Amaris' POV
Literature class was, without question, my favorite part of the school day. The teacher's soft cadence as she read excerpts from classic texts always managed to soothe the low thrum of tension that often built up in my chest throughout the day. I had already read the material the night before, of course—but I still listened intently, hands folded over the open pages of The Tempest. There was something deeply satisfying about hearing others' interpretations of the same words, catching nuances I might have missed.
For a brief, rare moment, I allowed myself to feel fully at peace—content to remain just another student in the corner seat by the window.
Just as our teacher, Ms. Mallory, began to discuss thematic illusions, the speaker above the whiteboard crackled to life.
"Miss Amaris Shin, please proceed to the Principal's Office."
I blinked.
"Miss Amaris Shin, to the Principal's Office. Thank you."
All eyes subtly turned toward me, curious and a little wary. I suppose I was too "well-behaved" to be called in for disciplinary reasons.
Ms. Mallory paused mid-sentence, then gave me a small nod. "You may go, Miss Shin."
I rose, smoothing down my skirt and inclining my head respectfully. "Thank you, Ms. Mallory."
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The hallway was quiet, save for the gentle hum of distant chatter and the squeak of my polished shoes on tile. I didn't rush. It would not do to appear flustered. The principal's office stood at the end of the east wing, a domain rarely visited unless one had erred—or been summoned for something more unusual.
I knocked gently.
"Come in," came the crisp voice of Principal Randall.
I opened the door, giving the secretary a polite nod before walking forward and stopping in front of the principal's desk. Principal Randall didn't look up immediately, still focused on a paper she was signing, but she spoke without pause.
"Your science teacher, Dr. Oliver, has submitted a proposal for your class. A field trip, of sorts." She glanced up at me, her eyes sharp and assessing. "Apparently he believes it's important for students to gain practical knowledge about fossils. He's rented a portion of private land known for its paleontological significance."
My mind immediately clicked into motion. 'So… we've reached Episode 9, Below the Surface. Interesting. The fossil field. The dinosaur egg. Elsa's plan.'
Principal Randall continued, rolling her eyes. "The landowners are visiting today to assess whether our students are worthy of stepping foot on their precious terrain." She gave a dismissive scoff. "Frankly, I understand their hesitation. Most of the students here behave like monkeys in a science museum."
I smiled politely, though inwardly I winced at her phrasing. It wasn't entirely false, but I wouldn't have used such… colorful descriptors.
Randall fixed her eyes on mine.
"I want you to meet them when they arrive. Show them the good side of Reefside High. Whatever it takes, Miss Shin—I want that land. We need it." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice. "And I trust you to get it done."
Of course she did. She was Elsa, after all. I suspected this was less about school reputation and more about securing access for Mesogog's plan. The egg hidden on that land would eventually hatch and she intended to swap it with a fake.
Still, I had no plans to interfere. The black ranger, Dr. Oliver himself, would learn something important from this ordeal—that he could tame other Zords. That was crucial for the team's growth. My role here… was only to ensure the pieces moved into place.
"Well?" she asked, seeing my momentary pause.
"It will be done, Principal Randall," I said smoothly, bowing slightly.
She smirked in approval. "They'll be here in about fifteen minutes. You know what to do."
As I exited the office, I allowed myself a moment to breathe.
"Now then… how shall I begin?"
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The answer came quickly.
With calm, careful poise.
I stood near the school's garage, watching as two large vans pulled up. They were older models, the paint chipped by years of exposure to wind and dust, and the tires crusted with hardened earth. One of the vans opened, and out stepped a man with the weathered skin and hardened posture of someone who had spent most of his life under the sun. His hair was grey, his clothes dusty, and his sharp gaze settled on me almost immediately.
I stepped forward.
"Good sir," I said with a slight bow, "are you perhaps Mr. Steven Jones?"
He raised a brow, then gave a short nod. "I am."
"I'm Amaris Shin," I said, offering my hand. "I was asked to accompany you during your visit. I confess I may not be the most qualified, but I shall do my best."
He shook my hand, then gave a small smirk. "I like that attitude."
We walked through the front doors, and I began to speak gently about the school's curriculum, its dedication to scientific education, and how our community had a growing interest in Earth Sciences. My voice remained polite, my tone measured, careful not to sound too rehearsed.
We passed the science wing at precisely the wrong moment, Dr. Oliver's classroom door was open, and a cacophony of voices spilled into the hallway. Students laughed, joked, and moved about while Dr. Oliver stood at the front, clearly trying to maintain order.
I paused—then continued walking, gesturing toward the classroom without missing a beat.
"One of our most dynamic learning environments," I said smoothly. "Our students are especially passionate—sometimes that passion manifests... energetically."
Mr. Jones glanced into the classroom, clearly skeptical, but he said nothing.
We continued on for nearly an hour, walking the halls as I explained Reefside's various programs. I pointed out the sustainability initiatives in the biology wing, the student-run fossil exhibition, and a recent project on soil analysis. None of it was fabricated, but I certainly framed it all in the most appealing light possible.
When we returned to the front entrance, Mr. Jones looked… amused.
"Well, Miss Shin. That was certainly a very informative stroll."
I smiled and inclined my head. "I'm pleased to hear that."
His expression then hardened. "However, I'll be honest with you. From what I've seen… your students aren't exactly the most behaved bunch. I'm hesitant to allow them access to land that's taken us decades to protect."
I bowed slightly. "I understand your concern, sir. Your land is sacred—an irreplaceable site of geological heritage. Any recklessness would be inexcusable."
He seemed momentarily surprised by my formality.
"But," I continued, "I would respectfully suggest that spirited behavior does not always equal irresponsibility. Many of our students are more capable than they first appear."
He grunted. "Words are easy."
"Which is why I propose a compromise," I said gently. "Before the trip, we can hold a mandatory seminar on fossil preservation and land ethics. I would personally manage the attendance and ensure every student understands the responsibility."
He crossed his arms. "Still risky."
"Then allow only the top students for the first visit," I suggested. "Those who've demonstrated the most responsibility. If they prove themselves, then others may follow. If not—we withdraw."
Silence.
His assistant looked to him. He exhaled.
"You really believe they deserve the chance?"
I nodded. "I believe some of them already do. And the rest… only need the opportunity to rise to it."
Another pause. Then—
"Fine. Give me your list. I'll approve those names. But the moment anyone disrespects that land, it's over. No second chances."
I bowed. "Understood. And thank you, sir."
He gave a final grunt of approval—and with that, the arrangement was made.
I returned to the Principal's office, weary but composed.
"I've finished the task, Principal Randall," I reported.
She looked up from her desk, nodding. "Good. As expected of you."
"It was the students' willingness to learn that helped convince him," I replied.
She scoffed. "Nonsense. Those monkeys wouldn't impress a blind squirrel."
She stood, patted my shoulder, and gestured for me to leave. "You've done enough. Go on."
I bowed slightly. "Thank you."
As the door closed behind me, I finally allowed a long, soft sigh to escape. The fatigue crept up slowly—mental more than physical.
Third period was nearly over, and literature felt like a distant memory. But I walked on, allowing the quiet rhythm of my footsteps to guide me back to class.
'Below the surface,' I thought, 'sometimes all someone needs is a reason to be better.'
And maybe… I was finding one too.