Chapter 4 – The Demon Who Didn't Belong

Riku walked the halls of Veylspire Academy with the kind of grace that made people stare.
Not because she was loud. Not because she demanded it.But because she didn’t fit.
She didn’t speak in threats. She didn’t carry cruelty in her smile.She bowed to the staff. Thanked the servants. Treated the gardeners and groundskeepers like they weren’t invisible.In a school full of noble-born monsters, she was something worse she was kind.
They called her “the Broken Draven” behind her back.Some said she was cursed.Others said she was pretending, waiting to snap.
But even the bullies hesitated before picking a fight. Because Riku never lost.And she never hit first.
Today, the sky outside the stained-glass windows bled violet.A duel had broken out in the courtyard again. Screaming. Spectators. Spells flaring like fireworks.
Riku didn’t go.
She sat in the library, tracing her finger over a page she wasn’t reading. Her books were open, but her thoughts were somewhere else. Somewhere deeper.
Under her sleeve, she had redrawn the symbol again.She still didn’t know what it meant.
But she knew it was hers.
And sooner or later, she would find out whyBy the end of her first year at Veylspire Academy, Riku Draven was the name on everyone’s tongue.
At eleven, she outdueled students twice her age with frightening calm. Her incantations were near-perfect. Her bloodbinding control was sharper than most nobles who'd already taken their second names. Professors marveled. Classmates whispered.
She should’ve been proud.
Instead, she felt like a candle burning too fast.
“Princess Riku, could you demonstrate for the class?”Professor Zareth, head of Arcane Foundations, gestured toward the center circle. His tone was sweet false. The kind that smiled while hoping to see you stumble.
She stepped forward anyway. Silent. Composed.
She completed the soul-weave in half the required time. Clean lines. No cracks. Her form was flawless.
“Draven blood,” he muttered with forced cheer. “So very… precise.”
Some clapped. Others didn't bother.
In the back, her classmates exchanged looks. One girl rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath.
Riku caught it. “Try-hard freak.”
Later that day, her desk was moved. Her ink well shattered. Her notes disappeared.No one saw anything, of course.
She said nothing, as always.
But when the girl who called her a freak showed up the next morning with black vines tangled around her boots enchanted, cursed, harmless but humiliating Riku didn’t need to ask who did it.
She saw Amon across the hall, watching from behind a column.
He didn’t nod. Didn’t speak. Just turned and walked away.Riku ducked out of the lecture hall early that evening, heart tight in her chest.
She wasn’t sure why. The spell had gone fine. No one had hexed her bag today.But still, she felt it the weight. The quiet sting behind her ribs. Like she’d been holding her breath all day.
She headed toward the library wing, but paused when she saw one of the kitchen servants struggling to carry a crate of herbs up the side hall. He was thin, older, trembling a little under the weight.
Without a word, she stepped forward and took half the load from his arms.
The man blinked. “Lady Draven, I.... You don’t have to”
“I know,” she said softly. “But you looked like you needed help.”
He stared at her like she’d grown horns and then smiled. Not the forced, fearful smile nobles were used to. A real one. Grateful. Warm.
“Thank you.”
She nodded, then turned.
“...You’re weird.”
Riku blinked and looked up.
A girl stood leaning against the pillar behind her

fellow student, same year, red braids, dark skin, and narrowed, curious eyes. Riku knew her name was Kaelith, and that she never spoke unless it mattered.

“I mean it,” Kaelith said. “You’re weird. But… I like weird.”
She shoved her hands in her pockets and started walking away, then paused.
“If you ever want to sit with someone who doesn’t want to use your last name like a crown,” she said over her shoulder, “I’m usually at the back table. Second floor.”
Then she disappeared down the corridor.
Riku stood alone in the hall for a long time.
And for the first time all day, the weight in her chest eased. Just a little.
The castle halls were quiet that night.
Back in her chambers, Riku sat curled beneath her silk blanket, face pressed into her pillow, trying not to breathe too loudly.
She didn’t know why it hit her that night.Maybe it was Kaelith’s kindness.Maybe it was the way no one looked her in the eye during dueling drills.Maybe it was the way she kept smiling when she didn’t feel it anymore.
But somewhere between thinking and blinking, she’d started crying.
Not a few tears. Sobbing.The ugly, hiccuping kind she hadn’t done since she was five.She didn’t even realize how loud it had gotten until
Bang.
Her door opened with a dramatic creak. Amon stood in the doorway, arms crossed, face unreadable.
“What is that noise?” he said flatly. “Is something dying?”
Riku whipped around, face red, eyes blotchy. “I..I'm fine!”
He raised a brow. “Clearly.”
She sniffled and grabbed her pillow to cover her face. “Get out.”
He didn’t move. Just stared at her, letting the silence thicken.
“…You’re crying,” he said at last, like the words tasted strange. “A Draven. Crying. Loudly.”
“Shut up,” she mumbled through the pillow.
He stepped further in. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”

He let out a long, dramatic sigh. “You’ll ruin the bloodline if you sob that loud. The ancestors can probably hear you.”
“…Then maybe they should come parent you,” she snapped.
That made him pause. Then unexpectedly he laughed. Just once. Quiet, short, like a cough he hadn’t meant to let slip.
He turned toward the door. “Sleep, Riku. Or at least cry into the pillow. Sound carries.”
Then he left, pulling the door shut behind him.
She stared at the wall for a long time, cheeks still damp.
She didn’t feel better. But for once, she didn’t feel alone either.