Moonveil Academy

Professor Reed turned, setting the marker down with a soft click. He studied me for a beat too long, and I had the wild thought that maybe he could hear my heart pounding like a drum solo.

"Anything else, Miss Sinclair?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My mind was blank. White noise. "Uh, no. That's… that's it."

He nodded once. "I see. Sit."

I sat. Hard. My knees were trembling, my face hot enough to fry an egg.

Valeria Devereaux stood next, gliding forward in her designer boots like the floor belonged to her. Her gaze skimmed me as she passed, the corners of her lips curving in a smile that wasn't a smile.

She launched into her presentation, every word rolling off her tongue like honey and venom. barely heard her. My mind was still stuck on the heat in my face, the whispers behind me, and the way my hands couldn't stop shaking.

When it was finally over, the class erupted into polite applause. Both Rory and Marcus gave me a small smile from across the table, but I couldn't bring myself to return it.

"Maeve," Freya whispered, leaning closer. "You did fine. Seriously. Better than half the people here who think they're Shakespeare reincarnated."

"Fine," I muttered, though my stomach didn't believe her. It twisted tighter with every second.

The bell rang, a sharp clang that usually meant freedom, but Professor Reed didn't budge. He held up one hand, his sharp gaze sweeping the room.

"Stay put," he said. "We're not done yet. I want to go over something crucial before you leave."

A few groans rose from the class, but no one dared challenge him.

He turned to the board and wrote, in big bold letters:"Cultural Imperialism and Resistance."

"This," he said, tapping the chalk against the words, "is the cornerstone of what we've been discussing. It's not just about who holds the power, but who pushes back. How societies resist cultural erasure. How they fight for their own narratives in the middle of global homogenization. It's messy, complicated—"

A wave of nausea slammed into me out of nowhere, like the floor had tilted under my feet. My stomach churned violently, and my throat tightened like I'd swallowed a fist.

Oh no.

Not here. Not now.

I shot up so fast my chair scraped against the floor, loud and grating.

"Miss Sinclair?" Professor Reed's voice cut through the room. "Where are you going?"

My voice cracked. "Sorry. Excuse me!"

Freya half-rose from her seat. "Maeve? Hey, are you okay?"

But I didn't answer. I bolted, ignoring her worried voice and the professor calling after me.

My legs carried me down the hall, faster, faster, until I slammed into the nearest restroom door and stumbled inside.

The moment I reached the sink, I doubled over and puked, my stomach wrenching with each painful heave. My hands gripped the cold porcelain as I fought through the wave of nausea, tears stinging my eyes.

When it finally passed, I slumped forward, my forehead nearly touching the sink. My breath came in ragged gasps.

Just perfect.

I turned on the tap, rinsing my mouth with shaky hands. The metallic tang of bile lingered, making my stomach twist again.

I splashed cold water on my face and looked up.

Much to my irritation, she was standing there.

The green-haired girl.

The one who'd dared me to kiss Elias.

She leaned casually against the far wall, arms crossed, her smile wicked and knowing, like she'd been waiting for me to crumble. Her hair shimmered unnaturally in the harsh bathroom lights, strands of deep green catching flashes of gold.

"You look… rattled," she said softly, almost purring the words.

I gripped the edge of the sink, ready to snap something back, something sharp and angry, but my throat convulsed.

No. Not again.

The nausea surged without warning, tearing through me. I barely had time to turn before I puked again, the sound echoing violently against the tiled walls. My entire body shook as I leaned over the sink, every muscle clenching.

When I looked up again, dazed and gasping, her face had changed.

The smirk was gone.

"Whoa, hey," she said, stepping closer. Concern, actual concern, shadowed her sharp features. "Are you okay?"

I didn't know what shocked me more, my sudden, humiliating second round of puking or the way she was suddenly looking at me.

She reached into her pocket, pulled out a crumpled tissue, and handed it over. "Here. You're pale as death."

My fingers brushed hers as I took it. Warm. Soft. Why did this feel like some kind of truce?

She didn't stop there.

Before I could protest, she placed a hand gently on my back, rubbing small circles as if she was… comforting me. Like she wasn't the same girl who'd practically set me up for disaster days ago.

"I—no," I stammered, my voice hoarse. "I'm not okay. What… what's wrong with me?"

She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "You look like you're about to pass out. Should I take you to the nurse?"

"Please no." The word came out harsher than I meant. I straightened, wiping my mouth with the tissue. "I just… I just need—"

And then it hit.

The pain.

Like someone had shoved a jagged spike into my skull.

I gasped, one hand flying to my temple. A flash of white-hot agony ripped through my head, blinding, relentless. I staggered back, hitting the wall hard, a choked sound escaping me.

"Maeve?" Her voice wasn't purring anymore. It was alarmed, urgent.

I squeezed my eyes shut, teeth grinding. "My head hurts."

"Breathe," she said, kneeling slightly to meet my height, her hand steadying me. "Just breathe. You're shaking."

The pain pulsed harder, like a drumbeat behind my eyes, so sharp it nearly knocked me to my knees.

"Breathe," she said, kneeling slightly to meet my height, her hand steadying me. "Just breathe. You're shaking."

The pain pulsed harder, like a drumbeat behind my eyes, so sharp it nearly knocked me to my knees. My nails dug into the edge of the sink, the cold porcelain the only thing keeping me grounded.

"I'm Alicia" Her voice was softer now, careful, like she was afraid I might shatter.

Alicia.So that was her name.

"You're okay," she said firmly, like she could anchor me just by saying it. "Hey. Look at me."

I tried. Her face was a blur, her hair like a halo of green fire around her.

"Maeve!" Alicia's voice sounded distant now, like I was underwater. "Stay with me. Look at me, dammit."

I tried. I really did.

But the room tilted violently, and the floor came rushing up like a dark wave.

The last thing I felt was Alicia's arms catching me, strong and sure despite the panic in her voice.

"Maeve! Hey, stay awake! Maeve!"

Darkness swallowed me whole.