Night crept over St. Carridan's Academy with velvet silence, the old gothic towers casting long shadows that seemed to breathe with secrets. Most of the students had returned to their dormitories, chatting about upcoming student council elections, weekend outings, or who had embarrassed themselves in Kael's class that afternoon.
But Viera wasn't in her dorm.
She sat cross-legged on the rooftop of the west wing building, overlooking the northern courtyard. The night air was brisk, fragrant with blooming night lilies from the garden below. Her tablet rested beside her, screen dimmed. The messages she'd received from the intranet post earlier were already copied into an encrypted drive.
Three responses.
Three possible partners.
One had shown genuine curiosity. The message was formal, well-structured, and included references to two emerging AI models. Another was cocky, dropping buzzwords and bragging about crypto investments at age sixteen. The third, however, was different.
"Interested. NDA first. Then we talk. No time for games."
– User: HexCipher
That one intrigued her.
Professional. Cold. The kind of message a shark sent before they sank teeth in gold.
She tapped out a response.
"Meet me tomorrow. 4 p.m. Library basement study room A12. Come alone. Bring proof of skill."
She locked the message and shut the tablet.
The game was beginning.
And unlike the last time, this time she'd be the one pulling the strings.
The next morning arrived with the sound of announcements echoing through the academy's intercom system. Viera walked the halls calmly, her eyes skimming the student body with increasing precision. Every clique had its rhythm.
The Legacy Group—Reina's faction—held dominion over the east garden benches before class. Five girls, two boys. Rich, brilliant, vicious.
The Academic Circle—nerds and debate champions—lingered near the math wing, always muttering about competitions and formulas.
The Sports Streamers—loud, popular, obsessed with gym schedules.
And the Floaters—orphans, scholarship students, quiet ones who didn't fit anywhere.
Viera belonged to none of them.
Yet each one would soon orbit her world without even knowing it.
At mid-morning break, she attended her Business Strategy class—one of her favorites.
Mr. Donovan, the teacher, was an eccentric man who wore mismatched shoes and spoke like an auctioneer on fast-forward. "Ladies and gents! Today we talk venture capital, scaling logistics, and the hidden weapon of timing. You have five minutes to pitch me a product idea using one of three prompts: sustainability, luxury, or gamification. GO."
Students panicked. Pages flew. Whispers burst out like gunfire.
Viera calmly stood and walked to the front.
"I'll go first."
Mr. Donovan blinked. "Didn't even choose a prompt."
"I'll use all three."
That got a few laughs—until she began speaking.
"A luxury subscription service that allows consumers to 'rent' exclusive designer clothing made entirely from upcycled materials—integrated with a gamified points system where users gain perks for sustainability achievements, tracked via smart tags."
Donovan's jaw dropped. He stared at her for a second, then muttered, "Holy disruptor…"
Reina watched from the corner, her lips pressed tight.
She'd noticed now.
Good.
Let the queen sense the new wind.
Lunch came and went.
Viera kept to herself. She didn't need allies yet—just attention. Let them grow curious. Let them wonder what cards she held.
At precisely 3:45 p.m., she headed to the old library wing.
A12 was a forgotten study room with dusty shelves and flickering lights, but it was quiet—and out of sight from the usual traffic. She set the room's privacy wards—simple mana-triggered glyphs to keep eavesdropping at bay.
At 4:01 p.m., the door opened.
A tall girl stepped inside, hoodie drawn up, glasses low on her nose. She looked like she hadn't slept in days.
"You're WhisperForge?" she asked.
"I prefer Viera," she said. "And you are?"
"Call me Hex."
Viera gestured to the chair opposite her. "Sit. Show me your proof."
Hex pulled out a tablet. Slid it across the table.
On the screen: the full backend database of St. Carridan's internal scholarship system. Names, funding sources, even administrative logs.
"You hacked this?" Viera asked.
"No. I rewrote the code around it. Like building an invisible backdoor. No one knows it's there."
Impressive. Dangerous.
Perfect.
"What do you want in return?" Viera asked.
"Credit. Freedom. A stake in whatever you're building."
Viera leaned back, folding her arms. "How do I know you won't sell me out later?"
"You don't. But if I wanted to screw you over, I'd already have posted your project pitch from Business Strategy this morning. Word is Reina's parents have already started sniffing around it."
That stopped Viera for half a breath.
Reina was faster than expected.
Still… predictable.
"Then I guess we need to move quickly," Viera said. "You're in."
Hex gave a small nod. "We start when?"
"Now."
Later that evening, Viera returned to her dorm to find a note slipped under her door.
"Come to East Garden Pavilion. Midnight. Come alone."
No name. But the handwriting?
Flawless cursive.
Reina.
She wanted a confrontation.
A test.
Viera smiled.
She strapped a short blade to her thigh—just in case—and dressed in quiet shoes.
Midnight. The moon hung low, silver light blanketing the garden. The pavilion stood in silence, surrounded by vines and lilies. Elegant. Peaceful. Deceitful.
Viera stepped onto the wood floor, eyes sharp.
Reina was already there, wearing an embroidered navy-blue coat and heels that didn't dare sink into the soil. Two other girls stood behind her.
"You came," Reina said, arms folded.
"Curiosity's a terrible habit of mine," Viera replied.
"I don't like loose threads," Reina said. "You disappeared for months. Then you show up, spouting genius ideas and beating Jace in combat simulations."
"I didn't beat him. He beat himself. Arrogance tends to do that."
Reina smirked. "You talk like someone who's suddenly found spine."
"I talk like someone who finally woke up."
The two girls behind Reina stepped forward, arms subtly tense.
So this was more than a conversation.
It was a veiled warning.
Reina closed the distance.
"I don't know what you think you're doing, Langford, but I run this school. The clubs. The fundraisers. The council. And if you try to build something under me, I will break it."
Viera leaned in just enough for Reina to smell the iron cool of her resolve.
"You're playing checkers, Reina. I'm writing the rulebook to chess."
They stared each other down.
Then Reina stepped back.
"I'll be watching."
"I'd be disappointed if you weren't."
The meeting ended.
But the fire had been lit.
War would come.
And Viera wouldn't just survive it this time.
She would ignite it.