I Raised the Demon Queen (Now She Won't Leave Me Alone)

The academy courtyard was shaped like a sunburst, with stone tiles fanning out from a central fountain. Around its edges, dozens of students clustered in tight packs, uniforms crisp, expressions ranging from smug to terrified. It was the first day of the semester, and the air buzzed with both mana and hormones.

Revantra stood in the middle of it all like a lion among lambs. Her uniform was pristine. Her expression? Mild contempt.

Elias had walked her to the gates, as promised, and made it exactly six paces before she spun on her heel and hissed, "Don't wave. That's embarrassing."

"I wasn't going to wave," Elias lied.

"You were mentally halfway through the wave. I felt it."

"I'll wave when you come home. Like a proud parent."

"Elias."

"Go on, Rina. Try not to commit any war crimes."

With a theatrical eye roll and an unconvincing scoff, she turned and marched toward the main building. Elias stayed a while longer, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching her disappear into the sea of students.

"Good luck," he murmured, and headed back.

He hoped the school was ready.

The first class was Spell Precision: a required course for all underclassmen and transfer students. The instructor, Professor Dalmont, was a square-shouldered man with a constant squint and the type of beard that suggested he could fell a tree with a cough.

"We start simple," he said, pacing the training field. "Basic firebolt. Target practice. Control over power is the goal."

Each student was given a dummy—a straw-stuffed, reinforced wooden mannequin with faint enchantments against elemental damage. Revantra stared at hers like it had insulted her lineage.

Around her, nervous students aimed wobbly firebolts that fizzled or sputtered. One boy singed the grass. Another set his robe sleeve alight and had to be extinguished by a hovering water sprite.

Revantra raised her hand. A bead of fire gathered on her palm, compact and silent.

"Remember—low mana output," Dalmont called. "No more than level one incantation. Focus!"

Revantra tilted her head, considered, and gently flicked her wrist.

The firebolt left her palm like a silent scream. It hit the dummy square in the chest—and the entire thing exploded. Not burst. Not caught fire. Exploded. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Flames roared outward, reducing the straw to ash and splintering the wooden limbs. A nearby student yelped and ducked. Professor Dalmont flinched. Everyone turned to stare.

Revantra lowered her hand slowly. "That dummy was structurally unsound."

Dead silence.

Then a snicker.

Then whispers.

"Who is that transfer girl?"

"Did she vaporize it?"

"Did you see her form?"

"She didn't even chant...!"

Professor Dalmont, for his part, was blinking rapidly. "Miss... Rina, was it?"

"Yes, Professor," she replied, cool as winter glass.

"Your, uh, fire control seems a bit... advanced."

"I apologize," she said evenly. "It won't happen again."

He frowned, unconvinced. "Right. I'll fetch you another dummy. Perhaps one from the reinforced batch."

She gave a slight, regal nod, and stood back.

A few feet away, a boy with thick glasses and hair that obeyed no known laws of nature was gaping at her like she'd walked out of a prophecy. After a moment, he inched over.

"Hey," he said in a voice that tried very hard not to crack. "That was—uh—that was incredible."

Revantra arched a brow. "Was it?"

"Oh yeah. I've never seen anyone cast without incantation in the first week. I mean, most people are still reciting from index cards." He held up his own, which was creased and faintly singed. "You really melted that dummy. Impressive."

Revantra narrowed her eyes, unsure whether this was mockery or awe.

"I'm Theo," he added. "Second year, but I'm in the refresher class for spell accuracy. Uh. Bad hand-eye coordination."

He demonstrated by immediately dropping the index card.

She tilted her head. "You're not afraid of me?"

Theo blinked. "Should I be?"

"I just incinerated a magical construct. With my mind."

"Oh," he said, then shrugged. "Yeah, but you didn't aim it at me. So I figured that makes us friends."

Revantra stared at him. He grinned, the too-big kind of grin that made his ears wiggle.

She didn't know what to make of that.

By lunch, the rumors had spread.

She was a noble's bastard daughter, said one girl. She'd been homeschooled by a warlock. She'd fought in the Eastern Rebellion. One boy claimed his older brother saw her punch a golem in half. Another whispered she'd once dueled a professor and won.

Revantra ignored all of it. Mostly.

The cafeteria smelled like overcooked vegetables and magically-rehydrated stew. She picked at hers with mild suspicion, certain it had once been bark. Theo plopped down across from her with a tray that had three puddings and no real food.

"I make poor choices," he explained when she stared. "But pudding doesn't judge me."

She gave him a look somewhere between pity and fascination. "Is this what friendship is?"

"What, sitting with a girl who exploded a dummy and might secretly be a time-traveling sorceress? Yeah. Pretty much."

She blinked. Then—just barely—smiled.

When she returned home that evening, Elias was stirring something on the stove that claimed to be soup.

"How'd it go?" he asked, without turning.

"I destroyed school property. Earned a reputation. Befriended a sugar addict."

"So... normal day."

"More or less."

She plopped onto the couch, the stiffness in her shoulders finally unwinding.

Elias glanced over, noticed the faint smile on her face. "You melted the dummy, didn't you?"

"It provoked me."

"Of course it did."

He served her a bowl of questionable soup, and they sat side by side in silence, the kind that didn't demand filling.

"So," Elias said, nudging her. "Do you want to go back tomorrow?"

She paused, then nodded. "Yes. I think I do."

"Even with uniforms and weird food?"

"Even then."

He ruffled her hair. She didn't hex him. Progress.

To be continued...