Mel snapped back to the present, his hand absentmindedly resting on the Kraken’s head. “I’ll take care of it… and this kingdom,” he murmured to himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Mel then flipped off of the Kraken and whistled, the Kraken buried itself into the ground deeper into the sea.
Mel staggered over to Jake, slinging his arm around his shoulder with a drunken grin as the others continued reveling around them. “J-Jake,” Mel slurred, his words slightly drawn out, and he held the bottle up to Jake’s mouth. “Try this… it’ll make you feel so much better!” He chuckled, swaying a little as he grinned like a mischievous child.
Jake hesitated for a moment but then nodded nervously, taking a small sip of the rum. Almost immediately, his cheeks flushed a deep red, and he coughed, his eyes watering from the strong burn.
Mel laughed, slapping him on the back with a little too much enthusiasm. “Told ya! Feels good, right?”
Mel staggered away, leaving Jake standing there with a deep sigh. He glanced over at Arid, who was caught up in the festivities, before quietly slipping a few bottles into his bag. With a resigned shake of his head, Jake took another swig, the liquid burning as he tried to push his thoughts aside and lose himself in the night.
Elowen and Rue chatted with Anita, enjoying the calm conversation.
“So, you’re a freshman?” Rue asked, raising an eyebrow.
Anita nodded, her nerves evident. “Yeah.”
Elowen stirred her tea thoughtfully. “How do you know Mel?”
Anita shifted a bit, scratching the back of her head. “We met on Monday, and, well, he claimed me as his best friend.”
Elowen smirked, rolling her eyes. “He tends to do that.”
Rue grinned, eyeing Anita’s hair. “I love your hair,” she said with genuine admiration.
Anita smiled, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Thanks.”
Just then, Mel appeared out of nowhere, suddenly tossing Rue and Elowen over his shoulder with a playful laugh. “I love her hair, I love your hair, I love my hair! Let’s all have a hair party!” He spun them around, laughing like a carefree child, completely ignoring the startled looks from the others around the room.
“Mel, put us down!” Elowen protested, squirming slightly.
“Seriously, stop it!” Rue added, trying to twist out of his grip.
But Mel only laughed louder, spinning them faster. “Hair party, hair party!”
The girls groaned in unison, and Anita watched the spectacle with a mix of amusement and slight confusion.
“Mel, are you drunk?” Anita asked, walking up to him with a raised eyebrow.
Mel conjured two fluffy clouds beneath Rue and Elowen, gently dropping them onto them. “Drunk? I’m not drunk, I’m Mel!” he cackled, wobbling slightly.
Anita grabbed his chin, looking him in the eyes. “When normal people are drunk, they usually get aggressive or reckless. Wizards, though? They get silly. Like, really silly. It’s like they go into a sugar high—like they’ve smoked something… or eaten an entire candy store,” she explained with a smirk.
“How do you know all this?” Rue asked, raising an eyebrow.
Anita’s eyes darted around nervously, and she stammered, “I—uh, I did some… research!” She forced a laugh, looking away.
Mel turned to Anita, squinting his eyes as he tried to focus. “Anita, why are you so strong?” he asked, rubbing his eyes in confusion.
“What? What are you talking about?” she chuckled nervously, clearly not understanding.
“For some reason, I can feel everyone’s aura right now.” Mel’s face turned uneasy as he struggled to make sense of what was happening. His eyes shifted to Elowen, and he gasped, seeing lightning crackling around her. He quickly glanced at Rue, noticing scales covering her skin, shimmering with a strange energy. Then, his gaze shifted to Arid, and he saw a majestic tree inside of him, its roots sprawling outwards in an otherworldly glow.
Mel staggered back, wiping his sweaty face as panic set in. His surroundings felt distorted, and his head was spinning. He stumbled to a nearby mirror, trying to steady himself, but what he saw only intensified his fear. Inside of him swirled black lightning and purple clouds, a chaotic storm of energy he couldn’t understand.
He wiped his face again, but the dizziness overtook him. Unable to hold it in any longer, he vomited onto the ground, the sound of his discomfort echoing in the otherwise silent room.
The next morning, Mel lay slumped in his dorm room, groggily staring at the ceiling as his alarm blared. In a half-conscious state, he slammed his fist into the clock, shattering it in frustration. “I’m so tired…” he mumbled, barely able to keep his eyes open.
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Suddenly, he realized he was upside down. His body was stuck to the ceiling. He blinked in confusion, then promptly fell to the floor with a loud thud. “Ow…” he groaned, lying on his back for a moment before pushing himself up.
“Is this… what a hangover feels like?” he muttered, rubbing his temples in disbelief. “I’m never drinking again,” he added, shivering as the cold air in the room hit him. With a huff, he threw on a robe over his bare upper body and slipped on some fuzzy slippers, shuffling toward the door, hoping the day would somehow make more sense than his night.
Mel swung open the door to his dorm and immediately recoiled, shielding his eyes with an exaggerated wince, as if the sunlight were a personal attack. “Why is it so damn bright out?!” he bellowed, his voice carrying through the hall in an uncharacteristic outburst.
Unlike normal humans, Mel’s hangover hit differently. It didn’t just make him tired or sluggish—it turned him into a whirlwind of grumpiness, bold declarations, biting sarcasm, and behavior that felt completely out of character. It was as if the alcohol had rewired his personality overnight, leaving him on edge and ready to snap at even the most harmless inconveniences.
A few moments later, Mel slouched in the grand hall, his head resting heavily on the table as everyone else enjoyed breakfast. His disheveled appearance was impossible to miss—shirtless under his robe, fuzzy slippers on his feet, and adorned with a mix of Atlantic jewelry that looked more suited for a beach party than a royal institute.
Headmaster Jasper stormed up to the table, his sharp gaze narrowing. “Melanthius! Where is your uniform?”
Mel groaned, lifting his head just enough to meet Jasper’s glare with half-lidded, hungover eyes. “What?” he muttered lazily, waving a hand. “At home, duh. Where else would it be?” He scoffed, clearly unbothered by the headmaster’s growing indignation.
“Are you rebelling because you and your friends were the only ones to fail your test?” Headmaster Kai’s stern voice cut through the din as he stepped into the hall, followed closely by Headmaster Draven, whose imposing presence made the air feel heavier.
Mel groaned, barely lifting his head to acknowledge them. “What?” he grumbled, shielding his eyes from the relentless light. “I don’t need a test to tell me what I already know I can do. I’m Melanthius Shadowbane, dammit.” His voice carried a mix of defiance and exhaustion as he rubbed his temples.
“Lance,” he muttered, waving his hand blindly toward the boy. “Sensei needs your sunglasses. Please.”
Without hesitation, Lance pulled off his shades and handed them over. Mel slipped them on with a dramatic sigh of relief. “Ah, that’s better,” he said, leaning back with an exaggerated air of satisfaction, completely unfazed by the glaring headmasters.
“Mel, are you drunk?” Draven growled, placing a firm hand on Mel’s shoulder.
Mel smacked his hand away, rising to his feet to square off with the three headmasters. “And what if I am?” he said, a smirk curling across his lips.
Draven tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Watch that tone,” he warned. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but—”
“What?” Mel interrupted with a mocking laugh. “You gonna stab me in the back again? Oh wait, you already did that once.” His voice was sharp, his words cutting through the tension like a blade.
Draven’s jaw clenched, but before he could respond, Mel leaned in closer, his smirk growing. “Remember our first fight?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I won. And let’s not forget—I took down all the other black cards a month after that.”
With a cocky laugh, Mel turned away and plopped back into his seat, throwing his feet up on the table like he hadn’t just challenged one of the most feared headmasters in the institute.
“I’ll see you in detention,” the headmasters said in unison, their voices cold as they turned and walked away.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Arid leaned toward Mel, his jaw tight. “Mel, you seriously need to chill out,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
Mel scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “And you need to shut up. You’re not even really part of this friend group,” he shot back, his tone sharp and dismissive. “You don’t care about us like that. Just look at how you treat my adorable, sweet Jake!”
Before Arid could respond, Mel grabbed Jake by the side and pulled him close, ruffling his hair like a doting older brother. Jake, who had clearly had a bit too much to drink himself, stayed quiet, his flushed cheeks and glazed-over eyes giving him away. Despite his embarrassment, he didn’t resist Mel’s affection, though the scene earned a few awkward glances from the others at the table.
Arid clenched his fists, trying to keep his composure, but Mel’s words hit a nerve. “Not part of this friend group? Really, Mel?” he said, his voice low but edged with anger. “I’ve stood by you in battles, watched your back when things got messy, and I’ve trusted you—trusted you—more than I probably should’ve. But sure, I don’t care about you guys. Keep telling yourself that.”
He gestured toward Jake with a sharp motion. “And as for Jake? Maybe I don’t coddle him like you do, but I respect him enough not to treat him like some helpless kid. Unlike you, I actually believe in his strength.”
“Respect my strength? You bullied me for half my life!” Jake shouted, his voice shaking with anger. “You asshole! You’re a true sociopath!” Heads turned as everyone realized Jake was drunk, his flushed face and uneven stance giving him away.
Even Mel, now visibly sobering up, tried to steady him. “Come on, Jake. Let’s get you out of here.”
But Jake shoved Mel’s hand away with a bitter laugh. “No! You all look down on me because I’m the only one here from Horace Groves without magical techniques!” His voice cracked, and the room grew tense.
Arid stepped forward, his expression unreadable, and reached for Jake’s bag. “What’s this?” he asked, pulling out several beer bottles.
A collective gasp rippled through the group. Even Mel’s eyes widened, his foggy hangover lifting completely. “Jake… you took more? I didn’t even mean to let you drink in the first place!”
Jake staggered, gripping the edge of the table for balance. “Chill out, man. I like this stuff.” He laughed bitterly, but there was pain in his voice.
Arid’s gaze darkened as he looked at Jake. “Do you even know what you’re doing to yourself?” His voice was quiet, but heavy with emotion. “Do you know why my father doesn’t move? Why he just stares into space all day?”
Jake raised an eyebrow, still chuckling. “What, because he made a kid with Mother Nature—evil incarnate?”
Arid closed his eyes, sighing deeply. “No. Because something happened to him before I was born. Something so awful it broke him, and he drank himself into shock. That’s what alcohol does, Jake. It doesn’t help. It destroys.”
The weight of his words hung in the air as Arid grabbed his bag and walked away, his shoulders tense with unspoken frustration.
The bell rang, breaking the silence, and everyone rose to leave. Jake slumped in his chair, staring at the ground. Mel, rubbing his face, exhaled deeply.
Elowen approached Mel, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. Her voice was soft but firm. “You know you have to apologize, don’t you?”
Mel sighed heavily and nodded. “Yeah… I know.” Pressing his forehead briefly against hers in a gesture of comfort, he turned and walked away, leaving the group to process the tense moment.