Professor Grogar did not speak immediately. He stood behind his massive stone lectern, his iron-shod hooves planted wide, breathing smoke like a dormant volcano. His eyes yellow and slit-pupiled scanned the amphitheater, moving from row to row, judging souls.

  I was huddled in the back corner, doing my best impression of a piece of moss. Don't see me. Don't see me.

  Grogar’s gaze stopped. It locked onto the back corner.

  "You," he rumbled.

  The single word vibrated in my chest cavity.

  I looked around. Maybe there was a goblin behind me? No. Just the cold stone wall.

  "The Human," Grogar clarified, his voice dripping with disdain. "Why are you hiding in the shadows like a rat?"

  I swallowed hard, clutching my quill. "I... I have bad eyesight, Professor? The darkness helps?"

  "Lies," Grogar snorted. A puff of grey smoke drifted from his nostrils. "You are hiding because you are weak. You fear the gaze of your betters."

  He pointed a finger the size of a sausage at the very front of the room.

  "Down here."

  My stomach dropped. "Excuse me?"

  "Front row," Grogar commanded. "Center. I will not have a human skulking behind my students, stabbing them in the back. I want you where I can see you."

  A ripple of laughter went through the class. It was a cruel, scratching sound.

  "Now!" Grogar roared, slamming his fist on the desk.

  I jumped. I didn't argue. You don't argue with an eight-foot Minotaur.

  I grabbed my bag and began the Walk of Shame.

  Every step down the steep stone stairs felt like a mile. I could feel the eyes of every demon, warlock, and beastkin on me. They were judging my uniform, my hair, my lack of horns.

  I reached the bottom of the pit.

  There was only one empty seat in the front row.

  Of course there was.

  It was the seat directly next to Demian.

  He was leaning back, arms crossed, watching my approach with that infuriating, smug grin plastered on his face. He pulled his legs back slightly to let me pass, but he didn't make it easy.

  "Cozy," he whispered as I squeezed past his knees to get to the chair.

  I sat down. I opened my notebook. I stared straight ahead at the professor's belt buckle, refusing to look at the Prince sitting six inches to my right.

  I could feel his body heat. I could smell the ozone.

  I hate this school, I wrote in my notebook. I hate it so much.

  Part 2: The Theory of Dominance

  "Demonology," Grogar began, his voice dropping to a lecture tone that sounded like gravel in a blender, "is not magic. It is not weaving pretty lights like the Elves. It is not hammering metal like the Dwarves."

  He picked up a piece of chalk. He didn't write on a board; he drew a jagged line on the stone floor.

  "It is Dominance."

  He looked at the class.

  "The Abyss does not care for your mana pool. It cares for your Will. To summon is to invite a predator into your home. To bind is to put a leash on a storm."

  He paced back and forth, his hooves clacking rhythmically.

  "Most of you have the blood," he grunted. "The connection is natural. But for the... uninitiated..." He glanced briefly at me. "...it is usually fatal."

  I shrank in my seat.

  "Today, we start small," Grogar announced. "We do not summon Lords. We do not summon Beasts. We summon the vermin of the Abyss. The Lesser Imp."

  He stopped pacing and looked directly at the front row.

  "Prince Demian."

  Demian didn't flinch. "Professor."

  "You are of the House of Nox. This should be child's play for you." Grogar gestured to the open space in the center of the pit. "Demonstrate. Show the class how a true heir commands the veil."

  Demian stood up. He adjusted his cuffs, shot me a quick, arrogant glance, and stepped into the circle.

  "Watch closely, Red," he murmured as he walked past me. "Try not to blink."

  Part 3: The Summoning

  Demian stood in the center of the room. The red lights of the dungeon seemed to dim, drawn toward him.

  He didn't need chalk. He didn't need a book.

  He simply raised his right hand.

  The air around him changed. The temperature dropped sharply, freezing the breath in my lungs. A low hum, like the sound of a high-tension wire, filled the room.

  Purple energy began to bleed from his fingertips. It wasn't soft light; it was jagged, violent arcs of electricity that snapped and hissed.

  "Aperio Ianua," Demian commanded. His voice wasn't his own. It was layered, distorted, sounding like three people speaking at once.

  He slashed his hand downward.

  CRACK.

  Reality tore open.

  A rift appeared in the air—a vertical slit of absolute darkness, rimmed with violet fire. The smell of sulfur intensified, choking and hot.

  "Veni," Demian ordered.

  Something scrabbled at the edge of the rift.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Claws. Long, black, hooked claws gripped the fabric of the air.

  With a wet, tearing sound, a creature pulled itself through the hole and landed on the stone floor.

  SPLAT.

  It was hideous.

  It was the size of a large dog, but hairless. Its skin was a mottled grey-green, slick with slime. It had oversized ears, a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth, and glowing yellow eyes that darted around frantically.

  A Lesser Imp.

  The rift snapped shut behind it.

  The Imp hissed, crouching low. It looked at the students. It looked at Grogar. It looked ready to attack.

  Then, it looked at Demian.

  Demian didn't move. He didn't raise a shield. He just looked down at the creature with cold, bored eyes.

  "Heel," Demian said softly.

  It was a whisper, but it carried the weight of a hammer.

  The Imp froze. It whimpered. The aggression evaporated instantly, replaced by terror. The creature dropped to its belly, crawling toward Demian’s boots, dragging itself along the stone floor.

  It reached his feet and licked the leather of his boot, shaking.

  "Good pet," Demian sneered.

  The class murmured in appreciation. It was a perfect summon. Instant control. No struggle.

  I stared, wide-eyed. My pen hovered over my paper. I had never seen magic like that. It was raw. It was terrifying. And... admittedly... it was impressive.

  Demian looked up. He caught my eye. He saw the shock on my face, and his smirk widened.

  He nudged the Imp with his foot.

  "Go say hello to my neighbor," he commanded, pointing at me.

  The Imp’s head snapped toward me.

  It hissed.

  It didn't look at me with fear. It looked at me with hunger. It sensed what Demian had sensed—that I had no defined mana. I was prey.

  The Imp scrambled forward, claws clicking on the stone. It moved fast.

  "Wait!" I gasped, pressing myself back into my chair.

  The Imp jumped onto my desk.

  It was right in my face. I could smell its breath—rotten meat and old eggs. It crouched on my notebook, drooling slightly. It reached out a claw toward my face.

  "Demian!" I shouted, panic seizing me. "Call it off!"

  I froze, terrified to move.

  Demian stood there, arms crossed, enjoying the show. He let the Imp get close. Too close. The claw was inches from my nose.

  "Scared, Red?" he asked casually.

  "I am going to kill you," I whispered, my eyes locked on the drooling monster.

  Demian chuckled. He snapped his fingers.

  SNAP.

  The Imp froze mid-reach.

  "Down," Demian ordered. "She is not food. She is... a pet. Like you."

  The insult stung more than the fear.

  The Imp hissed at me one last time, stole my quill, and hopped off the desk, scurrying back to Demian’s side.

  Demian looked at me, his purple eyes glittering.

  "See?" he said, sitting back down next to me, the Imp curling up at his feet like a grotesque dog. "Nothing to worry about. As long as I'm here... you're safe. Mostly."

  I looked at him. I looked at the Imp chewing on my quill.

  I didn't say thank you.

  "You owe me a quill," I hissed, my voice shaking with rage.

  Demian just laughed.

  And in the front of the room, Professor Grogar nodded approvingly.

  "Adequate," the Minotaur grunted. "Next."

  ?Professor Grogar rumbled, the sound vibrating in the floorboards.

  ?He kicked a heavy crate toward the front row. Inside were books. But they weren't normal textbooks. These were thick, bound in dark, scaly leather that looked suspiciously like skin. Along the spine, jagged bone ridges protruded, and on the right side, where the clasp should be, there were rows of interlocking iron teeth.

  ?"Pass them down," Grogar ordered. "Carefully. They bite."

  ?I took a book from Demian, holding it by the corners as if it were a radioactive brick. It felt warm. It pulsed slightly in my hands, like a sleeping heart.

  ?"This is your syllabus for the year," Grogar announced. "The Codex Umbra. Learn it. Understand it. Or be consumed by it."

  ?I looked at Demian. He was holding his book casually, stroking the spine with a thumb.

  ?"Disgusting," I whispered, grimacing at the pulsating leather.

  ?A Beastkin student in the second row raised a trembling hand. "Professor? How... how do we open it? It's locked."

  ?Grogar grinned, exposing his yellow tusks.

  ?"With blood!" he roared.

  ?I froze.

  ?Blood? I thought, panic rising. Is this a class or a horror novel I can't escape? I am not cutting myself for a grade!

  ?"Or," Grogar added, "with pure affinity. If the Abyss recognizes you, it will yield. If not... you do not belong here."

  ?He pointed a massive finger at the class.

  ?"Place your hand on the cover. If it opens, you stay. If it bites you... get out."

  ?I watched as the student next to me—a dark-skinned Warlock—placed his hand on the book. Click. The teeth retracted.

  ?Another student, a nervous Satyr, tried.

  ?SNAP.

  ?The book clamped down on his fingers.

  ?"YEEEOW!"

  ?"Out!" Grogar shouted. "You are weak! Leave!"

  ?The Satyr ran out of the room, clutching his bleeding hand.

  ?My heart was hammering against my ribs. I looked at my book. The teeth looked very sharp.

  ?"Go on, Red," Demian whispered, leaning close to me. "Don't tell me you're scared of a little book? I thought you were here to learn."

  ?"Shut up," I hissed.

  ?I took a deep breath. I am Valerie de Valois. I am not weak.

  ?I placed my hand flat on the scaly cover. I braced myself for pain. I braced myself for the teeth.

  ?Nothing happened for a second.

  ?Then...

  ?Hssssssss.

  ?The book didn't bite. It hissed, a sound like steam escaping a vent. The leather under my palm felt hot, vibrating intensely.

  ?Click-click-click.

  ?The iron teeth unlatched one by one, retreating into the cover. The book fell open.

  ?I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

  ?"Page 34," Grogar commanded. "The Lesser Imp."

  ?I looked down at the page.

  ?The text was written in red ink on black parchment. The script was jagged, sharp, and utterly alien. It looked like scratches made by a madman.

  ?I can't read this, I thought, staring at the symbols. I've never studied Abyssal script.

  ?"As you can see," Grogar lectured, pacing the room, "Demonology is an ancient ritual. We use the language to lure beings from other dimensions. Most of you will struggle to pronounce the phonetics. But the Erebus... the noble demon races... like Prince Demian..."

  ?Grogar nodded respectfully at Demian.

  ?"...for them, it is instinct."

  ?He pointed to a random student. "You. Try the summoning chant."

  ?The student stood up, sweating. He managed to summon a tiny, sickly-looking Imp before passing out from exhaustion.

  ?"Pathetic," Grogar laughed. "This is not for the weak."

  ?Demian chuckled darkly beside me. He raised his hand.

  ?"Professor," he called out, his voice smooth and mocking. "Why don't we let the Human have a try? She seems so... eager."

  ?My head snapped up. "No. No, that's really not necessary."

  ?"Come to the front, Red!" Grogar roared, seemingly delighted by the idea of seeing a human fail. "Show us what you can do!"

  ?I sighed, a long, ragged sound of defeat.

  ?"Jerk," I whispered at Demian.

  ?"Good luck, pet," he smirked.

  ?I stood up. The other students looked at me like I was a lamb walking into a dragon's maw. I walked to the center of the circle, my face burning red.

  ?"I can't even read this," I muttered to myself, looking down at the open book in my hands.

  ?"Begin!" Grogar shouted. "Read the incantation!"

  ?I looked at the page.

  ?"I don't know wh—"

  ?I stopped.

  ?As I stared at the jagged, alien symbols, something strange happened.

  ?The letters... shifted.

  ?They didn't move on the paper, but in my mind, they rearranged themselves. The sharp scratches softened. The meaning didn't need to be translated; it simply appeared in my brain.

  ?I didn't just see symbols. I saw intent. I saw structure.

  ?"Do you see this?" I whispered, looking up at the class.

  ?"Read!" Grogar growled. "Or return to your seat in shame!"

  ?I couldn't fail. Not in front of him. Not in front of that arrogant, smug Prince.

  ?I looked back at the text.

  ?Grogar continued to lecture over me, his voice a background drone. "Every demon has a level. First, the Lesser Demon. Useful for chores. Second, the Middle Demon. Hard to control in groups. Third, the Greater Demon..."

  ?His voice started to fade.

  ?The words on the page began to speak to me. It wasn't like reading a foreign language. It felt like... remembering. It felt like a song I had known since birth but had forgotten the tune of until now.

  ?It felt like a mother tongue.

  ?"Incantus..."

  ?My voice slipped out.

  ?But it wasn't my normal voice. It was deeper. Resonant. It echoed against the stone walls as if two people were speaking at once.

  ?Grogar stopped talking mid-sentence. He looked at me.

  ?I didn't notice. I was lost in the words.

  ?"Incantus... Voco... Abyssi..."

  ?The reality of the classroom began to blur at the edges of my vision. The red lights of the dungeon faded, replaced by a swirling grey mist.

  ?I felt a surge of power not the trickle I was used to, but a tsunami rushing through my veins. It was cold, dark, and intoxicating.

  ?Next to me, Demian stood up.

  ?He took a step back.

  ?"Valerie?" he whispered.

  ?He didn't sound mocking anymore. He sounded terrified.

  ?I didn't answer. I couldn't stop. The words were pouring out of me now, a torrent of ancient power.

  ?"APERIO!"

  ?My eyes flashed.

  ?In the dark classroom, two beacons of Neon Green light ignited, cutting through the gloom.

  ?My red hair, usually heavy and messy, began to lift. It floated around my head in slow motion, dancing as if I were submerged deep underwater, defying gravity.

  ?The air pressure in the room dropped so low that ears popped. The stone floor beneath my feet began to crack.

  ?I wasn't reading the book anymore.

  ?The book was reading me.