Chapter 2 First Class, First Clash

The sun had barely risen, Eira woke early, the quiet hum of excitement and nerves buzzing inside her like a live wire. Today was her first real day of classes, and despite the scholarship that had brought her here, she couldn't help but feel the weight of the unknown pressing down.

She slipped into her simple, comfortable outfit, jeans and a loose sweater threw her hair into a messy ponytail, and checked the map once again. Talia was already waiting by the door, her energy practically radiating.

"Ready for the first day?" Talia grinned, bouncing on her heels.

Eira smiled but kept it steady. "As ready as I'll ever be."

The two of them set off, walking across the campus grounds.

Ashmoor was breathtakingly beautiful. Students streamed past, some chatting in small groups, others hurrying between classes with textbooks clutched tightly to their chests. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, footsteps, and the occasional shout of a name.

Eira and Talia followed the map to their lecture hall, a large, vaulted room with high ceilings and old wooden benches worn smooth by decades of students. The smell of chalk and old books hung faintly in the air, grounding the space in tradition.

Professor Langley was already there, arranging papers and smoothing the front of her jacket. She was a middle-aged woman with sharp, observant eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her expression was kind but serious, the kind of teacher who expected respect but was genuinely passionate about her subject.

"Good morning, everyone," she said, voice clear and warm. "Welcome to Introduction to History. I'm Professor Langley . History is more than dates and events, it's the story of us, the foundation of who we are."

Eira pulled out her notebook, feeling the familiar comfort of pen against paper.

The professor began speaking, weaving stories of ancient civilizations with enthusiasm. Eira found herself leaning in, surprised at how alive the lessons felt. History wasn't just about memorizing facts, it was about understanding human nature, our triumphs, our mistakes, our mysteries.

As the lecture settled into a rhythm, the door at the back creaked open.

Heads turned slowly, a quiet ripple moving through the room. Senior Miklan strode in, his presence commanding attention without a word. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that fell carelessly over his forehead. His eyes, sharp and cold, scanned the room briefly before settling on an empty seat near the back. Don't be surprised he was with the, he actually carried the course again.

What made everyone freeze wasn't just his appearance, though that alone was enough to silence a room. It was the way he carried himself, an unspoken warning. The way he ignored Professor Langley's greeting, refusing even the smallest nod or smile.

"Senior Miklan, glad you could join us," the professor said politely, trying to maintain control.

Miklan didn't acknowledge her. He took his seat in the middle of the room, legs spread out, phone out, scrolling like he hadn't just interrupted a lecture filled with eighty other students. No apology. No explanation. Just pure arrogance wrapped in effortless cool. The professor cleared her throat and continued the lesson, but the atmosphere had shifted.

A few students exchanged nervous glances.

Talia leaned close to Eira and whispered, "He always does that. He's never on time. And when he is, he makes sure everyone notices."

Eira didn't respond, her eyes trailing after Miklan for a moment. There was something hauntingly cold in the way he moved, like someone permanently annoyed at the world. But what surprised her more was how everyone.. everyone, seemed to accept his behavior like it was normal. He doesn't look like a human neither in her witch realm, could he be... a werewolf. She thought.

But before Professor Langley could return to her explanation about the ancient Mesopotamians, the door creaked open again.

And this time, the shift in energy was different.

Another boy walked in, this one tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a fitted ash-grey button-up and black jeans that hugged his lean frame perfectly. His hair was a soft shade of chestnut brown that curled gently around his forehead, and his eyes... warm, sharp, and strikingly golden-brown. His face carried a quiet kind of confidence, not cocky like Miklan but something deeper, quieter, and more captivating.

The air changed.

Girls turned instantly.

"Oh my God," someone whispered from the second row.

"Who is that?"

"Please let him sit near me," someone else muttered breathlessly.

Eira blinked, even she couldn't deny it, the guy was gorgeous. Not just in a good-looking way, but in the kind of way that made people forget what they were doing.

Even Talia let out a small, "Whoa," under her breath. "Now that's a pretty face."

All around them, the energy was buzzing. Students were whispering, craning their necks, adjusting their hair like they were suddenly in a perfume commercial.

Miklan looked up from his phone. His sharp eyes narrowed as they followed the wave of reactions washing through the room.

And then his gaze landed on the new guy.

There was a visible shift in Miklan's expression. The cold indifference vanished. In its place, a hard, irritated glare as if the guy had just insulted his ancestors.

He scoffed.

Loud enough.

He didn't even try to hide it. Blake tilted his head slightly, gave the guy a full once-over, and let out a sharp, disdainful hiss, like his presence alone was some kind of personal offense.

The new guy didn't seem fazed. If he noticed Miklan at all, he didn't show it.

Professor Langley cleared her throat with a small smile. "Ah, perfect timing. Class, this is Killian Blake. He's a transfer student, and he'll be joining us starting today."

The whispers only intensified.

"Blake?" someone repeated in awe.

"Of course that's his name," another girl whispered dramatically. "Sounds like he was born in a novel."

Professor Langley continued, "Killian, feel free to take any available seat."

Killian scanned the room calmly, his eyes meeting several hopeful glances, some girls even patted the empty chairs next to them with shameless enthusiasm.

But he ignored them all.

Instead, his gaze landed on a spot right behind Eira.

And that's where he walked. Silently. Casually. Pulling out the chair behind her and sitting down like he hadn't just shattered the room's equilibrium.

Eira tried not to shift uncomfortably. She didn't even glance back, but she could feel his presence now, warm, still, and oddly grounding. Like he'd brought a different kind of energy with him.

Miklan tapped his fingers against the desk rhythmically, his jaw clenched slightly. He wasn't looking at the professor. His eyes flicked from Eira to Killian, then back again. Something about Killian's choice of seat clearly didn't sit right with him.

Eira kept her eyes on her notebook, pretending to take notes but unable to focus.

It was just her first class.

And yet between Blake's hostility and Killian's quiet charm, it already felt like she was caught in the middle of something she didn't understand.

Eira tried to focus on the lecture, but her mind kept drifting to Blake's sharp eyes and cold silence.

Suddenly, Blake's phone buzzed loudly with a notification. Without hesitation, he slammed it shut and stood up abruptly.

"I'm done with this," Blake's voice cut through the quiet room like a blade. "History won't change what's coming."