Emily stood by the dark entrance to the alleyway, her fingers clutching the fabric of her shirt. She was still wearing her silk pajama pants under the cloak—well, it wasn't like she could change into the trousers she had stolen from Agnes right in front of her! Don't judge—Agnes wouldn't even remember them; Emily had found them at the bottom of some drawer under a pile of old newspapers.
The newspapers, by the way, weren't interesting at all—wedding and funeral announcements for the wealthy, some brawls at city hall between people and the Shifters—as Emily understood, those were the creatures with horns and rabbit-like ears—and endless scandals at Wicked Delights Academy. It wasn't as if she had dreamed of ending up there, but she clearly had no other choice.
So, she had to change clothes in the nearest doorway. At least she had found herself boots yesterday in Hunter's attic, among mountains of junk, even if they were a size too big.
The old, leather, side-laced trousers were slightly oversized, slightly worn at the knees, but when Emily tightened them properly, she felt them lift her hips like a corset.
She pressed her back against the damp stone wall, tying the laces under her cloak, and as she adjusted the layers of fabric, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye.
A shadow in the corner of the alley.
A barely perceptible flicker of light.
Two figures. They stood close—one man, in a long coat with a half-open collar, his back to Emily. The woman—her head thrown back, legs spread apart at his sides. She writhed, and for a moment, Emily thought she wasn't a woman at all.
The woman jerked, her body arched.
What a place! Emily quickly looked away.
She tied the last knot, pulled on her boots, and before the two could notice her, she darted out of the alley.
***
Paris breathed rain.
The streets gleamed, the air was heavy with dampness, and thick clouds hung low.
She walked along Rue de Rivoli, among the arches and shadows. The streets were filled with all sorts of people, but compared to yesterday's market full of anthropomorphic animals, there were more humans here. Their clothing was varied as well, but it often looked expensive, and it felt strange—perhaps for the first time in her life—not to be wearing Armani on such a luxury street.
At Place Vendôme, the column towered high, but instead of the usual statue, a creature sat atop it—dark, with long wings. It watched the people below, but no one except Emily seemed to notice it.
The rain intensified as she approached Pont des Arts. The water in the Seine was dark as ink. She had a feeling that this river knew something, remembered something.
The Louvre rose before her like a giant beast.
Where Emily had expected the classical art museum from her world, the Louvre, a severe and imposing sign now stood: Wicked Delights Academy, with a motto beneath it: Seduction is the Art of the Reserved.
The entrance was completely deserted, as if people were deliberately avoiding it.
The sharp angles of the building seemed too precise, too harsh. In the rain, its architecture looked menacing—long corridors, windows glowing from within.
There was magic here. Alive.
Emily took a deep breath and stepped inside—sink or swim!
Her eyes had barely adjusted to the dimly lit interior when a sheet of paper with thin, elegant symbols was unfurled before her.
"Name?" asked a man in a dark coat.
"Emily Laurent," she answered, mentally thanking her French surname.
The man nodded, making a mark on the sheet.
"Proceed," he said curtly, and Emily moved forward, trying not to show how much the atmosphere unsettled her.
The room was shadowed, with only thin slivers of light seeping through narrow window slits. A few other candidates moved cautiously, stepping carefully on the smooth stone floor.
Right in front of her, there was a step that shimmered, but Emily did not notice, even though some of the few candidates in the hall also hesitated, testing it with the toe of their shoe. A tall, lanky red-haired boy balanced on it, arms spread wide like a tightrope walker.
Focused on adjusting her rolled-up sleeve, Emily stepped forward without thinking, and noticed nothing before something clicked softly beneath her feet. Her foot landed perfectly in the center of the step, momentum carrying her onward, and in an instant, she was across, without even slowing down.
Someone behind her muttered a quiet curse.
Feeling eyes on her, she stopped and, not understanding what had just happened, looked questioningly at the man in the coat.
He merely grunted, "Next."
It had been some kind of test, but Emily decided to ask about it later. For now, she had to focus on the next trial.
Before her stood an archway made of intricately twisted metal. It looked cold but radiated an unmistakable power. The same red-haired boy ahead of her stepped forward—and immediately stumbled back with a startled yelp.
Everyone around him recoiled as a fluffy cat-like tail sprouted from his back.
"Apologies," the man in the coat said dryly as two assistants were already leading the stunned boy away.
Emily swallowed, stuffing her hands into her pockets. She didn't expect anything strange to happen to her, but the fact that people could suddenly manifest hidden animal traits wasn't exactly reassuring.
She stepped forward.
The barrier trembled.
For a moment, she felt as if it was analyzing her—an emerald shimmer ran along the metal frame, as if brushing against invisible threads. Then, right before her, a line of text flared into existence:
"Let her be."
Emily frowned slightly.
She wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an insult, but at least she was allowed through.
She moved forward, pushing aside thoughts of what, exactly, the barrier had been searching for in her.
A grand staircase stretched before her in wide, shallow steps, their edges worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. She ascended with the others. More candidates waited on the stairs—she must have arrived among the last… tailed outcasts. Some whispered excitedly about the upcoming exams, while others walked in silence, focused on themselves.
The Louvre-Academy loomed over them, a mass of stone and shadow, its arches and sculpted facades fading into the evening light. Even the air here felt denser, filled with something elusive—as if the very walls remembered more than they should.
They entered a spacious hall where the ceiling rose in a dome, painted with dark, almost abstract patterns. At the front of the hall, a stage rose, illuminated by the warm yellow light of lamps, and on it, leaning on a tall, carved table, stood a woman.
She looked as if she had either just stepped out of a gothic thriller or was about to throw someone out of a window. Tall, slender, dressed in a dark suit that fit impeccably, she exuded a certain menacing charisma. Her hair—dark, short, carelessly tousled, as if she had no time for trivialities like a comb. But most striking were her eyes.
The right—icy gray, cold and piercing. The left—warm amber, instilling calm. A thin scar extended from it, disappearing beneath her cheekbone. And full, tempting lips curved in a mocking smile.
The woman waited for the hall to fill.
Emily quickly scanned the rows of chairs and, before they were all taken, settled in one of the back rows beside a girl who stood out among the others.
Her blonde hair fell in shimmering waves, reminiscent of sea foam, but the strands near her face had a grayish tint, as if washed out by time. Sharp facial features, skin with a barely noticeable pearlescent sheen… But something was off.
"Hello," Emily said to her.
The girl flinched, but clearly not out of fear—more from surprise—and responded just as briefly,
"Hello."
On the stage, the woman with mismatched eyes abruptly pushed away from the table and said,
"Let's begin."
The Academy's Deputy took a step forward, stopping at the center of the stage, allowing the candidates to get a good look at her. Her silhouette stood out sharply against the backdrop of the dark velvet curtain: refined, dangerous, like a blade honed to perfection. Her heterochromatic eyes swept across the hall, cold and assessing.
"Welcome. If you're here, it means you've already been selected. But don't be deceived—this doesn't mean you will stay."
Her voice was low, with a slight huskiness, carefully measured to sound both alluring and threatening.
"Before you stands the Wicked Delights Academy, the only official magical institution in France. Our graduates run state magical structures, advise the government, influence political processes, and, most importantly, shape the future of the magical society."
She paused, as if allowing them to grasp how vast the world they had entered truly was.
"Magical society has always been separate. We are not humans. Not entirely. We are something more. More refined. Stronger. More unrestrained. Some call us gods among mortals. Others—depraved beings without restraint."
A few candidates in the crowd whispered uneasily.
The Deputy smiled, slowly.
"We are neither. But yes, we have power. We know how to use our desires, rather than hide from them. We do not live in fear of our own nature. That is why those who fear or envy us cry the loudest about our immorality."
She tilted her head slightly.
"But make no mistake. Power comes with responsibility. Even we have limits."
Her eyes gleamed.
"The Temperance Police are the only force allowed to restrict us. They don't let us abuse humans… at least, not too blatantly. You won't be punished for trifles. You may use someone for your own benefit if you do it subtly enough. You may manipulate a person into going against themselves if you leave no proof. But if you are caught—the consequences will be… unpleasant."
She turned slightly toward the right side of the stage, where several figures in dark clothing stood.
"You will have time to figure out how far you can go. If, of course, you are accepted."
Her voice grew colder.
"For the Academy is not just a place of study. It is a place of transformation. Here, we do not simply unlock magical potential—we cultivate those who can handle their own nature. If you think control is strict discipline and denial of temptation, then you understand nothing."
She paused, letting the words sink in.
"Control is gained through experience. You will not grow stronger until you come face to face with your own desires. Until you allow yourself to try. And until you learn to choose."
Her smile widened.
"That is why our trials… are unique."
A few candidates tensed.
"But first—the structure."
She raised three long, even fingers.
"We have three faculties."
She gestured, and symbols lit up on the walls.
"The first—Reality Benders. The most powerful mages, capable of distorting the laws of physics, altering matter, rewriting the very fabric of the world. If you have real talent—you will end up here."
A pause.
"The second—Higher Shifters. Lupers, who understand the beast within themselves; Sirens, who can seduce anyone with just their voice; Agrimants, whose abilities are so rare that I won't even waste time explaining."
She cast a brief glance toward the crowd, as if daring someone to feel exceptional.
"The third—… Well, it's literally called Third Faculty. Those whose abilities do not fit into the previous two. Often they are weak, or the first line of Blood Awakening in a human family… but sometimes, among them, something extraordinary appears."
She let those words hang in the air.
"And now… about the trials."
At these words, the hall fell silent.
"There will be three."
She raised three fingers again.
"The first—temptation. You will be left alone with what stirs your emotions most. We'll see who falls and who can pass through it and emerge stronger."
Someone in the crowd swallowed audibly.
"The second—restriction. Magic will be at your disposal. But you will be forbidden from using it. It is a test. Not everyone passes it."
Emily thought this could be a way back to her world. But did she really want to go home? Curiosity and adrenaline surged.
"The third trial—strength. We will see what kind of power the worthy among you possess and which faculty you will enter. That is, of course, if you don't fail the first two."
The Deputy leaned forward slightly, her voice turning silkily dangerous:
"Those who do not pass have two choices. Either join the Dark Ones, or live among humans… though most, once magic is revealed to them, can never return to an ordinary life."
She brushed her hair back.
"Accommodation will begin in a few minutes. Get some sleep while you can. If you survive the trials, you will learn that true rest is a luxury few can afford."
With those words, she turned and left the stage, leaving behind a heavy, lingering anticipation in the hall.