The heavy double doors slammed against the walls as Michael strode into the principal's office. I stepped in after him, my eyes immediately scanning the room. It looked like a storm had passed through as books, ancient scrolls, half-eaten meals on plates, and empty bottles littered every inch of the floor.

  I carefully navigated the debris field while Michael marched straight for the large desk at the end of the room. Sprawled across the wooden surface was a figure with disheveled grey hair, snoring softly amidst the clutter.

  "WAKE UP, YOU OLD HAG!" Michael shouted.

  The person shot up, clutching her chest. As she stood, I caught a glimpse of an unrecognizable yet powerful aura for just a split second. The light pouring in from the large circular window backlit her, casting her face in shadow as the curtains billowed behind her.

  "You son of a..." She cut herself off as her eyes darted to mine, and we locked gazes.

  I finally saw her face clearly. She was an elderly woman with deep wrinkles, striking green eyes, and a notch missing from her left ear. Looking at her felt strange, almost magical. I was not sure why I felt that way, so I chalked it up to Seraphina's instincts reacting to her.

  This woman felt like a living relic. She was old, undeniably so, yet her presence overflowed with a vitality that should not belong to someone her age.

  The old woman rubbed the sleep from her eyes and let out a long, exaggerated yawn. "So," she drawled, fixing her gaze on me. "Is this the little brat who decided to put on a show early this morning?" she asked, walking toward me

  "Yes, ma'am," Michael confirmed. He placed a hand on my back and nudged me forward, forcing me into her range.

  I took two steps forward as she crouched down to my eye level to examine me. "Hmm, yes, quite strange," she murmured before leaning in to press her forehead against mine.

  I could feel the chill of her skin against my own. It was a strange gesture, yet oddly comforting.

  Whoever this woman was, my gut told me she was one of the most eccentric people I had ever encountered.

  She pulled back and looked at me with a cheerfully optimistic expression. She gripped both of my shoulders firmly. "Listen, Little Sera. I am well aware that you might be feeling isolated, and perhaps even betrayed."

  "Whatever happened during the Rite is not something you should use to define who you are." She stood up and took my hand, leading me over the desk and toward the large window.

  She pointed out at the horizon and asked, "What do you see, Sera?"

  I gazed out the circular window. Below us, a sea of lush green trees swayed in the wind, cut through by a shimmering river that snaked its way toward a distant town.

  "I see nature," I replied.

  "Nature, huh? That is good. That is very good." She spun around on her heels, rifling through the chaos on her desk. She snatched up a sheaf of papers and shoved them into my hands.

  I looked down at the documents. They were chaotic, filled with frantic handwritten scrawls theorizing about biology and mana. The pages were crowded with detailed sketches of creatures I had never seen in my life, alongside diagrams hypothesizing exactly how such beasts channeled their magic.

  The heavy door clicked shut as Michael stepped out, leaving the two of us alone.

  I looked down at the documents in my hands, my thumb tracing a complex diagram of a wyvern’s mana circulatory system. The wording was specific and technical. Unlike the other books I had read in this world, these were genuinely scientific.

  "You're trying to memorize it, aren't you?" The Principal’s voice cut through my concentration.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I looked up. "Yes. I am trying to understand the underlying mechanics of how biological entities process external mana versus internal rese..."

  Before I could finish the sentence, her hand shot out. With shocking speed, she snatched the sheaf of papers from my grasp.

  "Wait, I wasn't finished..."

  She ignored me completely. She took three large steps toward the magnificent circular window, unlatched it, and threw the entire stack of priceless research into the open air.

  My jaw dropped. Why would she throw her own research out the window?

  "Look!" she barked, pointing a crooked finger outside.

  I was forced to watch as the wind caught the papers. They glided through the air, scattering like a flock of frightened birds.

  Some spiraled up toward the roof tiles while others plummeted toward the ground below. One sheet landed gracefully against the trunk of a distant tree.

  "Tell me, Little Sera," she murmured, leaning against the window frame. "Those papers contained the absolute perfect, mathematical theory of how creatures are able to fly. The exact equations needed to defy gravity." She looked at me, her expression hard. "So why did they fall?"

  I frowned. What was this old lady blabbering about? Obviously, they fell due to gravity.

  "Well, because they are paper," I replied. "They are not living objects capable of casting flight magic."

  "Exactly. They are dead ink on dead, processed wood." She tapped my forehead hard with two fingers, right where she had pressed hers earlier. "You are trying to calculate your existence here. You are trying to fit that enormous, terrifying power inside you into a neat little diagram you can file away. You want theories because reality frightens you."

  She grabbed my shoulder, forcing my gaze toward a patch of dirt near the riverbank.

  "Look there. What do you see?" Before I could answer, she slapped her forehead. "Oh, right!" She quickly went back to her desk and grabbed a telescope.

  She handed it to me and pointed it toward the riverbank. "Okay, now. What do you see?"

  I hesitantly squinted through the lens. A small brown bird was hopping madly on the grass, pecking viciously at the dirt. It paused, jerked its head back, and pulled a long, pink worm from the soil before flying off with the worm.

  "A bird eating a worm," I said flatly.

  "Perspective, Sera. Use it." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "To that worm, what was that bird? It was a dragon descending from Mount Sinai, an undeniable force of death that ripped it from its home and consumed it. To the worm, that bird is the ultimate evil." She paused, letting the image sink in, before guiding the telescope to a nearby tree.

  "But what is that bird to the three nestlings waiting in the tree nearby? It is a savior. It is life itself, bringing sustenance. It is their mother."

  She released my shoulder and spread her hands wide, gesturing to the entire sprawling landscape. "And to the wind? The bird is just an obstacle to flow around. To the river? It is nothing at all."

  I stared at the spot where the worm had died. I understood what she was doing. I thought of the whispers in the school halls and the terrified look of the high priests during the Rite.

  "They looked at me like the worm looked at the bird," I whispered.

  "Yes," the Principal agreed cheerfully, clapping her hands. "They did. Because they are small, soft things living in the dirt of dogma. When something vast and hungry casts a shadow over them, they call it a monster. They scream curses because they don't have a pigeonhole small enough to fit you inside."

  She turned away from the window and began kicking through the debris on the floor until she found a half-empty bottle of amber liquid. She took a sip and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

  "The Academy tries to teach magic like gardening. Plant the seed, say the prayer, trim the hedges into polite shapes. But nature isn't a garden, Sera. Nature is a violent, beautiful riot of consumption. The ivy strangles the oak to reach the sun. The wolf eats the deer not out of malice, but hunger. It is a biological necessity." "You are not a garden flower that grew wrong. Stop apologizing for it. Stop trying to write equations for it." She gestured toward the window where the last piece of paper disappeared into the river. "If you are a wolf, then hunt. If you are ivy, then climb."

  The room fell silent for a long moment as she let her words sink in. She was trying to sway me, but deep down, I knew this philosophy of Vitalist Individualism was dangerous.

  She finally broke the silence and escorted me to the exit. "Go heal, Sera," she advised, opening the door. "Come back to class tomorrow once you are stitched up. And try not to cause any more catastrophes in the meantime."

  The heavy door clicked shut behind me, sealing the eccentric old woman and her dangerous ideas away. I turned to find Michael standing there, waiting for me.

  “Let’s go.”