Chapter Four: Arabella Solstice, Scholar
Arabella POV
The guidance counselor stares at my course list like I've just threatened to burn the school down.
"Are you… sure?" she asks, squinting at the paper.
I give her a bright, sweet, obviously fake smile. "Absolutely."
She exhales, mutters something under her breath, and starts typing on her ancient computer. The sound is so loud I'm almost impressed the poor thing hasn't exploded yet.
After a few minutes of furious clicking, groaning hardware, and one moment where she had to slap the monitor, she hands me a printed sheet. My schedule.
It's a neat table of chaos. Class names. Times. Room numbers. Professor contacts.
I rise to my feet, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head out.
The hallways of Astral Academy are still as gloomy as ever. Stone walls, flickering lights, and cracked murals of long-forgotten magical events.
Eyes follow me. Whispers trail behind.
I ignore them. Or maybe I feed on them. It depends on the day.
I start walking through the school, stopping students or staff here and there to ask where certain professors are. Most give me vague directions. Some flat out ignore me. I get turned around twice and nearly walk into a teleport gate.
Eventually, I find one.
The door is half off its hinges. The light inside flickers like it's debating whether to stay on. A plaque that probably once read something academic now just says: A. Sciences in scratched lettering.
I knock.
No answer.
I push the door.
Inside, the office is chaos—stacks of paper, unwashed mugs, chalkboard equations that make my eyes hurt. The window is cracked open, letting in the cold.
And at the center of it all, a woman sits at a desk. She looks like she's in her thirties, dressed in loose gray robes that used to be sharp and professional. Her hair is pinned up with three pens and a feather. She scribbles furiously, surrounded by scrolls, books, and magical components.
But it's not the mess that catches my eye.
It's the metal cuffs on her wrists.
And the metal choker on her neck.
Thick. Plain. Magical.
Criminal restraints.
Those are only given to the magically dangerous. Prison-worn.
"Hello," I say gently.
She looks up.
Eyes sharp, piercing. She studies me for a second, then her gaze flicks to my paper.
"Transfer?" she asks.
I nod.
"You're here to register for Arcanatural Sciences?"
I hand her the schedule.
"This is a first, I just have one other student. The more the merrier," she says.
"You know it's a hybrid course? Supernatural physics, chemistry, mana-density systems, applied mathematics."
"Yes."
"No magic required. Just theory."
"Exactly."
She narrows her eyes at me, like she's waiting for me to flinch. When I don't, she nods once and reaches for her quill.
"Name?"
"Arabella Solstice."
A flicker of recognition in her eyes.
"Hm. You'll need three textbooks. They're out of print. And six notebooks. I recommend you get fireproof ones."
"Charming."
She signs the form and hands it back.
"Class starts tomorrow at 8 a.m. sharp. If
you're late, you clean the toad tank."
I blink. "We have a toad tank?"
She doesn't answer.