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Chapter 1
Sarah
I balance my phone between my ear and shoulder, clutching my laptop bag close.
"Jen, I swear, if you could see this place, you'd be green with envy," I chuckle into the phone as I hurry through the hallways of Whispering Pines University. "The tech they have here makes our elementary school look like it's stuck in the Stone Age."
Jen's warm laugh filters through the speaker. "Well, that's why you're there, Sarah. To bring us cavemen into the 21st century. Nervous about your first day?"
I pause outside the door to the classroom, my hand hovering over the handle. "A little," I admit. "It's not just another class, you know? This is the course I've been waiting for, and the professor is supposed to be brilliant."
"And your advisor for that independent study thing, right?" Jen's voice is encouraging. "The, uh... Flipped Classroom Model?"
"Exactly," I nod, even though she can't see me. "This could be my chance to really make a difference, Jen. If I can figure out how to implement this model effectively, it could revolutionize the way we teach."
"Sounds amazing, Sarah. And terrifying. You sure you're ready for this? It's only been two years since..."
I cut her off, not wanting to delve into that particular memory. "I'm ready. This is my second year in the Educational Technology program. I've worked hard to get here, and I'm not letting anything hold me back."
"That's my girl," Jen says softly. "Go knock 'em dead."
I roll my eyes, grateful for Jen's attempt to lighten the mood. "Goodbye, Jen. I'll call you later."
Ending the call, I slip my phone into my bag and take a steadying breath.
The rush of cool air hits me first, a stark contrast to the stuffy hallway. I pause just inside the doorway, my eyes sweeping over the room. It's not the vast lecture hall I'd imagined, but a more intimate space designed to hold about a hundred students.
My gaze darts from face to face as I make my way up the shallow steps. I notice a few students with the telltale signs of their supernatural nature - a faint shimmer around a fae, the slightly elongated canines of a vampire. I settle into a seat in the fourth row, close enough to engage if I want to, but far enough to observe without being observed.
It's been five years since the Unveiling, when Supes had revealed themselves publicly. I remember the wonder I'd felt at the time, learning that creatures from myth and legend were real and had been living among us all along. Back then, it had seemed like the start of a magical new era.
But that was before my ex... Before I learned firsthand that supernatural strength and human cruelty could be a terrifying combination. Now, I find myself unconsciously tensing as Inotice the signs of Supes around me, my excitement replaced by a wariness I can't quite shake.
I pull out my laptop. This isn't just another class. This is Advanced Instructional Design with Dr. Lucas Morgan, the cornerstone of my graduate program and the key to my independent study.
A sudden hush falls over the room, snapping me out of my reverie. My head jerks up, and I feel my breath catch in my throat.
The professor has entered the room.
Dr. Morgan strides to the front with quiet confidence, his presence immediately commanding attention. He's tall, with broad shoulders that fill out his crisp button-down shirt in a way that's impossible to ignore. As he turns to face the class, I'm struck by the intensity of his piercing grey eyes.
"Good afternoon, everyone," he says, his deep voice resonating through the room. "Welcome to Advanced Instructional Design. I hope you're all prepared for a semester that will challenge your perceptions and push the boundaries of educational technology."
I catch myself inching forward in my seat, my spine straightening as Dr. Morgan's voice fills the room. My fingers hover over my keyboard, poised to take notes, but they remain motionless as I watch him pace the front of the classroom.
"In this course, we'll be exploring new frontiers in education," he says, his grey eyes sweeping across the room. They pause on me for a heartbeat, and I feel a jolt of electricity run through my body.
I blink hard, trying to focus on his words, but my traitorous mind keeps drifting to how his crisp blue shirt accentuates his broad shoulders, how his salt-and-pepper hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck.
Dr. Morgan turns to write something on the board, and I find myself admiring the strong line of his jaw, the way his slacks fit just so...
I give myself a mental shake, heat rising to my cheeks. What am I doing? This is my professor, for heaven's sake. I force my gaze back to my laptop screen, determined to focus on the lecture content.
Suddenly, a loud thud breaks the quiet concentration of the classroom. Someone's heavy textbook has slipped from their desk, hitting the floor with a resounding crack. The sound jolts through me, and for a moment, I'm not in the classroom anymore.
A flash of memory - the crash of a door, the acrid scent of alcohol, Mark's voice, low and menacing...
I blink hard, gripping the edge of my desk as I force myself back to the present. My heart races, but outwardly, I remain still, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I take a deep, shaky breath, trying to ground myself in the here and now.
