Zara’s POV

  The air outside the university was thick with tension. A growing crowd had gathered at the gates, their voices rising in sharp, unified chants that carried through the cold morning air. Signs waved above their heads—End Magical Corruption, No More Magic in Our Schools, Protect Our City.

  I stood at the top of the university steps, watching from a distance as the protesters grew in number. It had started with just a handful of voices the day before. Now, there were at least fifty, their presence swelling with every passing hour.

  Inside the university, things weren’t any better. The Sovereign Order’s influence was creeping into the halls like a slow-moving plague. Faculty members, once neutral or quietly supportive of magic, were beginning to speak out against it. I had overheard one professor earlier that morning voicing his “concerns” to a group of students.

  “We have to be realistic,” he had said. “Magic has always been dangerous, but we’ve turned a blind eye to the consequences. Isn’t it time we ask whether it should have a place here at all?”

  Some students nodded, others remained silent. A few magicals in the group had exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing.

  Malrick had been fuming ever since we arrived. “They’re turning them against us,” he muttered as he walked beside me down the corridor. “This was supposed to be a place of learning, not propaganda.”

  “They’ve been waiting for an opportunity,” I replied, my voice low. “And now they have one.”

  The Sovereign Order wasn’t hiding anymore. They weren’t working in the shadows. They were out in the open, emboldened.

  I pushed open the doors leading to the main lecture hall, stepping inside just in time to catch the tail end of a heated discussion.

  “—should reconsider the magic curriculum entirely,” a student was saying, standing near the front of the room. His voice was clear, steady, meant to persuade. “Isn’t it true that magical energy can be unpredictable? That some spells have caused harm? Should we really be teaching something that could be used as a weapon?”

  I recognized him. Aaron Vexley. A well-spoken, influential student—one who had never openly taken a stance before. Now, he was arguing the Sovereign Order’s case in front of a full room.

  I stood near my desk, keeping my expression unreadable, but I could feel the stiffness in my posture. I wasn’t going to let this slide.

  “You could say the same thing about any discipline,” I countered, my voice cool and controlled. “Should we stop teaching chemistry because some formulas can be turned into explosives? Should we shut down history classes because they contain accounts of war?”

  A murmur spread through the crowd, some nodding in agreement, others hesitating.

  Aaron didn’t back down. “But history doesn’t come with active risks. Magic does. And look at what’s happening outside—people are afraid. They have a right to be.”

  “People fear what they don’t understand,” I said, my voice unwavering. “That doesn’t mean we stop teaching it. That means we teach it better.”

  The tension in the room crackled. This wasn’t just a debate anymore. It was a battle line being drawn.

  And I was at the center of it.

  That evening, an envelope had been slipped under my office door. No name, no return address. Inside, scrawled in jagged ink, were the words: Leave while you still can. The city will be cleansed.

  It wasn’t the first. More notes had come over the past few days—some veiled warnings, others outright threats. The weight of them pressed against my chest, a quiet dread I refused to give in to. But it was getting harder to ignore.

  The university board was meeting soon, whispers of shutting down the magical studies program growing louder. Some members claimed they were only discussing “temporary changes,” but I wasn’t naive. If they took magic out of the university, they weren’t bringing it back.

  I refused to back down. But I wasn’t just worried for myself. I saw the fear growing in my students’ eyes. I saw the way they hesitated before using their magic in class, the way they flinched at the sound of raised voices outside.

  And Malrick.

  I knew he had overheard me talking to Kage about the threats, even though he pretended otherwise. That evening, I found him standing in the empty lecture hall, staring at his hands like they didn’t belong to him.

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  “Malrick?”

  He startled but didn’t turn around. “They’re right, aren’t they? The Order? People like me—like us—we are dangerous.”

  “No.” I stepped forward, but he didn’t move. “You are not dangerous, Malrick. Fear is. Ignorance is. But you? You are just learning.”

  He clenched his fists. “I can control blood, Zara. I can stop a person from moving, from breathing. I could—”

  I reached out, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. “And you promised to protect, didn’t you? That’s what Kage was teaching you. Not how to hurt, but how to defend.”

  He let out a shaky breath. “Then why do I feel like I’m exactly what they say I am?”

  I had no answer for that. Only the certainty that if we let them take away our right to exist, to learn, to grow—then we had already lost.

  Tensions had only worsened in the following days. The protests outside the university had grown louder, more aggressive. The Sovereign Order’s influence wasn’t just creeping in—it was tearing through the school like wildfire.

  The morning of my magic control class, I noticed a shift. There was a hush in the corridors, the kind that signaled something was off. Whispers followed me as I walked, eyes darting away when I met them.

  I was in the middle of instructing one of my younger students, a boy named Eli, on controlling the flickering sparks that danced at his fingertips. He was nervous, his magic unstable, but he was getting there. “Breathe through it,” I murmured, guiding him gently. “You control the magic, not the other way around.”

  That’s when the door creaked open.

  Malrick was already there, sitting at his usual place near the front, watching the lesson closely. The other students—most of them younger magicals, barely in their teens—were just beginning to settle into their own exercises when the disruption happened.

  A group of outsiders had slipped into the room. The Sovereign Order had gotten inside.

  They sat down among my students, their presence poisoning the atmosphere like a slow-acting venom. They weren’t just here to observe. They were here to disrupt.

  I stood in front of Eli, scanning the room. “I don’t recall seeing some of you in my class before.”

  One of them, a man in his early twenties with neatly combed hair and a self-righteous smirk, met my gaze. “We thought it was time we learned what exactly it is you’re teaching these children.”

  A few of my students glanced at each other, nervous. Malrick tensed beside me, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge of his desk.

  “This is a controlled magic course,” I said evenly. “For students. Those who are actually enrolled.”

  “Then why does it feel more like training?” the man pressed, tilting his head slightly. “You don’t just teach them how to use magic. You teach them how to wield it. How to fight with it. Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “Teaching someone control isn’t dangerous. It’s responsible,” I countered, my voice sharp but measured. “But I’m sure you already know that. You’re not here to learn. You’re here to intimidate.”

  One of the younger students, a girl barely thirteen, swallowed hard, staring at the desk. My blood simmered at the sight.

  “If you have concerns, take them to the board,” I continued, my tone now cold. “Otherwise, I suggest you leave before I remove you myself.”

  A silence fell over the room. The man’s smirk didn’t falter, but his eyes flickered with something else—annoyance. Maybe even surprise. He hadn’t expected resistance.

  Malrick shifted beside me. I knew his thoughts were spiraling, his lesson with Kage still fresh in his mind. I could feel the tension in him, the way his breathing had slowed, the way he was trying to push back the panic rising in his chest.

  “We’ll be back,” the man finally said, pushing away from his seat. The others followed his lead, rising from their places as if this had been a casual visit. They walked toward the door, but before leaving, the man glanced back at me. “It won’t be long before people start asking why this class still exists. And when they do… I doubt you’ll have an answer that satisfies them.”

  The door shut behind them, and for a few moments, no one spoke. The silence in the room was suffocating.

  I turned to my students, my gaze settling on each of them in turn. “Are you all alright?”

  A few nodded hesitantly. Malrick didn’t move.

  I knelt beside him, lowering my voice. “Malrick. Look at me.”

  He did, and I saw the war in his eyes.

  “They want you to be afraid,” I said. “Don’t let them win.”

  His jaw clenched, but he gave a small nod. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

  I stood up, straightened my shoulders, and turned back to the class. “We’re continuing our lesson. We don’t stop because of them. We don’t back down.”

  I would not let them take this from us.

  Malrick’s POV

  As the Sovereign Order members walked out, my anger festered, simmering beneath my skin. My heart pounded in my chest, my breath slow and controlled, but barely. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to stop them, to make them feel the kind of helplessness they forced on us every single day. My mind flashed back to Kage’s lessons—the feeling of controlling blood, of forcing someone’s limbs to obey. I could have done it. I could have made them freeze, lock them in place, leave them gasping for breath without even laying a hand on them. The power pulsed beneath my skin, waiting, eager. The thought sent a cold shiver down my spine. A terrifying power that pulsed in my veins. I could have stopped them. I could have made them freeze, made them afraid for once. And that thought horrified me.

  I looked down at my hands, and my breath caught. My veins were glowing beneath my skin, pulsing with raw, untamed energy. The same magic that had once felt distant, impossible to control, was now clawing to be unleashed.

  Was that what I was becoming? I wanted to stop them. I wanted to make them feel the fear they forced on us, the same helplessness that lingered in the eyes of the younger students. My power, the thing I had feared and fought against, whispered in the back of my mind. You could stop them. You could end this.

  But was that the answer? If I did it, if I used my magic that way, what made me any different from them? They wanted me to explode, to give them proof that magicals were dangerous. Zara and Kage had taught me better. They had taught me to control my magic, to use it to protect—not to terrorize.