Chapter 4: The Ethics Pairing
1911 Words
GISELLE’S POV
The Ethics Of Supernatural Coexistence class was held in one of the oldest parts of Nocturna college.
The walls around the class seemed like they were in existence t from the beginning of time and the time in the room seemed to be moving differently from the normal time.
The walls had carved markings on them that had long since faded but left marks. Their meanings were lost or deliberately hidden.
And the air, ohhh! The air smelled like it carried a familiar scent of chalk which had been layered over something old... like it was dipped in magic that had settled so deep that it may never fully disappear.
I chose a seat that was closer to the door.
This was my instinct to position myself where escaping would be easy when I needed it, which would be when the bell rings.
My notebook was resting neatly on the table in front of me, along with my pen and a small stack of blank index cards which I used as my only means of communication when the need arises and when it becomes a necessity.
Beneath the head warmer ,my snakes stirred.
They were restless.
They didn’t like being overly hidden, never had, and the old magic in the room only made it worse.
It was pressing against them, causing them to feel triggered and pulling at their awareness in a way that made it harder to keep them calm.
I could feel the subtle shifting beneath the fabric, the quiet resistance against restraint, and it sent a thin thread of unease through me.
Stay still, I urged silently, keeping my posture composed even as tension settled beneath my skin.
Students slowly began to fill the room.
Their presence was taking over the space and the echo of their voices were slowly fading.
A vampire took his seat a few rows ahead of mine and I could see faint shimmer of dust resting on his eyelids as though he was speeding through the bush to avoid coming late.
Nearby, three witches were speaking in hushed tones and their attention was fixed on a particular crystal which they passing it carefully among themselves, its glow was dim but steady.
Two werewolves entered together and they were moving in sync without needing to think about it, their steps aligned in a way that spoke of love and connection without explanation so it was obvious they were mates.
Belonging.
It was everywhere.
I lowered my gaze, focusing instead on arranging my things, keeping my movements small and deliberate because drawing attention to myself was the last thing I would want, and real silence, was the safest way to exist in my world.
Then the room shifted.
I felt it before I saw him.
Benjamin Thorne.
He walked in like the room was to adjust itself around him and attention was to naturally bend in his direction without commanding it to.
And it worked for him because people noticed him. Not subtly not quietly but all eyes fixed on him and he didn’t seem to mind.
Of course he didn’t.
Everything about him carried that same effortless confidence I had seen previously in the courtyard.
That kind of confidence only came from people who came who knows exactly who they are and a place that reinforced it.
Which was what I could never have.
His clothes were simple but fitted. The charcoal-colored sweater was sitting easily over broad shoulders, giving that " cool bad boy style.
This was quite interesting because he seemed to have changed his style from what I saw yesterday to the full package and I understand why everyone's gazed fixed on him.
His gaze moved across the room once. It was casual and almost lazy before it stopped on me.
And stayed.
There was no hesitation in it. No attempt to disguise the attention.
Then he smiled.
A slow and Intentional smile.
Like he had already decided something.
I looked away immediately, irritation was already settling in.
And I changed focus to the professor instead.
She stood at the front of the room, her presence was quiet but highly commanding.
Her long grey hair was resting on her shoulder like a pale moonlight.
Her eyes were blue. The deep kind of blue that suggested she had seen far more than she would to say aloud.
“Today,” she began, her voice was soft but effortlessly reaching the end of the class walls, “we examine a core question:
Should supernatural factions intermingle, or do we preserve the purity of our lineages?”
Soft murmuring moved through the room.
The noise was not just curiosity, it was tension.
This wasn’t just theory, It was belief, identity crisis and fear.
“We’ll debate in pairs,” she continued, lifting a hand slightly. “I’ve already assigned them.”
Names appeared across the arched ceiling, glowing briefly before fading.
My breath stilled.
Giselle Veridian. Benjamin Thorne.
Of course.
I didn’t have time to react. He was already sliding into the seat beside mine.
His scent reached me again. It was a mixture of pine, mint, something distinctly wolf.
And I resisted the instinct to shift away from it.
“Fate has a sense of humor don't you think?,” he said quietly.
I didn’t look at him.
Instead, I opened my notebook and wrote across the page, my movements steady despite the tension pressing just beneath them.
We should argue for separation.
I slid it toward him.
He read it, a quiet chuckle leaving him. “Playing to type, Gorgon? I figured you’d want to be more unpredictable.”
I wrote again, sharper this time.
It’s the logical position.
He leaned back slightly, studying me with open interest. “Logic, huh?” he said while his face shows amusement. “Fine. You take separation. I’ll argue for intermingling. Makes things more interesting.”
Of course it did.
The debate began with another pair, voices rising as they argued with the kind of passion that came from personal investment. I watched, taking notes on my cards, organizing thoughts, structuring arguments.
But I could feel it.
His attention.
It didn’t leave.
I could feel him staring at me even when I wasn’t looking directly at him,
It was of pure curiosity.
When our names were called, I stood without hesitation, Benjamin rising beside me.
The room quieted.
Not completely but enough.
Curiosity sharpened.
Of course it did.
The silent Gorgon and the Alpha heir.
A spectacle.
I placed my first card on the lectern, the words clear and precise.
Separation preserves magical integrity. Hybridization dilutes power, creates instability, and increases the risk of imbalance.
Benjamin didn’t wait.
“Intermingling strengthens us,” he countered smoothly. “New magic, new perspectives. Survival isn’t about purity my dear, it’s about adaptation.”
I placed another card.
History shows forced integration leads to conflict. See: The Blood Wars of 1922.
“History also shows isolation leads to extinction,” he replied, his gaze fixed on me rather than the room. “The Phoenix Clans died out because they refused to evolve.”
A few quiet reactions moved through the room. I ignored them.
Preservation is not isolation. It is protection.
“Protection from what?” he asked, stepping slightly closer, his voice lowering just enough to sharpen its edge. “From difference? From change? Or from the possibility that something stronger might exist outside what you understand?”
My next card pressed harder into the paper as I wrote it.
Some lines exist for a reason. Crossing them creates abominations. True balance is rare.
The word settled heavily between us.
Abominations.
I felt my snakes tighten beneath the head warmer, their movement sharper now, reacting to something deeper than the room.
I had written it deliberately.
A test.
For him.
For myself.
Benjamin’s expression shifted, the hint of amusement fading just slightly.
“Abomination is just a word used by weak people who are afraid of what they don’t seem to understand.” He said.
His voice steady but carried something deeper than the debate.
For a brief moment, our eyes held.
And something in that space… shifted.
The professor’s voice broke through it. “A philosophical standoff. Well done. You may return to your seats.”
I gathered my cards, turning away before the moment could stretch any further.
As I moved, his hand brushed mine. It was not accidental.
The contact was brief, but it sent a sharp current up my arm.
My body froze.
Panic was rising but I forced everything back into place.
Control.
Always control.
I returned to my seat without looking at him.
He followed.
“You argue well,” he said quietly as he sat, his tone lighter again, but not entirely the same. “For someone who doesn’t speak.”
I wrote without hesitation and slid the card toward him.
Words are overrated.
He read it, and this time, his smile shifted, less mocking, more… real.
“I disagree,” he said softly. “But I like that you think so.”
I didn’t respond.
For the rest of the class, I could still feel his attention towards me.
But it wasn’t the same as before the debate.
It wasn’t arrogance.
It was focus.
Careful and intent.
Like I had become something he was trying to understand.
When the class ended, I stood immediately, leaving before the room could fill again.
“Wait.”
His voice followed, footsteps closing the distance quickly.
I stopped only when he stepped in front of me, holding out one of my cards.
“The one you dropped.”
I took it, our fingers brushed again, the contact was softer this time.
“That word,” he said, quieter now with the teasing gone. “Do you believe it?”
I looked at him then.
Really looked.
At the seriousness in his eyes.
At the question he hadn’t fully asked.
Then I shook my head once.
His expression slightly changed. Then He nodded.
“Didn’t think so.” he said.
There was a pause. It was brief but intentional.
“You’re not what I expected, Giselle Veridian.”
He stepped back, turned and walked away.
I stood there a little longer than I should have And I was gripping the card a little tight.
You’re not what I expected either Benjamin Thorne.
But that wasn’t something I would ever write down.
- Writer
