Moonveil Academy

The dorm door slammed open so hard the hinges rattled.

"YOU SLAPPED ELIAS?"

Freya's voice cracked like thunder. She stood in the doorway, hair wild from running, eyes blazing like she had just sprinted across campus.

I didn't even move. I was now sitting on my bed, knees drawn up, my breath still uneven from my encounter with… whatever that thing was.

"Yes," I said flatly. "Hello to you too."

Freya's jaw dropped. "Don't you dare say that like it's normal! Maeve, do you realize what you just did? Elias freaking Hawthorne! The heir to the Hawthorne line. You can't just—" She stopped, threw her hands up. "You slapped him. In the library. In front of everyone. And then you left me!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Yes. Thank you for the recap, news anchor. Anything else?"

"Anything else?" Freya stalked toward me, gesturing like her arms were made of spaghetti. "Maeve, there's a post about it on the student forum that already has, like, fifty comments. People are calling you the 'Scholarship Slapper.' Someone drew a fan art meme already—"

I groaned, burying my face in my arms. "Please tell me you're lying."

"Oh, I wish I was. Someone even tagged Elias in it. Tagged him, Maeve. He hasn't responded, but if he does, we're doomed."

"We?" I shot her a look.

"Yes, we!" She threw herself down onto the floor beside me, her hair spilling like copper flames. "I'm your roommate. Guilt by association. If you get murdered by rabid Hawthorne fangirls, I'm going with you."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. 

Freya turned to me, her expression softening. "Maeve," she said, quieter now, "what happened? Why would you even slap him? You're already under so much fire for kissing him."

"Because he…" I hesitated. The words felt heavy, ugly, like repeating them would make them stick even deeper. "He called me desperate. Said I smelled like cheap perfume."

Freya's face went blank for half a second. Then her eyes darkened. "That arrogant son of a—" She broke off, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Nope. Not worth it. Not worth me getting expelled for murder."

"Exactly." I sighed, leaning my head back against the wall. "I don't want to talk about Elias anymore. Can we not talk about him?"

"Fine." Freya crossed her arms, still glaring at nothing in particular. "But don't think you're off the hook for leaving me in the library."

"Freya," I said, voice thin, "something else happened."

She turned her head. "What do you mean?"

I told her.

About detention. About the white thing with the gold eyes. About how it wasn't just there, it was watching me.

Freya's teasing expression froze, her face suddenly too still.

"Freya?" I asked, frowning.

She blinked and forced a smile, the kind that didn't reach her eyes. "Wow. A giant white… thing? Maeve, sounds like you've had one hell of a day."

"You don't believe me?"

"I didn't say that." She stood, too fast, too casual. "But you've been under a lot of stress. Maybe it was just—"

"Don't say stress hallucination," I warned her. "I know what I saw. It was real. Its eyes…" My voice trailed off. I shivered, remembering the way they glowed like molten coins in the shadows.

Freya paused. Just a fraction. Then she shrugged. "Look, maybe it was some weird animal. A trick of the light. This place is old, Maeve. Creaky woods, lots of weird stories. You're not the first newbie to freak out."

"Freak out?"

"I mean…" She softened her tone. "I'm just saying, maybe you're overthinking. Try to sleep. It'll look less terrifying in the morning."

But she wouldn't look me in the eye.

And that told me everything.

She knew something. Maybe not exactly what I saw, but something. The way her shoulders tightened, the way her voice tried too hard to sound casual, Freya was hiding something from me.

I leaned back against the bedframe, my mind spinning.

If she wasn't going to tell me, I'd find out myself.

~

The next day was our presentation for Professor Reed's project.

Rory wrapped up his part of the presentation confidently, raising his chin up."…and that's how Aurivian cultural exports, from Sol-pop to beauty tech, have reshaped global identity and soft power," he finished, smiling like this was a TED Talk.

Professor Reed gave a curt nod. "Well done, Mr. Chen. Concise, relevant."

Then his eyes flicked to me. "Who's next? Miss Sinclair? Your section."

I could feel it, the weight of every glare pressing against my skin like pins. A few students in the back row actually leaned forward, like they were waiting for me to mess up just so they could whisper about it later. Someone outside the door even peered in, craning their neck, because apparently my humiliation was a spectator sport now.

I swallowed, fingers tight around my notecards.

"Uh, right," I said, forcing myself to stand. My voice wobbled on the first syllable. Perfect. "I focused on Lyridia and how globalization affects both modern identity and traditional values…"

A snicker came from somewhere in the second row. My ears burned.

"Continue," Professor Reed said, his tone. He turned, writing something on the board, but I knew he was listening.

I took a deep breath and pushed through, words tumbling faster now:"Globalization can be both an opportunity and a threat. In Lyridia, for example, Western Dominion influence has impacted language, fashion, and media consumption. But at the same time, there's been a resurgence of pride in cultural heritage, music genres like Emberwave have exploded globally while still holding on to local rhythms and storytelling traditions. It's like… it's like a tug of war between what we keep and what we change."

No one blinked. At least, that's what it felt like.

I shifted my weight, my grip on the cards slipping. "Um… I also looked into how corporations—"

"Speak up," someone muttered.

My throat tightened. I could practically feel the smirks, the whispers, the silent judgment.

Focus, Maeve. Just finish.

I cleared my throat and forced my voice louder. "Corporations like Streamline and GlimmerPlay are shaping what gets visibility, which can erase smaller, local stories in favor of global trends. But I think that's why cultural preservation matters more than ever. It's not just about resisting globalization; it's about using it as a platform to amplify what's ours."

Silence.

Not good silence.