"Wait, Calloway? As in..." My eyebrows shot up. "Calloway Industries?"
"Yes, that Calloway." Her smile didn't change, but something in her eyes flickered with interest.
I shook my head. "Then I highly doubt I'm the most interesting thing that's happened to you."
She took a step forward, close enough that I caught a hint of something that smelled expensive. "Really? Why's that?"
Before I could respond, Rafi backed away with exaggerated casualness. "Oooh, look at the time. I'm gonna head to lunch and get some tamales. See you later, Max?"
He walked past us, then turned around and gave me two thumbs up with the least subtle wink I've ever seen.
I stared after him in confusion. Did he just call an iso? I don't even know this woman. But apparently Rafi thought he was doing me a solid.
"So," I turned back to Reva. "What is someone from the Calloway family doing in Class 1-Z?"
"What is the son of the greatest hero in our time doing in 1-Z?" she countered, that slight smile never leaving her face.
"Touché."
She gestured toward the hallway. "Hungry?"
"Not really. I actually want to see my dorm. I haven't even dropped off my stuff yet."
"I can take you there." She fell into step beside me. "The residential area is on the north side of campus."
We walked through corridors packed with students heading to lunch. Everywhere we went, people stared—at my white hair, at the gauze on my forehead, at Reva walking beside me like we'd known each other for years instead of minutes.
"So you know who I am," I said.
"I know what they say about you." Her voice had an edge of amusement that made me feel like I was missing part of a joke. "Just like I know what they say about me."
"Which is?"
"That I'm a Calloway who contracted the wrong Anima." She said it casually, but something dark flashed across her face. "My family has a fire lineage going back three generations. I was supposed to contract a Griffin or a Fire Drake."
"But you didn't."
"No." She looked at me sideways. "I contracted something they couldn't file properly. Something that broke their nice, tidy categories."
That sounded familiar.
We passed a group of upperclassmen with gold trim on their blazers. One of them nudged another and whispered something. The second one laughed.
"Ignore them," Reva said. "Gold side elitism. They think being born lucky makes them special."
"And what do you think makes someone special?" I asked.
Her laugh sounded like the roll of dice across a table. "Unpredictability. The ability to defy expectations." She looked at me with those bright green eyes. "Tell me, Max Sterling, are you going to be predictable?"
"I haven't exactly been following the script so far."
"Good." She said it with such conviction that I almost believed it was good. "I'd hate to be bored."
We reached a junction where the main academic building branched toward the northern residential complex. The path led through a courtyard where students lounged on benches or sprawled on the grass, enjoying the afternoon sun.
"Show me your Anima," I said suddenly.
Her eyebrows rose fractionally. "Show me your cards."
"My what?"
"Your cards." She nodded toward my jacket where the box pressed against my ribs. "The ones you keep touching when you think no one's watching."
I froze. "How did you—"
"I notice things." She shrugged one shoulder. "So? Trade? My Anima for your mystery box?"
"Nah, I'm good."
She pouted, an expression that transformed her face from intimidating to almost cute. Almost. "No fun."
We crossed the courtyard, passing clusters of students who fell silent as we walked by. Their whispers resumed the moment we were out of earshot.
"You get used to it," Reva said, noticing my grimace. "Being talked about like you're not there."
"Does it bother you?"
"What other people think? Only when it's interesting." She glanced at me. "Most people's thoughts aren't very interesting."
The residential area rose before us—four modern buildings arranged around a central garden. Each was six stories tall with balconies and large windows.
"Class Z gets the west building," Reva explained. "First and second floors are for guys, third and fourth for girls. Standard Track gets the north and east buildings, Pioneer Track the south."
"Let me guess, Pioneer has better amenities?"
"Heated floors." Her tone was desert-dry. "Because clearly what makes someone a better gate runner is warm toes."
The lobby of our building was simple but comfortable—a few couches, a TV no one was watching, and a wall of mailboxes. A bored-looking student sat at the front desk, barely glancing up from his tablet as we entered.
"Room assignments are posted there," Reva pointed to a board by the elevator. "You're probably on the second floor. All the late arrivals get put up there."
I found my name: Room 212.
"You need your student ID to get in," Reva said as we rode the elevator.
The hallway on the second floor was quiet, most students still at lunch. I found 212 at the end of the corridor and swiped my ID card. The lock clicked open.
"Wow." I stepped into what was essentially a one-bedroom apartment. "This is... not what I expected."
The living area featured a small couch facing a flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. A kitchenette occupied one corner, complete with a mini-fridge and microwave. Through an open door, I glimpsed a bedroom with a surprisingly large bed and a walk-in closet.
"All the rooms are like this," Reva said, leaning against the doorframe. "They want us comfortable while they figure out which of us is worth keeping."
My bag sat on the couch—someone had delivered it while I was in class. I unzipped it and began pulling out clothes.
"So why did you seek me out?" I asked, not looking at her.
"I told you. You're interesting."
"There are lots of interesting people at this academy."
"Not like you." I felt her eyes on my back. "Not with zero compatibility across six facilities and a mysterious box that makes fire salamanders uncomfortable."
I turned around slowly. "You were watching during combat training."
"Everyone was watching." She stepped into the room, letting the door close behind her. "But not everyone saw what I saw."
"Which was?"
"A moment when something changed." She tilted her head. "When you went from losing to... something else."
The box in my pocket felt suddenly warmer. I resisted the urge to touch it.
"So what's your game, Calloway?"
"Game?" She laughed, the sound unexpectedly bright. "I don't play games, Max. I calculate odds. And you..." She took another step closer. "You just became the most interesting bet in the building."
She was close now, close enough that I could see flecks of gold in those green eyes.
"I should unpack," I said, not moving away.
"Of course." She smiled. "I'll leave you to it."
But she didn't move. Instead, her eyes flicked to the gauze on my forehead, then back to mine.
"One question before I go. When you look at Class Z, what do you see?"
I considered the question. "I see people the system doesn't know how to handle."
Her smile widened into something genuine. "Exactly." She finally stepped back. "See you around, Max Sterling."
She opened the door, then paused. "By the way, if you ever decide you want to see my Anima... or show me what's in that box... you know where to find me. Room 302."
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
I stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Then I walked to the couch and collapsed onto it.
"What the hell was that?"
No one answered, of course. Just the quiet hum of the air conditioning.
I pulled the box from my pocket and placed it on the coffee table. Black, lacquered, slightly larger than a standard deck of cards. It looked ordinary enough.
But it wasn't. I knew that now, after what had happened with the Magician during Hask's beating.
I opened it carefully. Twenty-two cards on heavy matte stock. The Fool at the front—the figure with the white flower, stepping off a cliff. And behind it...
I frowned. Something had changed. The second card still wasn't fully formed—just an outline, a suggestion of an image. But it was clearer than before. I could almost make out a figure standing at a table with various objects spread before it.
The Magician.
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A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter! Support by adding to your library and giving a power stone or two. Comment for a cookie!