The corridor was quiet. Too quiet. No shouts of students, no commotion—as if the academy itself had faded into the shadows, waiting, watching. Aya walked quickly, fists clenched, trying not to look around. If anyone else so much as looked at her like she was contagious, she'd snap.
But everything went off the rails sooner than she expected.
Kaiden was standing by one of the stained-glass windows, arms folded across his chest. The usual: a tailored vest, a face carved from ice. He was waiting. Of course he was waiting.
— You're out already, he said. His voice was calm, but with that infuriating edge: "I know more than you."
— Can you just disappear? Aya muttered, not breaking stride.
— I heard what happened. He stepped up beside her, matching her pace. — And I have to say, that was, to put it mildly, irresponsible. Even by your… standards.
Aya stopped short. Turned to him.
— By my what?
— Do you really think attacking another student is normal? You're here to study, not put on gladiator matches, Aya.
— She hit me first!
— And you could've chosen not to hit back.
— Sorry, she laughed bitterly, — but I'm not a Buddhist, Kaiden. When someone slaps you in the face, you hit back. Or do you prefer to turn the other cheek?
— You really don't get it, do you? It's not about the fight. You have… surges. Magic that scares people. They say you shouted in a voice that wasn't yours. That there was an aura around you, like some wild beast.
— "They say"? — Aya's eyes flashed. — Are you seriously on the rumor mill now? What's next, gonna ask Levana how I breathe?
— You act like—
— Like what?! — she shouted. — Like someone who never had a choice?! I'm here because I got thrown out of everywhere, like a curse! I didn't ask for this power, I didn't ask for this school, I didn't ask for you to lecture me!
He opened his mouth, but she didn't let him get a word in:
— And you, Kaiden, standing here with that smug look, judging me by what Blondie's little gang tells you! Did you even see what happened? Have you ever thought that just because someone isn't all smiles and cuddles, it doesn't mean they're dangerous?
He was silent. Watching her, unblinking.
— What— her voice broke, eyes brimming. — What, I'm supposed to explain myself to everyone now? For what? For not fitting in? For not understanding who I am or what's happening to me? For not being "nice" to people who called me an idiot from day one?
Her voice shook, but she kept going:
— I was just trying to survive. Now I don't even know why. Seems like everyone here already decided I'm a monster anyway.
— I never said that, Kaiden said quietly.
— You don't have to. Your looks do it for you. Your pauses.
She stepped closer, right into his space, nose to nose.
— So if you're here to dump another load of accusations on me—don't bother. I've already been through hell today. And you know what? You'd be the perfect tour guide.
She turned and left. Kaiden stayed where he was, watching her go. His fingers clenched into a fist, but he didn't stop her. Didn't call out.
He just stood in the cold corridor, under the stained glass that cast his own mask onto the floor.
The room met her with silence. Too familiar. Too ringing.
Aya slammed the door, leaned back against it, and slowly slid to the floor. Sat right there. Bangs fell into her eyes—fine. Let her hair not look at her either.
She didn't cry. Not yet.
A couple of deep breaths, forehead pressed to her knees, eyes closed.
What was that?
Pens. Notebooks. Air thick with threat. Voices turned alien. And her own voice—but as if torn from someone else's throat. Like a growl. Like… like someone else was inside.
"Maybe I really am crazy," she thought, sitting on the bed and staring into the corner. "Maybe that's what everyone was afraid of at my old schools. Maybe I really am broken."
Her phone, of course, had no new texts. Even though it was on, right beside her. She checked the signal for the hundredth time. There was. But still nothing.
— Fine then, she muttered, almost a whisper.
She stripped to her turtleneck, tossed her pants onto a chair, buried her face in the pillow and tried to sleep. No luck.
The voices in her memory wouldn't let up. Levana's words. Kaiden's. The headmaster's. Even her own, looping in her head like an old film—replaying, impossible to turn off.
Finally, Aya got up, went to the mirror—the same one she kept covered since day one. Pulled the cloth aside.
Reflection. Looked normal. Tired eyes, shadows, messy hair—just Aya.
But for a moment she thought her pupils were slit—vertical, like a cat's.
She blinked. Everything was normal again.
Aya exhaled softly, almost soundlessly:
— I'm not crazy… I'm not crazy… I'm just… in the wrong school…
Still, just in case, she draped the cloth back over the mirror.
Sleep didn't come.
But fear did. An old friend. And the feeling that, somewhere in the darkness behind the wall, someone else was awake too.
Aya sat, leaning on the windowsill, staring at the dull gray sky. She didn't want to think, but the thoughts kept spiraling.
The door creaked softly. A voice—uncertain, but bright:
— Knock, knock… Can I come in? It's me. Mir. Not "peace on earth" Mir, more like Mirael. Though that's debatable.
Aya turned, raising an eyebrow.
Mirael froze in the doorway, holding a bag of pastries and wearing a face somewhere between "I know everything" and "I accidentally found out everything and now I'm way too involved."
— How are you?.. she asked cautiously, closing the door behind her.
— How am I supposed to be? Aya turned back to the window, her voice not angry, just tired. — They called me in like I'd split the school in two. Again.
— Well, technically… you didn't, Mirael shrugged, carefully setting the bag on the table. — You just almost sent a couple notebooks flying at Levana. Mentally.
— That's all out already? — Aya glanced at her from under her brows.
— Yeah. Rumors travel faster than viruses here. Especially with… well, people who literally whisper in the corners. A dryad told me under the bathroom sink.
Aya snorted, then bit her lip. Not the time. Not the place.
— I heard you were alone with the headmaster, Mirael added carefully. — But… he didn't scold you, right?
— On the contrary. Asked if I feel pain when I'm angry. If I still feel like myself when I lose control. Like I'm one of those people who turn into dragons when they're pissed. Or demons. Or, I don't know, a gas stove on max.
Mirael nodded. Sat on the edge of the bed, folding her legs under her:
— He didn't call you alone for nothing. Levana… she's from an old line. Real night predators, lamias by blood, though her version's more Instagram—glamour and venomous aura instead of tail and fangs. They've got it all—dad, mom, family reputation, private mental trainers since age five. But you. You're nobody. To them, I mean. Not from a line. No "danger by inheritance" stamp. And something happened, and they noticed. So now they want to understand. Not punish. Understand.
Aya was silent. That was new. Unfamiliar.
— You get it, Mirael went on, — here in Voron, the strong aren't always from bloodlines. Sometimes… they don't even know where they're from. So maybe it's not so terrible.
— Not so terrible, Aya snorted, — just means I might explode in the cafeteria next time someone calls me a psycho.
— Well, you are a bit psycho… Mirael noted, stifling a grin. — But hey, there's a guy here who, at every full moon, his bones start clicking in reverse. He's in the dance club.
— Oh God.
— Exactly, Mirael nodded. — So you're fine. Just… a little "explosive."
They fell silent.
Aya looked out the window again. Then, quietly:
— Thanks for coming. And the pastries… they smell fine. Honestly, I thought you'd bring frog liver.
— That was for the next visit. But now I won't. — Mirael grimaced. — Though a mermaid here has a really convincing recipe…
— Mira.
— I'm done. I'm done.
Mirael was still hugging her knees, rocking back and forth, as if they were discussing which show to binge this weekend, not ancient predators.
— Tomorrow you've got "Metamorphosis of Soul and Body," right? — she asked, pulling out a crumpled schedule from her pocket, covered in hearts and weird initials.
— If they don't burn me at the stake before then, yeah, — Aya snorted, tossing her head back.
— Oh, not before Friday. There's a waitlist.
Both giggled. A little awkward, but real.
Mirael finally got up, brushed off her skirt, not a speck of dust on it—maybe it never touched the ground at all, and looked at Aya.
— Well, I'll go. I've got three chapters of my chronicle to write and a spell exam to bomb.
She hesitated.
— Listen… If it ever… you know, gets bad. Or weird. Or just stupid. You can… you know, call me. I can't promise I'll save you. But I can be there. While everything's on fire.
— What, like a friend or in one of your fanfics? — Aya squinted.
Mirael blushed, tried for an innocent smile, but it turned into pure panic with a side of embarrassment.
— Like a normal person, okay?!
— Okay, Aya nodded, still half-smiling. — Then… thanks.
When Mirael left, Aya stayed sitting in the quiet. A faint breeze stirred the leaves; somewhere in the distance, something howled again—the academy breathing its own strange life.
And suddenly she realized: for the first time in a long time, someone… just stayed close. Not because they had to. Not because they wanted something in return.
Just because.
It was almost unfamiliar. And maybe that's why it mattered so much.