Arya entered the class and let her eyes roam about. Some students were just arriving like her, while others had already taken their seats, chatting and laughing as if they'd known each other forever. She spotted an empty chair near the back and was about to make her way there when someone bumped into her.
"I'm sorry—really!"
Arya turned to see a small, plump girl with purple hair cut into a bob. A pair of oversized round glasses magnified her yellow eyes, making them look like glowing orbs. Her uniform was slightly different from Arya's, its trimmings marked with silver.
"No problem," Arya said, turning back to leave, but then she felt a tug. Her platinum blonde hair had caught in the girl's bracelet.
"Oh no, I'm very sorry this is happening," the girl stammered, her braces making her words sound slightly awkward. She tugged at the bracelet, wincing. "Looks like your hair is gonna come out with it."
Before Arya could respond, the classroom door opened. A tall woman entered, holding a small purse. The atmosphere immediately shifted—this was their teacher.
"Let's go have our seats first," Arya whispered.
The two of them hurried to the nearest chairs and sat down together. Arya carefully untangled her hair from the bracelet, wincing as a few strands came loose.
"I should never have let my hair down," she muttered under her breath.
"Thank goodness," the plump girl whispered, relief flooding her face. "Now your pretty hair won't be destroyed."
Arya gave her a small smile. "I didn't get your name yet."
"Pardon me," the girl said, sitting straighter. "My name is Emelia Rousseau. I'm a princess from a small kingdom near the waterside. It's called Jennovah." Her voice carried pride, and then she quickly added with a delighted gleam, "What about you?"
"My name is Arya," was all she managed before the teacher's voice rang out.
"You're all welcome to Skylar Academy once again. You're here to learn how to control and develop your powers. I hope each and every one of you has a Senior PAR—Partner?"
"Yes!" the students chorused in unison.
"Very well then," she continued. "You'll have different teachers according to the element you control. I am your homeroom teacher. If you have questions, my office is on the second floor, to your left."
Without another word, she left the class, looking exhausted as though her very presence had been a duty she could not wait to escape.
A murmur broke out among the students—compliments about how beautiful their homeroom teacher was—though it lasted only briefly. The door creaked open again, and someone new walked in.
She was petite, almost doll-like, with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes the color of a clear summer sky. Her auburn curls bounced as she skipped into the room. Despite her small frame, her robes clung to her curvy figure, hinting at a playful boldness.
"Hi, lovelies!" she chirped, her voice bright and musical.
"I'm Ms. Louis, and I'm absolutely thrilled to be your instructor for hydrokinesis!" She spun lightly on her toes, pulling a bottle from her pouch. "Water wielders, you're not just limited to streams and oceans. You can control all liquids. And some of you," her eyes twinkled, "might even be powerful enough to freeze it into ice."
She demonstrated, pulling a stream of water from her bottle before transforming it into a glimmering shard of ice.
"See? Isn't this great?" she squealed. "People think water isn't an offensive element, but I tell you, my lovelies, it's dangerous. Now—who's ready to learn? You? You? Or maybe you?" She hopped around until she stopped in front of a short boy.
The boy's eyes traveled, not to her demonstration, but to the impressive curve of her chest. Ms. Louis hugged his head playfully against her bosom, and his face turned crimson. By the time she released him, blood trickled from his nose as he slumped in bliss.
"Poor boy," Emelia whispered, making Arya giggle softly.
Ms. Louis chatted happily until her time ended, leaving the class buzzing with laughter. But the mood shifted again when the next teacher entered.
The classroom hushed as the door opened. A man walked in—tall, effortlessly composed, his presence alone commanding silence. He was devastatingly handsome: sharp cheekbones, tousled dark hair, and eyes the color of molten gold, flickering faintly as if they held an inner flame.
Whispers about a "fire mage" had spread, but none of them had imagined this.
He placed a worn leather book on the desk, his movements deliberate, graceful. A faint warmth radiated from him, wrapping the room in subtle heat. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, resonant, and magnetic.
"Good morning."
"My name is Mr. Valerius. The rumors you've heard are… mostly true. But today's lesson will be theory, not pyrotechnics." Then his lips curved in a sly smile. "Though that might change if anyone falls asleep."
A flicker of flame danced briefly across his fingertips before vanishing. The female students gawked, while the males sat in awe. Arya felt her breath catch, her heart skipping for reasons she couldn't explain.
Mr. Valerius opened his book slowly, his golden eyes sweeping across the class with deliberate intensity—until they paused, resting on Arya. For a fraction of a second, his expression faltered, as though he recognized her.
Her stomach tightened.
"Now… let's begin," he said smoothly.
But Arya couldn't shake the feeling that his words carried more weight than they seemed.