Chapter 3
Miranda's arms still ached.
Combat class had ended, but the sting of failure clung to her skin like sweat that wouldn't dry. Students poured out of the arena in loud groups—laughing, bragging, replaying victories.
Miranda walked in silence.
"Hey," Melissa said gently, matching her pace. "You didn't completely fail."
Miranda huffed. "I couldn't even summon my wolf. Again."
Ahead of them, Jane laughed sharply, fangs flashing for just a second. Kira's demonic aura crackled faintly, like embers beneath her skin.
"Royal blood, no bite," Jane said loudly enough to be heard.
"Tragic," Kira added.
Sophia didn't say anything—but the look she gave Miranda hurt the most.
The bell rang before Miranda could react.
Next lesson: History of the Supernatural Realms.
The lecture hall was massive—tiered stone seating carved with sigils of the eleven beings. At the front stood a single obsidian podium.
The room fell silent the moment the professor entered.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark academic robes that seemed too heavy for the warm air. His face was partially concealed by a silver-marked mask, ancient symbols etched into its surface.
Whispers rippled through the hall.
"That's him."
"The new one."
"They say he transferred from the upper realms."
Miranda felt it then.
Pressure.
Not magic exactly—but authority. Something old. Watching.
"I am Professor Kael Dietrich," he said calmly. His voice wasn't loud, yet it reached every corner of the hall. "I will be teaching you history. Not the sanitized version."
A pause.
"The truth."
Miranda straightened without realizing it.
Kael turned, lifting his hand. The air shimmered, and an image formed behind him—ancient lands, burning skies, oceans splitting.
"Before your covenants," he continued, "before your laws and councils, power ruled unchecked. Demons did not kneel. Wolves did not answer to kings. Magic was survival."
Jane scoffed quietly. "Demons still don't kneel."
Kael's gaze flicked to her.
Jane froze.
"They do," he said softly, "when reminded why they learned to."
Silence.
Miranda swallowed.
His eyes—dark, piercing—shifted to her row. To her.
"For example," Kael said, "lycans."
A ripple of interest moved through the class.
"Royal bloodlines were bound by covenant to prevent destruction," he continued. "Power restrained to preserve balance. Break the covenant… and the power devours its host."
Miranda's chest tightened.
Kael tilted his head slightly. "Miss Viscoff."
Her heart slammed.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Do you believe power should be inherited," he asked, "or earned?"
Every eye turned to her.
Miranda hesitated. "Earned," she said quietly. "Inherited power means nothing if you can't control it."
Something unreadable passed through Kael's gaze.
"A dangerous answer," he said. Then—almost to himself—"But an honest one."
The bell rang, breaking the tension.
Students exhaled, rising quickly. Jane shot Miranda a glare. Kira looked… unsettled.
Melissa grabbed Miranda's arm. "Why do I feel like he was talking directly to you?"
Miranda didn't answer.
As she stood to leave, Kael spoke again—low enough that only she heard.
"History will matter to you more than you realize, Miranda Viscoff."
She turned—but he was already gone.
And for the first time, the weight on her chest wasn't shame.
It was anticipation.