A wet, slurping echo clung to the air as Mo tumbled out of the portal. This time, she at least landed on her feet, fighting the wobble in her knees and forcing a shred of dignity into her posture. Before this day, the last time she had to use a portal was when her parents decided to enroll Mo in that dark arts middle school. And then… she lived on Earth for several years, not even considering moving elsewhere.

  She stood there, adjusting to the strange, disorienting heaviness that always accompanied these portal jumps. Two times within a day, it was a bit too much. In her rogue years on Earth, the discomfort of the process had slipped her mind. The queasy churn in her stomach and the tingling in her limbs reminded her all too well of the sensation she definitely did not miss.

  Stepping through a portal felt like plunging into cold water—unforgettable once you were in it again. But at least Mo was at her final destination now. Umbra Academy will be her home for at least a semester. She couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and dread at the thought.

  Mo lingered at the Academy's iron gates, her grip on her ragged messenger bag tightening with each uneasy breath. Part of her wanted to return to the portal and run back to Earth—anywhere but here. But she forced herself to inhale, reminding herself she had what she needed…and no real way out.

  The towering Gothic spires rose menacingly above her, their pointed silhouettes stark against the swirling, dark clouds of a sky that seemed forever on the verge of a tempest. The architecture reminded her of Blackthorn Keep with its eerie and foreboding design. Every arch and gargoyle seemed deliberately crafted to stir a sense of gloom. That was one of the reasons she ran from the previous school. That was one of the reasons she preferred serving coffee to studying the arcane arts.

  Mo swallowed hard, feeling a lump in her throat, as her ginger hair lashed wildly around her face, caught in the gusts of the chilling wind that whispered of approaching storms. Something was shifting within her. Things that she hadn't explored for quite some time.

  "Well, Mo," she muttered, "you've really done it this time. Straight from cozy bookshop to villain boot camp. Don't think they offer good lattes here."

  With a deep breath, she forced herself to take a step forward. The iron gates creaked open, seeming to welcome her with malicious glee. As she walked through the courtyard, her eyes darted from one dramatic scene to another. A group of students to her left were engaged in what appeared to be a cape-flaring competition, their dark fabrics billowing with unnecessary gusto.

  "Points for enthusiasm, I suppose," Mo thought, suppressing an eye-roll. "Though I'm pretty sure capes went out of style with Dracula."

  She was keenly aware of the sideways looks and quiet murmurs trailing behind her. Her laid-back jeans and worn band t-shirt were glaringly out of place amidst the crowd, clad in black leather and velvet. Still, she had no intention of altering her personal style just to appease some dark-lord wannabes.

  A boy with hair slicked so perfectly it looked shellacked paused mid-strut, his upper lip curling. "So that's Earth's idea of villain chic?" he drawled, tugging at his high collar as if to underscore how much better he looked. "Could they degrade even more?"

  Mo met his gaze head-on, her knuckles whitening around her bag strap as she offered a tight-lipped smile. "Oh, you know, I'm going for the 'wolf in sheep's clothing' look. Very avant-garde evil."

  The boy's face contorted in confusion, clearly not catching the reference. Mo sighed inwardly. "Tough crowd. Note to self: brush up on my dark puns."

  A booming voice echoed across the courtyard as she approached the main entrance. "Behold, insignificant worms! I am Lord Obsidian, master of shadows and your new overlord!"

  Mo turned to see a late teenager no older than herself balanced on a gargoyle, arms spread wide like he auditioned for a gothic superhero flick. She couldn't help it. A snort of laughter escaped before she could stifle it.

  Lord Obsidian's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You dare mock the future ruler of all realms?"

  "Sorry," Mo said, not sounding sorry at all. "It's just... 'insignificant worms'? Bit on the nose, don't you think? Maybe try something more subtle, like 'valued citizens under new progressive management'?"

  A hush fell over the courtyard. Mo felt her cheeks flush as she realized she'd just critiqued the monologue of someone who probably knew fifty ways to turn her into a toad.

  "Right," she muttered, backing towards the entrance. "I'll just... be going then. Lots of evil to learn, minions to recruit, you know how it is."

  As the heavy doors closed behind her, Mo leaned against them, her heart pounding. "Fantastic," she groaned. "First day, and I've already made enemies with the local megalomaniac. Mom and Dad would be so proud."

  She paused, raking her fingers through her tangled ginger hair, a flicker of defiance tugging at her lips. "Actually, they'd probably expect no less from me," Mo muttered.

  "They're gone, but I'm still their legacy—like it or not," she thought. An unexpected grin surfaced on her face. "What would they say? Ah, yes. First, unsettle them. Then, take charge."

  ***

  Mo stood in a grand hall, surrounded by towering marble columns that reached up toward a ceiling shrouded in shadows, so distant it seemed to touch the sky. The moment he stepped inside, whispers slithered through the air, sharp and menacing, like poisoned daggers slicing through the silence. The sound ricocheted off the walls, bouncing from the ornate niches and hidden side chambers, creating an overwhelming symphony of eerie murmurs that pressed relentlessly against his ears.

  "Isn't that Morgana Nightshade?" a voice hissed from somewhere to Mo's left.

  "I heard she flunked out of dark arts school on Earth," another voice chimed in, dripping with disdain.

  "And left to live with normies…!"

  "How scandalous!"

  "Did she… you know…?"

  "Of course she did!"

  Mo felt her shoulders tense, her fingers instinctively twirling a strand of ginger hair. She tried to look nonchalant, but her eyes darted around, taking in the sea of judgmental faces.

  "Is she even a real Dark Lady?" someone sneered loudly enough for her to hear.

  "Great," Mo thought. "My reputation precedes me. And it's even worse than I imagined."

  She slowly moved forward, her footsteps barely audible on the polished marble floor, until she was at the center of the hall. Mo's eyes flicked from one corridor to the next, uncertainty knotting in her stomach. There were plenty of people around her, but Mo didn't feel like asking any of them after that first welcome she experienced just a few seconds ago.

  Without warning, a shimmering scroll appeared mid-air, hovering in front of her. It unfurled with a dramatic, electric crackle, revealing words that glowed in a menacing shade of crimson. The words seemed to pulse with an eerie life of their own. A deep, resonant voice, as if emerging from the very walls around her, began to read the message aloud:

  "MORGANA ELARIS VEXARIA NYX NIGHTSHADE, SUCCUBUS, DARK LADY. UMBRA ACADEMY WELCOMES YOU. HERE IS YOUR ORIENTATION LETTER!"

  Mo groaned inwardly. "Because blending in wasn't already impossible. Do they have to announce not only your status, but also your race? What is it? Middle ages?"

  The scroll's appearance, or, more probably, the words pronounced by the voice, seemed to amplify the whispers. Mo could feel the weight of countless sidelong glances, some curious, others openly hostile. She straightened her posture, trying to project an air of confidence she certainly didn't feel.

  "Well," she muttered, "nothing says 'welcome to school' quite like having one of your deepest insecurities broadcast to the entire student body."

  She swept her gaze across the crowd, meeting the stares head-on.

  "Happy? Your announcement system thinks I'm a Dark Lady," she exclaimed, exasperated. "Isn't that enough for you? What else do you want of me? You can go now, spread the rumors. Whatever…!"

  Mo rolled her eyes, a sardonic smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Might as well lean into it," she thought. "What's the worst that could happen? Oh right, everything."

  As if on cue, the sea of students parted, revealing a figure that seemed to embody everything Mo despised about villain society. Valerius Crowe strode forward, his cape billowing dramatically behind him despite the distinct lack of wind. His perfectly coiffed hair gleamed under the Academy's eerie lighting, and a smirk of pure condescension twisted his lips.

  "Of course," Mo thought, suppressing a groan. "It wouldn't be a proper villain school without the resident mean girl. Or boy, in this case."

  She squared her shoulders, bracing for the inevitable confrontation.

  Valerius glided to a halt an arm's length away, tilting his head just enough that his dark hair caught the torchlight. His gaze flicked over her battered sneakers, and a smug grin curved his mouth.

  "Well, well," he said softly, his voice like a cat's purr. He stood at a slight angle, half-blocking her path, as though to show off his perfect posture—and her apparent lack of it. "If it isn't the prodigal failure. Returned at last." he increased the volume of his voice, playing for the crowd. "I've heard some interesting stories about your… adventures on Earth."

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  He scanned the hall with a playful smirk, his eyes darting mischievously from one person to another. With each exaggerated raise and wiggle of his eyebrows, he silently communicated his intent, ensuring everyone understood the poisonous message behind his expression.

  Mo felt her cheeks flush with anger, but she forced a bored expression onto her face. "Valerius," she acknowledged flatly. "Still practicing your dramatic entrances, I see. You know, in the human world, we just say 'hello' like normal people."

  A ripple of shocked gasps ran through the onlooking crowd. Valerius'ss eyes narrowed dangerously, but his smirk never wavered. "Oh, Morgana," he said, his tone mock-sympathetic. "That's exactly what I've heard! I never thought you'd fall so low. Consorting with humans. Serving them…"

  The crowd gasped. But that didn't stop Valerius. On the contrary, he had more to say.

  "Still clinging to those quaint human notions? How… pitiful. How… weak."

  Mo's fingers twitched, itching to fidget with her hair, but she forced them still. She wouldn't give Valerius the satisfaction of seeing her nervous tell. "At least I've experienced something beyond these stuffy halls," she retorted, injecting as much confidence into her voice as she could muster. "Tell me, Val, have you ever even seen a sunset that wasn't magically enhanced?"

  Valerius's smirk twisted into a sneer. "Why would I bother with such mundane spectacles when I could be honing my powers?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a stage whisper that carried to the eager audience. "Unlike some of us who've been… such a disgrace… what was it again? Ah, yes… stocking shelves and serving coffee to pathetic mortals."

  His eyes scanned the crowd once more. He locked gazes with individuals whose eyes gleamed with curiosity, eager for the next juicy tidbit of scandal to unfold.

  "Maybe even something else?" he continued. "Knowing your… race."

  The throng of people swayed in a frenzy, a mix of murmurs and shouts echoing from all directions. Mo's name was shouted repeatedly, each call piercing through the air like a sudden clap of thunder. Laughter and giggles rippled through the gathering, cascading over Mo like a tidal wave, leaving him feeling engulfed and disoriented.

  Mo felt a pang in her chest. Her time at the bookstore had been a sanctuary, a place where she'd felt genuinely happy. But what was even worse was Valerius's comment, which hit at the center of her insecurity. The cafe was a refuge where she could forget about all the baggage that came with her birthright. Not only as a heiress of a Dark Lord but also as a person who was supposed to seduce her underlings and enemies into complete obedience. Framed by Valerius's contempt, it sounded like a dirty secret, not an attempt to find her own path.

  "Don't let him get to you," she told herself fiercely. "He knows you too well. He knows which buttons to push, which lies to spew. Those humans showed more kindness than this lot ever has."

  "You know," Mo said, adopting a casual tone, "I learned more about true villainy from a few months of retail work than you probably have in your entire time here."

  The crowd's attention ping-ponged between them, hungry for more drama. Valerius's eyes glittered dangerously, and Mo braced herself for his next verbal assault.

  A voice cut through the tension, dripping with sarcasm. "Woooow. That was embarrassing. For him. Publicly blurting out his midnight fantasies. Bold move."

  Mo's head snapped towards the source, her eyes landing on a figure that seemed to shimmer at the edges. One moment tall and imposing, the next lithe and graceful. Obsidian skin swirled with smoke-like patterns, and eyes that glowed like embers fixed on Valerius with undisguised amusement.

  "Who in the nine hells is that?" Mo wondered, a mix of curiosity and relief flooding through her.

  The newcomer strolled in, cloak swirling around them with effortless flair. Valerius's attempt at drama seemed kindergarten-level by comparison. "I mean, really," they continued, their voice taking on multiple harmonics that sent a shiver down Mo's spine. "Mocking someone for having real-world experience? That's like bragging about never leaving your crypt."

  Mo felt a smirk tugging at her lips. She couldn't help but admire the stranger's audacity, even as she worried about the consequences of challenging Valerius so openly.

  "And you are?" Valerius sneered, his perfect composure finally cracking.

  A new shimmering scroll materialized in the air, this one edged in flickering violet fire. Unlike Mo's, which had been grand and theatrical, this one hummed with restrained aggression—as if it was personally offended by its own existence.

  The same booming disembodied voice that had announced Mo's status earlier returned, only this time, it carried a distinct note of frustration.

  "NYXIR OBSCURIS, TITANBORN DEMON, SCION OF HOUSE OBSCURIS. UMBRA ACADEMY WELCOMES YOU. HERE IS YOUR ORIENTATION LETTER."

  A collective hush fell over the students. Heads turned toward the source of the announcement, eyes flickering with curiosity, judgment, and, in some cases, pure delight.

  Nyx sighed loudly and rubbed their temples. "Yeah, yeah, we get it. I exist. Move on."

  With a lazy flick of their wrist, Nyx sent a pulse of violet energy toward the scroll. It immediately exploded into harmless sparks, cutting itself off mid-title.

  A gasp rippled through the crowd. Someone clutched their pearls. Someone else took notes, repeating the gesture.

  Mo was equally impressed.

  A slow single clap echoed across the hall. Mo didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.

  "Ah, the great Nyxir Obscuris graces us with their presence," Valerius drawled, stepping forward, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Or should I say, themselves? Or do you still need a moment to decide?"

  A few students snickered.

  Nyx tilted their head, their form flickering for half a second. A subtle shift in height, in build, in the sharpness of their jawline, before settling again. They turned to Valerius with the laziest smirk imaginable.

  "Aw, Val, I didn't realize you were so invested in my personal journey," they cooed. "What's wrong? Feeling a little insecure about all that 'unwavering masculinity'?"

  Mo choked back a laugh.

  The snickering turned into outright laughter. Valerius's smirk twitched ever so slightly.

  Nyx stepped closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "If you ever need to talk about it, I'm here for you, babe. No judgment."

  Valerius's jaw clenched. His fingers twitched at his sides as if debating whether or not to hex Nyx on the spot.

  Mo was officially a fan.

  "Good talk," said Nyx.

  Without waiting for a response from Valerius, they turned to Mo and gently threaded their arm through hers, their movement fluid and smooth. In an instant, the shapeshifter subtly altered their appearance once more, softening their hard features and relaxing their posture. The once sharp gaze now held warmth, and the tension in their shoulders melted away, all signs of aggression dissipating.

  "Nyxir Obscuris," they said, their voice a melodious blend of tones. "But you can call me Nyx. If that wouldn't be too much of a mess for us sharing a name. It's a pleasure to meet the infamous Morgana Nightshade in the flesh."

  Mo hesitated momentarily before shaking Nyx's hand, feeling a tingling warmth where their skin touched. "Infamous? Great. Just great."

  "Please, it's Mo."

  "So," Nyx continued, leaning in conspiratorially. "Mo… Let me guess, he's been listing your failures alphabetically?"

  Mo couldn't help but snort, her earlier tension easing slightly. "Is it that obvious?"

  Nyx's form rippled again, briefly taking on an exaggerated imitation of Valerius'ss pompous stance. "Oh, darling," they drawled in perfect mimicry of his voice, "it's written all over his insufferably smug face."

  "I shouldn't laugh," Mo thought, fighting to keep her expression neutral. "But damn, that's spot on."

  Mo quirked an eyebrow, her lips twitching with suppressed amusement. "We just got to 'D' for disgrace," she quipped, her voice dripping with mock solemnity. She tucked a strand of ginger hair behind her ear, a nervous habit she couldn't quite shake.

  Nyx opened their mouth to respond, but a cold voice cut through the air like a blade.

  "Speaking of disgrace," Valerius sneered, his perfect features twisted into a mask of disdain. He glided towards them, his cape billowing dramatically despite the lack of wind. "I nearly forgot to mention that you aren't a even real Dark Lady. You have a full council controlling you. You know, provisional." He spat the last word as if it tasted foul.

  Mo's stomach clenched. "Of course he'd bring that up," she thought, fighting to keep her face neutral. "Stay calm. Don't let him see he's getting to you."

  Nyx's eyes gleamed with something dangerously close to glee. "Oh, Val," they purred, tilting their head in exaggerated thought. "You're really leaning into that provisional insult, huh? I mean, sure, Morgana... Mo has a whole council watching over her, but you, oh, you're completely independent and mature, right?"

  Valerius's smirk froze for just a fraction of a second before returning.

  "Because if I recall correctly," Nyx continued, casually inspecting their nails that were even brighter than their attire, "at Crowhurst High, our esteemed top student had a few… what do they call it? Provisional permissions? Oh, right—because they weren't fully cleared for some magic courses yet."

  A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd.

  "What are you blabbering there, Obscuris?!?"

  Mo blinked. "Wait. What? I didn't know that was even a thing!"

  Nyx leaned in conspiratorially. "You didn't know? Oh yeah, darling, during his first year, Mister Honors Student had to petition for special clearance in high-level dark arts. Apparently, certain instructors weren't convinced he had the, what was it? Oh—'properly developed prefrontal cortex to be a responsible unsupervised wielder of high-risk magic.'"

  Valerius's gaze darkened. "Careful, Obscuris." His hand twitched as if he was ready to cast a spell.

  Nyx grinned. "Oh, it seems that your brain has still not fully developed. How's your impulse control?" they glanced at Valerius's jittering hand. "And you know better than confronting me. I am always being careful. Unlike the professors who had to clean up your 'unintentional' spell feedback loops."

  Mo covered her mouth to hide a laugh. "Wait—Valerius? The perfect student? Had restrictions?"

  Nyx nodded, delighted. "It was tragic, really. He had to get written approval every time he wanted to practice 'unstable ritualistic blood incantations.'" They sighed theatrically. "Such an oppressive system, limiting our dear Valerius's genius."

  A few students stifled their laughter, their shoulders shaking with amusement. One student leaned over to a friend and loudly whispered, "Wait, seriously?" The room fell silent for a moment as all eyes darted nervously toward Valerius, checking to see if he had marked the culprit.

  Valerius remained oblivious, though. His eyes locked intently on Nyx, his expression stern and unwavering.

  "And yet, unlike you, I was able to finish the school with honors," he said. "You… Wretched thing! Unlike you, whose shifting was considered 'unpredictable and unrefined' during advanced battle simulations."

  Nyx shrugged, completely unfazed. "Oh, absolutely. I'm a disaster. That's why I didn't throw a tantrum and demand exceptions to the rules."

  Valerius's eyes flashed dangerously.

  Mo suppressed a grin. "That's the first time I'm beginning to regret I flunked that school on Earth and left, you know…" she looked at Nyx with a wide grin. "…to consort with all these strange humans."

  She looked at Valerius again. "You should have led with this, Val. So tell me—when you're not judging my status, does it ever bother you that you had to beg for special permissions back in the day?"

  Valerius stiffened, then spun on his heel with a dramatic flick of his cape. "Enjoy your first week, Nightshade. I doubt you'll last past that. I'm sure you'll run away like you did last time. I won't even need to make it hard for you."

  Nyx grinned after him. "And yet, here she is."

  Mo exhaled, turning to Nyx. "I could kiss you right now."

  "Dear, you'll have to buy me dinner first," said Nyx and winked.

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