Imagine getting dropped into a world that completely turns everything you thought you knew upside down. I’m talking full-on spy drama, actual magic, and situations so crazy they felt like scenes from a fever dream. That’s where I ended up—and trust me, nothing could’ve prepared me for it.

  It all started with this test. Not your average pencil-and-paper kind either. This one felt like life or death. I still remember the way my chest tightened, how every breath felt like I was drowning in thin air. Panic hit hard, like it wrapped around me and wouldn’t let go—even after it was over.

  Later on, Mr. Drails told me the test was supposed to show how unpredictable danger can be. “Just part of your training,” he said, like it was no big deal. And sure, maybe it made sense, but it didn’t exactly make me feel better. The whole thing felt less like training and more like getting tossed into a fire just to see if you'd burn.

  The world I was now in? Completely nuts. People walking around casually using magic, talking about spy missions like they were planning lunch. The tech was next-level too—stuff that made anything back home look ancient. Everyone here just… fit. They were confident, skilled, and acted like this weird mix of Hogwarts meets secret agents was totally normal.

  Meanwhile, I was barely keeping it together.

  I didn’t know how to fight. I didn’t know any spells. I definitely didn’t know how to act like I belonged in some top-secret magic spy school. Being surrounded by people who were clearly built for this life didn’t exactly help either. I felt like I’d stumbled into a video game halfway through the story without playing the tutorial.

  Then came lunchtime.

  You’d think food would be a break from all the chaos, but even the cafeteria here felt like its own kind of madness. I showed up right at one, following the crowd into a giant room full of energy—people laughing, chatting, acting like the morning hadn’t been completely insane.

  One guy immediately stood out. Brown hair flopping over his forehead, surrounded by a crowd that seemed to hang on his every word. He had that vibe—like he was used to being the center of attention.

  I grabbed a tray (surprisingly decent food, by the way—definitely better than whatever my old high school used to serve) and found a quiet table in the corner. I tried to keep my head down, play it cool, and pretend I wasn’t freaking out. But the room’s buzzing energy made it impossible to really relax. I felt out of place, like the new kid at a school where everyone already had their cliques and inside jokes.

  I was mid-bite into a burrito (which was actually amazing) when someone called out.

  “Hey there!”

  I looked up, startled, to see a guy heading over. He had black hair styled forward, a sharp button-down shirt, slacks, and the kind of laid-back smile that instantly made you like him. His skin was a warm, smooth brown, and he carried himself with this chill confidence that didn’t feel forced.

  “Hey,” I replied, trying not to sound awkward.

  “You’re the new guy, right?” he asked, eyes glinting like he already knew the answer.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” I said, kind of surprised how fast news traveled around here.

  “I’m Tisiah,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand. I introduced myself, glad someone wasn’t giving me the side-eye.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “So, what’s your deal, Connor?” he asked, sitting down across from me. “How’d you end up in the middle of this?”

  I hesitated. How much do you say when nothing makes sense yet?

  “Long story,” I said, setting my fork down. “It started with prom night, which went from normal to insane real fast. TSA agents showed up, things got dangerous, and somehow I got dragged into this place thanks to Mr. Drails.”

  Tisiah raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle. “That’s definitely not your average transfer story.”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” I said, taking another bite of my burrito. Still amazing.

  “What happens after lunch?” I asked between bites.

  “Break. Then you’re back in class. But you won’t get your full schedule ‘til tomorrow,” he said. “Perks of being new—you get to breathe for a second.”

  “Finally, some good news,” I said, relieved I didn’t have to sprint to a magical defense class just yet.

  Right then, the bell rang. Everyone started filing out into this massive outdoor field that looked more like a futuristic training complex than a schoolyard. There was a basketball court, a track, even security fences so tall they blocked out part of the sky. Totally normal… if you were training to be a super-spy, I guess.

  As I followed the crowd, someone caught my eye.

  It wasn’t just that she stood out—it was like the entire world dimmed around her. Her hair flowed in waves that shimmered with every step, shifting from deep jet black to luminous gold, like strands of sunlight and shadow playing tag in real time. It was mesmerizing—unnatural, but not in a creepy way. More like the universe had customized her in high-definition.

  Her skin was impossibly smooth, the kind of flawless that skincare brands dream about and never achieve. There wasn’t a single blemish, not a hint of imperfection. It almost glowed, kissed by some invisible light source that followed her like a loyal fan.

  Her lips were a bold, stunning red—perfectly shaped and totally unapologetic. Not the kind of red you see every day, but the kind you notice across a crowded room and can’t stop thinking about later. They made a statement without her having to say a word.

  And the way she moved?

  Graceful wasn’t even the right word. She didn’t walk—she glided, each step smooth and confident, like she owned the floor beneath her. Every motion was precise, yet effortless, like a living runway model pulled straight out of the pages of some top-tier fashion magazine and dropped into reality. It was all so perfectly put together that it felt unfair—like she was part of some exclusive breed of people designed to make everyone else feel a little less shiny.

  There could’ve been a thousand people in that space, but your eyes would still land on her. Every. Single. Time.

  “Her name’s September,” Tisiah said, catching my stare. “September Carvery. She’s kind of a legend around here. Only hangs with the best of the best. One of those ‘you can’t sit with us’ types.”

  “Cool,” I said, still watching her glide across the field.

  “She mostly hangs out with people like Malachi,” he added.

  “Who’s that?”

  Tisiah tilted his head toward the guy with the brown hair from the cafeteria. “That guy. Top spy mage. He’s a beast in combat, but he kind of skips the whole ‘thinking’ part. Just dives in fists first.”

  I nodded slowly. Okay, so we had school royalty, the best fighter, and magical cliques. This was feeling more and more like Hogwarts and Kingsman had a baby.

  We were walking when Malachi passed right by us. He was taller than I expected, built like someone who never skipped training day. Before I could steer us out of the way, Tisiah accidentally bumped into him.

  “Watch it,” Malachi snapped, turning around fast.

  “Sorry, man,” Tisiah said quickly, hands up like he didn’t want trouble.

  But Malachi wasn’t buying it.

  He scowled, and before I could blink, he threw a punch—hard. It hit Tisiah square in the chest, knocking him to the ground like it was nothing.

  “Hey!” I shouted, stepping in without even thinking. “Chill out! It was an accident!”

  Malachi turned, eyes drilling into me. For a second, I thought he was going to hit me too. The way he stared made my blood freeze.

  Then, just like that, he backed off.

  “Be careful who you stand up for,” he said, voice low and sharp before turning away.

  His group followed behind him like a pack, leaving a stunned silence in their wake. I knelt next to Tisiah and helped him up.

  “You okay?” I asked, still watching Malachi disappear into the crowd.

  Tisiah nodded, brushing off his shirt. “Yeah. Been hit harder.”

  But I wasn’t so sure. There was something in the way Malachi looked at me—like a warning.

  He reminded me of someone. Kirk Jexifan—except worse. More violent. More dangerous. The kind of guy you didn’t want as an enemy.

  And just like that, my first day at spy school had officially gone from weird… to straight-up terrifying.