This is such a cliché

The lesson began with Professor Serathis standing at the front of the class, her sharp eyes scanning the room as she spoke.

The hum of whispers and murmurs from earlier was gone; every student was rapt with attention. Despite the tension in the air, there was something magnetic about the professor's presence.

"Magic," she began, her voice smooth but commanding, "is as unique as the individual wielding it. No two people possess the exact same connection to the arcane, and thus, no two magics are identical. Even if two people share the same elemental affinity fire, water, ice, or otherwise the way they wield it will be different. Why? Because your magic reflects you."

Her crimson eyes seemed to linger on me as she said the last word, and I couldn't help but sink a little lower into my seat.

She continued, pacing slowly in front of the class. "Your upbringing, your experiences, your emotions they all shape the magic within you. This is why no amount of mimicry can truly replicate another's power. It's also why it's essential to understand your strengths and your limits."

The room was so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Even Xyra, who exuded her usual air of cold arrogance, seemed attentive.

Professor Serathis stopped in front of the blackboard, her clawed finger tracing a glowing rune she'd drawn earlier. The rune flickered to life, casting a faint light over her sharp features.

"Now, who can tell me what this rune represents?"

Several hands shot up, but the professor's gaze fell on Xyra. "Princess Eldarion," she said, gesturing for her to speak.

Xyra stood gracefully, her platinum blond hair catching the light as she spoke with quiet confidence. "It's the Rune of Manifestation. It allows one to shape their magic into physical constructs."

"Correct," Professor Serathis said, nodding approvingly. "The Rune of Manifestation is a fundamental aspect of advanced spellcasting, and I expect all of you to understand its importance by the end of this semester."

I scribbled notes furiously, my mind racing to keep up. I'd read about runes before, but hearing about them from someone as skilled as Professor Serathis was a completely different experience.

The rest of the lesson passed in a blur of lectures, diagrams, and discussions. By the time it ended, my notebook was filled with hastily scrawled notes, and my head was swimming with information.

As we filed out of the classroom, I let out a sigh of relief. "That was intense," I murmured to Nyla.

She smirked. "Get used to it. This place doesn't do 'easy.'"

We were halfway down the hallway when I noticed a familiar figure leaning casually against the wall, flanked by two lackeys.

Xyra.

Her piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and I froze.

"Oh no," I muttered under my breath.

Nyla followed my gaze and snorted. "Looks like your fan club is waiting for you."

Before I could respond, Xyra pushed off the wall and approached, her steps measured and deliberate.

Her two lackeys a boy with fiery red hair and a girl with silver streaks in her dark braid trailed behind her like shadows.

"Well, well," Xyra drawled, her tone icy. "If it isn't the new prodigy. Enjoying your moment in the spotlight?"

I forced a nervous smile. "I'm just trying to get through the day."

She tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. "How quaint. But you should know, little prodigy, that status isn't everything. Skill matters, and I'm not convinced you have any."

Her words were sharp, but her tone was almost playful. It was as if she was trying to provoke me, and I had no intention of taking the bait.

"Let's find out, shall we?" the boy at her side said, stepping forward. His fists crackled with sparks of electricity.

My heart jumped. Were they seriously going to attack me in the middle of the hallway?

"Seriously?" Nyla said, crossing her arms. "This is such a cliché."

"Stay out of this," the girl with the braid snapped.

I didn't even have time to think. The boy lunged at me, his movements slow and clumsy compared to what I was used to. My training with Elira had been brutal, and this? This was nothing.

I sidestepped easily, his sparks fizzling out as he stumbled past me.

"Too slow," I muttered, more to myself than to him.

The girl with the braid tried next, swinging her staff in a wide arc. I ducked, her attack missing me by a mile.

Xyra watched the entire scene unfold with an unreadable expression. She hadn't lifted a finger herself, which made me suspect this was more of a test than an actual attack.

"Enough," I said, holding up my hands. "I'm not fighting you."

Nyla grabbed my arm. "Come on, let's go. They're wasting our lunch break."

Without waiting for a response, she dragged me down the hallway. I cast one last glance over my shoulder, meeting Xyra's gaze. She didn't look angry if anything, she looked amused. Weird

The cafeteria was massive, a sprawling hall filled with long tables and rows of food counters.

The air was thick with the mingling scents of roasted meat, fresh bread, and various spices. Students of every kind filled the space, their chatter creating a lively din that echoed off the high ceilings.

I couldn't help but gawk at the sheer variety of students. There were elves with their graceful features and flowing hair, demons with sharp horns and glowing eyes, and even a boy who looked like he was half-slime, his translucent skin shimmering under the light.

"This place is insane," I said, grabbing a tray.

"You'll get used to it," Nyla said, piling her plate high with food. "Or not. Either way, you're stuck here."

We found Galen sitting at a table near the back, surrounded by a group of boys who all seemed to share his confident, slightly cocky demeanor. His golden hair was tousled, and his sharp eyes lit up when he saw me.

"Well, if it isn't the celebrity of the day," he said, grinning.

"Please don't start," I groaned, sliding into a seat across from him.

"Oh, I'm starting," he said, leaning forward. "Rank A on your first day? You're making the rest of us look bad."

His friends laughed, and I felt my cheeks heat up.

"It's not my fault!" I protested.

"Sure, sure," he said, smirking. Then he noticed Nyla and raised an eyebrow. "And who's this?"

"This is Nyla," I said quickly. "We're friends."

Nyla gave him a toothy grin. "Nice to meet you. You must be the boring brother I've heard about."

Galen blinked, caught off guard, before laughing. "Boring? I prefer 'responsible.'"

"Right," Nyla said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

I shook my head, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. Between Galen's teasing and Nyla's sass, I was in for a long lunch.

As I picked at my food, I let out a sigh. "I can't wait to end this day."