I learned very early that silence is safer.
Silence doesn't look at you with disgust.
Silence doesn't whisper when you walk past.
And silence—unlike people—doesn't expect you to prove you belong.
The temple bells rang just as I stepped through the gates.
Low. Heavy. Ancient.
Each chime echoed through the stone corridors like a warning rather than a welcome, vibrating through my chest in a way that made my breath hitch. The air itself felt older here—thick with magic, soaked into every carved pillar and cracked tile.
This place wasn't just a school.
It was a judgment.
I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag as I walked forward, keeping my head down. That was the first rule: don't draw attention.
It never worked—but I tried anyway.
The entrance courtyard opened before me, wide and impossibly grand. Towering stone arches curved toward the sky, etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly—gold and silver light weaving together like they were alive. Students filled the space, their robes flowing in soft colors that marked their magic—light users glowing faintly, balanced ones steady and calm.
And then there were people like me.
Or… not like me.
I spotted them easily.
Dark magic users always stood together, tucked into the edges of the courtyard like shadows that had learned to breathe. Their energy felt heavier, quieter—like something constantly being held back. Some leaned against pillars, others sat on the steps, but none of them stood in the center.
No one ever did.
The center belonged to light.
A laugh rang out—sharp, bright, and cutting.
I didn't have to look up to know it wasn't meant for me.
But I did anyway.
Big mistake.
A group of students stood near the fountain at the center, their uniforms cleaner, brighter—gold thread stitched into the hems. Light magic users. At the center of them—
Him.
Of course.
He stood like he owned the place, like the temple had been built around him instead of the other way around. His posture was relaxed, one hand in his pocket, the other lazily twirling a thin strand of glowing magic between his fingers like it was nothing more than a toy.
Gold.
Pure gold.
Light magic always looked beautiful.
That was the problem.
People turned toward beauty. Trusted it. Followed it.
Even when it burned.
I looked away quickly, lowering my gaze back to the stone floor.
Don't stare.
Rule two.
"New girl?"
The voice came from my left—quiet, but not unkind.
I glanced up just enough to see a girl leaning against one of the pillars, arms crossed. Her eyes were dark—almost black—but steady, not sharp like the others. There was no glow to her, no polished shine.
Dark magic.
Like me.
Or at least… closer to me.
I nodded once.
She pushed off the pillar and walked over, her steps slow and easy, like she didn't care who was watching.
"Name?" she asked.
I hesitated.
It was a stupid thing to hesitate over. Everyone here would know it soon enough.
But names had a way of sticking. Of becoming something people could twist.
"…Iris," I said finally.
She studied me for a second longer than comfortable, her gaze flicking over my face like she was trying to read something written there.
"Kael," she said, tapping her chest lightly. "You'll want to stay near us."
"Us?"
She tilted her head toward the far side of the courtyard.
A small group stood there—three others. All dark magic users. One of them glanced over, offering a small wave. Another didn't look up at all.
"They don't bite," Kael added, then paused. "Well. Not usually."
I almost smiled.
Almost.
"Why?" I asked instead.
Her expression didn't change, but something in her eyes sharpened just a little.
"Because," she said, voice lowering slightly, "people like us don't get second chances here."
My chest tightened.
People like us.
I knew what she meant.
Dark magic users were already looked down on. Seen as unstable. Dangerous. Wrong.
But me?
I wasn't just dark.
I was something else entirely.
Something no one here would understand.
Something I wasn't even sure I understood.
A ripple of energy moved through the courtyard, subtle but noticeable. Conversations quieted. Heads turned.
I didn't need to look to know why.
But again—mistake—I did.
He was walking this way.
Great.
Just great.
Up close, he looked even more… effortless. Like everything about him existed exactly the way it was supposed to. His hair caught the light, his eyes sharper than they had any right to be, his magic practically humming under his skin.
People moved aside for him without thinking.
No hesitation.
No resistance.
Power did that.
I dropped my gaze immediately, but it was too late.
His steps slowed.
Of course they did.
"New," he said.
Not asked.
Stated.
I didn't respond.
Rule three: don't engage.
Kael shifted slightly beside me, her posture tightening just enough for me to notice.
"She has a name," Kael said flatly.
Silence stretched.
I could feel his gaze now—direct, heavy, intentional.
"…Does she?" he replied.
Something about the way he said it made my stomach twist.
Like I wasn't worth remembering.
Like I was already forgettable.
"Say it," he added.
My fingers curled tighter around my bag strap.
I could ignore him.
I should ignore him.
But silence didn't always protect you.
Sometimes it just made you an easier target.
"…Iris," I said, barely above a whisper.
A pause.
Then—
A soft, amused exhale.
"Iris," he repeated, like he was testing the sound of it.
Then, quieter—
"Doesn't suit you."
Heat crept up my neck.
I didn't look up.
I wouldn't give him that.
"What's your magic?" he asked.
There it was.
The real question.
The one that always mattered.
The one that always decided everything.
I swallowed.
"Dark," I said.
It wasn't a lie.
Just… not the whole truth.
Another pause.
Then—
"That obvious?" he said lightly.
A few people nearby laughed.
Not loudly.
But enough.
My chest tightened.
"Show me," he said.
My head snapped up before I could stop myself.
"What?"
"Your magic," he clarified, tilting his head slightly. "Or do you not have any?"
More laughter.
Louder this time.
My pulse quickened.
I hated this.
Hated the way the air felt thinner when everyone was watching. Hated the way my body locked up when I needed it most.
"I—"
Nothing.
Of course.
Nothing.
A flicker of something passed through his eyes.
Recognition.
Understanding.
And then—
Boredom.
"Right," he said.
That one word hit harder than anything else.
"Another useless one."
The laughter this time didn't even try to hide.
Something inside my chest twisted sharply—tight, painful, familiar.
I dropped my gaze again, nails digging into my palm.
Don't react.
Don't give them anything.
"That's enough," Kael snapped.
There was a warning in her voice now.
A real one.
He glanced at her briefly, unimpressed.
"Relax," he said. "I'm just curious how someone like her even got in."
Someone like her.
The words echoed.
Louder than they should have.
Deeper than they should have.
Something stirred inside me.
Faint.
Unstable.
Wrong.
For a split second, the air around me felt… heavier.
Thicker.
Like it was pressing inward instead of out.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
It vanished immediately.
No one noticed.
No one ever did.
"Come on," Kael muttered, grabbing my wrist and pulling me back slightly. "Ignore him."
I didn't resist.
Couldn't.
Because if I stayed there any longer, I wasn't sure what would happen.
And that terrified me more than anything he could say.
As we moved away, I felt his gaze linger.
Not mocking this time.
Not bored.
Something else.
Something sharper.
I didn't look back.
I wouldn't.
But I felt it.
And somehow…
That was worse.
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Classes. Faces. Voices.
None of it stuck.
All I could feel was that moment—replaying over and over again in my head like a broken spell.
Another useless one.
The words settled deep, sinking into places I tried not to touch.
Because part of me—
The worst part—
Believed them.
I sat at the edge of the training hall later that evening, watching as students practiced. Light magic flickered through the air in controlled bursts—clean, precise, effortless.
Even the balanced ones held steady control.
And then there was me.
I stared at my hands.
Pale.
Still.
Empty.
"Try again."
The instructor's voice cut through the noise.
I flinched slightly, looking up.
He stood a few feet away, arms folded behind his back, expression unreadable.
"I am," I said quietly.
"Are you?" he replied.
I swallowed.
I turned my focus inward, trying to feel it—the magic, the energy, the something that was supposed to be there.
Everyone said it was like a current.
A flow.
Something natural.
But for me, it felt like reaching into darkness and finding… nothing.
Or worse—
Something that didn't want to be found.
I pushed harder.
Come on…
Just a spark.
Just something.
The air shifted slightly.
My breath caught.
There—
A flicker.
Cold.
Not warm like light magic.
Not steady like balance.
Cold.
And deep.
Too deep.
It slipped through my grasp instantly, vanishing like it had never been there.
I exhaled shakily.
"I can't," I admitted.
The instructor studied me for a long moment.
Then—
"Sit."
I didn't argue.
Didn't ask.
I just sat.
Because that was easier.
Because failing quietly hurt less than failing out loud.
As the class continued around me, I let my gaze drift toward the far side of the room.
And of course—
He was there.
Leaning lazily against one of the pillars, watching.
Not practicing.
Not trying.
Just watching.
His eyes met mine briefly.
And for a second—
Just a second—
There was no mockery.
No boredom.
Just… curiosity.
Then it was gone.
Like it had never been there.
I looked away quickly, heart beating faster than it should have.
I didn't understand him.
Didn't want to.
Didn't need to.
People like him and people like me didn't mix.
They didn't cross.
They didn't—
Something shifted again.
Stronger this time.
Deeper.
My breath hitched.
Not outside.
Inside.
It curled low in my chest, slow and heavy, like something waking up after a very long sleep.
Cold spread through my veins.
Not painful.
Just… wrong.
My fingers twitched.
I froze.
Don't move.
Don't react.
Don't let it out.
Because I didn't know what "it" was.
Only that it wasn't normal.
Only that if anyone saw—
Everything would get worse.
Slowly, carefully, I curled my fingers into a fist.
The feeling dulled.
Faded.
Gone.
I exhaled quietly, forcing my body to relax.
No one noticed.
No one ever did.
But as I sat there, staring at my hands, one thought settled in deeper than the rest.
Something is wrong with me.
Not weak.
Not useless.
Worse.
Different.
And in this world—
Different didn't survive.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
The temple was quieter after dark, but not silent. It never truly was. Magic hummed through the walls, low and constant, like a heartbeat that didn't belong to anyone.
I sat by the window, knees pulled to my chest, staring out at the distant treeline.
The Forbidden Ancestral Forest.
Even from here, it looked wrong.
Darker than the rest of the world.
Like the shadows there weren't just shadows.
I should've looked away.
Should've gone to bed.
Should've stopped thinking.
But I didn't.
Because something about it—
Something deep, quiet, and unexplainable—
Felt familiar.
My chest tightened slightly.
And without realizing it, I leaned closer to the window.
Drawn.
Not by curiosity.
Not by fear.
But by something far more dangerous.
Recognition.
A faint chill ran down my spine.
And for the briefest moment—
I could've sworn—
Something in the darkness…
Was looking back.