Adam watched the five figures step from the portal. His gaze snagged on the woman who led them: black hair loose to her shoulders, a white trench coat that fell to mid-calf, fingerless black velvet gloves, and knee-high boots. Everything about her was composed: hazel eyes, a small pointed nose, an elegance that made him forget to breathe for a second.

  She was also the shortest of the group. The others loomed—one easily seven feet, another closer to ten—with matching black coats and leather boots. Masks hid their faces, odd, caricatured things that made them look like ceremonial executioners. They radiated menace without moving.

  “My name is Hensley Maxine,” she said. “Call me Dean Hensley.” Her voice was quiet but it carried through the hall. “I’m not fond of long speeches. Listen carefully.”

  Students rustled back to their seats; Hensley remained at the podium. Hendrix leaned close to Adam and whispered, half in admiration, half in boyish awe. “She doesn’t even look thirty.”

  Adam glanced at him and tried not to roll his eyes. Hendrix had a problem with women; that much was obvious. Around them, other students watched the dean with the same dazed attention.

  Helias snorted. “Why is everyone acting like she’s a goddess?”

  “Because she is,” Hendrix muttered.

  Helias shrugged. “I’ve seen better. By Cemil’s standards, she’s average at best.”

  “You’re kidding,” Hendrix whispered.

  “Let me know whenever you’re in Cemil. I will introduce you to real beauties,” Helias said.

  Hendrix’s eyes lit at the offer.

  Adam felt the old amusement tug, then the hunger returned; a tight squeeze under his ribs that made him wince. He hunched forward and closed his eyes until the feeling eased.

  “Everything okay?” Hendrix hissed.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Adam said, forcing his voice steady.

  Helias’s whisper cut through: “The academy’s officials are not to be trifled with. Don’t let them think you’re sleeping.”

  “Who asked you?” Adam snapped, then took a breath. He met Helias’s gaze for a beat and looked away.

  Dean Hensley’s voice filled the hall again. “It’s been exactly two months since Varidan reopened. You should have learned our rules by now. If you haven’t, the consequences will be yours to bear.”

  She lifted a finger. “First: from now until your death, do not betray Varidan Academy.” Her next finger rose. “Second: if any of you joins the demon brigades of the dungeons, you will be expelled and eliminated.” The hall absorbed the warning like a physical thing.

  Even Hendrix fell quiet. Murmurs ran in little eddies through the crowd.

  Helias leaned toward Adam. “What could be worse than joining demons?”

  Hensley’s tone sharpened. “Finally, the most important rule: you are forbidden from joining the Eight Gates.”

  That name hit like a cold gust. The hall erupted, whispers, questions, and dozens of strained looks.

  “What are the Eight Gates?” Adam heard someone ask. He had to admit he didn’t know.

  “You’ll learn soon enough,” Helias said softly, as if he enjoyed knowing more than others.

  Hendrix, voice low, asked, “You’ve heard of them?”

  Helias’s mouth was a thin line. “Not much. Only that they’re serious trouble. A guild beyond the walls. Rumor has it they even harbor Demonkins.”

  “How could other races work with demons?” Hendrix scoffed.

  “They’re infamous across the Eastern, Northern, and Southern lands,” Helias said. “They’re undoubtedly the number one guild beyond the Western wall.”

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  Adam let the information settle. A guild that kept demons as allies explained a lot of the academy’s paranoia.

  No wonder Varidan forbade them.

  Hensley’s patience snapped. “Silence. Save the chatter for later.”

  The hall obeyed.

  “This is the only day you will all be gathered as equals,” she said. “More than half of you will be dead by the turn of the year.”

  The line landed cold. Adam felt a dry smile curve his mouth. She didn’t bother softening the truth.

  Hendrix and Helias both turned serious; the novelty drained from the room. Adam watched their faces and tried to tuck the unease down somewhere useful.

  “Report to the registration hall and file a voluntary expulsion form if you don’t want to die,” Hensley said. “You have three minutes.”

  Adam lifted his head. The hall held its breath. Would anyone actually walk out after getting this far?

  Three minutes passed like a snapped string. No one moved.

  “So you’re not spineless,” Hensley said, and for the first time she smiled. “Report to the Training Halls according to your assigned ranks. Instructors will sort you into support or attack classes. Welcome to Varidan Academy.”

  The figures on the podium rose. A portal swallowed them. The glow from the pillars brightened and settled the room.

  “That’s it?” Hendrix muttered. “She didn’t even tell us what life here is like.”

  Helias only shook his head, amused. “You’re asking for a tour? You’re missing the point—she’s not here to comfort anyone.” Then he grinned. “What rank are you two?”

  Hendrix’s face went red; he ducked his chin. Adam kept quiet.

  “You embarrassed to say it?” Adam teased, nudging Hendrix.

  Hendrix pushed up and smoothed his uniform. “Let’s go to the Training Hall.”

  Hendrix shot a sheepish smile at Helias as he moved; Adam followed. Helias called after them. “You really won’t tell me your rank?”

  Adam let a lazy, sarcastic smile split his face. “We’re humble E-ranks. Not worth your time. Hanging out with you will only make us trouble.”

  Helias gaped. “No way you’re only E. You nullified my Blessing.”

  “Believe what you like,” Adam said as he walked on. “But pretend not to know us. You’re definitely a trouble magnet.”

  Several minutes had passed, and Adam and Hendrix approached one of the training halls reserved for E- and D-ranked Awakened.

  “Am I being paranoid, or are we being followed?” Hendrix muttered, frowning.

  Adam didn’t answer immediately. His eyes swept across the gathering students; some whispered, others pretending not to stare. A few wore the kind of curiosity that came from gossip, not respect.

  “That’s why I said we should’ve stayed away from that guy,” Adam murmured. “They’re curious about Helias, not us.”

  “Still, it’s creepy,” Hendrix said, subtly nodding toward a stubby youth smirking in their direction. “Why’s that beady-eyed bastard looking at us like that?”

  Adam chuckled. “Ignore them. Let’s just see what this Training Hall is about.”

  The two moved on, voices blending with the low hum of the crowd.

  A few meters behind, the stubby youth kept his gaze locked on them, the smirk never leaving his face.

  “Oi, Fatty,” a voice called out. “Find anything useful yet? Think those idiots are bluffing, walking into an E- and D-rank hall like they belong there?”

  The youth turned, annoyance flashing in his eyes. A group of five approached, led by a tall young man whose curled mustache shimmered from black to blue, then to silver as it caught the light.

  “It’s Hamo,” the youth snapped. “Cristoffle, please advise your men not to speak to me like that again. And information isn’t free. You want answers, pay the price.”

  The leader chuckled, reaching into his coat. A soft clink followed as he tossed a purple satin pouch across the space. “That’s why I like you, Hamo. You’re honest about what you are.”

  Hamo caught it smoothly, weighing the coins in his hand. The scent of perfume rose from the bag—not the kind peasants could afford.

  “Do you need a moment to count it?”

  “No need to count it, Your Highness,” he said with a sly grin. “So, what would you fine gentlemen like to know today?”

  Cristoffle smiled faintly. “Gold will be the death of you.”

  “We all die for something,” Hamo said. “Might as well be for something that glitters.”

  Cristoffle waved a hand; impatient. “You know why I’m here. The student who stood up to Helias; what’s his story?”

  “Name’s Adam. From the Wazar region. E-rank Awakened.” Hamo stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Nothing links him to Helias, from what I can tell.”

  “Nonsense,” one of Cristoffle’s men spat. “Helias wouldn’t waste breath on an E-rank nobody.”

  “Maybe,” Hamo said with a shrug. “Or maybe Helias just got curious. You know how A-ranks are unpredictable.”

  Cristoffle’s gaze sharpened. “And what makes you so sure?”

  “This is Varidan,” Hamo replied simply.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Then Cristoffle gave a small nod. “Fair enough.”

  “Pleasure doing business, Your Highness.” Hamo flashed a grin and turned away, coins jingling as he slipped into the crowd in the direction Adam had gone.

  Cristoffle watched him go, eyes narrowing.

  “Arrogant bastard,” one of his men muttered.

  Cristoffle’s voice was calm but cold. “This isn’t Yesal. Watch your tongue. He’s B-rank. A supporter, yes, but not someone you can touch here.”

  The man fell silent.

  “Informants like him survive because they’re useful,” Cristoffle continued. “Cross them, and your corpse might vanish before dawn. Remember that.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the men said in unison, bowing their heads.

  Cristoffle’s hand drifted to his shifting mustache as he smiled. “Let’s not rush. If that boy truly drew Helias’s attention, others will be after him soon enough. We’ll just watch.”

  He turned toward the hall, his boots echoing across the polished floor. “Come,” he said. “I’ve got a feeling the next scene will be worth watching.”