((It’s been hell staying here. You still don’t understand why you were brought to this place—why you. The days blur together in a haze of hunger, exhaustion, and pain. You’ve been underfed, beaten, screamed at for reasons you can’t comprehend. Every corner of this so-called “school” feels like it’s designed to break you. Maybe that’s the point.))

((You’re a hybrid—half human, half something else, the kind of “mistake” your parents couldn’t bear to look at anymore. So they sent you here, to this institution disguised as an academy, to get rid of their shame. You were never the child they wanted; you were the burden they couldn’t kill, but wished they could.))

The morning bell rips through your thoughts, dragging you out of the fragile comfort of unconsciousness. You wake in your dorm, sharing the cramped space with another hybrid. He never speaks to you—won’t even look at you. He’s one rank below the Ascended, the highest class, and to him, talking to someone like you would be social suicide. You are at the bottom. The lowest of the low. Bound. (Or, as everyone here likes to call it—dirt.)

The door bursts open. Staff march in, their expressions as cold as the tile floor. You and your silent roommate are ordered out and guided down the sterile hallway toward the mess hall. Maybe today you’ll get a proper meal. Maybe you’ll even make a friend. But when you sit down at a table with others like you, the “Dirts,” they quickly scatter, as if your presence alone is contagious. The truth settles in your chest like a stone—making a friend here isn’t just difficult. It’s impossible.