The ride to school felt longer than usual.
The wind tugged gently at Iris's hoodie as she pedaled between her best friends, Oliver and Rayan. Neither of them asked why she was so quiet. Maybe they were giving her space, or maybe… they felt it too. That strange, electric tension humming in the air like the world was holding its breath.
As they reached the school gates, Iris slowed her bike and stared at the familiar red-brick building. A place she'd walked into a thousand times now felt foreign—alien.
Her fingers twitched.
She still hadn't told them about the dream.
It had haunted her again last night.
In it, she was standing in the middle of a forest, ancient and misty. Trees loomed like giants, their limbs creaking as if whispering secrets in a language she didn't understand. She had felt the cold beneath her bare feet, the moonlight soaking into her skin.
And then, there was the woman.
Draped in dark robes that shimmered like the night sky, with silver eyes that held galaxies. She stood with her hands raised, speaking to two shadowed figures Iris couldn't see clearly.
"She must go now," the woman said. "Before they find her."
One of the shadows responded in a whisper Iris could barely catch. "But she's just a child."
"She is not just a child," the woman's voice rang, filled with both sorrow and urgency. "She is a star born in shadow. She must run—and she must not look back."
Iris remembered turning to run, her legs moving even though she didn't understand why.
And just before she woke up, she heard it again—Run. Don't look back. Run, Iris.
A soft tap on her arm pulled her from the memory.
"You okay?" Oliver asked, concern in his hazel eyes.
"Yeah," she lied with a weak smile. "Just… tired."
They locked their bikes and headed inside, weaving through the buzzing hallways of students. As they turned into their classroom corridor, laughter echoed around them, and not the good kind. It was sharp and mocking.
The moment Iris stepped inside, she froze.
Her desk was drenched in red.
A thick, messy scrawl painted across the wood in what looked terrifyingly like blood read:
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FREAK."
For a split second, the room went silent.
And then came the gasps.
The giggles.
The whispers.
"Is that blood?"
"Oh my god, that's disgusting."
"She really is a witch…"
"Her hair… Did you see her hair?"
Iris's cheeks burned, but she squared her shoulders and marched to her desk. Her fingers trembled as she grabbed a rag from the art station in the corner and began scrubbing the words off, the metallic scent making her stomach churn. It smeared more than it cleaned, leaving crimson streaks behind.
"Gross," Rayan muttered, his voice tight with anger.
Oliver leaned beside her. "I'm reporting this."
Before Iris could respond, a voice rang out—syrupy sweet and venomous.
"Oops. Did someone ruin your little birthday?"
Jennifer.
The girl glided toward them with her usual entourage—Lina and Harper—trailing behind like shadows. Jennifer's lips curved into a smirk, her heels clicking with each confident step.
Iris looked up, already knowing what she'd see—raven-black hair, perfectly straightened, the blood-red lipstick that matched her attitude, and eyes that glittered with cruelty.
Jennifer had once been her best friend. They used to share secrets, dreams, and even sleepovers. Until Alex—Jennifer's long-time crush—confessed in front of everyone that he liked Iris. From that moment on, everything changed.
"You've gone through so much effort," Iris said coldly, standing. "Was the blood your idea, or did you finally ask your minions to think for themselves?"
Jennifer's smile didn't waver. "Oh honey, why would I waste real blood on someone like you? But who knows? Maybe a little pig's blood is fitting for a witch."
There it was again—witch.
That word had been floating around her all morning, spoken in hushed tones and sneers. She hadn't said anything about her hair to anyone outside her family. But now it was obvious.
And then, as if on cue, the wind from the open windows gusted through the classroom.
Iris's hood slipped off.
And her secret was exposed.
Her long, silken white hair spilled over her shoulders like moonlight. The room collectively inhaled.
Stares. Whispers. Even phones raised for pictures.
"She's… glowing," someone murmured.
"It's not dyed?"
"She looks like a… a sorceress."
Oliver reached out and gently pulled her hood back up, trying to protect her from the vultures.
But it was too late.
Every eye was on her.
Except three.
Jennifer's lips curled in horror and rage.
Alex—tall, quiet, with stormy blue eyes—stood slowly from his desk, watching Iris like she was something out of a dream. His lips parted slightly.
"You look…" he said softly, "…incredible."
Gasps again. Murmurs. Everyone was frozen.
Jennifer's eyes widened. Her face went red, then pale, then red again. She turned to Alex, betrayal written across her features.
"You're kidding me," she hissed.
Alex said nothing. But his eyes stayed on Iris.
That was all Jennifer needed.
She turned on Iris with a fury in her eyes that was no longer just jealousy—it was hatred. Unfiltered and raw.
"If you think you're going to walk around like some magical princess with my friends and my school looking at you like you're special…" she whispered, stepping so close Iris could smell her perfume, "…I'll make sure your next birthday is your last."
Iris's pulse quickened.
This wasn't just school drama anymore.
This was a threat.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, that voice whispered again—Run. Don't look back.