Mixed— chapter eleven:

Ronnie Ravenwood smiled, soft and sad. “They told you I was evil, didn’t they?” Her voice echoed in the dark, wrapping around me like silk.

I swallowed, throat dry. “They killed you because of your stone.” 

“No.” Her eyes glowed faint with Vantablack, swallowing light as her Luminor flickered in her palm. “They killed me because they were afraid. Afraid of what they couldn’t control.”

My stone flared orange, casting the space in firelight. I stumbled back, heart racing. “It’s happening to me.”

Her smile faltered. “You must learn to guide it, Ryder. Not bury it. If you let fear rule you, you’ll become what they say I was.”

Her figure began to blur, the ink of her form dissolving into the void.

“Wait!” I shouted, reaching forward. “What am I supposed to do?”

Her voice lingered, faint as she vanished: “Choose your path… before they choose it for you.”

The darkness collapsed in on itself, and I woke gasping in my bunk, the blanket damp with sweat. My Luminor glowed orange on my chest, hot as fire. 
The smell hit me first—sharp, sour, like damp earth and rot. Rows of glass trays sat on the desks, each holding a bloated toad, its pale belly gleaming under the lantern light.

I tightened my grip on my satchel and tried not to gag. The dream of my mother still clung to me, every word echoing: Choose your path… before they choose it for you.

Professor Lenira Thale stood at the front, robes trailing, a pointer in her hand. Her sharp green eyes flicked over us like she already knew who would faint and who would endure.

“Fourth-years,” she began, her voice crisp. “Today we continue your foundation in corporeal studies. The toad in front of you is your subject. You will dissect, identify the core channels, and mark the mana nodes. Precision, not bravery, is required.”

Kael groaned beside me, eyeing the limp toad in our tray. “Circle of nasty,” he muttered under his breath, echoing Taron’s taunt from the night before.

Juniper slid onto the stool across from us, her long black hair tied back. She avoided my gaze, but I caught the flicker of her purple Luminor in her pocket. She hadn’t forgotten about last night.

Seraphina swept past, golden braid bouncing, her glare sharp enough to cut stone. For a terrifying second, I thought she remembered. But she said nothing, just took her seat two rows up, her Luminor blazing faintly gold in her hand like a warning.

“Scalpels out,” Professor Thale said, gesturing. “Begin.”

The blade felt heavy in my hand. I pressed the tip into the toad’s belly, the skin parting with a wet sound. A surge of nausea rolled through me—then my stone pulsed under the desk, flickering orange before snapping back to green.

I froze.

Juniper’s eyes darted to me, narrowing. Kael leaned in close, whispering: “Ry. Stop. Before someone sees.”

But the glow was restless, answering to something deeper—something in the toad.

And then I realized. Its veins weren’t just blue or black with blood. They shimmered faintly purple.

Like the bug.

Juniper’s hands shook as she picked up the scalpel, her knuckles pale. She leaned over the tray, lips pressed tight, purple Luminor dim in her pocket.

The toad twitched.

Not a little spasm—its whole body jerked, the skin rippling as it turned a sickly, moldy white.

“Ah!—” Juniper yelped, panic flashing across her face. She stabbed downward frantically, again and again, the blade scraping bone until a faint hiss of air escaped the body.

The twitching stopped.

Her breath came in ragged gulps, the scalpel trembling in her grip. Then she froze, realizing what she’d done. The cut she’d made wasn’t random—she had struck the core.

Professor Thale’s sharp clap broke the silence. “Well done, Miss Vale. Locating the core on instinct is rare. You pass.”

The class murmured, half impressed, half unsettled.

Juniper lowered her head, her long black bangs spilling forward to hide her face. Her shoulders hunched, as though the praise weighed heavier than scorn.

From my desk, I caught the quick shimmer of her purple stone flicker brighter, then dim again.

The room buzzed with whispers the moment Professor Thale praised Juniper. A fourth-year no one respected—the laughingstock with the purple stone—passing before half the class had even found the liver.

Juniper kept her head down, her bangs falling like a curtain, but I saw the way her shoulders trembled. Not with pride—more like fear that if she moved, the moment would break.

Seraphina’s chair scraped back as she shot to her feet, golden braid swinging. “That was dumb luck!” she screeched, yanking her toad’s belly wide open. With a flourish, she pulled the core free, raising it like a trophy. “See? This mere imbecile isn’t special. We can all do it.”

A ripple of uneasy laughter rolled through the room. Some students nodded with Seraphina—because it was safer. Others glanced at Juniper, their eyes flicking with something closer to doubt.

Kael leaned lazily on one elbow, resting his chin in his palm. He grinned up at Seraphina, his tone mocking-sweet. “Yeah, you found it easy—after watching Juniper. But then, that’s how you succeed at everything else, isn’t it?”

The class went still.

Seraphina’s golden Luminor flared in her fist, light spilling between her fingers. Juniper curled tighter into herself, trying to vanish into her seat.

But for the first time, I saw something new in the room: the tiniest spark of respect flickering in a few classmates’ eyes when they looked at her.

“Now, as you can see,” Kael said loudly, drawing every eye. He laid a hand on his toad, his blue Luminor glowing faintly around it. With a swift slice, he severed its head cleanly. The corpse twitched once, then stilled.

“The core changes position depending on the caster,” he explained, sounding almost smug. “It’ll shift toward your strength. That’s why Juniper’s was in the heart—because she’s braver than she lets on. And why yours—” he jabbed his scalpel toward Seraphina “—was in the stomach.”

His grin widened. “Because all you think about is food.”

The class gasped in unison.

Seraphina wasn’t even big—she was whip-thin—but everyone knew how she devoured entire platters in the dining hall. Her golden Luminor flared hot in her hand as her face went crimson.

“You—” she sputtered, gasping like she’d been slapped.

Juniper glanced up through her bangs, just for a second, and I caught the tiniest flicker of a smile tugging at her lips before she ducked her head again.

Seraphina shot to her feet, her golden Luminor blazing brighter, a retort already forming on her lips.

Before she could spit it out, Professor Thale’s pointer cracked against the edge of her desk with a sharp snap.

“Sit. Down.” Her green eyes locked onto Seraphina, hard as glass.

The golden glow faltered in Seraphina’s fist. She sat slowly, still seething, her jaw tight enough to snap.

Professor Thale let the silence stretch, then turned to address the whole class. “Perhaps Mr. Kael’s demonstration was unorthodox—but correct. The core reflects not just anatomy, but spirit. Consider your own strengths before you cut.”

Her gaze swept the room, then lingered just a beat longer on me before she turned back to the board.

Professor Thale’s eyes flicked to me. “Alright, Ryder. Your turn. Go on—cut it.”