Day 1
Argenta smelled like ambition. Not the poetic kind—no. It reeked of recycled air from luxury vents, burnt espresso from overstressed students, and the desperate clack of heels trying to outrun deadlines. The University of Crystalline, tucked like a crown jewel between two gleaming megamalls and a sun-bleached monorail track, stood proud at the heart of it all. Shiny glass windows reflected a city that still thought it was untouchable.
Inside Classroom 407, Xenia Alderidge sat in the third row—dead center. Not because she liked attention, but because she didn't trust the back row slackers or the front row sycophants. Her navy-blue blazer was immaculately pressed. Her planner? Color-coded to hell and back. And her soul? Hanging on by a paperclip and three cups of vending machine coffee.
Today was supposed to be another blur of thesis feedback and passive-aggressive peer evaluations. But when Professor Zy walked in with a clipboard and a too-casual smile, Xenia's stomach churned. Not fear. Anticipation. A weird, electric kind that made her shoulders tense even though she pretended she hadn't noticed.
"Miss Alderidge," Professor Zy said, pausing just long enough to let the room tilt toward her. "Congratulations. You've been chosen as this year's Valedictorian."
For a second, the room didn't breathe.
Then the claps came, awkward and scattered like a polite cough. Her classmates smiled, but Xenia had spent years reading micro-expressions the way other girls read horoscopes. Envy. Surprise. Mild resentment. One guy even muttered, "Of course it's her."
She blinked. Nodded. Smiled the way she practiced in job interviews.
"Thank you, Sir."
But inside her head, a damn broke open.
Four years. Four years of working herself to the bone—of skipping family dinners, blowing off Zoe's movie invites, and making up polite lies to her boyfriend Steven about why she couldn't "just chill tonight." She hadn't chilled since Freshman Week.
She had rewritten lesson plans on hospital floors, helped classmates pass their math modules while barely passing out herself, and eaten more microwave noodles than any one human should. And now… now she had to write a speech? To sum it all up in five minutes?
Her vision blurred slightly as she lowered her gaze back to her notes. Her pen hovered above the margins like it, too, wasn't sure how to keep going.
Professor Zy launched into a lecture about capstone reflections, but Xenia barely heard it. Her mind was spinning between flashbacks of academic torture and flashes of disbelief. She wasn't just graduating—she was doing it at the top of the entire Education track.
She thought of her mother crying over tuition bills. Of her younger cousin asking if she could really become a teacher "and not starve." Of all the people who called her too ambitious for a woman from a middle-tier family in Westburned.
"I guess I'm proof you can survive on spite, caffeine, and Google Docs," she whispered under her breath.
She stared out the window.
From here, Argenta looked untouched. Towering buildings threw long shadows across late-spring traffic. The sky was unusually clear, the sunlight bouncing off rooftops like it still believed the city would last forever. But she'd lived here long enough to know how fake that shine was.
Argenta was beautiful, yes—but it had teeth. It swallowed the poor and spit out the broken. It had robbed her of sleep, sanity, and a social life.
But she'd made it.
"Miss Alderidge," Professor Zy's voice cut back in. "Please check your email by tonight. The speech schedule is included."
"Yes, Sir."
Xenia scribbled it down as if she might forget, though the reminder had already etched itself into her brain like a branding iron.
By the time the lecture ended, her hands were numb from over-clenching her pen. Her bag felt heavier than usual. Not because of the weight, but because of the shift.
She wasn't just a student anymore.
She was the girl everyone would hear on stage tomorrow.
She slung her bag over one shoulder and walked through the hallway like a ghost—half-alive, half-terrified, half-proud. (Yes, that's three halves. Welcome to senior year math.)
Outside, students lounged in open-air cafés across the street, flipping through notes or pretending to read while taking selfies with the university's glass dome in the background. Graduation fever had infected the whole block.
But Xenia didn't stop.
She kept walking, clutching her planner like a holy relic, mentally rewriting her entire future for the hundredth time.
And somewhere behind her—far behind, buried deep in the alleyways and shadows of Argenta—something howled.
She didn't hear it yet.
But she would.
°°°°°°°°°°°°
The dorm hallway smelled like leftover ramen, lavender shampoo, and something suspiciously like despair. Westburned Student Village was technically one of the "nicer" dorm towns attached to the University of Crystalline, but "nicer" was a relative term. The lights in the hallway flickered every few seconds like they were auditioning for a horror movie, and the elevators had a trust rating of zero. So naturally, Xenia took the stairs—two at a time.
She was still running on an emotional high, her mind buzzing like a coffee machine left on overnight. The paper envelope clutched in her hand might as well have been dipped in gold. She had read it at least fifteen times on the train ride back to Westburned, mouthing the words silently like they might vanish if she blinked too long.
"ZOOOOEEEEE!"
She shoved open the door to Room 2B like a one-woman parade.
Zoe Navarro, mid-facial roller session, shrieked and flung the rose quartz tool across the room like it had personally betrayed her. "Jesus! Warn me before you break the sound barrier!"
Xenia held up the envelope like it was a royal decree. "I got it. Valedictorian. Me. Graduation's next week. Professor Zy told me this morning, and it's official now. Speech, spotlight, the whole thing."
Zoe blinked. Then screamed. Then launched at Xenia with the full force of a girl who lived for drama. The two spun in a messy victory hug that sent their shared study lamp wobbling.
"I KNEW IT!" Zoe practically squealed. "You and your color-coded planners and anxiety-fueled all-nighters actually did it!"
Xenia fell back on the bed, breathless. "I don't know whether to cry, puke, or rewrite my entire personality."
Zoe flopped down beside her. "All of the above. Preferably in that order. But not before we celebrate."
Xenia blinked. "Celebrate how? I was going to edit my speech draft again and maybe remeasure my graduation cap to see if I can glue motivational quotes under the tassel."
Zoe sat up like she'd been personally insulted. "No. Absolutely not. You are not spending tonight curled up with Google Docs and self-doubt. There's a party at Nova Pulse downtown. Music, neon, drinks that taste like bubblegum and shame. You, me, and regrettable choices."
Xenia groaned into a pillow. "I don't club."
"You do tonight. I already laid out your outfit. You're wearing the glitter crop top and the boots that scream 'I pay my own tuition.'"
"Zoe…"
"This is your pre-apocalyptic send-off. The Bachelorette party to your academic marriage. Your final act before you become a full-blown adult with a laminated diploma."
Xenia stared at the ceiling.
She wanted to say no. She wanted to spend the night hyperventilating into a planner and color-coding her existential dread. But Zoe's eyes were practically glowing with excitement, and the truth was, she had no other plans except panicking in lowercase letters.
"Fine," she mumbled. "But no tequila. I have boundaries."