Chapter 13
From the very first day Freddie Palmer walked into Arcanis Academy, whispers chased him across the courtyard like smoke.
"Is that him?"
"That new first year, Frederick?"
"I heard the Top Six might be adding a seventh…"
He kept walking, ignoring the eyes that lingered too long. Being noticed felt less like recognition and more like a weight pressing on his chest.
His thoughts drifted back to the moment that had earned him those whispers—the night Warren Johnson tested him.
The gym had reeked of sweat and ozone, the sharp scent of wards burning under pressure. Enchanted lights hummed overhead. Warren stood across from him, shirt sleeves rolled, a grin stretched wide like a wolf circling prey.
"You sure about this, freshman?" Warren asked, bouncing on his heels. His voice carried casual amusement, but his stance was deadly precise.
Freddie tightened his fists. "If I can't stand against you, then I don't belong here."
Warren chuckled. "Bold. Let's see if you live long enough to regret it."
The first hit came too fast—an elbow slamming into Freddie's guard, pain rattling through his bones. He staggered, tried to counter, but Warren's fist cracked against his ribs before he could blink. Each blow landed heavier than the last, driving him back, smothering every opening.
Students had gathered, murmurs buzzing like flies. Freddie fought harder, desperation lacing every strike, but Warren slipped past them with ease, punishing him at every turn.
A sharp kick knocked him sprawling. He tasted blood.
"Enough, Warren," Cassie's voice cut in, firm but kind. "He's still new."
Beside her, Eric leaned forward from where he'd been watching, eyes sharp over his book. "You'll break him if you keep pressing. That's not testing anymore."
Warren didn't even look at them. He loomed over Freddie, shadows stretching across the mat, breathing steady as if he hadn't broken a sweat.
"You're not there yet, kid," he said flatly."
The memory dissolved, and Freddie blinked hard, back in the classroom. Chalk scraped against the board. His knuckles were white on the desk.
Ethan leaned just enough to glance at him. "You look like you're about to declare a blood feud, what're you thinking about?."
Freddie unclenched his fists. "It's nothing."
Ethan shrugged, quiet sarcasm edging his voice. "Good. Wasn't looking to get dragged into one anyway."
The teacher's voice rose, talking about a new group project. A collective groan spread across the class. Ethan muttered under his breath, "Magic or not, some things never change."
Freddie almost smiled. Almost.
Later that day the gym was mostly empty, save for the steady thud of fists colliding with leather. Freddie stood at the far corner, breath short, his knuckles aching from the punishment he dealt the training dummy. Each strike landed sharper than the last, but no amount of force seemed enough.
Sweat trickled down his temple, stinging his eyes. He welcomed the burn—it was easier than facing the echo of laughter in his memory. Warren's boot on his chest, Cassie's uncomfortable glance, Eric's quiet warning that Warren ignored.
Freddie's punches grew reckless, each blow louder, angrier. He wasn't fighting the dummy anymore; he was fighting the sneer on Warren's face, the humiliation of lying flat on the mat, the way everyone in that room had seen him fall short.
"If I can't even stand against him…" His chest heaved as the thought cut deeper than the pain in his hands. He slammed his fist once more into the dummy, the shock jolting up his arm. "Then how the hell am I supposed to belong here?"
"You'll break its jaw before it answers you."
The soft, almost bored voice cut across the room. Freddie froze mid-swing and turned. Sage leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her eyes glinting beneath the light.
She tilted her head. "That thing doesn't hit back. Doesn't bleed. If you're chasing ghosts of your own, maybe you picked the wrong sparring partner."
Freddie exhaled sharply, grabbing the towel slung over the railing. He wiped his face, refusing to meet her eyes. "Don't you have someone else to bother?"
Sage pushed herself off the frame, her steps light but deliberate as she came closer. "Bothering implies I care enough. I just noticed the new genius of Arcanis Academy punching the life out of a stuffed bag." She smirked faintly. "Some genius."
His jaw tightened. He hated how her words hit closer than she knew.
Sage's expression softened—just barely."I know a vengeful soul when I see one .You're angry. Not at me, not even at Warren. At yourself." She shrugged. "It's what happens when you let someone crawl under your skin. You can let it eat you alive, or…" She mimed a casual punch, her knuckles barely grazing the air. "You hit back. For real, this time."
Freddie stared at her, searching for the sarcasm, but found none. Just that calm, eerie sharpness she always carried.
"Thanks for the lecture," he muttered, tossing the towel aside. "But I don't need your pity."
Sage's lips curved, somewhere between a smile and a warning. "Smart. You might actually be a genius, but for real though try to take things easy.
As if ignoring Sage and not trusting himself to answer her, Freddie walks away.
The courtyard buzzed with students trading notes and gossip, but Ethan barely noticed. He walked alongside Luna, who carried herself with her usual quiet detachment, her crimson eyes giving away more amusement than her face ever did.
"You've been sighing for the last five minutes," she said. "Planning to compete for a record?"
Ethan smirked faintly. "Just thinking about how much easier life would be if strength came in pill form. Pop one, suddenly I'm top-tier. No training, no bruises, no attitude from upperclassmen."
Luna gave him a sideways glance. "You'd still complain."
"True," Ethan admitted.
They rounded the corner—and nearly ran into William. The older student cut an imposing figure, broad-shouldered and unreadable, his presence enough to silence half the courtyard just by walking through it.
Ethan caught up to William just as the older boy was leaving the courtyard, Luna trailing behind him.
"William!" Ethan called, jogging the last few steps. "You were amazing at that capture the flag tournament, you gotta train me. Please."
William slowed, his smirk faintly amused. "Train you? Unless you've got a new game I haven't gambled on yet, I'm not interested."
Ethan blinked. "A… game?"
William shrugged. "Cards, dice, riddles, drinking, sparring bets. Heard them all. Won them all. Unless you're bringing something fresh to the table, you're wasting my time."
Ethan thought furiously. "What about—"
"Already heard it," William cut in, tone light but dismissive.
"Fine. Then just train me because I need it." Ethan's voice strained, his hands curling into fists. "I don't care how you do it, just—"
"No." William's smirk vanished, his gaze turning sharp. "Strength isn't charity. Begging won't change that."
He walked past, leaving Ethan standing there, heat rising in his cheeks.
Luna appeared at his side, her voice soft but not unkind. "Told you it was no use."
Ethan let out a long sigh, shoulders sagging. "Yeah. Guess I needed to hear it myself."
A little further down the path, William slowed as Warren stepped out from the shadows, waiting with arms crossed.
"You're not interested in training him?" Warren asked, having clearly overheard.
William snorted. "I have no business being anyone's sensei."
Warren chuckled. "Harsh. But fair." Then his grin tilted sideways. "Funny, though—because you sound exactly like one right now."
William shot him a look, "oh please, talk about being harsh when you're doing the same thing to that first year kid Frederick."
Warren continued, his tone finally softening, "I'm not bullying him for fun. He's talented, and I've seen where that leads when someone doesn't train hard enough and gets too comfortable. I push him because if he stops now, he'll never reach his ceiling. He'll waste it."
For a rare moment, William's expression shifted, thoughtful. Warren grinned wider. "See? That's pretty sensei-like of me, don't you think?"
"Don't start," William muttered, but his lips twitched. The two of them shared a short laugh before heading off.
That night, Ethan spotted Freddie sneaking out of the dorms.
"Where are you going?" Ethan asked, jogging to catch up.
Freddie glanced back, annoyed. "Top Seven meeting. It's for us, not you."
"Perfect. I'll come."
"No," Freddie said flatly, continuing to walk.
"Come on," Ethan pressed, grinning. "You won't even notice I'm there."
"No."
"Freddie—"
"I said no."
They went back and forth, Ethan begging at every step, until Freddie finally groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. I don't even care anymore."
Ethan grinned triumphantly. "Knew you'd cave."
They reached an underground chamber hidden beneath the academy. The heavy doors creaked open to reveal the Top Seven gathered around a circular table. Eric calmly arranged stacks of files. Sebastian snored into his sleeve. Cassie fanned herself lazily while William and Warren prepared to start the meeting.
"Evening," Freddie said, taking his seat. The others immediately noticed Ethan slipping in behind him.
William's eyes narrowed. "Why is he here?"
"He didn't give me a choice," Freddie said quickly. "I'll take responsibility."
William exhaled through his nose. "Whatever. Let's just get this over with."
Eric adjusted his papers. "Aren't we waiting for Zoltan?"
"Zoltan loves being late," William muttered. "We're not wasting half the night on him."
He leaned forward, voice tightening. "Ghost sightings are spiking—both before and beyond the Ice Wall. And one of our own hunters, Joe, is the one leaking intel. He's the mole."
Cassie raised a brow. "How sure are we?"
Before William could answer, a voice drifted from the doorway.
"Easy, that's because he's a serial killer."
All eyes snapped to the entrance.
A tall figure in a black jacket leaned casually against the frame, a sharp grin cutting across his face.
Cassie sighed, fanning herself lazily. "Well, look who finally decided to show up."
William's jaw tightened, his frustration clear.
Sebastian now wide awake from his sleep muttered under his breath "Maximiliano"
Ethan froze, breath caught in his throat.
Maximiliano Zoltan stepped fully into the room, his smirk widening as every eye settled on him.