chatter echoed off high ceilings, and the air swirled with a medley of aromas — roasted chicken, spiced grains, buttered vegetables, something unidentifiably burnt.
It was the only place where all classes gathered at once, a forced mingling pit dressed up as a community hub. The Headmaster called it a "social integration zone." Xenia called it harassment.
She was the first to arrive from Class 1A. After a cursory scan of the bustling room, she slipped into an empty table near the back, the furthest from any of the windows and blessedly detached from the midday chaos. From her bag, she retrieved a small, carefully wrapped lunch: Ratatouille, layered with the kind of precision only Delta could muster. Delta never used the cafeteria — she didn't trust food she hadn't seen made.
Xenia stabbed a slice of zucchini and tried to focus on the flavor, not the environment.
A soft thud broke her rhythm.
Lily and Ivy had arrived, as silent as snowfall. They held cafeteria trays — Lily with quinoa salad, Ivy with Greek. Neither spoke. They simply inclined their heads, the barest flicker of acknowledgment, then took the seats across from her.
Xenia blinked. Once. Then again.
She looked around, expecting some kind of cosmic punchline. But no — all other tables were full. Some students even stood, leaning against walls and chatting mid-bite. A full house.
With a sigh heavy enough to flatten continents, Xenia returned their nods and resumed eating.
The peace didn't last.
Britney swept in next, radiant as a sunbeam and twice as blinding. She beelined for Roxana with the enthusiasm of a loyal golden retriever.
"Roxy! Try this!" she chirped, offering a forkful of pink goo with dangerous confidence.
Roxana didn't flinch. She didn't even blink. She opened her mouth, tasted the offering, chewed once, and gave a curt nod.
"I knew you'd love it!" Britney beamed, scooting closer.
Roxana didn't move. Her expression remained unreadable.
Austin and Robert were seated nearby, deep in conversation. Austin leaned in, gesturing animatedly. Robert listened, brow furrowed, fingers steepled in thought. Whatever awkward tension had existed between them early in the term had started to melt.
Then came Clare.
She sat beside Xenia, not directly but just close enough that the scraping of her chair on the floor announced her intention. Xenia didn't look up.
Clare smiled anyway. "You know, if you ever wanted someone to walk to class with, I'm usually early."
Xenia continued eating. "I'm never late."
Clare laughed awkwardly. "Right. I just meant—"
"You meant to hover again," Xenia said flatly, wiping her lips with a napkin. "And now you have."
Clare's smile wavered, but she didn't move her chair back. Not even an inch.
The rest of Class 1A had gathered, each with their own microclimate of energy. Despite the occasional side-eyes or careful silences, the room no longer buzzed with the uncomfortable tension of early days. Something was shifting. The walls were still there, but students were learning how to peer over them.
It had been over two terms now. The final term of Class 1.
And soon, the final exam.
A survival test — in the wilderness, no less. Real danger. Real stakes. And magic, though only in limited use.
Each first-year class, 1A to 1C, had just twelve students. Elite numbers. A bottleneck of talent and pressure. Entry had been brutal. Continuation would be worse.
They had never seen Class 2. The upper floor belonged to them, off-limits, sacred in its mystery. There were rumors — mostly involving blood pacts, corpse puppets, or spending a night in the demon wing — but no confirmations.
As Xenia ate, she glanced around the table again.
Britney was now drawing something on Roxana's napkin with a pen. Roxana let her.
Austin had shifted the conversation to weapon enchantments. Robert was scribbling equations on his palm with a glowstick pen.
Clare still sat beside her, pretending not to look every time Xenia moved.
And across from her, Lily and Ivy ate in eerie, mirrored silence.
This was her class.
Her team.
Her battlefield companions.
Xenia sighed again.
"If this is what I'm expected to survive with," she muttered under her breath, "then may the forest beasts feast well."