A loud chime erupts through the room.


    Hope groans, burrowing deeper into her blanket.


    The chime grows louder.


    Hope: “Five more minutes…”


    For a second, she just stares at the ceiling.


    An echoing voice pierces through the intercom. “Good morning, Students. It is 6:45 AM. Classes begin at 8:00. Have a wonderful day.”


    6:45?


    Hope sits up, groaning. “Yeah, thanks, Satan.”


    Hope shuffles to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face before slipping into the Haven Institute uniform—crisp white button-up, pleated skirt, black Mary Janes.


    She grabs a couple hair ties, twisting her curls into loose pigtails before glancing at herself in the mirror.


    The uniform actually looks cute.


    She grabs her bag, tossing in the notebooks left for her, and steps out into the corridor. Just as she does—


    Daisy’s door swings open.


    Daisy steps out, already put together—hair sleek, perfect lashes, bright smile in place.


    Daisy: (grinning) “Oh good, you survived.”


    Before Hope can retaliate, Sierra’s door opens.


    Sierra steps out, adjusting her glasses. “I assume you endured Haven’s alarm system?”


    Hope crosses her arms. “Unfortunately.”


    Daisy nudges her playfully. “First class is homeroom. You ready?”


    Hope groans: “I don’t wanna do more school.”


    ——————————————————————


    The halls buzz with morning activity, students weaving through the corridors, chatting, laughing.


    Hope keeps close to Daisy and Sierra, glancing around at the mix of people. They turn a corner, arriving at a set of tall doors. A small golden plaque reads:


    MISS WILSON — HOMEROOM 3A


    Daisy nudges Hope’s shoulder. “Ready?” Hope nods. “Yeah.” Sierra pushes open the door—


    And the first thing Hope sees is Chase.


    Seated casually at a desk, arms crossed, looking just as smug as ever. His chiseled jawline, sharp cheekbones, and perfect smile make him undeniably attractive, but the arrogance in his expression cancels out any charm.


    Hope freezes. Her stomach drops. And as her eyes scan the room—


    Hunter. Drew. Bella. Gabby. All of them. The entire group from last night.


    Hope: You have got to be kidding me.


    Daisy winces. “Yeah, uh… forgot to mention. We have homeroom with them.”


    Hope slowly turns to her. “And now you tell me?”


    Daisy grimaces. “I was gonna let you enjoy your morning first.”


    Sierra leans in. “For what it’s worth, they don’t usually cause trouble in class. Too many teachers watching.”


    Hope inhales sharply, then exhales. “Fine. Whatever. It’s one class.” She steps in, keeping her head high.


    But as she passes Chase, he tilts his head just slightly, watching her with a lazy smirk. His light brown hair falls effortlessly into place, his confidence as infuriating as ever.


    Chase: “Good morning, crazy.”


    Hope: “Fuck off.”


    She walks past, finding a seat next to Daisy.


    Daisy laughs. “I like this version of you.”


    Before Hope can respond, the classroom door swings open again. Miss Wilson steps in.


    And just like that, her first class at Haven begins.


    Miss Wilson stands at the front of the room, hands clasped behind her back. She’s younger than Hope expected—probably in her mid-30s, with sharp yet refined features. Her wavy hair grazes her shoulders, and her navy robes move effortlessly as she paces.


    She’s serious, but undeniably pretty. And she doesn’t waste time.


    Miss Wilson’s eyes scan the room before settling on Hope.


    Miss Wilson: “We have a new student joining us today.” Miss Wilson: “Hope, introduce yourself.”


    Hope inhales sharply. Ugh. Again?


    She pushes her chair back, standing with all the confidence she doesn’t feel.


    Hope: “Uh… hi. I’m Hope.”


    A beat of silence.


    Miss Wilson raises an eyebrow.


    Hope clears her throat.


    Hope: “I… just got here, like, yesterday. I don’t really know how anything works yet. Umm… yeah.”


    More silence.


    Hunter leans back in his chair, smirking. His tanned skin and sharp, rugged features give him a naturally intimidating presence.


    Hunter: “Wow. Inspirational.”


    A few students snicker under their breath.


    Miss Wilson doesn’t even look at him. With a flick of her wrist, a gust of wind snaps Hunter’s chair upright.


    Hunter flinches.


    Miss Wilson’s expression remains neutral.


    Miss Wilson: “I suggest you keep your seat the way it is.”


    Hunter grumbles something under his breath. Hope sits back down.


    Daisy leans over. “The worst part is over.”


    Hope huffs a quiet laugh. “We’ll see.”


    Miss Wilson begins writing on the chalkboard:


    <ol>


    <li>INTERNAL MAGIC</li>


    <li>EXTERNAL MAGIC</li>


    <li>DIVINE MAGIC</li>


    </ol>


    She paces, voice measured and steady.


    Miss Wilson: “At Haven, we categorize magic into three primary sources. Some of you may already be predisposed to one over the others.”


    She turns to the class.


    Miss Wilson: “Internal magic is drawn from your own energy. External magic is taken from your environment. Divine magic is granted by higher beings.”


    Miss Wilson passes out a cluster of ferns on each student’s desk.


    Hope stares at the delicate plant in front of her.


    Miss Wilson: “Today’s task is simple. I want you to alter these. Change them to another flower of your choosing. You may use internal, external, or divine methods.”


    Hope feels a ripple of anticipation move through the class. This seems easy enough.


    Miss Wilson glances around the room. “Begin.”


    Hope closes her eyes, exhaling. She’s done bigger things than this. This is flowers.


    She focuses. A deep pull, the way she’s always used her magic—the way it just happens.


    Her fingertips warm slightly. The ferns don’t move. Hope frowns.


    She tries again, tensing her fingers. Nothing. She peeks around.


    Other students are already changing their flowers effortlessly.


    Drew’s ferns shift into hydrangeas with a flick of his hand. Even Daisy, who rolled her eyes at the assignment, has snapped her fingers and turned hers into sunflowers. Bella’s become black orchids.


    Hope watches Bella as she examines her own creation, effortlessly captivating. She twirls a lock of her perfectly styled chocolate brown hair around a manicured finger, her piercing blue eyes flicking upward to gauge the class’s reaction. Even as a mean girl, there’s something about her that makes people want to please her. The boys in the room can’t help but glance in her direction.


    Hope grits her teeth. She focuses harder, pulling at whatever force she used in the dining hall—


    A spark. Then—


    A sudden whoosh of heat.


    Flames erupt from the fern, licking at the edges of Hope’s desk. The class recoils. The sharp scent of burning plant matter fills the air.


    Miss Wilson reacts instantly, swiping her hand through the air. A burst of wind extinguishes the fire in a blink.


    Bella sits up, arching an eyebrow. “Yikes.”


    Drew whistles. “She said change the plant, not incinerate it.”


    Miss Wilson furrows her brows, turning to Hope.


    Miss Wilson: “What the hell was that?”


    Hope, mortified, stammers. “I… don’t know. I thought I could just do it.”


    Miss Wilson studies her for a moment before nodding slowly.


    Miss Wilson: “Then perhaps you should focus on how magic actually works, rather than assuming it will do what you want.”


    Hope swallows hard, her face burning as Gabby leans over to whisper something to Bella.


    She doesn’t hear it. But she doesn’t have to. She already feels the judgment.


    When the bell finally rings, she practically bolts from her seat.


    Daisy and Sierra catch up to her outside.


    Daisy: “Hey. Don’t let them get to you. That assignment was lame anyway.”


    Sierra pushes up her glasses. “You might just be using magic differently. Some people struggle with the simple stuff because their abilities work outside the standard system.”


    Hope exhales sharply. “Or maybe I just suck.”


    Daisy slings an arm around her shoulder. “Nope. Not possible. You obliterated Chase on day one. You’re clearly built different.”


    Even still—


    The whispers, the stares, the judgment—


    They cling to her.


    Maybe she isn’t as powerful as everyone assumed.


    Maybe she’s not supposed to be here.


    The hallway buzzes with students heading to their next classes.


    Hope, however, lingers outside the practical magic classroom, arms crossed, her face set in frustration.


    Daisy and Sierra look at Hope.


    Daisy: “You’re spiraling, babe.”


    Hope exhales sharply. “That was so embarrassing. It’s just—why couldn’t I do it?”


    Sierra: “You’re overthinking it.”


    Daisy: “Yeah, and besides, those people aren’t important. The second you actually pop off again, they’ll shut up real fast.”


    Hope presses her lips together.


    She knows Daisy’s right. But that doesn’t make the sting any less annoying.


    As they continue walking, Hope feels eyes on her.


    She turns her head—


    And sees Chase.


    He’s a few paces behind, walking with Hunter and Drew, hands tucked in his pockets.


    Hope narrows her eyes.


    Chase meets her gaze without hesitation.


    And then, to her absolute disbelief, he smirks.


    Chase: “Having a hard time with the basics? Or are you just a pyromaniac?”


    Hunter adds in. “I think arsonist might be more fitting”


    Drew: “Alien, mental case, arsonist. It just doesn’t end with you does it?”


    Hope stiffens.


    Daisy rolls her eyes. “God, do you ever shut up?”


    Chase: “Just making an observation. Big, flashy attack one day… can’t even pull off a beginner’s spell the next.”


    Hunter snickers.


    Hope clenches her jaw. “Didn’t realize you were so obsessed with me.”


    Chase tilts his head. “Not obsessed. Just curious.”


    Hope glares.


    Daisy groans. “Can we leave now? Hearing him talk is giving me a headache.”


    Sierra: (muttering) “I hope he doesn’t start following us around. I like to hear myself think.”


    Chase chuckles but doesn’t push further.


    Hope yanks her gaze away and keeps walking.


    But inside? Her frustration is burning.


    She knows all those douchebags will get what’s coming.


    Because next—


    Is combat class.


    And if nothing else, she’s damn sure she’ll prove herself there.


    ——————————————————————


    Combative Magic Class


    The cool morning air greets Hope as she steps outside with Daisy and Sierra, still shaken from the disastrous magic lesson earlier. They walk through the courtyards, heading toward the large arena Hope had glimpsed during her orientation. The building looms ahead, its stone walls worn from years of training battles.


    Hope exhales slowly, rolling her shoulders back.


    Sierra nudges her. “You good?”


    Hope forces a smirk. “I just set a plant on fire in front of the entire class. So, yeah, I’m thriving.”


    Daisy chuckles. “At least it wasn’t your hair.”


    The doors to the arena swing open, revealing the vast training grounds. Rows of stone seats curve around the perimeter, and the floor is a smooth tile.


    At the center of the arena stand two figures—


    Mr. Waltz, looking as unbothered as ever, his scruffy appearance contrasting with his sharp gaze. And beside him, Miss Wilson, her stance poised and commanding.


    Mr. Waltz stretches, rubbing the back of his neck lazily. “Alright, youngsters. Today, we’re doing combat training.”


    Hope stiffens. Combat training? Already?


    Miss Wilson steps forward, scanning the crowd. “Magic at Haven isn’t just about theory. You need to be able to apply it in real-world situations. And that means learning how to fight.”


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Mr. Waltz smirks. “We’re pairing you up. Time to see what you’re all capable of.”


    Hope’s stomach knots. This is it. This is where she’ll finally see the others’ powers in action—and where she’ll have to prove herself.


    Miss Wilson begins calling names, assigning pairs. The anticipation thickens.


    “Combative magic is more than power. It’s about control, strategy, and knowing your limits.”


    Mr. Waltz, leaning lazily against a stone pillar, yawns. “And, you know… entertainment.”


    A few students chuckle, but most are tense.


    A few matches follow, each displaying unique talents—one student shaping crystal barriers to deflect incoming strikes, another using shadow-based attacks to create illusions that flicker in and out of sight.


    Hope watches intently, noting the vast difference in power levels between the students. Some are clearly skilled, manipulating magic with effortless precision, while others struggle to control their own abilities.


    Near her, Daisy leans over. “I can already tell who’s been training since childhood.”


    A loud crack echoes across the arena as one match ends in a spectacular display of light bursting outward. The loser groans, rubbing their arm as they walk off.


    Mr. Waltz yawns dramatically. “Alright, next up—Sierra and Drew.”


    Sierra steps forward, rolling her shoulders.


    Drew grins. “Guess we’ll see how brainpower stacks up against real magic.”


    Sierra rolls her eyes, unfazed.


    Miss Wilson drops her hand.


    Drew moves first, his wavelength magic distorting the battlefield—the air itself flickers, and the ground seems to shift and bend.


    Sierra doesn’t panic. Her ESP kicks in, and a sharp ringing pulses through her mind—an instinctive warning.


    Drew lunges, warping the space around himself. Sierra analyzes the battlefield instantly, tracking the subtle shifts in his movement.


    He swings a hand outward, and the space around her wavers, disorienting her sense of depth.


    Sierra closes her eyes for half a second—relying only on pattern recognition.


    Then she steps forward, perfectly timed, slipping through the distortion.


    Drew’s eyes widen. “What—?”


    Sierra reaches out, tapping his wrist— and in a blink, his own wavelength field collapses.


    He staggers backward, his magic destabilized. Sierra doesn’t hesitate—she sends out a concussive mental pulse, disrupting his control.


    Drew stumbles, cursing. “Shit.”


    Miss Wilson raises a hand. “Match over. Sierra wins.”


    Drew lets out a breath, shaking his head. He’s annoyed, but not angry—he’s impressed. “Damn. You really don’t miss, huh?”


    Sierra just shrugs. “I planned accordingly.”


    As the former two combatants walk off the arena, Mr. Waltz calls up the next pair.


    Bella and Hunter.


    Hunter grins as he steps forward. “Finally, a real fight.”


    Bella gives a slow smirk, flipping her hair. “Don’t sweat, babe.”


    Mr. Waltz signals the start.


    Hunter moves first, his reality-warping magic bending perception itself. The battlefield darkens, and suddenly, Bella is surrounded by endless copies of Hunter.


    Each one lunges at her simultaneously.


    Bella doesn’t flinch.


    She closes her eyes— then, the temperature drops.


    A mist rolls in, ice forming instantly on the floor.


    Hunter grits his teeth. His illusions flicker—Bella isn’t seeing through them, she’s freezing the space they occupy.


    Shards of ice explode outward, forcing Hunter to move. But his perception magic twists the air, making Bella miscalculate her attack.


    For a moment, Hunter is behind her.


    He reaches out— but the second his fingers get close, Bella pivots smoothly, a razor-thin ice blade forming at her fingertips.


    She slashes— and Hunter barely manages to phase back before it can hit.


    But Bella has him.


    She stomps her heel, and the ice under Hunter’s feet shifts— he loses traction. She capitalizes, sending a freezing shockwave through the ground.


    Hunter is forced to stop manipulating reality and focus on defense.


    Bella smirks as he falters. “Too slow.”


    A final blast of ice locks his feet in place—long enough for Miss Wilson to call it.


    “Match over. Bella wins.”


    Hunter grits his teeth, frustrated. “Whatever. You got lucky.”


    Bella just winks.


    The next pair come up to the arena.


    Daisy cracks her knuckles. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”


    Gabby shrugs, unimpressed. “Don’t cry when you lose.”


    Miss Wilson signals the start.


    Daisy claps her hands together—and suddenly, a karmic aura flares around her, glowing violet.


    Gabby reacts instantly, summoning metallic shards in mid-air, forming razor-thin daggers.


    Daisy steps forward, scanning Gabby’s aura— she pulls at the girl’s bad karma, redirecting it as a forceful energy strike.


    But Gabby twists her fingers— the metallic shards spin faster, and Daisy suddenly feels resistance.


    Gabby smirks. “Neutral karma. I’m not evil enough for you to use that.”


    Daisy furrows her brows, then switches tactics.


    She taps into her own good karma, focusing on enhancing her strength. The next step shakes the ground, sending a powerful energy blast toward Gabby.


    Gabby grits her teeth, crossing her arms— her body coats itself in metallic armor, absorbing the impact.


    Then—she launches forward, a metallic spear forming mid-sprint.


    Daisy raises a defensive barrier— but Gabby’s spear shatters through it, clipping her side.


    Daisy stumbles, losing balance— and Gabby lands the finishing strike.


    Miss Wilson nods. “Match over. Gabby wins.”


    Daisy groans, rubbing her arm. “Tch. You fight dirty.”


    The air in the arena buzzes with energy as the previous fight wraps up. Gabby flicks her wrist, dismissing the remaining shards of metal from the battlefield, while Daisy groans, rubbing her sore arm as she steps back.


    Hope watches from the sidelines, her heart pounding harder than she’d like to admit. Each match had been intense, showcasing how powerful everyone really was. Even those who lost had put up a fight.


    Miss Wilson scans the roster in her hands. Then, she calls out the next names.


    “Hope and Chase—step forward.”


    Hope inhales sharply. The murmurs start before she even moves.


    “Oh, this is gonna be good.”


    “She wiped the floor with him last time—think he’ll let that happen again?”


    “He’s gonna destroy her.”


    Chase steps onto the battlefield first, rolling his shoulders with ease. He’s grinning—excited. Too excited.


    Chase grins, stepping forward. “Payback time.”


    Hope exhales slowly and steps forward, keeping her expression neutral.


    Hope spreads her arms out.


    A pink kaleidoscope blooms behind her, shifting and turning in intricate, glowing patterns.


    Even Chase raises an eyebrow.


    Miss Wilson lifts her hand, ready to begin.


    Hope exhales sharply, her focus sharpening. A wild, pink barrage explodes outward, filling the air with hundreds of fast-moving orbs.


    Chase teleports between them, dodging effortlessly.


    Hope narrows her eyes. He’s too fast. She switches tactics— the next barrage spins in irregular spirals, forcing him into predictable movement.


    Chase realizes too late—Hope has him boxed in.


    For just a second, he freezes time.


    Everything halts.


    He steps through the attack, rewinding one of Hope’s earlier orbs, sending it back at her.


    Time resumes.


    Hope’s own attack slams toward her— but she deflects it mid-air, her hands glowing white-hot.


    Then, she raises her hand.


    Pink and white spheres flood the battlefield, too many to dodge all at once.


    Chase teleports rapidly, but then— ribbon-like streams of light twist and spiral, chasing him.


    He tries to teleport— but they adjust mid-air.


    A final blast crashes into his chest, knocking him down.


    Miss Wilson nods. “Match over. Hope wins. Good job everyone, that’s a wrap for today''s class. Let’s start heading over to the dining hall for lunch.”


    Chase shakes his head, then picks himself up from the tile. “Okay, I’ll admit it. You’re good.”


    Hope lets out a breath.


    She had won.


    _________________________________________


    The walk to the dining hall is buzzing with conversation. Students rehash their fights, some still heated from their losses, others riding the high of victory.


    Hope keeps her head high, but inside, she’s exhausted. Every muscle feels like it’s been worked to its limit, and her mind is still racing from her fight with Chase. Her first real battle at Haven… and she won.


    Daisy looks over at hope. “How ya feelin’?”


    Hope looks exhausted. “I think I need a nap.”


    Sierra: “I’m sure you had a lot of adrenaline given the circumstances. You probably just used up too much energy at once.”


    Hope groans. “Love that.”


    The three step into the dining hall, and the atmosphere is completely different from earlier. Instead of a calm, casual lunch, the room is alive with post-battle energy.


    Hope can already hear students debriefing their fights, some mocking each other, some arguing over who really won.


    Miss Wilson and Mr. Waltz are already seated at the faculty table, along with the rest of the teachers. Miss Spring sits at the head, perfectly composed.


    Hope, Daisy, and Sierra grab their food and head to their usual table. Chase, Hunter, Drew, Bella, and Gabby are already there.


    Before Hope can even sit—


    Chase: “You think just because you won one fight, you’re hot shit?”


    Hope drops onto the bench. “I was hot shit before I won.”


    Daisy laughs. “Icon. Legend.”


    At the faculty table, Miss Wilson cuts a piece of fruit with precise movements, still clearly deep in thought.


    Miss Wilson: “Hope’s combat magic is advanced, yet she struggled with the most basic spell earlier today.”


    She looks at Mr. Waltz.


    Miss Wilson: “Explain that to me.”


    Mr. Waltz doesn’t answer right away. He’s thinking.


    Because he knows exactly what she was using.


    Mr. Waltz: “Purification magic.”


    A few teachers glance up at that.


    Another faculty member—one of the combat instructors—leans in. “I saw her fight. That girl’s offensive magic is terrifying. It’s like her attacks… move with intent. She’s not just throwing power around. It’s instinctive.”


    Miss Wilson: “That makes no sense. That kind of magic is ancient. No one does it anymore.”


    Mr. Waltz opens his mouth to explain, but—


    Miss Spring cuts in, her voice calm, but laced with something sharp.


    Miss Spring: “Enough about Hope.”


    The table stills.


    Miss Spring: “This constant discussion about her is getting on my nerves.”


    The silence that follows is thick.


    Mr. Waltz doesn’t push further, but his expression is unreadable. He’s putting pieces together.


    Miss Wilson glances at him. She can tell he knows something.


    Over at the student tables, Hope sits back, stretching her arms. The table is alive with conversation, everyone dissecting their fights.


    Hunter is still seething. Arms crossed, scowling at his food.


    Hunter: “I had that match.”


    Bella, perfectly relaxed, twirls a spoon between her fingers. “You really didn’t.”


    Daisy sighs, rubbing her temples.


    Daisy: “Gabby fights dirty.”


    Gabby shrugs, bored.


    Gabby: “Maybe I’m just better.”


    Sierra turns to Hope, studying her.


    Sierra: “That final attack of yours—it was impossible to dodge. Chase barely made it through half of it.”


    Chase groans, rolling his shoulders.


    Chase: “Yeah, yeah. You got your win.”


    Hope smirks.


    Hope: “Damn right I did.”


    Drew, amused, leans forward.


    Drew: “Be honest. You thought you were gonna lose, didn’t you?”


    Bella: “I thought she’d lose, too.”


    Hope shrugs.


    Hope: “Guess I’m full of surprises.”


    Gabby, watching her closely, tilts her head.


    Gabby: “Where the hell did you even learn to fight like that? You said you just got here.”


    The table quiets slightly. They’re waiting for an answer. Hope hesitates. Because the truth is—


    She doesn’t know.


    Lunch wraps up. Students filter out of the dining hall, some still chatting about their fights. Hope lingers for a moment, feeling the weight of what just happened.


    Then, she notices something.


    At the faculty table, Mr. Waltz is watching her. Not in a bad way. In a way that says he knows something.


    She doesn’t break eye contact.


    Mr. Waltz stands, stretches, and walks off toward the classrooms.


    Hope exhales.


    Something tells her that this next class is about to get interesting.


    The transition from lunch to history class feels slow. Hope walks with Daisy and Sierra, feeling the weight of exhaustion creeping in.


    Hope: “Do you think they’d let me sleep through this class if I looked interested enough?”


    Daisy snickers. “Nope. Mr. Waltz would definitely call you out.”


    Sierra: “He’s one of the more relaxed teachers, but he pays attention. If you fall asleep, he’ll probably make you answer a question just to mess with you.”


    The three step into the classroom, and Hope immediately takes in the atmosphere.


    The classroom is different from Miss Wilson’s. It’s less structured, a little cluttered, but strangely inviting. Old maps and celestial diagrams line the walls, books are piled haphazardly on shelves, and there’s a faint smell of old parchment mixed with coffee.


    And at the front of the room, leaning back in his chair with all the energy of someone who absolutely does not care—


    Mr. Waltz.


    He’s young for a teacher, maybe mid-to-late 30s. His scruffy hair falls over his forehead slightly, and there’s a laziness in his posture that contradicts the sharp look in his eyes. He doesn’t dress as formally as the other faculty—his sleeves are rolled up, his tie is barely knotted, and he has the general aura of someone who just woke up.


    Mr. Waltz: “Alright, settle down. Let’s get this over with so we can all move on with our lives.”


    Hope blinks. That’s… blunt.


    His gaze lands on her.


    Mr. Waltz: “New kid. You’re Hope, yeah?”


    Hope nods slowly.


    Mr. Waltz: “Cool. Welcome to my class. Don’t talk over me and we won’t have a problem.”


    Sierra leans over and whispers. “He’s way nicer than he acts.”


    Hope isn’t convinced.


    Mr. Waltz spins a piece of chalk between his fingers, then draws a rough circle on the board.


    Mr. Waltz: “Alright, let’s talk mythology. Whether you believe it or not, this is how the old stories go.”


    He gestures to the circle.


    Mr. Waltz: “It’s said the gods created a high-frequency world—Haven. A paradise where they could exist freely, away from lower vibrational realms.”


    Hope raises an eyebrow. “That sounds… fake.”


    Bella laughs immediately. “You’re so clueless.”


    Mr. Waltz: “Knock it off, Bella. Have some patience for the new kid.”


    Hope smirks slightly.


    Mr. Waltz: “Now, here’s where things get messy. Apparently, the gods realized that creating a world was more work than fun. So, they made the Mala—demigod-like beings—to handle the boring stuff.”


    Sierra nods. “Some people still believe Mala interact with the world today, right? Like in temples?”


    Mr. Waltz: “More or less. They’re divine, but they don’t act like gods. They manage domains—weather, war, nature.”


    He draws smaller circles beneath the first one.


    Mr. Waltz: “But paradise got boring. So, to shake things up, the gods created the Sei—spirits. Some good, some bad, all meant to bring balance and excitement.”


    Hope frowns. “So they just… made spirits for fun?”


    Mr. Waltz grins. “Basically. Then they added high-vibrational humans from lower realities, bringing animals with them. And that’s how Haven became a supernatural playground.”


    Chase leans back, arms crossed. “So we’re all just a cosmic ant farm for the gods’ entertainment?”


    Mr. Waltz: “That’s one way to look at it.”


    Mr. Waltz taps the chalk against the board.


    Mr. Waltz: “The Sei are still here. Always have been. Problem is, humans and spirits? Not exactly best friends.”


    Daisy nods. “They’re not supposed to interact much, right?”


    Mr. Waltz: “In theory. In reality? They mess with people all the time. The ones we see? They’re usually the bad ones. Chaos, mischief, corruption—it’s kinda their thing.”


    Hope sits up slightly. “Wait… corruption?”


    Mr. Waltz: “Bingo. Some spirits don’t just cause trouble—they take it a step further. They use humans as vessels.”


    The room goes silent.


    Hope stares. “So… has that ever happened to anyone here?”


    The class erupts into laughter.


    Bella smirks. “God, you’re such a tourist.”


    Gabby chuckles. “Hope would probably get lost looking for the dorms and end up corrupted in some random field.”


    Chase, Bella, and Hunter laugh.


    Mr. Waltz raises a hand, cutting the noise.


    Mr. Waltz: “It’s a fair question. The answer? No. At least, not on campus.”


    Hope relaxes slightly.


    Mr. Waltz: “Principal Spring put up a barrier a long time ago. It intercepts Sei before they can enter the school. So, while you’re here, you’re safe.”


    Hope: “And outside?”


    Mr. Waltz shrugs. “It’s rare, but yeah, corruption happens. Most Sei don’t bother, but technically? Once you step off school grounds, nothing’s stopping them.”


    Hope goes quiet.


    Chase smirks. “You scared?”


    Hope snaps back to reality. “So… are Sei like ghosts?”


    Mr. Waltz: “Some sort of are. But ‘Sei’ covers more than ghosts.”


    He draws three symbols.


    Mr. Waltz: “Some Sei are lost souls—stuck between life and death because their karma is unbalanced. Some just… exist. Objects, animals, even places can turn into spirits over time.”


    Daisy raises an eyebrow. “Objects?”


    Mr. Waltz nods. “Think of an old battlefield. Energy lingers. If energy cannot be destroyed, it must go somewhere else.”


    Sierra taps her pen. “What about people who willingly become Sei?”


    Mr. Waltz smirks. “That’s where things get tricky. Some people choose it for power. They extend their lives, but they stop being human.”


    Hope tilts her head. “Is that different from corruption?”


    Mr. Waltz pauses. His voice lowers.


    Mr. Waltz: “Very. But there is another way corruption happens.”


    Hope stiffens.


    Mr. Waltz: “Some Sei used to be human, but carried negative emotions for too long. Their vibrational frequency dropped too low for this high-vibrational world, causing corruption. At that point? They can’t come back.”


    A heaviness settles over the room.


    Daisy, quiet: “It’s sad to think some Sei were just… normal people once.”


    Gabby grins. “Aw, Daisy. You’re so positive.”


    Bella snickers. “So nice to be around.”


    Hope takes a breath, still piecing it together.


    Hope: “So… who decides what souls pass on and who stay?”


    Mr. Waltz grins. “Now you’re asking the right questions.”


    He writes on the board.


    Hekali – God of Life, Death, and Reincarnation.


    Mr. Waltz: “Mythology tells us that Hekali governs the cycle of life and death. That’s where the Hashi Bridge comes in.”


    Daisy nods. “Right, it’s near campus.”


    Hope: “What is it?”


    Mr. Waltz: “A temple and bridge dedicated to Hekali. It’s said that spirits must cross it to be judged. If they’re worthy, they move on. If not….”


    Hunter smirks at Hope. “They’re stuck here forever.”


    Hope shudders slightly.


    After the lesson is over, Hope notices Mr. Waltz is still watching her. It’s almost like he’s trying to tell her something. And then it clicks.


    This lesson? It was for her.


    _________________________________________


    That night, the walk back to the dorms is a mix of tension and exhaustion. The air outside is cool, crisp, refreshing, but Hope can’t shake the weight of everything she learned in history class.


    Daisy stretches her arms overhead, sighing. “Okay, is it just me, or was history class today… kinda weird?”


    Sierra nods, deep in thought. “Yeah. Mr. Waltz was way too invested in explaining corruption today.”


    Hope pulls her jacket tighter around herself. “Right? He was staring at me half the time.”


    Daisy nudges her playfully. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”


    Hope laughs, “I certainly wouldn’t mind.”


    They reach Daisy and Sierra’s dorm, where a warm glow spills from the window, inviting and safe. Daisy grins, unlocking the door.


    Daisy: “Forget history. Let’s do something fun.”


    Sierra beams. “Sleepover?!”


    Hope: “I am so down.”


    The dorm is cozy—blankets piled on the floor, a faint scent of vanilla candles burning near the desk, and clothes scattered over chairs from earlier wardrobe trials.


    Daisy claps her hands together. “Alright, ladies. We’re doing face masks first.”


    Hope laughs as Daisy shoves a headband onto her, pulling her hair back. “I didn’t sign up for this.”


    Sierra, already dabbing a green face mask onto her cheeks, smirks. “You didn’t have a choice.”


    Daisy: “Sit still, Hope. You need this. Your skin’s been through it today.”


    Hope rolls her eyes, then gives in.


    They spend the next half hour pampering each other—laughter spilling into the room as they swap outfits, french braid each others hair, and poke around in each others makeup.


    Daisy, lounging on the bed, drops a contour brough from between her fingers. “Alright, let’s talk about what really matters.”


    Hope raises an eyebrow. “Oh no.”


    Daisy grins. “Boys.”


    Sierra groans. “Why is this important?”


    Daisy: “It’s fun! Now spill—anyone got a crush?”


    Sierra hesitates. A little too long.


    Hope narrows her eyes. “Oh my god. You do.”


    Sierra grabs a pillow and holds it against her face. “Shut up.”


    Daisy gasps, excited. “WHO?”


    Sierra mutters into the pillow. “There’s this guy in my AP Chemistry class. He kinda looks at me sometimes. I don’t know. He’s cute.”


    Hope grins. “Of course, you’d have a crush in AP Chemistry. Nerd.”


    Sierra rolls her eyes. “I hate you.”


    Daisy laughs, turning to Hope. “What about you?”


    Hope hesitates. For a moment, she thinks about saying no. But instead—


    Hope groans dramatically. “Okay, this is really stupid, and I don’t even know why, but… I kinda think Chase is cute.”


    Sierra nearly chokes on her water.


    Daisy gapes. “Excuse me? Chase? The guy who tried to roast you into the ground two days ago?”


    Hope buries her face in her hands. “I KNOW. He’s a douchebag, but like, a hot douchebag.”


    Daisy shakes her head. “Girl, I wouldn’t even try. Bella’s all over that.”


    Sierra: “Bella and Chase make sense. They’re both the same level of pretty and evil.”


    Hope laughs, but for some reason, her heart sinks.


    She doesn’t understand why.


    Daisy nudges her. “You okay?”


    Hope forces a grin. “Yeah, it’s fine. I don’t actually like him like that. It’s just… an observation.”


    Daisy scoffs. “Uh-huh.”


    The night winds down, the energy shifting into something softer, warmer.


    Daisy flops onto the bed, stretching. “Alright, final activity—pajama swap. Let’s see what looks cute.”


    Hope steals a pair of fuzzy socks from Sierra’s drawer. “These are mine now.”


    Sierra raises an eyebrow. “Not how that works.”


    Hope smirks. “It is now.”


    They climb under the covers, all squeezed into the same bed, warmth and comfort radiating between them. Hope, staring up at the ceiling, smiles softly.


    Hope, softly: “Not to be corny, but I’m really glad we became friends.”


    Sierra, barely awake: “Yeah. Me too.”


    Daisy: “Me three.”


    The night settles, and for the first time since coming to Haven, Hope feels at home.