Aralyn's POV
I didn't even see it coming.
One second, I was staring down at my tray, trying to pretend that my half-eaten bread was the most interesting thing in the world, and the next, something cold, sticky, and sickeningly sweet splashed down on my face when I looked up.
The shock hit first. My breath caught in my throat as the liquid slid down my cheeks and dripped onto my collar. My eyes stung, my vision blurred, and all I could smell was sugar and something oddly metallic.
I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my eyes, wiping at them with the sleeve of my already miserable uniform. It didn't help much. The fabric just smeared the drink around, turning everything sticky.
A few seconds later, when I finally managed to blink enough of the mess away to see, I realized that the cafeteria had gone silent. Silent, and then loud again, as laughter and whispers began to ripple through the hall.
Dozens, maybe hundreds, of eyes were on me. Every table and every corner. Even the ones who weren't laughing were staring, as if watching a particularly entertaining show.
I sat frozen, unsure of what to do for a moment. Then my gaze locked on the person standing a few feet away, holding an empty cup and wearing a grin so smug I wanted to slap it off.
He wasn't human; that much was more than obvious. His skin had a faint, unnatural gleam to it, almost silvery when the light hit. His eyes, an unsettling shade of green, slitted like a serpent's. His hair was too perfect, too bright, the kind that looked effortless but probably took hours to arrange.
I didn't know what he was—demon, fae, or something in between—but I knew one thing: I hated his type.
The smug, good-looking bullies who thought they owned every room they walked into. The kind who believed their faces were free passes for cruelty. I'd met plenty of them back in Vasthral, boys who thought fear was respect and violence was charm, and I had shot one of them once.
I swallowed hard, pushing that memory down before it could rise. This wasn't Vasthral, and I couldn't afford to lose control here, but God, I wanted to.
I exhaled through my nose as I stood up from my seat. Sticky drops fell from my hair to the floor, splattering dark stains on the tiles. I didn't bother brushing them off.
"Wow," I said, my voice loud enough to cut through the snickers. "You must feel really accomplished."
The boy's smirk didn't fade. "What, can't handle a little refreshment, human?"
A few of his friends snorted, clearly impressed by his creativity.
I could've ignored it. I should've. Elyra would've told me to walk away and not add fuel to the fire, but I was tired—tired of being humiliated and tired of pretending that I didn't care.
So, I didn't.
I stepped closer until I was standing right in front of him, my chin tilted up defiantly. I could feel the tension in the room shift.
"If you're so proud of yourself," I said, keeping my tone steady, "why don't we see how brave you are without all your magic?"
His smirk faltered. Just a bit.
Then, slowly, his brows drew together. "What did you just say?"
"You heard me," I said, folding my arms despite the sticky fabric clinging to my skin. "You and me. No magic, just you. Let's see how tough you actually are."
A gasp rippled through the crowd. Some students leaned forward eagerly, like they couldn't believe what they were hearing. Others whispered to one another, words like "idiot," "human," and "suicidal" drifting to my ears.
For a split second, the boy looked thrown off balance. Then his expression darkened. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing into slits.
"Did a damned human just have the audacity to challenge me?" he growled.
I felt my stomach twist, but I didn't let it show. "Yeah," I said simply. "She did."
His nostrils flared, and I could almost see the magic in him flickering, the air around his shoulders shifting like heat waves.
"Careful," someone from the next table muttered under their breath. "He's going to—"
But I didn't flinch. I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.
He leaned forward, his height making the distance between us feel smaller, more dangerous. "You really don't know who you're talking to, do you?"
"Should I?" I shot back.
That earned a few scattered laughs from the crowd. Not supportive ones, mocking, amused ones, but still, it made his jaw tick.
I had hit a nerve.
For the first time since I got to this school, I felt a strange, reckless satisfaction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the little voice in my head whispering don't let them win."
He straightened, his expression shifting from disbelief to amusement. "Fine," he said coolly. "Let's entertain your little challenge."
My heartbeat quickened.
"Outside," he added. "Now. Let's see how long your human bones last."
The cafeteria exploded with excitement. Students stood up from their seats, some already heading for the doors, eager to watch.
I froze for a second, realizing what I had just agreed to, but then I caught sight of his smirk again, the same smug curl of his lips that made my blood boil, and that was all it took.
I wasn't backing down. I didn't care if I got beaten to a pulp. I just needed to prove, to him, to them, and to myself, that I wasn't something to laugh at.
When I turned, I saw Elyra standing in the doorway, her face pale as snow.
"Aralyn," she hissed, grabbing my arm as I passed. "What did you do?"
"Nothing I can't handle," I muttered.
"Are you out of your mind?" she snapped. "He's—he's not even mortal! He'll crush you!"
I shrugged her off gently. "Then I'll at least go down swinging."
"Aralyn—"
But I was already moving toward the exit, the crowd parting like a wave around me. My wet clothes clung to my skin, my boots squelched with every step, and my pulse hammered in my ears.
Outside, the courtyard was colder and quieter, but not for long. Within moments, the students poured out behind us, encircling the open space like spectators at an arena.
The boy, my opponent, stood a few feet ahead, rolling his shoulders, his grin lazy and confident. He looked like he'd done this before. Probably had.
Elyra appeared at my side again, whispering frantically. "Aralyn, listen to me, he's from the Serphyn line. They're shapeshifters, and they can channel strength from the ground itself. You can't win this."
"Good thing I'm not trying to," I said under my breath.
I stepped forward. "No magic," I reminded him.
He chuckled. "Don't worry, human. I don't need it."
We circled each other; the crowd hushed now. He moved first. Fast. His fist shot toward me, and I barely managed to dodge. His speed was unnatural, even without magic, and pain exploded across my arm where he grazed me.
I stumbled, my breath catching, but I steadied myself. I'd taken worse hits before. Back in Vasthral, a punch was nothing compared to what my uncle's men had done.
He lunged again. This time, I ducked under him, using his own weight against him. He staggered forward slightly, just enough for me to shove him hard in the chest.
He didn't fall, but the crowd gasped, and that tiny, shocked expression on his face? Worth it.
He growled, low and furious. "You'll regret that."
He swung again, and I dodged again, although barely. My lungs burned, my muscles screamed, but I refused to stop.
"Come on," I taunted between breaths. "That's all you got?"
His eyes flared with something wild. He lunged again, too fast this time, and before I could react, his hand wrapped around my collar, lifting me clean off the ground.
The crowd gasped again.
"Say that again," he hissed, his breath hot against my face. "Say it."
For a heartbeat, fear clawed at my chest. He could kill me easily, but then I remembered the sound of my uncle's laughter, the smell of Vasthral's rotting streets, the gun in my hand, and the weight of it when I pulled the trigger.
I wasn't that scared, helpless girl anymore.
I spat in his face.
He froze. His grip loosened just enough for me to drive my knee into his stomach. He doubled over, and I stumbled backward, gasping.
For a second, it was dead silent, and then chaos erupted.
The crowd cheered, shouted, and screamed. Some were horrified, others thrilled. Elyra was yelling something, my name, maybe, but I couldn't hear her over the pounding in my ears.
The boy straightened, his eyes blazing. For a moment, I thought he was going to break the rules and use his magic after all, but before he could move, a voice cut through the noise.
"Enough!"
The courtyard fell silent, and I turned first before freezing.
Standing at the edge of the crowd was a tall woman in deep indigo robes, her expression cold.
Professor Neryla.
Her gaze shifted from him to me, lingering just long enough to make my stomach drop.
"Both of you," she said, her tone sharp and final. "My office. Now."
The crowd scattered instantly, murmurs following us as we walked toward the building.
I was dripping, bruised, and humiliated, but as I glanced sideways at the boy, his pride clearly wounded, I couldn't help it.
I smiled.