The morning sun rose over NovaMyst, casting a cool, muted light over the campus that did little to soften the chilling undercurrent of rumour sweeping through its halls. Whispers filled the air in clusters of students, each more eager than the last to embellish the story that was quickly becoming an academy-wide scandal: a Mark girl, bruised and shaken, had been seen leaving the Blanks' dormitories under mysterious circumstances. No one knew her identity, but theories swirled about what might have happened, hinting at the darker secrets hidden behind NovaMyst's polished walls.
The story fed the academy's hunger for scandal. Some said she'd barely made it out before collapsing in a nearby alley, where a faculty member had found her. Others swore it was all a mistake, a prank gone wrong that someone was paying dearly for. Whatever the truth, the story took root, spreading across the campus in waves, fueling suspicion and judgment against the Blanks in a way that made their already isolated lives even bleaker.
In the dim confines of his dorm room, Nate lay on his cot, his body stiff and battered, yet his mind more turbulent than ever. Each ache reminded him of his loss of control—the way his instincts had almost turned deadly against Elysia—that haunted him most.
He hadn't struggled this much in the past to keep his hunger in check. The fuck happened to me? Was it because I let this go on for too long without feeding? Was it this human body? Ugh I don't know! Something in him had snapped. He couldn't explain the intense need he felt to unleash himself fully, as if every restraint he'd learned to hold had dissolved in that one moment, leaving him reckless and nearly blind with hunger.
The cold realization gnawed at him: if Elysia hadn't intervened, if she hadn't known how to make him stop e might have hurt her. Badly. The idea alone sickened him. He had always sworn to protect her—only her. But this time, he'd come so close to crossing a line that could never be undone.
The look she'd given him afterward, that raw mixture of fear, shock, and something else he didn't want to name, carved deeper than any physical wound. She'd told him to stay away from her, and he could still hear the steel in her voice, echoing like a final command. His own determination, his relentless drive to fix what he'd broken, felt as useless as his hands now, clenched helplessly at his sides. For the first time, he found himself truly at a loss, his role as her protector slipping through his fingers like ash.
Elysia's mind was a storm of emotion she couldn't quell, even while sitting in on a student council meeting. She replayed the fight, the chaos, over and over in her head. Seeing Nate like that, seeing the person she trusted most consumed by a force she barely recognized, had shattered something within her.
She clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white as her heart twisted. How could he do that? The anger she felt was only a cover for the searing hurt underneath—a wound inflicted by someone she'd believed would never betray her. The fear she'd seen in herself when Nate had lost control felt like a weakness, and it disgusted her. Yet no matter how she tried to rationalize it, to let the anger wash over the pain, a flicker of affection lingered, like an ember that refused to die.
She thought back to their earlier days, the moments he'd protected her without hesitation. But now, standing on the other side and feeling like a target, she felt a sense of betrayal so sharp it nearly took her breath away. She knew that to trust him again would be a gamble. And as much as she wanted to hate him for his actions, a part of her wondered if there was something driving him—a reason he couldn't control himself, or if she even should hate him, but even as the thought crossed her mind, she pushed it away, burying it beneath the pain he'd caused.
Elysia shifted her thoughts to Chloe. As student council president, Chloe bore the weight of maintaining order in an increasingly unstable environment. Balancing the needs of the students with the demands of the higher-ups was no easy task. Chloe had always been composed, but Elysia could see the strain beginning to show.
Chloe had to contend with the council's skepticism about Nate's proposals and the rising tensions between Blanks and Marks. She wanted to implement the changes, but the pushback was fierce. Her internal conflict was evident in the way she carried herself—determined but weary.
The grand council chamber of NovaMyst Academy was a space designed to inspire awe and command respect. The high, vaulted ceilings were adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and arcane symbols, while the walls were lined with ancient tomes and relics that spoke of the academy's long and storied history. A large, circular table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by plush, high-backed chairs.
Seated around the table were the key figures of NovaMyst: members of the student council, enforcers, and the academy's higher-ups. At the head of the table sat Headmaster Blackwood, his presence commanding and authoritative. His piercing gaze swept over the assembled group, assessing each individual with a critical eye.
Chloe Rawllings, the student council president, sat to her right, her expression composed but tense. Beside her were Nate and Anton, their faces reflecting a mix of determination and apprehension. Across from them sat Irina and Elysia, their expressions guarded but resolute.
Headmaster Blackwood's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "We are here to discuss the proposal for a festival, which, if approved, would serve as a vehicle to implement new rules and establish a Self-Defence Club. Miss Rawllings, you may begin."
Chloe nodded, standing up to address the room. "Thank you, Headmaster." She took a steadying breath, her eyes scanning the faces around the table. "As you all know, tensions at NovaMyst have reached a boiling point. The recent incidents have made it clear that we need to take decisive action to prevent further escalation. The proposed festival is not just an event; it's a chance to bring our community together and provide a constructive outlet for our students' energy."
"Mr. Davis has suggested several key initiatives that we believe will help address the root causes of the unrest. These include the establishment of school clubs that cater to both magical and non-magical interests, as well as the formation of a Self-Defense Club. The goal is to provide students with a sense of belonging and purpose, and to teach them how to defend themselves in a safe and controlled environment."
Elysia sat rigidly in her seat, keenly aware of the skeptical glances directed at Chloe as she introduced the festival and its proposed initiatives. The tension in the room was palpable, magnified by the towering Headmaster Blackwood, whose sharp gaze shifted to each speaker with scrutinizing intensity. The grand council chamber, usually a place of protocol, felt stifling under the weight of the rising tension, the lofty carvings and relics seeming to cast silent judgment over the proceedings.
A high-ranking council member to Blackwood's left cleared his throat, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "A festival," he scoffed, "to appease tensions? Are we really meant to believe that a gathering of this scale will do anything but fuel further chaos? The campus barely survived recent incidents. Riot waiting to happen, if you ask me."
Another council member, a woman with a skeptical tilt to her chin, crossed her arms, fixing her gaze on Chloe. "And this 'Self-Defence Club' you mention, Miss Rawllings—is it a clever way to teach the less capable students to attack back when they feel slighted? Training the Blanks to resist sounds more like arming them, especially under the questionable leadership of Mr. Davis."
Chloe's mouth set in a firm line as she faced the sneering council members. "If we allow tensions to fester without providing any productive outlet, that's when we risk real chaos. Giving students a sense of purpose and accountability will help, not hinder. If they know they're part of something, they'll work to protect it, rather than tear it down."
A woman with hawkish eyes leaned forward, her gaze focused and unyielding. "Let's cut through the idealism. These clubs—and this 'festival'—will need oversight. Who's going to ensure students abide by the rules? We've already seen that 'enforcers' hold no real influence." She shot a pointed look at Anton, who returned her stare with an impassive gaze.
Anton spoke up, calm but with a defiant edge. "The purpose of the festival is precisely that: to encourage students to follow the rules because they have something worth protecting. As for the enforcers' presence, it's true that our influence has limits—but if you provide us with the authority to uphold the rules firmly, we can ensure better outcomes."
Another council member cleared his throat, a sneer pulling at his lips. "Is that why Mr. Davis isn't here today?" His voice was thick with sarcasm. "Or should we assume he's too busy starting fires to show up for his own proposals?"
Anton bristled but kept his voice even. "Nate's dealing with...personal matters, but he stands by every part of this proposal. His absence doesn't change the value of the ideas he's put forward."
The council member muttered a disdainful chuckle. "Personal matters. I seem to recall his last...outburst and his so-called 'demonstration' of leadership. And now, we're meant to believe he has insight into unity?" His tone was icy, edged with suspicion. "That young man's behaviour thus far has been more destabilizing than constructive."
Elysia's jaw tightened as she absorbed the veiled insult to Nate's loyalty, and she could see Anton's gaze darken with irritation. But this was her moment.
Clearing her throat, she spoke with a calm, unwavering strength. "These aren't just concepts; they're practical measures meant to give students an actual stake in their community. And as for responsibility—" She cast a calm, unwavering look around the table. "—the students who feel alienated and targeted are the very ones you're tasked with protecting. It's not an experiment to give them a voice. It's necessary."
Her words brought the room to a tense hush, and Irina, sitting nearby, nodded in solidarity. She leaned forward, her calm gaze sweeping across the council members. "For too long, NovaMyst's order has come at the expense of equality. Allowing these clubs and a festival is the least we can do to start healing the fractures within this academy."
Headmaster Blackwood's gaze was sharp as he assessed Elysia, then Irina, a hint of irritation in his stance. "I would caution the Arundel and Melnic families not to overstep in their ambitions. This is still NovaMyst, not a playground for idealistic experiments—royal or otherwise."
Professor Lillian straightened in his seat, his gaze flicking toward the higher-ups. "Given the weight of the Arundel and Melnic families' support," he began smoothly, "we should consider the optics here. NovaMyst is renowned as an institution of elite learning. Ignoring this proposal would cast doubts on whether we're truly invested in the welfare of all our students."
The headmaster watching the interplay carefully, finally interjected. "Well. I see that support for these...initiatives is gathering momentum. It seems that the top families—Arundel, Melnic, Rawllings, and, of course, the Vossen through Professor Lillian here—are fully behind this. Be very careful as to not overstep your bounds."
He paused, letting his gaze drift across Chloe, Elysia, and Anton. "But know this: if we allow these changes, they'll fall entirely under the jurisdiction of the student council and enforcers. The academy will bear no liability for any...unintended consequences that may arise."
Chloe's response was immediate, her voice steady. "We understand, Headmaster. We accept full responsibility and will make every effort to ensure this project is a success."
The headmaster gave a single nod, his face still as stone. "Then let it be so. The festival, clubs, and the rest of these initiatives are sanctioned. But as for the Self-Defence Club..." His gaze hardened, dismissing the idea with a slight wave of her hand. "That's a step too far. I will not have students encouraged in physical combat, not even in theory. This meeting is adjourned."
As the room emptied, Elysia caught a look of steely resolve in Chloe's and Irina's eyes, a glimmer of determination. She couldn't help but share in their drive; this wasn't the outcome they had hoped for, but it was progress. Even if Nate hadn't been there, his influence and vision had ignited a spark they were determined to carry forward—no matter the obstacles ahead.
The morning sun barely crept through the narrow dorm window as Anton approached Nate's room, hoping to catch him before classes. He hadn't been able to sleep much, the council's decision weighing on him, and he wanted Nate to hear it from him directly. Just as he reached the door, he noticed it was slightly ajar, and the low murmur of conversation from inside made him pause.
Chloe's voice drifted out, soft but filled with tension, and Anton could hear Nate's responses—low, almost distracted. With a sigh, Anton turned away and made his way back down the hall, deciding to catch up with Nate later. Whatever they were discussing, he knew Nate needed this moment, and he'd see him soon enough.
Inside the room, Nate was leaning against his bed, his eyes fixed on the floor as Chloe paced nearby, her brow furrowed with worry. She stopped, glancing at him.
"You did well. Handling those council members, staying calm... It was impressive."
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"Not really," Chloe murmured, looking away. "I broke a little, even if no one noticed. I wanted to hold strong, but it's... exhausting."
Nate nodded, reading the frustration in her eyes. "Yeah, it is. I get it, though trying to hold it together while everyone's watching, expecting you to slip."
A silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken weight. Nate studied her for a moment before speaking up, more gently. "If there's more to it than that, family stuff or whatever, I've been through it. I know how they can be... if you ever want to talk."
A faint smile crossed her face, but before she could reply, the door swung open. Evan Parker stood there, his face drained of colour, panic clear in his wide eyes.
"Nate... it's Susana. Her pictures—they're all over the school's holograms. Someone leaked them."
Nate's blood ran cold. Without another word, he pushed past Evan and Chloe, moving quickly down the hall, his mind racing. Chloe followed without hesitation, her own face set with a fierce determination, and Evan fell into step beside them, struggling to keep pace. As they made their way into the main hall, they could see students gathered in groups, staring at the holographic displays, where Susana's photos appeared over and over, cast in the cold, blue light of the screens.
"Do you know where she is?" Nate asked Evan, barely keeping his voice steady.
Evan pointed down the hall. "I saw her run toward the East Wing. I think she's hiding in one of the classrooms."
Pushing through the crowd, they made their way to the East Wing, catching sight of a lone figure curled up outside one of the classrooms, her face hidden in her hands. Chloe moved forward, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder, but Susana flinched, looking up with red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes.
"They're everywhere," she choked out, her voice trembling. "Everyone's seen them. I can't... I can't face anyone ever again."
"It's going to be okay," Chloe said, her voice gentle but firm. "We're going to fix this. You're not alone in this, Susana."
Nate's gaze was hard as he looked down the hallway, at the cruel, mocking faces of students glancing their way. He turned back to Susana, his voice low but filled with conviction. "We'll get every single one of those pictures down, and the people behind this? They'll regret it. I swear."
Susana shook her head, her voice almost a whisper. "They're the ones with power. I'm... I'm nothing to them. Just some toy. All because I refused to keep doing what they told me... I should have listened to them." She says, as she sobs more.
"No," Chloe said fiercely. "They don't get to do this. You matter, Susana. And we're going to make sure this doesn't just get brushed off."
Together, they led her to a quieter area, where she could sit while they discussed what to do. Nate's mind was already reeling as they set Susana down on a bench, trying to formulate a plan to remove the images from the holograms. Just then, Anton arrived, his face tense as he took in the scene.
"I should've known," Anton muttered, eyes on Susana, guilt heavy in his voice. "She came to me about this, but I didn't realize... I didn't think they'd actually—"
Nate shook his head, cutting him off. "This isn't your fault, Anton. We're going to fix this, and we're going to make sure the ones who did it pay."
Anton nodded, his expression hardening. He looked to Chloe. "Do you have access to the control room? We can start by clearing every display screen. We'll need some proof of who's behind it, too."
They made their way quickly to the control room, Chloe's fingers flying over the console as she pulled up the system logs. Nate's jaw clenched as he saw the names of students linked to the uploads, each more familiar and infuriating than the last. Once the images were cleared, he turned to the others, a cold anger simmering beneath his expression.
"Getting rid of the photos is just the beginning. We're going to make an example out of them. They can't just keep doing this, and we are not going to let this go." Nate says, turning around to Anton.
Nate's eyes met Anton's, and a silent understanding passed between them, but before they could go anywhere, a voice interrupts them.
"That is exactly what all of you will be doing." Professor Lillian says calmly.
"What?" Says Nate in an almost near growl.
"Given the extent of what was accomplished today, further violence would not us implement anything at all, however, this situation might." Professor Lillian replies, still calmly.
"So you want to take advantage of a student is that what I am hearing?" Asks Chloe clearly struggling to keep her composure.
"Sometimes if you wish to gain something, you have to be willing to lose and or sacrifce something else. Take the pictures down if you wish but I will not allow repercussions. Not yet." Professor Lillian says turning his gaze to Chloe and the rest of them.
Nate gritted his teeth, feeling his fists itch to slam against something. "You're asking us to let this slide? Let them get away with it?" Anton's voice was tight, cold. He was unsure as to why he let himself get so affected by this, but now wasn't the time to think on it. "We're not asking. We're telling you we're not letting this stand, Professor. We'll find a way to protect Susana, with or without your approval."
"Sacrifice leaves a mark. Think about it—everyone's watching now, talking, and this could be our best tool to force real change. If you cut off that outrage too soon, we lose that momentum." His eyes gleamed. "Sometimes, restraint is the strongest weapon. Think on it."
"Listen here you-" Says Nate, as he approaches the professor with hostile intent, however Chloe stops him, but not before the professor turns to face Nate and for a split second Nate hesitates and feels like he just looked at himself in the mirror. "I'll handle this, Nate. But... thank you. Go on, take her out of here. I'll meet up with you later." Chloe's gaze flicked toward Susana, a sliver of doubt flaring behind her resolute expression. She steadied herself, though, forcing the vulnerability back down.
Nate was going to protest but Anton stops him and advises him to leave and and take Susana somewhere else.
As they moved her to a quieter place, Susana's composure cracked. Her hands trembled, clutching Nate's sleeve. "Why me?" she whispered, voice hollow. "Why do they hate us this much?" Nate looked down, fists clenching at the helplessness in her voice. "They're scared of anyone they think doesn't belong, Susana. But that's going to change."
As the door clicked shut, Chloe stood before Professor Lillian, her posture rigid. She barely suppressed the storm brewing in her eyes. Lillian regarded her calmly, his face composed, yet she could see a hint of something softer beneath the mask, something that only made her angrier.
"So, what the hell are you playing at?" she demanded, her voice low and seething. "All that talk of 'sacrifices' and patience... You're really going to use Susana's humiliation as a tool?"
Lillian's expression didn't waver. "Chloe, you're too smart to play naïve. You know as well as I do that sometimes—"
"Stop it." She cut him off sharply. "Don't give me some textbook response. If this is your way of keeping control, then fine, but don't pretend like you're teaching us some profound lesson. You're just... you're just using her, Lillian."
There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it surfaced. He took a step closer, his tone softening. "It's not just about control, Chloe. It's about endurance—about getting real change, not short-term reactions. Every time we push too hard, we give the higher-ups a reason to crack down. We can't afford to keep sacrificing long-term strategy for the immediate satisfaction of punishment."
Chloe laughed bitterly. "So, we let these bastards do whatever they want, just for the sake of some calculated outcome down the road? You're willing to let them ruin lives now for some vague 'greater good?' That's not strategy, Lillian, that's cowardice."
Lillian's jaw tightened. "You really think that low of me?"
Chloe took a shaky breath, crossing her arms as she looked away, her voice wavering with anger and something else she couldn't define. "I don't even know what I think anymore. One minute, you're telling me to fight for what's right, and the next, you're telling me to sit back, to watch while they rip people apart."
"It's not like that, Chloe." He took another step, but she held up her hand, stopping him in his tracks.
"Then tell me what it is like, Lillian. Because right now, all I see is you, a pawn for the council, toeing the line, preaching sacrifice but offering nothing real."
He met her gaze, a trace of frustration slipping through his usually impenetrable demeanor. "I'm trying to protect you." His voice was a barely audible murmur.
Chloe scoffed, refusing to let his words settle, though her voice softened, almost pained. "Don't give me that. You used to stand for something—you used to fight for what was right. But you're not the same, not anymore. Now it's all just layers of strategy and manipulation."
A silence stretched between them, tense and laden with unspoken history. Lillian finally broke it, his tone quieter, almost pleading. "Do you really think it's that simple for me? You're in your final year, Chloe. I was too, not that long ago. I thought if I fought every battle, I could change things. But it doesn't work like that. I'm trying to build something that lasts, something that doesn't just collapse the moment you leave."
Chloe's expression softened, but only slightly. "And what exactly do you think is going to last, Lillian? Some empty promises that the council will find a conscience?"
He shook his head, stepping closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't care about the council. But if I can get you to see beyond the now—to think ahead, to see that real change takes more than just a few rules—we might have a chance. You might have a chance, once you're out of here."
She turned away, her shoulders tense, eyes fixed on the door. "So that's your big play? Hoping I'll just understand?"
"Not hoping, Chloe." His voice was soft but firm. "Trusting. That's all I have left here."
She looked back at him, her expression torn between anger and a lingering trace of the bond they'd once shared. For a moment, it almost looked like she was going to reach out to him, but she stopped, crossing her arms instead, her voice a whisper. "Maybe you're right. But if you betray that trust, Lillian, if you keep playing games like this..." She trailed off, her voice barely audible. "Then I don't know if I'll ever forgive you."
He didn't move, holding her gaze, the flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes before he let his own walls close off again. "I know, Chloe. And that's the last thing I want. Just... don't lose faith. Not yet."
Anton and Nate left Susana with the other female Blanks, who quickly wrapped themselves around her in protective sympathy. Both knew they needed to clear her pictures from the academy's network, but Anton was already calculating steps ahead as they walked swiftly to the nearest hologram control hub.
As they arrived, Anton moved with a focused intensity, fingers flying across the hologram interface with practiced precision. He activated layers of encryption overrides, accessing the academy's deeply buried files with the ease of someone who practically breathed code. Lines of system pathways opened up before him, and he quickly bypassed the security checkpoints—each entry more difficult than the last. Anton's attention to detail was near-clinical, catching and dismantling barriers, inserting ghost codes to erase traces of his work as he went.
He typed rapidly, lines of commands flowing seamlessly from his fingers as he dismantled firewalls and hacked access points, wiping every trace of Susana's image data from the network's history. His eyes narrowed as he worked, making sure to clear any backups, even hidden caches and secondary servers. In less than ten minutes, he had isolated and deleted all copies, dismantling the system's ability to spread them further.
"Done," he said, voice steady, though there was a glint of satisfaction in his gaze. "Every last image wiped clean."
Nate let out a low whistle. "Never thought I'd see the day a system like NovaMyst's could be cracked open like that."
Anton shrugged, his expression almost indifferent. "These systems aren't as foolproof as they think. And even if they were, most security is just math and logic. Easy to manipulate if you know where to look."
As they left the hub, Nate and Anton fell into a quiet pace down the corridor, making their way towards the Marks cafeteria. The tension hung between them like an invisible chain, each step echoing in the empty hallway. Finally, Anton broke the silence.
"You look like you've been through hell," he observed, his tone clinical but without malice. "Something's weighing on you. More than usual."
Nate cast him a sidelong glance, clearly debating whether to speak. "Had a fight with... with Elysia. It got out of hand. She told me to stay away for a while, and now it's all I can think about."
Anton's brow furrowed, processing this. "So, something happened, and now she doesn't trust you?"
Nate nodded. "Yeah. I crossed a line. Nothing like this has happened between us before... and I have no idea how to fix it." He let out a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "I don't even know if I can fix it."
Anton considered his words carefully, his gaze distant as he passed through what little he understood of relationships and emotions. "If she's asked for space, she might need it. You did what you could by respecting that, didn't you?"
"It's not that simple, Anton. It's..." He paused, struggling to find the right words without revealing too much. "Let's just say I came close to... hurting her."
Anton's face remained impassive, though his eyes held a hint of curiosity. "Then maybe your guilt is the issue, not hers. You're struggling with your own choices." His tone was cool but oddly sympathetic, as if he were relaying a calculated truth. "Either way, if you want her back, you'll need to prove you won't repeat that... whatever it was."
They reached the entrance to the Marks cafeteria. The tantalizing scent of real food—a far cry from the gruel offered to Blanks—filled the air. Nate let out a sigh of relief, though his eyes betrayed that his mind was still somewhere else.
"Let's see if this shit is worth the extra effort," he muttered, pushing the door open, Anton following behind.
Inside, they navigated the noisy, bustling cafeteria, which felt worlds away from the somber halls they'd just walked through. They grabbed trays and sat at a quieter table, Anton more reserved than usual. The moments ticked by in relative silence as they ate, Anton's words turning over in Nate's mind, uncomfortable but undeniable.
Halfway through their meal, a sudden hush fell over the room. A holographic screen on the far wall flickered to life, and every head turned as the feed shifted to an unexpected live broadcast. Nate felt a pang of unease settle in his gut as the image on the screen focused, revealing none other than Susana Bently, her face pale and tear-streaked, looking hollow yet resolved.
She took a breath, her voice low but unyielding. "I know most of you have already seen it. The photos. You know who I am now. You know what they did to me. They wanted me to submit, to be a toy for them—another puppet they could control." She forced out a bitter laugh, her voice wavering as she continued. "They think they're untouchable. Untouchable because they're Marks, because they have 'power.'"
The cafeteria was frozen, every face transfixed. Nate clenched his fists, feeling his stomach churn as she went on.
"Do you want to know what life's like for a Blank girl here? They don't just bully us. They use us." She struggled with the words, each syllable laced with pain and defiance. "They... they force us to do things. Things I can't even say out loud. And if you refuse?" She shook her head, laughing darkly. "They punish you. They strip away your dignity piece by piece until you're nothing."
Nate glanced around, seeing shock, disgust, and uncomfortable shifting in the crowd.
"They think they're gods in here, that no one will ever stop them. But today, I'm naming every single one of them. Mason Blackburn, Ryder Ainsley, Clara Bramdam, Lyle Rowan..." Her voice was shaking, but she continued. "These are the people who did this. Who made my life and the lives of so many others a nightmare. And I know, deep down, no one's going to do a damn thing to stop them."
Nate felt a cold rage settle in him, his hand clenching around the edge of the table as he stared up at her anguished face, every word ripping through him.
"But I won't live like this anymore," Susana whispered, her eyes glassy, defeated. "I won't be another broken girl in their line of victims. I don't have power here, but I have this. My last moment, my last chance to be heard."
Before anyone could react, she produced a small vial, her hand shaking as she opened it. Her gaze was distant, almost serene, as she raised it to her lips. Gasps echoed through the room, some students standing as if that would change what was happening.
In one swift motion, she drank it. The effect was instant—her body convulsed, her face contorted in pain as she staggered backward, collapsing out of frame. The hologram feed cut, leaving the cafeteria in a horrified silence that seemed to stretch endlessly.