Chapter 3 3- Do Not Stare! No Matter How Hot He Might Be…

LEXI

I shake away the memory of that morning in the kitchen, the letter, the pancakes, my mum’s calm voice, and focus on the enormous iron gate towering in front of me. This is it. The Academy of Magical Beings and Creatures. Even from here, it looks intimidating. The gates stretch at least twice my height, their black metal twisted into elegant patterns of wings and scales. Strange symbols, runes, maybe? They glimmer faintly along the archway, and beyond the gate I can see winding stone paths and impossibly tall trees that seem to shimmer slightly in the morning light. It feels otherworldly, like stepping into a dream I don’t quite believe I’m having. I check my phone. 8:03 a.m. I’m early. Figures. I was so anxious to get going I insisted on leaving as soon as everyone was up and dressed. My parents offered to wait with me, but I told them to go. I wanted to look brave, even if my heart is hammering so hard I’m half convinced it’s going to beat right out of my chest. So, my parents hugged me, I promised to visit on the weekend, and then they reluctantly drove away, leaving me standing here alone with my nerves and my slightly too-heavy backpack. I shift on my feet, trying to look casual. I’m terrified. Absolutely, completely terrified. The truth is, I don’t know anything about this world I’ve just stepped into. Sure, I’ve read the occasional article online about shifters and witches and the occasional scandal involving a siren in Parliament, but that’s about it. It’s always been background noise, interesting but distant. Now, apparently, it’s my life. A chill breeze slides through the trees, and I shiver, tugging my cardigan tighter. The early morning air smells faintly of dew and something sharper, magic, maybe? Whatever it is, it makes the hair on my arms rise. I adjust the strap of my backpack. I didn’t bring much, just the essentials. A few photos, some of my favourite books, my phone, laptop, and charger. My life packed into one bag. It feels both too little and too much.

A tap on my shoulder nearly makes me jump out of my skin. I spin around and come face to face with a girl about my age, her copper-red hair braided neatly over one shoulder, freckles dotting her nose on her pretty face. She’s grinning so brightly it’s almost disarming.

“Hi there! I’m Mallory Aring.” She says, offering her hand like we’re already friends.

“I’m new this year. You must be new too, right?” She asks. Her friendly energy hits me like sunlight, warm and just a bit overwhelming. Still, I manage a smile and shake her hand.

“Yeah, I’m Lexi. Well, Alexis, technically, but Lexi’s fine. And yep, brand new.” I agree. Her handshake is firm, confident. I can’t help being surprised that she's even talking to me. People usually start friendly, sure, but it never lasts. I’ve been told I’m ‘intense.’ Too blunt. Too honest. I don’t mean to be. I just… Hate lies. I try to be straightforward, and apparently that freaks people out. Not exactly the fast track to friendship where everyone is full of false politeness and smiles. Not that I’m intentionally rude. But it never seems to work out. But this is a new place. New start. Maybe here, things will be different? Mallory beams at me.

“Are you excited? I’m so effing excited! I’ve been waiting years for this. It cost my parents a small fortune to get me in, but it’s going to be worth it. Oh! I’m a Shifter, by the way, a wolf.” She adds. I blink.

“A wolf? Wow.” I try to sound casual, not like someone who’s never had a real conversation with a shifter before. She grins proudly.

“Yep! My whole family’s wolves, actually. We’re from the Silvercliff Pack. What about you?” She prompts curiously.

“Well…” I start carefully.

“I only found out I was enrolled about two weeks ago. I didn’t even know my parents had applied for me to attend. The school said I was registered as a shifter, but I’ve never actually… Shifted. Or done anything magical, really. So, I don’t know what I am.” I confess. Mallory’s eyes go wide.

“Wait, you were raised human?” She blurts out. I laugh nervously.

“Yeah, pretty much.” I answer.

“That’s so weird, but kind of awesome!” She gushes.

“You could be anything! It’s like a mystery! I mean, you’re probably not a wolf, since you’d have found a pack by now, but still, it should be fun to find out. Most shifters would have shown themselves by now” She explains. Her enthusiasm is infectious, even if it’s slightly terrifying.

“Or maybe I’m just… Defective.” I joke weakly. Mallory shakes her head, red braid swinging.

“No way. You’ll figure it out. The professors here are supposed to be incredible! They’ll test you, help you learn control, find out what you are. It’s going to be so exciting.” She enthuses. I can’t help smiling at her confidence. I wish I shared it.

“I hope so. I just… Really don’t want to accidentally grow scales in my sleep or something.” I confess nervously. Mallory laughs.

“It’s not so bad. When I grew fur for the first time I was thrilled. My parents got me a cake.” She adds. I can’t help but laugh. It’s the first laugh I’ve had all morning, and somehow, it makes the gate, and everything waiting behind it, seem just a little less terrifying.

The next hour passes in a blur of nervous excitement and nonstop chatter from Mallory. SOMEHOW, she seems to know every single person who passes through the gate. Every student. Every family name. Every rumour. She’s like a walking, talking magical-yearbook with bonus gossip commentary. When I finally ask how she knows everyone, she rolls her eyes like it’s obvious.

“Of course I know everyone. The magical community is tiny. Everybody knows everybody. Well… Except you, I guess.” She adds as an afterthought. That stings more than I expect. Not intentionally, her tone isn’t mean, just stating a fact. But it still sinks into my chest like a pebble dropped in water. I guess even here I’m the odd one out. Still, the sting fades quickly as Mallory keeps pointing at people, giving me names, family lines, magical types, and, if applicable, scandals. To be honest, I don’t really remember any of it. I should probably be paying more attention, but there is entirely too much information to remember. Besides, I think I would prefer to make my own opinions of people. I am mostly just sitting and mindlessly listening along, grateful for the distraction and the company. But suddenly, her cheerful expression abruptly collapses. Her eyes narrow into suspicious little slits, and she stops mid-sentence.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. She doesn’t answer immediately. Her gaze is locked on someone near the gate, her posture suddenly stiff.

“I didn’t expect HE would be here.” She mutters, her voice dripping disapproval.

“I figured his kind wouldn’t even be ALLOWED to attend a school like this.” She adds. Ooooh. Interesting. Far more interesting than the other people she has been talking about.

“Okay, who, what, and why?” I ask, leaning in. CLEARLY there is a story, and I want every detail. Okay, so maybe I’m not totally immune to gossip after all. She lifts her chin toward a guy standing alone near the entrance. And… Wow. He stands out, but not in the gross or creepy way I was expecting from Mallory’s dramatic tone. No, he stands out because, well, he looks like the universe cooked up its own cover model. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, the kind of tall that makes you think standing next to him would be a little intimidating. His hair is short and black, slightly messy in a way that looks accidental but probably isn’t. His jawline could cut glass. His cheekbones could start wars. Seriously, he looks like he belongs on a poster advertising cologne or expensive suits or something like that. Why on earth would Mallory disapprove of that?

The guy isn’t smiling, but I get it. I haven’t exactly been smiling either. Maybe he’s nervous. Maybe he’s thinking deep thoughts. Maybe he just hates mornings. How would I know?

“Who is he?” I ask, unable to drag my eyes away.

“That’s Blake Nyvas.” She says darkly.

“He’s a DRAGON Shifter.” She finishes. She says the words like they should strike instant fear into my heart. Like I should gasp dramatically and swoon onto the grass. Or scream and run away or something. But I… Don’t really know what that means. So instead of giving some intense response, I stare at her blankly like an idiot.

“And… Why don’t you like him? Does it have something to do with why he’s standing by himself?” I ask. As if sensing my attention, he suddenly looks up. Straight. At. Me. My lungs momentarily forget how oxygen works. I immediately look away, smooth, Lexi, VERY subtle, but not before catching a glimpse of his eyes. They were golden. Not hazel. Not brown. Not amber. Golden, molten and bright, like someone melted treasure and poured it into his irises. Which actually sounds a lot more gruesome than I intended for it to. Hot metal in the eyes? Ow… Still, I  want to look again. Desperately. Mallory huffs beside me.

“He’s dangerous.” She says firmly.

“You shouldn’t talk to Dragon Shifters unless you have to. That’s just how it is. Stay away from him, alright?” She instructs me. I glance at her. She’s dead serious, brows furrowed, mouth tight. And I don’t get it. How does being a Dragon Shifter automatically make someone dangerous? Sure, dragons sound scary, they’re dragons. Big, sharp, fiery. Lots of ways to die, theoretically. So yeah, a dragon could hurt me, or even kill me. But so could a wolf. Or a witch. Or a human with a bad attitude and a kitchen knife. Honestly, killing someone seems like it would be pretty easy if you were really motivated. Not that I am. I just… Watch a lot of cop shows. Still, I keep my thoughts to myself. Mallory seems very set in her opinion, and I don’t feel like debating magical species politics on my first day. But inside me, something stubborn curls up and digs its heels in. I DON’T like being told who I can and can’t talk to. And I REALLY don’t like seeing someone standing alone while everyone else is laughing with friends. I know how that feels, it feels like being the wrong puzzle piece in the wrong box. So I make a mental note. I’m going to introduce myself to Blake Nyvas, the first decent chance I get. Maybe he’s awful. Maybe he’s rude. But maybe he’s just lonely. And either way, I’m not letting someone else dictate my friendships. Not anymore.