Chapter 4 4- Never Sit In The Back Row With Him
LEXI
I’m just opening my mouth to ask Mallory for more details, like WHY Blake is supposedly dangerous, or what exactly about being a dragon makes him someone I shouldn’t talk to, when the enormous metal gates in front of us groan to life. The sound is horrendous. A deafening, metallic screech echoes across the courtyard, loud enough to make half the students clap their hands over their ears and grimace. Even I flinch.
“Well! That’s a lovely start to the year.” I mutter under my breath.
“Oops, sorry about that!” A cheerful voice calls out. A woman strides out through the opened gates, bright white hair in a neat bun, soft laugh lines around her eyes, and wrapped in flowing teal robes that shimmer with threads of silver. She looks more like a fairy godmother than someone who works at a school.
“Welcome, new students!” She announces, completely unfazed by the ear-destroying noise.
“If you’ll please follow me to the opening assembly, Principal Istvan will be giving the introductory speech. For those who don’t know me, I’m Professor Layla Young, and I teach the Medicinal Magic subjects here. Now come along, everyone, we don’t want to be late!” She waves for us to follow along. Her energy is warm and enthusiastic, like she runs on sunshine and herbal tea. I turn toward Mallory, ready to ask why in the world she hates dragons so much… But she’s already halfway to the gates. In a blink, she links arms with the wolf girl she pointed out earlier, Rhea, I think? And the two of them disappear into the crowd, laughing and chattering like they’ve been reunited after months apart. I stop short. Okay… I guess that’s it, then. I don’t blame her. The pull of familiar faces is strong, and I’m the new mystery girl who might not even know her own species. I’m actually impressed she hung around me as long as she did. Still… It stings a little. I’m by myself again. Loneliness settles into my chest with disappointing familiarity. I hoist my bag higher on my shoulder and follow the tide of students into the Academy grounds.
We’re led up a sweeping stone path and into a massive auditorium that looks like someone merged a castle ballroom with a theatre. Crystal chandeliers float overhead without any visible chains. The walls are lined with banners depicting magical symbols and creatures, wolves, phoenixes, serpents, griffins, and more I can’t even name. Everything gleams, polished floors, gleaming marble pillars, enchanted lanterns that flicker with blue flame. It’s… Beautiful. Professor Young guides the first years to a large cluster of seats toward the center of the hall. I slide into the one closest to the aisle, grateful for a fast exit if I need to bolt at any point (which, given the current state of my nerves, seems increasingly likely). There are about thirty of us first years. But what surprises me is the sea of older students already filling the surrounding rows, at least a hundred of them, maybe more. More advanced students I guess. glance around, trying not to stare too hard, but curious all the same. And that’s when I see him. Blake, the dragon guy. He’s sitting alone, off to one side and towards the back of our designated section. Not just alone, but totally isolated. The seats on both sides of him are empty. Not accidentally empty. Deliberately empty. A gap of two or three chairs either side of him, like there’s an invisible barrier everyone respects without question. He sits with perfect stillness, hands folded loosely, posture almost regal. His expression is unreadable, calm and distant, but not cold. His golden eyes scan the hall once, slowly, taking everything in like he’s cataloguing every single thing he sees. My chest tightens. It seems… Unfair. He doesn’t look scary. At least, no more than anyone else does. He looks… Lonely. And that is a feeling I understand far better than I want to admit. If I weren’t already sitting, if standing up wouldn’t draw unwanted attention, I would get up and go sit near him. Or at least say hello. But the room is full and everyone is watching the stage. So I stay where I am, but the sight bothers me. It prickles under my skin. Mallory’s warnings echo in my mind. That he’s dangerous. To stay away from him. But… I don’t know. Something about the way he sits, alone in a sea of people, makes me want to ignore every single warning. Maybe I’m stubborn. Maybe I’m naive. Or maybe I just refuse to rule out a potential friend without a reason. Either way, I can’t shake the quiet certainty growing in my gut, I’m GOING to talk to Blake Nyvas. Soon. Dragon or not. Dangerous or not. Lonely or not. I won’t let fear, or someone else’s opinion, decide things for me.
The low hum of conversation fades away, swallowed by a sudden hush that rolls through the massive hall like someone flipped an invisible switch. Every head turns toward the stage, and so do I. A tall woman stands at the podium, dark hair pulled into a tight twist, posture straight enough to snap steel. Her gaze sweeps over the room, sharp, assessing, and I swear she singles out every person individually. Even from here, I can feel the weight of it. She’s nothing like the warm, sparkly Professor Young. This woman could probably kill a man with her stare alone.
“Greetings, everyone. I am your Principal, Sheree Istvan.” She announces. Her voice is crisp and cool, with the kind of controlled authority that makes you sit up straighter without realising you’re doing it.
“If you are new here, welcome. If you are returning, welcome back.” She adds. Zero nonsense. Zero warmth. Zero hesitation.
“Classes today will start at twelve, which should leave you a couple of hours to find your rooms and settle in. Lunch is served at one p.m. and remains available until three. You will each have a designated lunch hour depending on your schedule.” She explains. I glance down automatically, even though I haven’t grabbed my schedule yet.
“Dinner is at seven. Breakfast is at eight a.m. Your schedules are under your seats.” She pauses, expression unreadable.
“I’m not really one for speeches, so I’m going to stop now and let you figure it out.” She decides. A few people exchange confused glances.
“New students, just follow the crowd of advanced students to the dorm rooms. Before anyone asks, no, they are not split by gender. You’re not children, so there’s no need for that kind of rule. The rooms have been determined. You may not request changes.” She says firmly. That gets a few startled murmurs. I blink. No gender separation? That seems… Bold. Or maybe I’m just too human for magical-school norms.
“You all have a key to your room. If you don’t want someone dropping by, I suggest you use the lock.” She adds dryly. Her gaze sweeps the hall again, eyebrow twitching like she’s daring someone to complain.
“Good luck, everyone.” She stops speaking. And then… Just stands there. The silence stretches. No one moves. No one breathes. No one wants to be the first person to stand up under that stare. Principal Istvan narrows her eyes.
“Well? Go on. Get out of here.” She snaps. Oh… That was the end. Okay. The room jolts back to life. Chairs scrape across the floor as students scramble to obey. I fumble under my seat until my fingers close around a folded schedule parchment and tuck it into my bag before I get trampled. The crowd surges toward the exits, and I let myself get swept up in the current. There’s no fighting it, not unless I want to get elbowed or crushed. I cling to my backpack straps and let the older students lead us down a long corridor toward the dorms, my heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement. This is really happening. I’m actually here. Now I just have to figure out what I am and hope that I don’t start accidentally growing scales in my sleep.