Nate stood in the doorway, his breath caught in his throat as he took in Susana's dishevelled appearance. Her eyes, once vibrant and filled with life, now held a haunted, distant look. He stepped aside, allowing her to enter the small, dimly lit dorm room. The silence between them was thick with unspoken words, each step Susana took echoing in the confined space.
She walked in slowly, her movements hesitant, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her shoulders. Nate closed the door behind her, the soft click breaking the heavy silence. He turned to face her, his heart pounding with a mixture of dread and anticipation.
Susana turned to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She took a shaky breath, trying to steady herself.
"I don't... remember everything," she began, sitting on the edge of his bed, her hands twisting in her lap. "But I know... someone gave me something. A vial, they said it would..." She trailed off, swallowing hard. "They said it would help me stop what was happening."
He sat down across from her, watching her carefully. "Who gave it to you?"
She shook her head, a flicker of anger and shame crossing her face. "I don't know. It was in the Abyss District... I was desperate, Nate. I didn't care who they were or what they wanted. I just wanted to be free." Her voice cracked, and she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I thought it was stupid—taking something from a stranger, trusting someone like that. But it was... it felt like the only choice... And now because of this Sophia is..." She starts crying, unable to finish her sentence.
Nate's eyes softened, his usual guarded demeanour shifting. He reached forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong, Susana. Desperation makes people do things they wouldn't normally consider. Whoever did this, they preyed on that."
Her eyes searched his, vulnerable and raw, and for a moment, her shoulders relaxed. She took a steadying breath. "Thank you. I..." Her expression hardened, a flicker of determination returning to her eyes. "They did this to my sister. And I want to know why."
The room was thick with silence after Susana's words, "I want to know why." She looked up at Nate, her eyes holding a fragile resolve, as if daring him to say something that would make the world make sense again.
He nodded, a faint acknowledgment of the weight behind her words. "Alright," he replied softly. "You can stay here for now. But you'll need to stay out of sight... Just until we know more."
Susana offered a shaky smile, the expression a ghost of her usual confidence. She sat on the edge of his bed, her presence a strange comfort in the emptiness that had been gnawing at him since Sophia's death. Over the next few days, she stayed in his dorm, an arrangement that neither had anticipated but quickly became natural.
During this time, Nate found himself navigating a delicate balance between Susana's grief and her relentless drive for answers. Each evening, she would curl up on the bed while he sat on the floor or by the window, and he would walk her through everything that had happened since her broadcast. He recounted the explosion, the mistrust that had spread like wildfire, the accusations he'd endured, and Sophia's brief, tragic awakening.
As he spoke, her expressions shifted from horror to sorrow, then to anger. Each new revelation seemed to etch deeper lines of pain into her face, but it also strengthened her resolve. When he finished, she let out a shuddering breath.
"They turned me into a weapon against all of you," she murmured, eyes distant. "And Sophia... she was never supposed to be hurt. She... she was just trying to protect me."
Nate sat beside her, his presence a silent anchor. "You're not alone in this, Susana. They tried to turn us against each other, but it didn't work. We're all still here.
Over the next few days, Susana stayed in Nate's dorm, an arrangement that became unexpectedly natural. She was often quiet, lost in thought, but there were moments of sharp focus when she would press Nate for details about what had happened since her broadcast. Slowly, he began piecing together the story for her, recounting the explosion, the academy's fallout, and Sophia's brief awakening.
In these moments, Susana's reactions were raw and visceral. She flinched at the mention of Sophia's suffering, clenched her fists at the accusations Nate had endured, and cried silently when Nate described how Sophia had died. But as the days passed, her grief began to shift into something more—determination.
Each morning, Susana accompanied Nate to his routine checkups, since the other girls had become increasingly busier. At first, the doctors raised their eyebrows at her presence, but she ignored them. "Someone has to make sure they're not screwing with you," she said dryly, though her tone carried an undercurrent of protectiveness.
She also began pushing back against the rumours and lies that had spread about the attack, Sophia, and Nate. In hushed conversations with students and faculty alike, she refuted the falsehoods, using her name and influence as a Bentley to lend weight to her words. Bit by bit, the truth began to surface.
Nate watched her work with quiet admiration. Despite everything she had endured, Susana was fighting back—not with anger, but with unwavering determination. And as he spent more time with her, he found himself letting down his guard, sharing pieces of himself he had long kept hidden.
The academy's central courtyard had been transformed into a hauntingly beautiful space for Sophia's funeral. Tiny floating orbs of light hovered in the air, casting an ethereal glow over the crowd. Holographic panels displayed images of Sophia—moments from her life that flickered like fragile memories.
The mourners gathered in solemn silence, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the orbs. Futuristic sculptures stood at the edges of the courtyard, their sleek, metallic forms reflecting the academy's modernity. A haunting instrumental piece played through hidden speakers, blending classical strings with synthetic undertones that resonated with the metallic walls.
Elysia, Chloe, Anton, Irina, and Evan stood together near the centre. Chloe's tear-streaked face was turned toward the holograms, while Anton's composed expression betrayed a flicker of grief in his eyes. Evan stood slightly apart, his shoulders slumped, his eyes hollow. Susana joined him, her presence steady, offering silent support.
Nate lingered at the edges of the gathering, his gaze fixed on the images of Sophia. He felt the weight of her loss more deeply than he had expected, a sharp ache that cut through his usual defences. As the headmaster spoke, Nate barely registered the words—his thoughts were consumed by the memories of Sophia's fiery determination and the bitter realization that she was truly gone.
When Susana stepped forward to speak, the murmurs in the crowd fell silent. Her voice, soft but clear, carried over the courtyard. "Sophia wasn't just my sister. She was my protector, my friend. She fought for me when no one else would, and she fought for this academy, too. She believed in the people here, even when they didn't believe in themselves." Her voice wavered, but she held her head high, her gaze steady. "And I know she'd want us to keep fighting. Not just against the enemies outside these walls, but against the ones inside them, too. Against the fear, the lies, and the hate that divide us."
A ripple passed through the crowd at her words, murmurs spreading as students and faculty alike exchanged glances, after all regardless of the fact Sophia was still one of the people that attacked the academy. Evan, who had been watching Susana with a mixture of pride and sorrow, clenched his fists, his face tightening as he fought back his tears.
When the ceremony ended, everyone filed past Sophia's hologram one last time, each paying their respects in their own way. Evan lingered longer than most, his hand reaching out as if to touch the image before letting it fall, his shoulders slumping under the weight of loss.
As the mourners began to disperse, Nate noticed Susana watching him. She approached slowly, her expression weary but resolute.
"Thank you, Nate," she said quietly. "For... being there. I know this hasn't been easy for you, either."
He nodded, unable to find the words to respond. They stood in silence, side by side, as the last of the crowd drifted away, leaving the courtyard empty and hollow.
Finally, Susana turned to him, a determined look in her eyes. "Sophia didn't die for nothing. We're going to make things right, Nate. We have to. And we'll start by making sure the academy does the same."
He met her gaze, a flicker of hope reigniting in his own. "Then let's make sure they don't forget her."
With that, they left the courtyard together, moving toward the student council room where the rest of their friends waited, preparing for the battle that lay ahead.
The student council room buzzed with subdued chatter as members filed in. The tension was palpable; the academy had been teetering on chaos for weeks, and the weight of recent losses bore heavily on everyone. It was a surprise to most when Susana Bentley, a Blank and the younger sister of the late Sophia, stepped into the room.
Her presence alone silenced the room. No one had expected her here, let alone standing at the head of the table, her fragile appearance contrasted by an undeniable resolve. The girl who had been in a coma mere days ago, who had every right to be consumed by grief, now faced the most powerful students in the academy with an air of defiance.
The vice president, an older student named Emma Eriksson leaned back in her chair, appraising her with a raised eyebrow. "Susana Bentley," she said, his tone respectful but curious. "You've certainly chosen an interesting time to make your first appearance here. I'd heard about what happened to your sister... and about your recovery." She paused, folding her hands. "Most people your age would still be reeling. But here you are, standing in front of the council. That alone is impressive."
Susana's jaw tightened slightly, but she nodded in acknowledgment. "I'm not here because I'm fine," she said, her voice steady, though her eyes betrayed a hint of the storm within. "I'm here because I can't let what happened to my sister happen again—to anyone."
The room remained silent, the weight of her words pressing down on everyone.
Nate sat off to the side, his gaze fixed on her. He'd seen Susana wrestle with her grief and guilt over the past few days, but this—this was different. She wasn't here for herself; she was here for something bigger.
Taking a breath, Susana began. "This academy has failed us," she said bluntly. "Time and time again, it has shown that it prioritizes tradition over people, appearances over action. And we've paid the price for it." Her voice rose slightly, carrying a conviction that belied her age. "I'm here to propose reforms. Reforms that this council can't afford to ignore."
Emma arched an eyebrow but gestured for her to continue.
Susana squared her shoulders. "First, I'm proposing the integration of all segregated spaces. Dorms, classrooms, training facilities—everything. No more divisions between Blanks, Voiders, and Marks. Every student should have equal access to resources, teachers, and study materials. The distinctions in resources only breed resentment and division."
Chloe exchanged a glance with Elysia, her expression tinged with surprise. Elysia nodded slightly, her eyes narrowing with a newfound respect for Susana's boldness.
"And second," Susana continued, her voice hardening, "I'm proposing the creation of a self-defence club, open to all students. We shouldn't have to rely on the academy's goodwill to teach us how to protect ourselves. We need to take that into our own hands. It is my understand that this council already tried to have that pushed once and was denied, well I propose we try it again."
The room erupted into murmurs, council members exchanging uncertain glances. It was Emma who spoke first, leaning forward with a skeptical look. "Those are ambitious proposals, Susana. But the academy doesn't exactly have a history of welcoming change, especially from someone who isn't even a council member. Why do you think they'll listen to you?"
Susana's gaze didn't waver. "Because they won't have a choice. The public is already watching us. The attack, the fallout, Sophia's death—it's all out there. If this academy doesn't start making changes, it's only a matter of time before someone else does. And they won't be as forgiving."
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Evan, sitting near the back, looked up. His face was pale, drawn, the grief etched into his features. "But how do you plan to get them to listen? The council doesn't have the power to force the faculty's hand."
"We don't need to force them," Susana said sharply. "We need to present them with something they can't ignore. A reform proposal, signed by the council, supported by the students. We make it clear that this isn't just a suggestion—it's a demand."
The room fell silent again. Chloe broke the quiet, her voice thoughtful. "You're right," she said slowly. "If we present this as a unified front, the academy will have no choice but to address it. Especially if the public gets wind of it." She glanced at the other council members. "I'll present the proposal to the high council myself."
Susana nodded, relief flickering across her face. But before the meeting could be adjourned, Anton leaned forward, his expression unreadable.
"Before we dismiss," he said, his voice calm but commanding, "there's something else we need to discuss. Something that concerns all of us."
Chloe hesitated, glancing at the other members. "Anton, if this is private—"
"It is," Anton interrupted, his gaze sweeping the room. "And that's why I'm asking everyone except for the royals, Nate, Susana, and the vice president to leave."
The council members looked at one another, confused, but Marcellus gestured for them to comply. As the room emptied, only Anton, Irina, Nate, Elysia, Chloe, Susana, and Emma remained.
When the door clicked shut, Anton leaned back, his gaze sharp. "What I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this room," he began. "Because if it does, the consequences could be... catastrophic."
Nate frowned. "What's this about?"
Anton's expression darkened. "The magical grid. The royals here already know of this information but you three do not." He looks at Nate, Susana and Emma.
The room fell deathly silent.
"Go on then?" Chloe asked, her tone cautious.
Anton glanced at Elysia, who nodded slightly, giving him the go-ahead. "The grid doesn't just distribute Aetherium," he explained. "It controls it. It dictates who has access to it, where it flows, and how much each area receives. It's how the families maintain balance—and power."
Susana stared at him, her expression one of dawning horror. "You're saying... my family was targeted because we controlled it?"
"Yes," Anton said simply. "But there's more. Your family didn't just control the grid—they were its gatekeepers. The only ones who could open or close access to it."
Elysia picked up where he left off. "What you don't know, Susana, is that the grid isn't just about Aetherium. It's about control. The grid ensures that Aetherium remains concentrated in specific areas and among specific people—those with implants designed to receive it. Without the grid, Aetherium becomes wild. Natural. And uncontrollable."
Susana's face paled. "So now that the grid is gone..."
"Aetherium is no longer contained," Anton finished. "It's spread across the continent, affecting everything—and everyone."
The weight of his words settled over the room like a shroud. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Susana straightened, her voice quiet but firm. "Then that's all the more reason to push for these changes. If the families are losing their control, the academy has no excuse to maintain these divisions. We need to adapt—before it's too late."
Chloe nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "Agreed. But we need to be careful. If the wrong people find out about the grid, it could cause a panic—or worse."
Anton's gaze lingered on Nate, who had been silent throughout the discussion. "This affects all of us," he said quietly. "Whether we like it or not."
Nate looked away, his jaw tightening. But even as he processed Anton's words, a familiar doubt crept in, cold and unrelenting. This doesn't change anything, he thought bitterly. I don't belong here. I never did. And if they knew the truth, they'd turn on me in an instant.
As the meeting adjourned, Nate slipped out without a word, the shadows of his own thoughts following him like a curse.
The moon hung low over the academy as Nate walked through the dimly lit campus, his footsteps muffled against the sleek pavement. The adjourned meeting's revelations had left him hollow. His thoughts churned with the implications of the magical grid and the changes Susana proposed, but more than that, the weight of everything that had happened—the attack, the lies, the deaths—pressed heavily on his chest. He wanted to believe in what Susana had said, that change was possible, but how much more could they endure to see it happen? After all he tried and look where everyone is at now.
He hadn't realized where his feet were taking him until he stopped in front of one of the academy's private lounges. The faint murmur of voices inside caught his attention, and for reasons he didn't entirely understand, he pushed open the door.
Inside, Lance stood by the far window, bathed in the neon glow of the campus lights outside. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by an expression of rare introspection. Susana sat on a nearby sofa, her posture tense but her eyes sharp, locked onto Lance with an intensity that demanded answers.
"Come to join the confessional?" Lance asked, his voice flat as he turned to face Nate. There was no bite in his tone, only weariness.
Nate's eyes flicked to Susana. "What's going on?"
She hesitated, then nodded toward Lance. "He was explaining... what happened to Sophia. Why she died and I woke up."
Nate's jaw clenched. He hadn't been ready to confront this, not yet, but the look on Susana's face told him that it was time.
Lance ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging. "You want the short version or the long one?"
"Just tell him," Susana said, her voice low but firm.
Lance sighed. "When we were trying to wake Sophia up, her neural pathways were so fragmented that no matter what we did, nothing stuck. She was too far gone, but I couldn't just... let it end like that. So, I tried something risky." He paused, his eyes flicking between them. "I linked her pathways to yours, Susana."
"What does that mean?" Nate asked, his tone sharp.
"It means I gambled," Lance said bluntly. "I thought if I could stabilize her through Susana's mind, both of them might wake up. But I underestimated the curse's nature. By linking them together we did indeed stabilize them but the curse itself it... required a balance. When Susana woke up, Sophia..." His voice faltered. "Sophia paid the price."
The room fell into a heavy silence. Nate's fists clenched at his sides as he processed the revelation. "So, you're telling me this was your fault?" His voice was low, dangerous.
Lance met his gaze unflinchingly. "It wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't predict this outcome, but I'll carry the guilt for it. I made the call, and it was the wrong one."
Susana's voice cut through the tension. "He didn't kill her, Nate. The curse did. He... tried to help. I can't hate him for that, even if I want to."
Nate looked at her, surprised by the calm in her voice. She seemed older, wearier, but there was no malice in her expression—only a quiet understanding that unnerved him. For a moment, Nate wanted to lash out, to direct his anger somewhere, but he forced himself to take a breath. "Fine," he said at last. "But do try to warn us next time before you gamble with someone's life."
Lance gave a slow nod, accepting the unspoken forgiveness.
Later that night, Nate returned to his dorm, exhausted and weighed down by everything he'd learned. He barely had time to shut the door behind him before a knock sounded.
He opened it to find Evan standing there, looking haggard. His usually confident posture was slumped, and there were dark circles under his eyes. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Can I come in?" Evan asked finally, his voice subdued.
Nate stepped aside, letting him enter. Evan hesitated before taking a seat on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.
"I was wrong," Evan began, his voice trembling. "About... everything. About you."
Nate leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "Go on."
Evan's jaw worked as he struggled to find the right words. "When Sophia died... I needed someone to blame. And you were there. You were always there, and I just—I couldn't think straight. I let my grief... no, my anger, get the better of me."
Nate's expression remained unreadable. "And now?"
Evan looked up, his eyes glistening. "Now I see that I was an idiot. I lost someone I cared about, but you were also going through some tough shit, and instead of being there for you, I made it worse. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but... I needed to say it. I'm sorry."
For a long moment, Nate didn't respond. Then he sighed, his posture relaxing slightly. "You're right. You don't deserve it. But that doesn't mean I won't give it to you."
Evan blinked, surprised.
Nate sat down across from him, his voice quieter now. "You were grieving. We all were. And not too long ago I was sort of in your place with Elysia, so I get it. But next time, don't let it blind you to what's actually happening."
Evan nodded, his shoulders shaking as he wiped at his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.
The student council room was illuminated by the cold blue light streaming through its wide, futuristic windows. Sleek holographic projectors floated in the air, displaying data from the academy's recent restructuring efforts. Around the long, polished table sat Nate, Susana, Elysia, Chloe, Irina, Evan, and Anton. Joining them was the Vice President of the Student Council, a poised young woman whose sharp features and striking presence drew attention whenever she spoke. Her fiery red hair cascaded in waves over her shoulders, and her dark emerald eyes, calculating but sincere, scanned the room with practiced authority.
She leaned forward, her voice calm but firm. "Before we proceed, we need to address a pressing issue: the leadership of the Enforcers. The last attack proved we need strength at the helm. The loss of the previous president and vice president has left a gaping hole, and the academy cannot afford further disarray."
Everyone exchanged glances, tension thick in the air. Nate's jaw tightened, already anticipating where this was going. Anton folded his arms, his expression unreadable, but the slight twitch of his eyebrow hinted at his apprehension.
"I propose two candidates," the Vice President continued, her tone steady. "Anton Melnic and Nate Davis."
Nate's head snapped up, disbelief flashing in his eyes. "What?"
Anton shook his head immediately. "No. Absolutely not."
The Vice President didn't waver. "You two are the most capable students in the academy right now. You've both demonstrated leadership and resolve under immense pressure. Nate, you saved lives during the attack. Anton, you organized a defence under impossible circumstances. This isn't up for debate."
"It damn well is," Anton said sharply, his usual calm demeanour cracking. "I'm not interested in running the Enforcers, and I doubt Nate is either."
"She's right," Elysia interjected, her voice soft but insistent. "You're both perfect for this. The academy needs stability, and you two can provide it."
Susana nodded. "You've already been doing the work. This would just make it official."
Chloe chimed in, her voice measured. "It's not about titles—it's about who can actually protect the academy. You both know that."
Evan added, "If you don't step up, someone less capable will. And after what we've been through, can you really trust anyone else to do it?"
Nate looked at Anton, who wore an expression that mirrored his own frustration. Finally, Nate spoke. "I'll do it, but only if Anton is the president."
Anton glared at him. "Don't drag me into this, Nate."
"You're already in it," Nate replied, his tone firm. "I'll take vice president. But if I'm doing this, it's with you."
After a long pause, Anton exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But don't expect me to like it."
The Vice President allowed herself a small smile. "Good. With that settled, we can move on."
As the room settled into a quieter hum, Anton stood, his expression unusually serious. "There's something else we need to discuss. It's about my past and how it ties into Lance Read's family."
The atmosphere shifted instantly, all eyes snapping to Anton. Irina's gaze hardened, her arms crossing defensively.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked, her voice low.
"They deserve to know," Anton replied, his tone resolute. "If they're going to trust us moving forward, they need the truth."
Elysia frowned. "What truth?"
Anton hesitated for a moment, then began. "Before I came to the academy, I worked in black ops—off-the-books missions for the royals and government alike. And yes, before anyone asks, I am still with them."
"My ability to reconstruct broken systems—biological and magical—makes me valuable. Too valuable." He glanced at Nate. "That's why Lance's family came up. The Reads are... experts in altering minds. Their methods range from brainwashing to memory reconstruction to... resurrection."
"Resurrection?" Chloe repeated, her voice sharp with disbelief.
Anton nodded grimly. "It's experimental. Dangerous. And it doesn't work the way you'd think. It's not about bringing someone back to life—it's about piecing together fragments of who they were, stitching them into something... functional. The Reads have been perfecting this for generations."
Susana's face paled. "And they were involved with Sophia?"
"No," Anton said quickly. "Not directly. But their methods—what I've seen—could have helped. If I'd known the full cost at the time... maybe we could've done something differently."
Irina's voice cut through the tension. "You're leaving out the part where the Reads are responsible for the readjustment classes."
Everyone turned to her, confused. Elysia's brow furrowed. "Readjustment classes?"
Irina's gaze flicked to Chloe, then back to Anton. "You know, the mandatory sessions that Nate was supposed to take that Elysia took from him? And is also supposed to be taken by anyone that differs too much from the norm? Their real purpose is to subtly rewire your thoughts. To make you compliant."
Elysia's face darkened. "Those classes don't work on me."
"Because of your dismantling ability, correct?" Anton asks, to which Elysia promptly nods.
Before anyone else could respond, Nate stood abruptly, his eyes blazing as he turned to Chloe. "You knew about this, didn't you? You knew what those classes were, and you sent Elysia into them anyway."
Chloe's expression twisted with shock and hurt. "What? No! I didn't know—"
"Bullshit!" Nate snapped. "You're a Rawlling. You expect me to believe you didn't know what one of the most powerful royal families was doing to people?"
"I didn't!" Chloe shot back, her voice breaking. "I didn't know!"
Elysia stepped between them, her voice calm but firm. "Nate, stop. I told you before—the classes don't affect me. This isn't Chloe's fault."
"This isn't about you!" Nate shouted, his voice raw. "This is about how they're using their power to control people. And Chloe—your family is supposed to be the most powerful. If you didn't know, you should have."
Chloe's voice cracked as she replied. "Do you think I want this? Do you think I'm okay with any of this? I didn't know, Nate. And I'm sorry, but blaming me isn't going to fix anything."
But Nate was already turning away. "You're just like the rest of them," he muttered bitterly, but then Elysia caught his arm.
"Nate," she said softly, "don't go."
He pulled away, his expression hard. "Why? So, you can keep lying to me?"
Elysia flinched. "I haven't lied to you."
"You didn't tell me about your engagement," Nate said, his voice low but cutting. "You didn't think I deserved to know?"
"I didn't tell anyone," Elysia replied, her voice trembling. "It's not something I wanted—"
"But you agreed to it," Nate interrupted, his eyes burning with anger. "You agreed to marry Lance, and you didn't think that was worth mentioning?"
"It's not that simple!" Elysia's voice rose, frustration and pain spilling out. "This isn't about what I want. It's about what my family expects of me. You don't understand—"
"Don't I?" Nate shot back. "You think you're the only one stuck playing a role you didn't choose? At least you have a family. At least you have a choice."
Elysia's expression crumpled, but before she could respond, Nate turned and walked out, leaving her standing alone in the flickering light of the student council room. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in the silence.