The Principal leaned back in her chair, studying me with the kind of gaze that weighed more than any chain. "Calista," she said softly, "your presence here will not go unnoticed. This academy… it is a crucible. A place where the powerful are tempered, and the weak are shattered."
I folded my arms, trying to appear calm though my pulse thrummed in my ears. "You make it sound like a battlefield, not a school."
Her lips curved faintly. "That is because it is both."
A shiver crawled up my spine.
Before I could reply, she pressed a small brass bell on her desk. A moment later, the door opened, and a young woman stepped in. She couldn't have been more than twenty-two, dressed in a sharp uniform of black and emerald green, her dark hair tied into a sleek bun. She carried herself with the precise grace of someone who had lived inside these walls for years.
"This is Liora," the Principal said. "My assistant. She will provide you with everything you need to navigate the academy."
Liora bowed lightly. "It's an honor, Lady Moretti."
I stiffened. "Don't call me that."
Her eyes flickered, but she nodded politely. "Then… Calista."
The Principal gestured toward her. "She will explain the rules, your schedule, and your quarters. Listen well. This academy does not forgive ignorance."
With that, the Principal turned back to her papers, already dismissing me as though I'd never been there.
Liora motioned for me to follow her out into the hallway. Once the door shut behind us, her expression softened into something far more human. "You're different from what I expected."
I arched a brow. "And what exactly did you expect?"
She smiled faintly. "An arrogant heiress. Someone who thought the world belonged to her. Instead… you look like someone carrying too much weight."
I didn't answer. She wasn't wrong.
We walked down a long hallway lined with portraits of ancient figures—mages, warriors, kings. Their eyes seemed to follow me, glowing faintly with old enchantments.
Liora began her briefing. "The academy is divided into three wings. The East Wing houses human students—children of influential families who will never remember what they see here once they graduate. The West Wing belongs to the gifted—mages, shifters, elementals, and others of… unique heritage. The North Wing is reserved for research, forbidden to students unless summoned."
I kept my expression neutral, though the words sank like stones into my chest. Mages. Shifters. Elementals. I wasn't imagining it, then. Magic wasn't a bedtime story. It was real.
She handed me a small booklet and a folded parchment map. "This is your schedule. Your classes will include elemental theory, combat training, and ancient languages. Since you're… special, the Principal has placed you in advanced tracks. Your map will help you, but don't be surprised if the corridors shift. They tend to move when someone isn't paying attention."
"Shifting corridors." I muttered. "Of course."
Her lips twitched at my sarcasm, but she continued. "You'll remain in the East Wing for now, as your father requested. But in two days' time, you'll be moved to the West Wing dormitories. That will be… different."
I frowned. "Different how?"
She hesitated. "Let's just say the gifted don't always welcome outsiders. Even if you're not exactly… an outsider."
I didn't miss the way she studied me as she said it, like she knew more than she was willing to say.
We stopped at a tall arched window overlooking the courtyard. From here, I could see the sprawl of the academy in its entirety. Stone towers spiraled into the sky, bridges of glass and light connecting them, students in shimmering uniforms crossing through gardens that pulsed faintly with magic. It was breathtaking—both beautiful and suffocating.
"Any questions?" Liora asked.
"Just one." I glanced at her. "How do you survive here?"
She gave me a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "By remembering that knowledge is power. And secrets are currency."
Her words lingered long after she led me toward the student corridors.
The halls were bustling now, alive with chatter and energy. Some students glanced at me, whispering, others openly staring. A group of girls in green and white uniforms muttered behind cupped hands, their envy sharp enough to cut. I caught the words "princess," and "thinks she's special" before tuning them out.
And then—
The air shifted.
The crowd parted instinctively, conversations faltering, as the seven boys strode down the hallway.
It was the same group I had seen in the courtyard earlier, but here—inside the walls of the academy—they seemed even more untouchable. Their presence drew the eye like a magnet, and the air itself seemed to hum in recognition of their power.
The leader walked in front, steps measured, every motion radiating quiet dominance. His gaze flicked toward me, sharp and assessing, before sliding away like I wasn't worth more than a second. The golden-haired boy smirked openly, elbowing the crimson-haired one, who chuckled low under his breath. The silver-eyed one didn't look at me at all, but I could feel his attention, cold and dissecting.
Whispers swelled around us.
"That's them—""The Seven Stars.""Why is she in their path?""She'll regret crossing them."
I kept my spine straight, refusing to step aside as they approached. If this school was a battlefield, I wasn't going to be the first to surrender ground.
When we finally passed each other, the leader's shoulder brushed mine—not hard, not violent, but deliberate. A silent test.
I didn't flinch. I met his gaze head-on.
For the first time, his eyes lingered.
Something flickered there. Recognition? Curiosity? Or maybe it was nothing more than amusement at a girl too foolish to bow.
Either way, I held his gaze until he looked away first.
The whispers erupted into chaos behind me.
And just like that, my first day at the academy had turned into something far more dangerous than I expected.
After Liora left me with my map and schedule, I leaned against the wall of the corridor, scanning the parchment in my hands. My first day had only just begun, but already the academy was revealing itself as a labyrinth—one not just of shifting stone corridors, but of politics, power, and secrets.
My schedule read:
Calista Moretti – Year 3 (Advanced Track)
Elemental Theory (West Wing Hall A)
Combat Training & Weapon Arts (Training Grounds)
Ancient Languages & Runes (Tower 2, East Wing)
History of the Supernatural World (Auditorium Hall)
Independent Study Period (Library)
At the bottom was scrawled in neat script: Dormitory transfer scheduled in three days. Mandatory attendance at Gala event tomorrow evening.
"Great," I muttered. "A gala and moving day. Just what I needed."
Using the map, I traced the path to my first class—Elemental Theory. The corridors twisted and rearranged themselves twice, doors appearing where solid walls had been only seconds before. By the time I reached the arched wooden door of Hall A, I was almost convinced the academy enjoyed toying with me.
Inside, the classroom resembled a cathedral—long tables, high ceilings, stained glass windows glowing faintly with elemental sigils. Students filled the room, most already in groups. Conversations stopped as I walked in. Whispers rose again, sharper this time.
"Is that her?""She doesn't belong here.""She got placed in Advanced? Impossible."
I ignored them, sliding into a seat at the back. The professor, a thin woman with silver hair and ink-black eyes, didn't bother with introductions. With a flick of her hand, flames blossomed across the air, shaping into spheres of fire that hovered before us.
"Control," she said coldly. "Not creation, not destruction. Control is the true test of an elemental."
Students raised their palms, manipulating sparks, water, shards of stone. I tried to mimic them, focusing, but all I got was a faint flicker of light across my fingertips—reminding me of Star's presence within me. My chest tightened. Not here. Not now.
Still, even that tiny flicker drew the professor's gaze. Her eyes narrowed slightly before she turned away.
By the end of class, I'd already felt the weight of being observed—not just by her, but by the other students.
***************
Combat Training was worse. The Training Grounds stretched like an arena, with weapons lined along the walls—blades, staffs, bows, and things I didn't even recognize. The instructor, a broad man with scarred arms, barked orders like a general.
Pairs were formed, sparring matches begun. My opponent was a boy with too much confidence and a cruel smile. He came at me fast, clearly eager to humiliate the "princess."
Unfortunately for him, I'd been trained by the Moretti family since I could walk.
The moment his fist swung, I slipped aside, twisted his arm, and flipped him onto the ground. The crowd's jeers turned into shocked silence.
The instructor gave me a long look, then barked, "Next."
By the time class ended, no one dared smirk at me again.
***************
Ancient Languages was quieter, but no less unsettling. The professor recited old words of power that made the very air tremble. Students practiced runes that glowed faintly when traced. My fingers tingled as I wrote them, and though my marks weren't perfect, the symbols flared brighter than most.
Another whisper rose: "She learns too fast."
***************
By lunch, I was exhausted. The cafeteria was more like a grand hall, filled with cliques—each table representing a faction of sorts. The Seven Stars sat at the center like kings of the court. Students orbited them, hungry for attention.
I ignored them and sat alone. But curiosity made me pull out the slim silver tablet that Liora had slipped into my bag that morning.
"This," she'd said, "is your link to the Student Network."
The screen lit up, revealing a vast internal site:
AetherNet – The Academy Network
Sections blinked at me:
Student Rankings – where popularity and combat points translated into status.
Hot Topics – daily articles and gossip that every student devoured.
Academy Politics – debates, polls, even elections for Student Council.
Point Market – where students traded points for privileges—extra library access, weapon permits, even private rooms.
And at the very top, pinned above everything, was the name of the site's most infamous user:
Oracle.
Anonymous. Untouchable.The one who posted the daily Hot Topics that every student read.
Today's headline read:
"New Princess in the Academy: Heiress or Pretender?"
My stomach dropped. The article wasn't cruel, but it cut sharp. It analyzed my placement in advanced classes, questioned whether my family's power had bought me a seat, and ended with a cryptic line:
"Time will tell whether she shines… or burns." – Oracle
The entire cafeteria buzzed around me, students refreshing their tablets, pointing in my direction.
I forced myself to keep eating calmly, but inside, my blood boiled. Whoever Oracle is, they just painted a target on my back.
And somehow, I knew this was only the beginning.
The cafeteria hummed with whispers and side glances, but my focus wasn't on them anymore. My eyes lingered on the glowing screen in front of me, on Oracle's words. Whoever they were, they had influence—more than any professor, maybe even more than some families.
Heiress or Pretender?
I clenched my jaw. I'd been underestimated my entire life, but here, it felt like more than gossip. It was a challenge.
If Oracle wanted to play games, then fine.But they didn't know who they were dealing with.
My fingers twitched, muscle memory from nights spent behind multiple screens, breaking into underworld servers, rewriting encrypted codes. Back then, I'd been just another ghost in the system. Nobody could touch me when I was behind a keyboard.
And if Oracle kept pushing me? I would hack into their precious little network, tear down their mask, and make them regret ever mentioning my name.
A sharp smirk tugged at my lips.Two lives? I've already been living two. Why stop now?
For the first time that day, I felt something other than unease. I felt control.
***************
By the time I reached my last class, the library annex used for Independent Study, my head was buzzing with thoughts. I slid into a corner seat, trying to focus, but the flicker of light on my fingertips reminded me I wasn't alone.
Star? I thought, closing my eyes.
The voice came instantly, warm but sharp like starlight itself. I'm here. You've been ignoring me all day.
"I had classes. And Oracle." I muttered under my breath, earning a few stares from nearby students.
Oracle is nothing, Star said firmly. Focus on what matters. You.
"Then tell me," I whispered, "what exactly are you? What am I?"
The light flared in my mind, and suddenly I wasn't in the library anymore—I was standing in a vast void filled with floating stars.
I am your half-spirit, she said. Born when you were born, bound to your soul. Where you are flesh, I am energy. Where you are will, I am power. Together, we are whole.
"Power?"
Yes. If you learn to focus, you can control anything. Time, elements, even the unseen. But you must practice, Calista. I am your base, your foundation. Through me, you'll touch what no mortal ever can.
The words sank into me like molten fire. Power over time, over elements—over everything? It sounded impossible, yet in my bones, I felt it was true.
But before I could question further, the starry void cracked. A voice pierced through.
"Well, well. Talking to yourself already?"
I opened my eyes. One of the Seven Stars leaned against the bookshelf nearby, arms folded, smirk painted across his face. Tall, with storm-grey eyes that seemed to read too much, he tilted his head as if dissecting me.
"You're interesting, Princess," he said. "Too quiet, too sharp. Careful, or Oracle will eat you alive."
My fists clenched under the desk. "Maybe I'll eat Oracle first."
He chuckled, low and amused. "Dangerous words. I like that."
Before I could snap back, the bell rang. Students gathered their things, filing out. The boy's gaze lingered a second longer before he vanished into the crowd like mist.
I let out a slow breath, my pulse still racing.
By the time I reached my last class, the library annex used for Independent Study, my head was buzzing with thoughts. I slid into a corner seat, trying to focus, but the flicker of light on my fingertips reminded me I wasn't alone.
Star? I thought, closing my eyes.
The voice came instantly, warm but sharp like starlight itself. I'm here. You've been ignoring me all day.
"I had classes. And Oracle." I muttered under my breath, earning a few stares from nearby students.
Oracle is nothing, Star said firmly. Focus on what matters. You.
"Then tell me," I whispered, "what exactly are you? What am I?"
The light flared in my mind, and suddenly I wasn't in the library anymore—I was standing in a vast void filled with floating stars.
I am your half-spirit, she said. Born when you were born, bound to your soul. Where you are flesh, I am energy. Where you are will, I am power. Together, we are whole.
"Power?"
Yes. If you learn to focus, you can control anything. Time, elements, even the unseen. But you must practice, Calista. I am your base, your foundation. Through me, you'll touch what no mortal ever can.
The words sank into me like molten fire. Power over time, over elements—over everything? It sounded impossible, yet in my bones, I felt it was true.
But before I could question further, the starry void cracked. A voice pierced through.
"Well, well. Talking to yourself already?"
I opened my eyes. One of the Seven Stars leaned against the bookshelf nearby, arms folded, smirk painted across his face. Tall, with storm-grey eyes that seemed to read too much, he tilted his head as if dissecting me.
"You're interesting, Princess," he said. "Too quiet, too sharp. Careful, or Oracle will eat you alive."
My fists clenched under the desk. "Maybe I'll eat Oracle first."
He chuckled, low and amused. "Dangerous words. I like that."
Before I could snap back, the bell rang. Students gathered their things, filing out. The boy's gaze lingered a second longer before he vanished into the crowd like mist.
I let out a slow breath, my pulse still racing.
***************
Outside, the academy courtyard glowed golden in the late afternoon. A black luxury car waited at the gates—sleek, polished, expensive. The driver held the door open as if I were fragile glass.
My lips pressed into a thin line.I hated it.
I hated the pretentious black cars, the polished image, the perfect disguise. I wanted the roar of engines, the wind on my face, the freedom of speed. I wanted a sports car, a motorbike—something that felt mine.
As I slid into the leather seat, one thought burned hotter than all the others.
Tonight, after the gala, I'll tell Father. No more cages. No more disguises. If I'm going to rule two lives, I'll do it my way.
The door shut with a dull thud, sealing me in. But inside, my resolve was louder than ever.