Leaving the cafeteria behind, you, Rune, and Fibble made your way toward your next class. The halls of Fablewood Academy were bustling with students, some hurrying to their next lesson, others lingering in groups, chattering away. Rune walked beside you, his tail swishing idly, still riding the excitement of meeting Gael. Fibble, ever the critic, was still muttering about the cafeteria’s portion sizes that were way too small, but even he seemed in a good mood.

That mood shifted the moment you stepped into the corridor leading to the Class 104.

A group of upperclassmen blocked your path, their expressions dark with amusement. Before you could react, one of them shoved you aside, knocking you off balance, Fibble had to burry his claws into your shoulder to not fall. Rune barely had time to glance at you before they surrounded him, pushing him back against the stone wall. His tail twitched, curling slightly around his legs as if it, too, could sense the danger.

“Well, well, if it isn’t a little goblin-faeling,” one of them sneered. “Tell me, does it feel good walking these halls, knowing exactly what your kind has done to this world?”

Rune exhaled sharply, his ears drooping slightly. “My clan isn’t like the others. We’re progressive, we don’t—”

Another student cut him off with a mocking laugh.

“Oh, sure. Do you really think we would believe any of your kind could be civilised enough to change? We remember. We know the truth.”

Fibble flapped his wings indignantly, puffing up.

“And what truth would that be, exactly? That you lot are spineless enough to pick on a single student while in a group? Real noble, that.”

One of the bullies grabbed Fibble roughly, earning a squawk of protest.

“And what about you? A talking owl? Should’ve stayed in the forest where you belong. You’re not even a real part of this school.”

You stepped forward, fists clenched, ready to intervene—but another voice cut in before you could act.

“Stop this.”

Tsuki stood a few feet away, his voice calm yet firm. He wasn’t intimidating, not in the way others could be. His presence was soft, gentle, like a quiet evening breeze. And yet, his words carried weight.

One of the bullies scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Oh, and what do you know? You’re clearly from the Celestial Plains! Your people have never had to deal with goblin-fae. Myrcadawn is far away from your peaceful little home.”

They turned their ire on him, on you, even, throwing around insults—

“naïve moon-gazer,” “green bastard,” and “otherworlder freak with no Resonance.”

Rune stood still, gripping his tail as it began to bristle. His tail’s mouth curled slightly, showing his teeth and growling, but Rune gently pushed him back down.

“Go on,” one of them taunted again. “Show us your true nature, filthy goblin. Attack us. Prove us right little green bastard!”

Rune didn’t move. His breathing was controlled, his expression carefully neutral. He refused to take the bait.

But before they could escalate further, the bullies suddenly stiffened as they looked toward Tsuki. Fear flickered across their faces, and they quickly mumbled about having class before darting away down the hall.

Tsuki blinked in confusion, surprised that they could be afraid of him. He finally turned to glance behind him—only to freeze himself.

Standing at the entrance to the classroom was a tall, ominous figure dressed in black and grey with touches of deep red. He exuded an aura of quiet menace, his hooked nose and sharp features giving him the unmistakable look of an old evil witch.

Mordain Grimm.

“Inside,” the Ancient Curses professor said simply, his voice smooth but carrying an undeniable weight.

There was no anger, no immediate reprimand, but the mere presence of him had sent the bullies fleeing.

With a quiet nod, Tsuki entered the room first. You moved to follow when Mordain suddenly extended a small, neatly wrapped bag toward Rune.

“For the moral,” he said, his tone lighter than before.

Rune hesitated before taking the bag, peeking inside to find handmade chocolates. He looked up, startled, but Mordain continued,

“You handled yourself well. Continue to do so. The only way to prove them wrong is not to become what they expect.”

A warm smile spread across Rune’s face, his tail immediately curling around Mordain in an affectionate gesture. The professor merely raised a brow before patting the tail briefly, as if indulging it.

Still grinning, Rune stepped into the classroom, and you followed suit.

Once everyone was seated, Mordain finally spoke again.

“Before we begin,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the room, “let me make one thing clear. I will not tolerate bullying in my class. If I so much as hear a whisper of it happening under my watch, there will be consequences.”

His tone was even, but the warning was palpable.

Silence fell over the classroom. Even those who hadn’t witnessed the incident seemed to understand that this was not a professor to cross.
With that, Mordain turned to the board, beginning his lecture.