(Calista's POV)
I should've finished unpacking.But my instincts told me not to. Instincts were rarely wrong.
Now, following Elena down the grand hallway, I understood why.
This wasn't a dormitory. This was a palace—marble floors polished enough to mirror chandeliers, velvet curtains brushing the ground, walls lined with golden trim. Every corner whispered status. The academy wasn't giving us a home; they were reminding us where we stood.
"See?" Elena's voice was bright, bouncing with excitement as she tugged me forward. "I told you this dorm is insane."
I hummed in response, my eyes already scanning the corners—no cameras, but the silence was too clean. Magic wards, perhaps. Silent watchers.
The first door opened.
A bathroom—but not a bathroom. A royal sanctuary. Marble in white and gold, a massive sunken tub glimmering under enchanted lights, phoenix-shaped taps, racks of oils and perfumes lined neatly on glass shelves. It was like the baths in my family's estate—only updated, modern, more polished.
I let my hand brush over the edge of the marble. Cold. Smooth. Expensive. They don't just pamper the heirs… they remind them what luxury feels like, so they'll claw to keep it.
"This is excessive," I murmured.
Elena giggled. "Excessive? No, this is Starlight. You'll get used to it."
I caught Selene's voice behind us—quiet, sharp. "Or it's a golden cage. Depends on how you look at it."
I didn't miss the way her eyes lingered on me. Observant. Calculating.
The next room opened into a lounge. Plush velvet couches, a carved oak table, and—most telling—a polished kitchen counter fitted with glowing runes. A private kitchen, despite the grand canteen.
I stopped, fingers lightly tapping the counter. A kitchen meant privacy. Privacy meant negotiations. Deals. Politics. This wasn't a lounge. This was an arena, dressed in velvet.
Elena clapped her hands together. "Cool, right? Sometimes we do late-night cooking here, or… you know, other things."
I arched a brow, not asking. I already knew. This was where masks slipped.
Before I could think more, Elena suddenly gasped, snatching a glowing crystal from her pocket.
"Oh! Oh my gods, Calista—look!" She shoved it into my hands.
A familiar, cursed word gleamed across the top.
Oracle.
The school's infamous, anonymous site. I'd heard of it yesterday from the guide—half gossip, half truth, fully dangerous. And there it was:
[Oracle Post #10927]Title:The Queen Has Arrived?!
Confirmed sighting: the mysterious transfer who arrived yesterday in a motorcade of black cars, accompanied by suited guards and one very enviable black motorbike.
Name: Calista Seraphina D'Angelis.
Rumors from the Gala: She appeared at last night's Winter Gala with her father, Alessandro D'Angelis, and four elder brothers—collectively known as the Princes of Valemont. She drew the attention of every Seven Star heir (yes, all seven introduced themselves to her). Coincidence? Or strategy?
Eyewitness Notes:– Height: graceful.– Hair: black silk, waist-length.– Eyes: sharper than knives.– Expression: cold, untouchable. (Ice Queen vibes confirmed.)
Motorbike Watch: Sources confirm the bike she rode this morning is custom black, foreign model—likely worth millions. Who is she trying to impress?
Gala Effect: Multiple heirs seen watching her closely. Some claim she's already aligned with one of the Seven. Others argue she may be an independent player. Either way—she has entered the game.
Popularity Rankings: In less than 24 hours, she has entered the Top Three. (Yes, without even trying.) Current standings:
Adrian Volkov (Crown Prince)
Selena Veyra (Queen Bee)
Calista D'Angelis (The Newcomer)
Hot Topic: Will Selena Veyra tolerate someone else standing beside her throne? Or will war break out in the dorm halls?
Final Note: The Oracle watches. And the Oracle never misses.
I scrolled through the comments—dozens already.
"She's gorgeous but cold. Not approachable.""Motorbike entrance? Total power move.""Bet Selena is fuming.""D'Angelis? Never heard of them. Old money?""She looks like she could kill someone with a stare. Love it."
My lips curved, a low laugh escaping. "One day here, and I've already become a headline."
Elena was practically bouncing. "Do you realize how huge this is?! You're literally top three! Everyone's talking about you!"
Selene's voice came like a blade. "Fame fades. Enemies don't."
I returned the crystal to Elena, my gaze lingering on the glowing screen one last time.
Good, I thought. Let them talk. The louder the noise, the easier it is to move in silence.
I turned away from the lounge, my pulse steady, calm.The game had already begun.
I lingered a moment longer in the lounge before Elena's excited chatter snapped me back.
"Calista! Oh—before I forget." She rummaged through her crystal case, pulling out a slim, rune-marked folder. "Your official schedule. The academy issued them this morning."
I accepted it, fingers brushing over the gilded emblem stamped on the cover: Starlight Imperial Academy — Order and Honor.
Order and honor, I repeated silently. Empty words. Behind every academy slogan was always the same thing: power.
Opening it, neat rows of classes filled the page—Strategy, Ancient History, Finance, and in bold crimson ink:
Combat Training — 3rd Bell, Arena Grounds. Mandatory.
My lips tugged upward. So they want to test us already.
I glanced at Elena. "And how brutal is combat training here?"
Her eyes widened, then flicked away, guilty. "Depends on the instructor. But since it's the first session, probably light. Maybe…"
Selene cut her off. "Light?" Her tone was razor-thin. "The last transfer student left in a stretcher before midterm. They don't test you—they break you to see what's left."
I smiled faintly. "Then let's hope I don't break easily."
Elena's jaw dropped. "Do you always talk like that?"
"Like what?" I asked, feigning innocence.
Selene leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. "Sharp. Like you're daring someone to argue back."
I tilted my head. "Would you prefer I spoke in riddles and pleasantries? Waste breath when a blade would cut quicker?"
Elena blinked at me, then burst into laughter. "Oh stars, you're dangerous. I like it."
Selene, however, only smirked. The kind of smirk that said she was filing every word away, measuring me piece by piece.
The conversation shifted when Elena chirped again. "Oh! Speaking of dangerous—you should know about Principal Aldrich."
"Principal?" I echoed, sliding the schedule shut.
"Yeah. Head of the Academy. He's… terrifying. Old, but in that 'immortal steel' kind of way. Rumor is, he used to duel kings and survived." Elena shuddered dramatically. "He runs this place with absolute control. Even the Seven Stars bow to him."
I raised a brow. Interesting. A man strong enough to leash the wolves.
"And the Seven Stars themselves?" I asked casually. "What's their role here?"
Elena's eyes lit up, thrilled at the chance to gossip. "Oh—they practically rule the academy. Adrian Volkov, Rafael De La Cruz, Hiroshi Takeda, Leonardo Moretti, Ethan Blackwood, Dante Castillo, and Kaiden Romanov. Seven heirs from the seven great clans."
"Royalty disguised as students," Selene added dryly.
I filed each name in memory, testing the syllables against what I had already learned. Faces from the gala flickered in my mind, their gazes still sharp even in memory.
"And," Elena leaned closer, whispering as if it was a forbidden secret, "the one you should really watch out for is Selena Veyra. Queen Bee. She's not one of the Seven Stars, but she might as well be the Eighth. Half the academy follows her, the other half fears her. She doesn't share thrones."
Her words made me chuckle under my breath. "Good. I don't share either."
Elena's jaw dropped again, while Selene's lips curved—just slightly.
"Stars," Elena muttered. "You're sassy, you're sharp, and you'll probably be the death of us all. No wonder the Oracle's obsessed with you."
I shrugged, folding the schedule neatly. "Better to be the obsession than the forgotten."
There was a brief silence. I could feel their eyes on me—Elena's glittering with awe, Selene's unreadable, calculating.
I tapped the schedule once more, eyes drifting over that bold crimson line: Combat Training — 3rd Bell.
"Looks like the academy wants entertainment this afternoon," I murmured. "Let's see if they get more than they bargained for."
By midday, the academy buzzed with restless energy. Word had spread that combat training would begin—and that meant blood would be spilled, pride tested, reputations shattered.
I stood before the mirror in my dorm room, fastening the last buckle of the academy-issued combat uniform. Black, sleek, reinforced with thin metallic threads that shimmered faintly under the light. Not bad. Functional, but still carrying the weight of elegance.
I tugged on the gloves, flexing my fingers. Better than ballroom dresses, at least.
When I stepped into the hall, Elena's eyes sparkled. "You look… intimidating."
Selene smirked. "Good. She'll need to be."
We walked together toward the Arena Grounds, our footsteps echoing down the marble corridor. But once we stepped outside, the true scale of it hit me.
The combat arena was massive—an open coliseum carved from white stone, with banners of the academy fluttering high above. Tiered seats already filled with students, their voices humming like a restless hive.
And at the center, gathered like living constellations, stood the Seven Stars.
I felt their eyes on me even before I looked. Adrian Volkov's piercing stare, Hiroshi Takeda's calm unreadable gaze, Rafael De La Cruz leaning against a pillar like a lion waiting for prey, Leonardo Moretti smiling far too charmingly. Ethan Blackwood lingered like a shadow, Dante Castillo gave nothing away, and Kaiden Romanov… his stare lingered longest, heavy with something I couldn't name.
"Elena wasn't lying," I thought, lips curving faintly. "They really do rule this place."
"Students!"
The voice thundered across the arena, snapping everyone to silence.
A man strode into the center—towering, broad-shouldered, with scars running down his jaw. His uniform wasn't the polished academy type but hardened military, worn with use. His presence radiated command.
"I am Instructor General Varian Holt," he barked. "Ex-commander of the Imperial Legion. For the next months, I own your bodies, your minds, and your will. You will break, and you will rebuild—or you will fail. And failure here is not an option."
The crowd shifted nervously. I only raised a brow.
"Before we begin drills," Holt continued, voice like iron, "I want a demonstration. A duel. To remind you what combat here looks like."
Whispers broke out instantly. No one dared to volunteer, not yet.
And then, from the front row of the gathered students, a single hand rose gracefully.
Selena Veyra.
The so-called Queen Bee.
Her hair shimmered like spun gold, her smile dripping venom as she stood. "Instructor, if I may. I would love to give the academy a demonstration." Her gaze slid across the crowd, before locking onto me. "With our… newest arrival."
Gasps rippled through the arena. Whispers sharpened.
"She's challenging the D'Angelis girl?""Does she have a death wish?""No… she's staking her claim. Testing her."
I tilted my head, lips curling into a faint smile. "Cute."
Selena's words dripped with mockery as she turned fully toward me. "Unless, of course, you're afraid. New girls do tend to… break easily."
Elena stiffened beside me. Selene's eyes narrowed.
But I only stepped forward, every movement measured, deliberate. My voice cut through the murmurs, steady and edged.
"Afraid?" I let the word linger, tasting the silence that followed. "Darling, the only thing I fear is wasting my time. If you want to entertain them, fine. But don't cry when you regret it."
Gasps echoed louder this time, followed by a roar of whispers.
Holt's eyes glittered with approval. "Very well. Veyra versus D'Angelis. To the field."
And just like that, the crowd parted, leaving the arena floor bare.
Selena descended gracefully, confidence dripping from every step. I followed, slow and unhurried, until we stood across from each other on the combat ground.
Her smile was sweet poison. My gaze was quiet fire.
Two queens. One stage.
The air thrummed with tension as the instructor raised his hand to signal the start.
And that was where the whispers ended, and the silence before the storm began.