#4 What the Fresh Hell

Rowyn Vale POV

I hated him. I hated his smug face. I hated the way his wings glowed like moonlit ego. And most of all, I hated that he was so godsdamn hot when he was pissed off. His jaw clenched? 10/10. His eyes narrowed in frustration?

Okay, devastating. The way his shoulders looked when he folded his arms and glared at me like I’d ruined his day by existing? Criminally sexy. Why is my type “men I want to stab and/or make out with”???

I scowled and crossed my arms tighter, doing my best to keep my thighs from clenching. Meanwhile, my emotional support nymph, Thistleblitz, bless her snarky little soul, was floating above my desk, spinning one of my pens like a dagger while humming off key.

Zephyr squinted up at her like she’d insulted his bloodline. “Wait...what the fuck,” he snapped, pointing.

“You got a nymph assigned to you?”

I blinked. “Yeah?”

“Only royal godbloods get bonded nymphs.”

I shrugged. But inside? Okay WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING. First the room. Now the nymph. Was I adopted? Secretly divine? Cursed by a horny chaos god? Whatever was going on, Zephyr looked one insult away from a meltdown. And the room did not like that. A little leather bound book lifted from my shelf, hovered silently…then whizzed across the room and smacked him dead in the face. Thwap. I froze. He stumbled back a step, his eyes wide.

Thistle howled. I covered my mouth with both hands, snorting uncontrollably.

“What the?!” Zephyr snarled, rubbing his cheek.

“Your fucking room just assaulted me!”

“Yeah,” I said, gasping between laughs. “It’s sensitive to dick energy.” Thistle gave a proud salute. “That’s my girl.” “Get out,” I said sweetly.

He glared. “Gladly.” He stormed off, his stupid wings flicking dramatically as he disappeared into the hallway. The door slammed itself behind him with a satisfying boom. I let out a long sigh and flopped into the velvet desk chair, brushing my wild curls out of my face. My fingers itched toward the welcome packet Lady Elaris had given me.

“Let’s see what hell I’ve signed up for.”

WELCOME TO EIDOLON ACADEMY

“Where legends are born… or buried.”

Dear Miss Rowyn Vale, Welcome to Eidolon Academy, the realm’s premiere institution for godblooded education, transformation, and survival. You have been chosen by the Calling to enter a sacred four-year training cycle. Please be advised that failure to complete your annual Divine Trials will result in permanent dismissal. Or death. Whichever comes first.

ORIENTATION DETAILS: Eidolon is a sentient, living castle located in a protected pocket realm between the mortal and divine planes. The castle may shift, rearrange, and respond to your emotional and magical energy.

Common Areas include:

Dining Hall

Combat Arena

Living Library (Approach the books with caution.)

Shadow Gardens

Dream Hall (off-limits after midnight)

INCLUDED: Enchanted map of the castle (will update based on your location)

Room key

Personalized class schedule

Trial survival guide (not recommended for the faint of heart)

CLASS SCHEDULE (Year One):

MONDAYS & WEDNESDAYS:

8:00 AM — Magical Theory & History

10:00 AM — Bloodline Lineage & Divine Lore

1:00 PM — Spellcasting: Channeling & Control

TUESDAYS & THURSDAYS:

9:00 AM — Combat Strategy & Weapon Summoning

11:00 AM — Relic Navigation & Trial Prep

FRIDAYS:

12:00 PM — Trial Combat Training (3 hours) Mandatory attendance. Survival not guaranteed.

MEAL TIMES (Dining Hall):

Breakfast: 5:00 AM – 10:00 AM

Lunch: 12:00 PM – 2:00 PM

Dinner: 5:00 PM – 8:00 PM

Snacks and refreshments available in between. All meals included with tuition. Don’t ask what the meat is.

GUIDANCE REMINDER: As a godblood, your presence here is both a gift and a threat. We recommend forming bonds, choosing alliances wisely, and avoiding unnecessary duels in your first week.

Good luck, Miss Vale. And may the gods… watch closely.

I closed the packet slowly.

“Cool,” I muttered. “So I’m either graduating with wings and a crown… or dying horribly in some Trial hellscape.” Thistle flew down and patted my head like I was a baby goat. “We’ll get through it, firecracker.” I leaned back, my eyes drifting up to the black crystal chandelier above me. The room lights flickered once. Warm. Protective. Like it heard me.

“Fine,” I whispered. “Let’s burn this shit down together.”

Zephyr Sylvaran POV

I stormed up the staircase like the floor had personally offended me. Third floor. West wing. My suite. Luxury corner unit, godsdamn earned. Second year meant higher clearance, better rooms, and less required classes. Perks of being the most charming, least responsible godblood in recorded history. Also, descendant of the Air Goddess, Sylithia. Legacy student. Winged golden boy. Literal skyborn chaos.

So why the fuck did Rowyn Vale get the same floor as me? Lowborn fae. Ashgrave brat. Hot, yes....dangerously so. But that’s beside the point. The castle gave her a deluxe suite, a bonded nymph, and probably a damn throne made of bone and eyeliner. Meanwhile, I asked my room for better lighting once and it responded by setting my bed on fire.

Whatever. I pushed open the door to my suite and stepped inside. Still empty. Quiet. The scent of blood and sandalwood barely lingering. “Kalyx?” I called. Nothing. I sighed dramatically and snapped my fingers. With a puff of wind, sparkles, and sheer drama, my personal nymph appeared mid air, twirling his miniature staff like he was auditioning for a cabaret. “At your service, your high-assness,” he said, bowing midair.

“Hi, Breeze,” I muttered. He grinned. “You're broody. What happened?” I ignored him and turned to the suite. Spacious. Bright. Arched windows. Black stone floors. Lofted ceiling.

“Okay, castle,” I said, clapping my hands once. “Let’s add some chill, maybe some moonlight ambience, a little mist effect, softer lighting...”

The lights went out. All of them. Darkness swallowed the suite like the castle was flipping me off.

“Really?”

Breeze cackled. “You pissed it off.”

“Yeah, no shit.” I felt my way to the desk and pulled open my second year welcome packet, lighting a small witchlight orb from my ring. The lights suddenly came back on. I growled at the room.

EIDOLON ACADEMY – YEAR TWO COURSE LIST

MONDAYS & WEDNESDAYS:

9:00 AM – Elemental Precision & Manifestation

11:00 AM – Pantheon War Tactics II

1:00 PM – Advanced Trial Theory

TUESDAYS & THURSDAYS:

10:00 AM – Relic Enhancement & Magical Binding

12:00 PM – Sacred Oathcraft

FRIDAYS: 2:00 PM – Trial Simulation Combat (4 hrs) Survival score required to advance.

“Oathcraft again?” I muttered. “Kill me.” Right on cue, the suite door creaked open and a familiar voice whistled its way inside.

“Honey, I’m home,” Kalyx Sanguelith said, spinning something lacy and very not his around one finger.

“Panty thief,” I muttered, not even turning around.

He grinned and dropped a bag onto his bed with a thud.

“She gave them to me. Eventually.”

“Classes haven’t even started yet.”

“What can I say? I’m efficient.”

I rolled my eyes, but smiled anyway. Kalyx was... well, Kalyx. Bloodline of the Goddess Sanguira. Blood fae. Born with fangs, charm, and the ability to weaponize his own veins. Technically a vampire, though he hated that word.

He poured himself a glass of wine and flopped onto the bed like he belonged in every portrait ever painted. “So,” he said. “What’s got your feathers ruffled?”

“Man... wait till I tell you about this Rowyn chick.”

His eyes flicked toward me, suddenly very awake. “Oh?”

“She’s the girl I was sent to rescue. Lowborn. Death row. Blew up a school. Full-on magical detonation. And now she’s here.”

“And?”

“And..... she’s somehow in a third floor luxury suite,” I snapped. “With a bonded nymph. And the castle redecorated her room like she’s royalty. Skulls, band posters, leather jackets....like it scanned her soul and said ‘goth fae dream girl, got it.’”

Kalyx sat up straighter, his interest sharpening. "That’s… rare.”

“It’s impossible,” I growled, pacing. “The castle likes students, sure. Helps them out. But this? This is next level devotion. And she’s only been here for like...an hour.”

Kalyx leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Describe her.”

“Freckles. Wild red curls. Glowing green eyes. Piercings. Zero filter. Threw the door open half naked. Cursed me out for existing. Castle threw a book at me for being rude.”

A pause. “...You’re into her.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“Shut up, bloodsucker.” He just laughed. Bastard. We traded summer stories. Girls. Chaos. Near death experiences in forbidden Trial zones. Kalyx had apparently spent two weeks in the Dream Hall on a dare. He still had nightmares about talking furniture. But through all of it, my mind kept drifting. To her. To that cocky smirk and untamed magic and the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about how she said “get out” like she owned the room.

“Ugh,” I muttered into my pillow later. “It’s the freckles. It’s always the fucking freckles.” And somewhere deep in the castle walls, I swear I heard it laugh at me.