The morning sun filtered through gauzy curtains as Evelyn Hawthorne rose from her small, tidy bed. Her side of the room was modest—a worn oak desk cluttered with study notes, a half-filled charm journal, and a chipped ceramic mug that held her favorite pencils. In contrast, the other side, occupied by her stepsister Isabella, looked like something out of a lifestyle magazine: velvet throws, a full-length enchanted mirror, perfume vials lined up like spell ingredients. The room told the story of two girls raised under one roof but worlds apart.
Evelyn washed up quickly and dressed in her freshly pressed school uniform—one of the few things she could be proud of. As she walked down the staircase, the grand Hawthorne manor echoed with low murmurs of conversation and the clink of polished cutlery. Her stepmother, Liora, sat at the head of the table in a pale lavender dressing robe, sipping tea with delicacy. Her father, Malcolm Hawthorne, buried behind the morning paper, barely looked up.
"You're late," Isabella commented sweetly, dabbing her lips with a napkin. She wore her uniform a little looser, her collar unbuttoned just enough to flirt with scandal. "Better hurry or you'll miss the transport spell."
Evelyn nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Every morning was the same—smiles that didn't reach the eyes, compliments sharpened like daggers. She grabbed a piece of toast and made for the door.
The magical tram that ferried students to Aetherwood Academy glided through the city's winding paths like a silver serpent. Evelyn took her usual seat near the window, lost in thoughts. The academy loomed in the distance, its turrets and spires a strange fusion of magical elegance and technological marvel. It looked like a castle designed by both an architect and a dreamer.
At school, whispers trailed behind her. Not because of her status—she had none—but because of yesterday's event.
"The guy who saved her… wasn't that Alexander Valerius?"
"No way, he's never shown up here before."
"Why her though?"
Evelyn kept her gaze forward, clutching her bag tighter. Alexander Valerius—the city's most eligible heir, heir to the ancient and powerful Valerius line. And he had stepped in to help her. Publicly. She didn't know whether to be grateful or afraid.
In the hallway, her friend Maren approached with a grin.
"You're officially interesting now," Maren said, looping her arm around Evelyn's. "There are bets going around. I heard someone is offering ten gold crescents if anyone can prove you and Alexander are secretly engaged."
"What?" Evelyn coughed on air. "That's insane."
"Maybe. But if you are, can I be a bridesmaid?"
They both laughed, the tension easing—until another voice joined them.
"Well, if it isn't the charity case and her court jester," came a voice laced with honey and venom.
Liana Wren.
The academic rival. Perfect grades, flawless beauty, and a charm that masked her ruthlessness. She had always looked at Evelyn with the kind of disdain that didn't need words. But today, her eyes glittered with something new—interest.
"Wren," Evelyn greeted evenly.
"I suppose even lost kittens can find a prince if they cry loudly enough," Liana said, brushing invisible lint off her sleeve. "Just don't forget that some of us didn't claw our way into the academy—we were born for it."
Evelyn's hands clenched, but she didn't rise to the bait.
"I earn what I have," she said calmly, before walking past.
Behind her, she could hear Maren whisper, "You are the better person, but one day, I hope you slap her with a magic scroll."
Later that afternoon, Aetherwood Academy buzzed with more than just gossip. A new student had been announced—none other than Celeste Valerius, younger sister to Alexander. Rumors swirled that she requested transfer personally, choosing Aetherwood for "reasons."
As Celeste entered the courtyard, all heads turned. She wore the uniform like it was tailored for her, her icy blue eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on Evelyn. And then… she smiled.
Celeste walked right up to her.
"You must be Evelyn Hawthorne," she said. "My brother spoke of you."
Everyone went quiet.
Evelyn blinked. "He… did?"
Celeste offered her hand. "I'm Celeste. I hope we can be friends."
If this was some kind of trick, it was an elaborate one. But something told Evelyn that Celeste Valerius wasn't one for games—at least not petty ones.
"Of course," Evelyn said, shaking her hand.
In that moment, beneath the weight of a hundred watching eyes, Evelyn realized something was shifting. Her world—once quiet and dismissed—was stirring.
And it was only the beginning.