"Felix." He held out his hand. I stared at it for a second, remembering everything Brittany had told me about chaos magic and bad luck, then shook it anyway. His grip was firm, his palm warm. Nothing happened. No lightning bolt of misfortune, no sudden urge to trip over my own feet. Just a handshake.
"I've heard a lot about you," he said, settling into the chair like we'd known each other for years.
"Really? Like what?"
"Like you're the only person on this campus who doesn't seem to know the rules yet." He grinned, and it was the same warm, friendly grin he'd given me across the dining hall earlier—the one that had made my skin crawl. Up close, it was even harder to resist. "I find that interesting."
"Interesting good, or interesting bad?"
"Just interesting." He stole a fry off my plate without asking, completely casual. "This place can be a lot, especially for someone coming from outside. The fraternities, the politics, the whole hierarchy thing." He waved his hand vaguely. "It's a lot to figure out on your own."
"Are you offering to help me figure it out?"
"Would you accept if I was?"
I studied him. Auburn hair falling across his forehead, green eyes bright with amusement, an energy about him that was almost magnetic. It would be so easy to say yes. So easy tobelieve that someone was finally reaching out, finally treating me like a person instead of a problem to be avoided.
But I remembered what Brittany had said. Chaos magic. Bad luck you can't trace.You never know what he's going to do.
"Why would you help me?" I asked. "You don't know me. And from what I hear, you don't do anything without a reason."
Something flickered in his expression—surprise, maybe, or appreciation. "Maybe I like underdogs. Maybe I'm bored. Maybe I just think you're interesting." He leaned closer, and I caught a whiff of something sharp and electric, like the air before a storm. "Or maybe I just want to see what happens next."
He stood up before I could respond, leaving his tray behind like he expected someone else to clean it up. Because of course he did.
"See you around, Everly Grey."
And then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd like he'd never been there at all.
I sat there for a long time, staring at my cooling pasta, trying to figure out what had just happened. My first real conversation with another student besides Brittany, and it had been with one of the four people I was supposed to avoid.
Maybe I just want to see what happens next.
That sounded like a threat. Or a promise. Or both.
I finished my dinner alone, thinking about chaos and probability and the feeling that I'd just become a piece in a game I didn't know the rules to.
Chapter 3: Everly
Day three is when everything went wrong.
I woke up determined to make it a good day. Put on my new charcoal blazer over a clean yellow sundress—a compromise between who I was and who I needed to be—and even swapped my pink tennis shoes for a pair of black flats I'd found at the bottom of my suitcase. Brittany gave me an approving nod on her way out, which felt like a victory.
Magical Theory was my third class of the day, and by the time I walked in, I'd already survived two hours of whispers, pointed stares, and someone "accidentally" spilling coffee on my bag in the hallway. But I was still standing. Still smiling. Still determined to prove I belonged here.
I took my usual seat in the front row, dead center, and pulled out my notebook.
"We're going to have a practical demonstration today," Professor Warrick announced as students settled in behind me. "You'll each channel your magic into a testing sphere. The sphere will respond to your natural affinity, allowing us to assess your baseline abilities and determine which magical discipline you're best suited for."
She started passing out glass spheres etched with symbols I now recognized—a raven skull for Mors, a lightning bolt for Tempest, a black rose for Sanguis, and a pair of dice for Tumult. The four disciplines. The four paths my magic could take.
One by one, students took their turns. Shadow writhed inside one sphere, dark and hungry. Lightning crackled through another. A third glowed deep crimson, pulsing like a heartbeat. Purple light flickered and shifted in a fourth, never settling into one shape.
Everyone's magic knew what it was. Everyone's magic had a home.
Then it was my turn.
I cupped the sphere in my palms and pushed, the way I'd been practicing alone in my room every night—carefully, gently, just enough to see what would happen. I felt my magic stir, felt it rise up to meet the glass—
