It was a rainy morning in Paris.

Françoise Dupont High buzzed with chatter as students filed in for the new school year. In the back corner of the classroom, Marinette Dupain-Cheng tapped her pen anxiously against her notebook. “Did Madame Bustier say something about a transfer student today?” she whispered to Alya. “Yeah, from Morocco, I think,” Alya replied, adjusting her glasses. “No social media, no blog, nothing. She's a ghost.” Just then, the door opened.

A girl stepped inside, Her skin was warm-toned, her eyes a striking Blue-ocean. Her curls framed a calm, unreadable face. She wore a dark brown leather satchel, and around her neck, glinted a smooth, obsidian-like pendant—veined with glowing orange cracks. “This is Maya moon, our new student,” Madame Bustier announced. “She’s just moved to Paris. Please make her feel welcome.”