There are people in this Academy who want me to fail. I've never found that more motivating.
It starts small. That's how it always starts.
Day nine: my practice slot is moved without notice. I show up at the assigned time and find the hall occupied by third-years who have no idea what I'm talking about. I check the board. My name is there, different time, different hall … corrected in neat handwriting that isn't the coordinator's.
Day ten: my grip wraps go missing. Not lost. Missing. The specific kind of missing where everything else in my kit bag is exactly where I left it.
Day eleven: I show up to the equipment room and half my assigned gear has been checked out under my name for a slot I didn't book.
By day eleven I've already identified Cass.
She's not hard to find. She moves thr
