Masuk“It’s her, the one who messed up her Lunaris Academy application.”
Violet sighed, pushing her book into her locker as the rumor reached her ears for the umpteenth time.
She was not exactly famous around here, but today seemed to be the exception. All eyes followed her the moment she stepped into the school, and it creeped her out until she found out why they were staring at her as if she had grown two heads.
Violet had no idea how they found out about the form, but apparently, teacher-student confidentiality wasn’t a thing here. Not that her teacher’s reaction when she received the application wasn’t enough to draw attention. Violet couldn’t help but recall how things had gone down that day.
“Here is my application,” Violet handed the form to her homeroom teacher.
“Oh, thank the gods. You’re the last to submit, and for a moment, I thought you wouldn’t. I was worried you’d end up punished for not following the rules,” Mrs. Florence said with relief, putting on her glasses and beginning to review the application.
Violet bit down on her lips, her heart pounding, knowing it was only a matter of time. And Mrs. Florence sure didn’t disappoint as she sprang to her feet with a curse on her lips.
“What the fuck…!” she trailed off, her cheeks heating up as if finally realizing she wasn’t supposed to curse before a student.
For the first time, Violet saw her teacher lose her composure as she demanded, “What is the meaning of this?”
“What do you mean, ma?” she asked innocently.
“Don’t you play cheeky with me, Mrs. Violet Purple!” her teacher retorted, her eyes spitting fire. “What is this you wrote under special skills?”
“Oh, that?” Violet bit down on her lips, feigning shyness as she said, “That was my mother’s suggestion.”
“What?”
“You asked us to request help from our parents; that was her contribution,” Violet said, looking at Mrs. Florence, who looked like she was about to faint from the way the blood had drained from her face.
Violet should have felt anxious about lying, but she didn’t. Not one bit. Moreover, it wasn’t technically a lie. Nancy pretty much suggested sucking a dick in the new school she had not gotten into yet—and would not get into once that form was submitted. In one word, she was innocent. She had only taken her mother’s advice and put it into words.
Literally.
“What kind of mother does that?” Mrs. Florence said, then looked towards Violet with anger. “And you took her suggestion?”
Violet shrugged. “What am I supposed to do? Trust me, I don’t want to get on her wrong side. I can’t live on the street.”
Mrs. Florence looked like she had something to say, but she bit back her words instead, finally plopping down in her seat with an exhausted sigh. Violet felt guilty for stressing the poor woman, but she didn’t let it show.
Mrs. Florence looked up, saying, “I wish I could help you, Violet, but there are no extra forms for you to correct this mistake….” She paused as if holding back a harsher word for the situation. “Lunaris Academy is extremely strict with their rules. Each form is counted carefully according to the number of students required to sign up for the year and then sent out to the various districts to avoid any cases of malpractice. Unfortunately, I can’t make any exceptions either; you’re legally obligated to apply to Lunaris Academy. So, this form will be sent out as it is.”
Violet could hear the unspoken truth: You won’t be accepted into Lunaris Academy with this kind of application.
“Alright,” she said.
“Alright?” Mrs. Florence blinked, clearly taken aback.
“You just told me I have no other option. What else can I do? I can’t beat myself up over it,” Violet said flatly.
Mrs. Florence’s disappointment was clear.
She hesitated before asking again, “Are you sure your mother filled this out?” The raised brow made it clear she suspected otherwise.
“That’s her signature right there. Trust me, she read it,” Violet lied smoothly.
Nancy had not given a fuck about the form after that day. Good thing Violet was good at forging her signature and settled everything on her own. Nancy would have flipped out if she had learned what she wrote down. Her mother wanted her to get into Lunaris, where she—Violet—could whore around just like her, just with class. Except that wasn’t happening.
Mrs. Florence glanced down at the section for the parent’s signature and sighed.
She didn’t suspect a thing. Good. Not that she was trying to boast of a crime, but Violet was proud of her handiwork.
Mrs. Florence looked as though she might cry, her voice soft with grief. “You know, Violet, this could’ve been your chance to turn things around. I’m not trying to insult your mother’s profession, but you deserve better. You don’t have to follow in her footsteps,” she presumed Violet planned to go down the same path as her mother. If only she knew.
To be honest, something stirred inside of Violet at her teacher’s concern; unfortunately, that was it—nothing more. She had learned the hard way that people’s sympathy never got her anywhere. Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford, and relying on anyone else? Out of the question.
Mrs. Florence thought this was her chance to turn her life around. If only she knew she avoided a worse fate by not getting into Lunaris Academy. She wasn’t her mother’s daughter, and she sure as hell didn’t need some prince charming to swoop in and save her.
With Lunaris out of the picture, her plan was simple. Once high school was over, she’d leave her mother’s trailer behind. Sure, without a chance at university, finding a reputable job would be tougher, but she’d make it work. One thing was certain: prostitution was never going to be an option.
She had made up her mind.
“Can I leave now?” Violet asked, her impatience clear as she noticed the other teachers’ eyes on her. She knew they had been eavesdropping on the conversation. This was the teachers’ room, after all. Privacy didn’t exist here.
“You can go,” Mrs. Florence replied softly, though the pity in her eyes stung more than any words. It was a look Violet knew she wouldn’t soon forget as she turned and walked out.
Back to the present, Violet rubbed the side of her temple, where she could feel a headache throbbing. She had not gotten enough sleep last night, not when she had turned and tossed around in her small, hard bed.
She was still not talking to Nancy—not after her betrayal. Unfortunately for her miserable life, she and Nancy shared the single cramped room in the trailer, which meant she had spent it glaring at the back of her mother’s head. Not that Nancy cared; she remained unaffected by her silent treatment. And that made Violet furious more than anything: her unapologetic nature.
“Violet Purple.”
Violet thought she heard her name being called, but it seemed to be a fragment of her imagination until she heard it again, this time with more clarity.
“Violet Purple, you are summoned into the principal’s office.” The voice came from the speakers in the hallway.
“Oh fuck.” Violet cursed beneath her breath, shutting her locker with a bang.
Why was the principal calling her? Was it because of the form? The gods help her; couldn’t they take a joke? Was it that bad that she penned her sincerest thoughts, or were they concerned about the reputation of the school? Violet sensed it was the latter. Perhaps she had gone a little too far.
Only a little.
With a sigh, she walked in the direction of the principal’s office. Except the action only emboldened the gossipmongers.
“I said it, there was no way she could have gotten away with that.” The rumors picked up like a whirlwind.
“She’s doomed. Principal Lincoln would rip her apart. I bet she didn’t think about the consequences of her actions.”
Violet rolled her eyes as the gossip reached her ears. Were these people jobless or what? Instead of a school, they would have done well in a hair salon.
“Could you blame her? She’s only following in her mother’s footsteps.”
Violet halted at once. She had intended to ignore them all, but that particular comment hit home, and now she froze, turning to identify the wretch who was courting death.
The perpetrator turned out to be a red-haired girl who flinched as soon as their eyes met.
Violet began to stride toward her, and it might have been the deadly look on her face, but the girl began to shake like a leaf in winter, realizing that she had messed up.
However, Violet didn’t reach her before she took off running, screaming, “I’m sorry!”
Violet might not be as popular as the queen bees who ruled the school, but she was famous for fighting off Jasmine and her gang, and that seemed to have gotten her quite a reputation, seeing the way the girl had fled.
All that was left were her friends, who were trying hard not to cower like their friend had. Violet did not speak; she let the cold fire in her eyes, the hardened look on her face, and her hands balled into fists do the talking. They swallowed, seeming to take the cue as they turned and left without a word.
Thanks to the little drama, the rumors died off and Violet walked over with her head held high. Upon arriving outside the principal’s office, she took a deep breath and knocked.
“Come in.” His voice echoed from the inside.
Violet turned the knob and stepped into Principal Lincoln’s office. She’d been here plenty of times before, mostly for fights, and nothing much had changed.
The room was neat and functional, with a polished desk that held a computer, phone, and an organized stack of paperwork. Shelves in the corner were filled with educational books, binders, and a few personal items, like his award from the education board.
The walls, as always, were covered in certificates, school achievements, and the usual motivational posters telling students to “Reach for the Stars.” Except it never inspired anyone.
“Have a seat, Miss Purple,” Principal Lincoln said, gesturing towards the chair across from him.
Violet sat down cautiously, already bracing herself for the usual scolding and inevitable punishment. But when she glanced up, ready to face his usual stern expression, she was caught off guard.
Mr. Lincoln was smiling.
That smile made her uncomfortable. Something was wrong, and Violet felt a strange tightness in her chest as she shifted in her seat. The air felt heavy with expectation.
She broke the silence first. “Why did you call me in, sir? Did I do anything wrong?” she asked, even though a part of her already knew.
Principal Lincoln leaned forward slightly, still smiling, and clasped his hands together on the desk. “The results of the application process have come in,” he said slowly as if savoring the words. “I called you in to thank you.”
“Thank me?” Violet frowned. What in the world was he talking about?
He nodded enthusiastically, leaning forward. “Since the scholarship program began, only three students from this district have ever been chosen. It’s a rare opportunity, one that doesn’t come by often. I wanted to take this moment to recognize your achievement.”
A strange, creeping feeling started to slither into Violet’s gut, making her shift uneasily in her seat. Her palms were clammy. A foreboding sense of dread began to pool in her stomach. No. No, there was no way. She refused to entertain the thought.
Principal Lincoln seemed oblivious to her growing discomfort as he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a sleek, expensive-looking envelope.
“Congratulations, Violet,” he said, holding it out to her. “You’ve been accepted into Lunaris Academy.”
Her ears began to ring, and for a moment, the entire world felt like it had narrowed down to that one sentence. This was impossible.
There had to be some mistake. Her heart pounded in her chest as she grabbed the envelope with trembling hands, hastily tearing it open.
And there it was.
Bold letters stared back at her.
“Congratulations, Violet Purple. You have been selected…”
No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. She felt her breath quicken, her chest tightening. Yet the truth stared back at her, unrelenting and undeniable.
She had been chosen for Lunaris Academy.
The eastern ridge gave way to jagged foothills as the sun finally broke through the mist. Violet kept moving—steady, unhurried—because stopping felt like surrender, and she had already surrendered nothing.The air changed here. Thinner. Sharper. The scent of pine faded into something wilder: iron, old blood, and smoke that didn’t come from bonfires. Rogue territory didn’t announce itself with signs. It announced itself with silence that listened back.She crested the last rise and saw it.A camp—not the ragged scatter of tents she’d imagined, but something deliberate. Low stone walls curved in a half-moon against the cliff face. Fires burned low and smokeless. Figures moved between them—some human-shaped, some half-shifted, eyes catching the dawn like polished obsidian.No one rushed her.No one even looked surprised.A woman stepped forward first. Tall, scarred across one cheek, hair cropped short and streaked with gray, she was too young for. Her eyes were the color of storm clouds
The rain followed Violet like a loyal shadow.It didn’t pour. It simply existed—soft, steady, clinging to her skin and hair without soaking through. Every step she took beyond the academy gates, the droplets seemed to adjust, falling in rhythm with her heartbeat. Not heavy enough to chill. Just enough to remind her she wasn’t alone.She didn’t run.Running would have meant fear.And fear was something she had burned out of herself months ago.The forest path was narrow, familiar from the nights she’d slipped out to train alone. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in silver shards, turning the wet leaves into scattered mirrors. Her bare feet pressed into cool mud—Lila’s dress was ruined now, hem dark and heavy—but Violet didn’t care. The fabric moved with her like a second skin, whispering against her legs.Behind her, the academy lights faded until they were just a warm glow on the horizon. No howls chased her. No pounding footsteps. No furious voices demanding she come back.That s
Graduation night arrived like a held breath finally released.The academy grounds had been transformed: strings of silver lanterns floating without strings, bonfires that burned violet and gold, the air thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and smoke. Music pulsed low under everything—drums and strings and something almost like distant thunder.The Cardinal Alphas stood on the raised platform at the center of the great circle. Dressed in black ceremonial robes edged with their house colors: crimson for Griffin (East), emerald for Roman (South), midnight for Asher (West), silver-white for Alaric (North). They looked like gods carved from storm and shadow.The rest of the senior class formed a loose ring around them. Top twenty in front. Everyone else behind. Violet stood with the top twenty—not because she’d fought for it, but because she’d survived everything the academy had thrown at her.She wore the simple black dress Lila had forced on her earlier—sleeveless, fitted at th
Sunday was supposed to be quiet.No mandatory classes. No assessments. Just open hours for “personal development,” which everyone translated as “sleep in, train if you feel like it, or disappear into the woods and pretend the academy doesn’t exist.”Violet chose option three.She left before dawn, slipping past the snoring dorm, past the still-dark dining hall, past the gates that never really closed because no one was stupid enough to run.The woods beyond the academy were older than the buildings. Trees thick as houses, roots twisting across paths like veins. Mist hung low, turning everything soft and silver. She walked until the trail disappeared and there was only moss under her boots and the distant call of something that wasn’t quite a bird.She found a clearing eventually—small, ringed by ancient pines. A single flat boulder in the center, worn smooth by centuries of rain.She sat.Pulled her knees up.And tried to call the spark again.Nothing at first.Just cold fingers and t
Saturday dawned gray and heavy, the kind of morning where the sky looked like it was holding its breath.Violet skipped breakfast.She couldn't face the dining hall—not the stares, not the whispers that followed her like smoke after yesterday's win in the arena. Instead, she slipped out the side door of West House, hoodie up, hands shoved deep in her pockets. The device was there, cool against her fingertips. A small comfort. A small lie.She walked without direction. Past the training fields where early risers were already sparring. Past the old oak grove where couples sometimes hid to kiss or fight or both. Past the stone arch that marked the boundary between the academy proper and the wilder woods beyond.She didn't stop until she reached the small lake at the edge of the grounds.It was still. Mirror-flat. Reflecting clouds the color of bruised steel.Violet sat on a flat rock near the shore, knees drawn up. The water smelled faintly of iron and moss. She stared at her reflection—
The next few days passed in a strange, suspended rhythm.Classes. Meals. Sleep that never felt deep enough. Violet carried Alaric's little device everywhere—like a talisman she wasn't sure she believed in. She kept it in her pocket during lectures, under her pillow at night, even clipped to the waistband of her gym shorts during combat training. It was small enough to hide, heavy enough to remind her constantly: you're not imagining this.No dreams came.No black-eyed visitors. No lightning storms inside her skull.Just silence.And the silence was somehow worse.She caught herself looking for Asher in the hallways—half expecting him to materialize around a corner, sunglasses reflecting her own tense face. He never did. He was a ghost in his own house. Seen only in glimpses: a tall shadow slipping into the west wing library at odd hours, or the faint glow of a single lamp in that high tower window long after lights-out.Alaric, on the other hand, was suddenly... present.Not in an obv







