HEAVENLY ACADEMY
Thirteen-year-old Rose stood by the crystal-clear window of the Heavenly Academy, her gaze fixed on the children playing near the shimmering river below.
The academy itself loomed majestically, its golden spires reaching into eternity, casting iridescent patterns across the sacred grounds.
It was a place of beauty, of perfection—and yet, Rose felt like an unfixable flaw in its design.
Outside, the celestial children laughed and played. Angels with their radiant wings soared above the river, their light dancing like fireflies.
Demons with curved horns chased each other, their laughter a low hum that blended with the melody of the breeze.
Even the merfolk, their jewel-like scales glistening in the sunlight, joined in the revelry, their songs weaving through the air.
Each child bore the mark of their origin, a visible symbol of their place in the celestial hierarchy. But Rose? She had none.
