ADINNA’S POV
Detention is miserable.
There’s no other word for it.
The alchemy lab looks like it hasn’t been cleaned since the dawn of time. The air reeks of burnt herbs and chemicals, the kind that stings your eyes and makes your throat scratchy. The tables are covered in layers of dried sludge and glittering residue that hum faintly, like they’re still alive with leftover spells.
And I have to clean all of it without magic.
With nothing but a rag and a dented bucket of gray water.
I’m already regretting every life choice that brought me here.
The Headmaster called it “corrective discipline.” But I call it torture.
I grab the rag and start scrubbing one of the lab tables. The stain doesn’t budge. Instead, it smears into a new, uglier color. The smell of old potion ingredients seep
