LYRA’S POV
The next morning, the sun did not shine over Garrison Heights Academy, it was buried beneath a thick, suffocating blanket of gray mountain fog.
I stepped off the morning valley bus at 7:45 AM, my body feeling less like a human being and more like a poorly calibrated machine running on its last reserve of battery power. I hadn't slept a single minute. I had spent seven hours scrubbing the deep industrial grease from the diner kitchen, followed by two hours sitting on a wooden crate in the pantry, typing out macro-logistics formulas on my cracked tablet while my parents slept on the cot frames behind the water heaters.
As I walked up the grand marble steps of the main courtyard, the difference between myself and the legacy students had never been more violently visible.
My uni
