The Last Dragon Blood: Isabella's Rise And The Seven Titans

Chapter:7 History Of Dragons.

It was the first day back at Mecatopia Academy, and the main hallway buzzed with chatter as students gathered around their lockers. The walls gleamed with the reflective light of bright crystal chandeliers, and the hum of spells being cast filled the air. Near the west corridor, where the lockers stretched in an endless row, a small group gathered, each busy sorting their things.

Lysandra, leaning against her locker with a confident smirk, adjusted her coat, throwing a glance toward Aurora, who stood a few lockers down. Aurora, Isabella's younger sister, was already scowling at Lysandra. She yanked her locker open, clearly trying to ignore her, but Lysandra, ever the instigator, wasn't about to let her off so easily.

"Well, well, if it isn't Little Miss Perfect," Lysandra drawled, her voice dripping with amusement. She slid a book into her locker without even looking, her eyes locked on Aurora. "Do you ever get tired of pretending the whole world revolves around you, or is that, like, a family trait?"
Aurora stiffened, her face already beginning to flush a bright shade of red. She slammed her locker shut a little harder than necessary, refusing to meet Lysandra's gaze.

"Not today, Lysandra," she muttered under her breath, but her words lacked conviction.

Lysandra tilted her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, don't be shy, Aurora. Your insults are always so... creative. I'm dying to hear what you've come up with this time. Or maybe you're saving them for later? After all, it must be exhausting trying to keep up with me."

Aurora's hands balled into fists, and her cheeks grew even redder. "Why do you always have to be like this? You're unbearable!" she hissed, finally turning to glare at Lysandra.

Lysandra, feigning shock, placed a hand over her heart. "Me? Unbearable? Sweetheart, if I were unbearable, you wouldn't be able to stand there and try to match wits with me. But, judging by that colour in your face, I'd say I've already won." She gave Aurora a playful wink.

Aurora's eyes narrowed, her breath quickening in frustration. Without another word, she spun on her heel, her bag slung over her shoulder, and stormed down the hallway, muttering curses under her breath.

At the same time, Andrew walked confidently through the crowd, his tall frame and wolf-like presence impossible to ignore. With dark, intense eyes and a chiselled jawline, his black leather jacket hugged his broad shoulders as if it was made for him. People naturally moved out of his way-not that he cared. His aura screamed danger, and his temper was quick to flare, making him unpredictable. But one person didn't budge.

As he passed, his shoulder slammed into Auora's, hard.
Aurora immediately spun around, eyes blazing. "Watch it," she snapped, her irritation clear, her voice as sharp and angry because of Lysandra.

Andrew turned, his expression unreadable, but his eyes narrowed, filled with a dangerous glint.
"Maybe you should look where you're going," he growled, voice low and laced with contempt. His anger flickered just beneath the surface, but he controlled it, knowing he could snap at any moment. "Last thing I need is some princess getting in my way."

Aurora held her ground, fists clenched, glaring at him. For a moment, neither backed down. The tension between them was electric, both filled with sudden, inexplicable anger.

Andrew's jaw tightened, his voice dropping with an edge that made people listen. "I'm not here to play nice, so don't think you can walk all over me, sweetheart."

Aurora glared right back, her fists tightening. "Trust me, you're not that special."

Andrew's lips twitched into a smirk, one that didn't reach his eyes. "Funny, you seem to notice me just fine."
With that, he turned and walked away, his body language radiating confidence, though his fists clenched with barely contained anger.