Chapter 7
#Iris's POV
Professor McGuffin stepped up to me, adjusted his monocle, and looked me over with complete indifference. "Seems you not only lack magic, but you don't even have a trace of magical creature bloodline. Ms. Vance, miracles don't happen every day."
Snickers immediately rippled through the room.
My hands dropped to my sides, defeated. I stared down at my palms, refusing to look up.
Last night, the sensation of growing wings and flying had felt so real. Could it really have been just a hallucination?
A surge of frustration welled up inside me—frustration at my own uselessness, and even more at this helpless feeling of being mocked by everyone around me.
That's when a faint scent of fir drifted closer.
Cassian had somehow appeared at my side.
He stood there in his usual cold, detached way, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his robe, staring off into empty space. He wasn't even looking at me.
But his voice reached my ear in a low murmur.
"Don't rush it." His tone was deep, carrying a strange, calming power. "Some abilities can't be awakened by cheap, low-level spells like these."
I froze, turning to look at him.
His profile was all hard lines and sharp angles, his jaw clenched tight, as if comforting someone was physically uncomfortable for him.
But somehow, that one short sentence eased the tightness in my chest.
Evening brought the club recruitment fair.
The courtyard in front of the castle was packed with booths from every student organization, colorful magical tents floating in midair.
I'd barely made it to the Potions Club booth when several people blocked my path.
At the front stood a tall redhead with the crest of the Black family pinned to her chest.
I knew who she was. Cecilia—the pureblooded heiress who'd arrived on campus riding a flame gryphon.
"So you're the Muggle freshman?" Cecilia looked me up and down, her eyes full of arrogance and disdain. "I heard you sat next to that 'monster' in class this morning. Voluntarily."
The pureblooded students behind her let out mocking laughs.
I frowned but met her gaze head-on. "He has a name. It's Cassian."
"Doesn't matter." Cecilia stepped closer, lowering her voice to a barely veiled threat. "Listen, newbie. Bliston Academy has rules. Purebloods don't accept lunatics who could lose control at any second. If you want to survive here, you'd better pick the right side."
She lifted her chin as if offering charity. "So here's the deal. Join us, and no one at this school will mistreat you. Or keep hanging around that freak and become a rat everyone wants to stomp on. Your choice."
I said nothing. My gaze drifted past her shoulder.
At the edge of the courtyard, in the shadows, Cassian was leaning against a massive oak tree.
He'd clearly heard everything. He was watching me quietly.
Those dark gold eyes held no anger—only a suffocating calm.
He was waiting for my answer.
Or rather, he was already used to being abandoned. He'd probably already braced himself to watch me walk to the other side.
I turned back to Cecilia and met her eyes without hesitation.
"I choose my friend. Move."
Cecilia's expression darkened instantly. She gave me a look like I was already dead, then sneered and turned away with her entourage.
I walked straight toward Cassian.
He watched me approach, his jaw tight. After a long pause, he muttered two words under his breath.
"Idiot."
But I could see it—the ice in his eyes had melted just a little more.
The next day, Divination class was held at the top of the North Tower.
The classroom reeked of incense. Heavy curtains blocked out the light, leaving the room dim and stifling.
Professor Ophelia drifted around like a neurotic ghost, demanding we stare into crystal balls and search for omens of the future.
Around me, students were either dozing off or making things up.
I stared at the cloudy glass sphere in front of me, bored out of my mind—until something shifted inside it.
A strange ripple spread through the depths of the ball.
White mist scattered quickly, and I saw it clearly: a vision.
A black tower engulfed in flames. Fire so intense it seemed ready to devour the sky.
And in the center of that inferno, a pair of dark gold eyes—struggling, in agony.
The image vanished in an instant.
I gasped, my back suddenly damp with cold sweat.
Professor Ophelia swooped down on me immediately, her bony fingers gripping the edge of my desk. "What did you see, child?"
"Fire... and a tower." My voice still trembled slightly.
The professor's eyes lit up. She grabbed my shoulders, practically shaking with excitement. "True Sight! This is genuine clairvoyance! I haven't seen divination talent this pure in years!"
She announced loudly that she was awarding me ten points.
It was the first time since arriving at this magical world that I'd received a professor's approval.
After class, I gathered my books and started down the long, steep spiral staircase of the North Tower.
Halfway down, a leg shot out in front of me.
I barely stopped in time. Looking up, I found myself face-to-face with Eric Westlane's malicious grin.
He was the pureblood heir who'd arrived in a carriage pulled by six ferret-horses.
Now, he and three lackeys were blocking the narrow stairwell completely.
"Well, well. If it isn't our little prophet," Eric sneered. "What, you get praised once and suddenly think you're special?"
I wasn't in the mood for this. "Move."
"What if I don't?" Eric stepped closer, his expression turning vicious. "I warned you to stay away from Cassian. He's a cursed freak. Hanging around him pollutes the air we breathe. Now apologize for what you said in the courtyard. Swear you'll never talk to him again, and I'll let you pass."
"Dream on." I stared him down. "He's worth a hundred of you so-called 'purebloods.'"
"You're dead!"
Eric lunged forward and shoved my shoulder hard.
The staircase was narrow and steep—no railing along the edge.
I wasn't ready. My foot slipped. I lost my balance instantly.
Weightlessness hit me like a truck. Before I could even scream, my body slammed into the unforgiving stone steps.
Pain exploded through my knees, elbows, and back. I tumbled down the stairs like a broken doll.
Books scattered. Parchment flew everywhere.
I finally stopped when I crashed into the stone wall at the landing.
Every bone in my body felt shattered. The skin on my knee had been scraped raw by the rough stone. Blood ran down my shin, staining my white stockings red.
I lay there on the ground, drenched in cold sweat, too hurt to even stand.
From above, I heard Eric's panicked voice. "I—I barely touched her. She lost her balance on her own."
And then, the air around me became unbearably hot.
It wasn't normal heat. It felt like a volcano about to erupt was closing in. Even the moisture on the stone walls evaporated instantly.
I lifted my head with effort.
At the top of the stairs, Cassian was descending step by step.
His dark gold eyes were locked on me—on my battered, bleeding form sprawled on the floor. Deep in his pupils, golden flames flickered wildly.
The sheer pressure radiating from him froze the air in the entire stairwell.
"Ca... Cassian..." Eric's voice shook. He and his cronies stumbled backward, then scrambled up the stairs in a panic.
Cassian reached me and crouched down slowly.
He looked at the blood on my knee, at the books scattered everywhere. His jaw clenched so hard I thought it might crack. Something complicated and deeply suppressed churned in his eyes.
He slid his hands beneath my knees and back—gentle, but utterly unyielding—and lifted me into his arms.
His chest was solid, radiating that reassuring, burning warmth.
I was trembling from the pain. Instinctively, I buried my face in the curve of his neck.
And then I felt it—his arms tightening around me.
From above my head came a voice so low, so hoarse, trembling just barely enough to notice.
"I'm sorry."
