The Chronicles of Fire and Ice

by L.L Hunter

Impression

  Dyston stood on the rooftop. The rain cascaded down his leather jacket, making a heavy sound. He didn’t mind the rain. He shrugged off his jacket and it landed in a heap at his feet. His favourite thing of all to do was to stand out in the rain and let his wings unfurl. The sensation of water running over his feathers, cool and refreshing, was like nothing else. He didn’t understand why his father and brother disliked the rain. After a few minutes, he picked up his jacket, pulled his wings back in, and walked back through the French doors into his bedroom. One of his best Traits was the ability of his body to dry itself almost instantly. He didn’t want to dry—he loved being wet—but today, he had no choice. With a knock, his door opened, and Lakyn stuck his head in, snapping Dyston out of his reverie.

  “Bro, the students… why aren’t you ready?” Lakyn’s eyebrows rose at his brother’s dishevelled appearance. He disapproved. Lakyn was five years older, and the sun seemed to shine out of him—in their father’s opinion, anyway. This annoyed Dyston immensely.

  “I am ready,” he inhaled. Dyston closed his eyes and the glisten on his skin disappeared. His black hair stuck straight up on his head, which he then tried and failed to flatten. His brother chuckled. He always thought his little brother’s talent was so bizarre.

  “Very well, see you down in the dining room. Oh, and be on your best behaviour!” Lakyn told him, before his head disappeared. Dyston was alone again. He sauntered to his piano in the corner of the room, sat down, and began playing.

  As Scarlett pushed through the doors of Blackbell Academy, the first thing she saw was the colour scheme. Everything was black, red, or grey, which didn’t help hush the rumours, she thought. Right of the foyer, there was a wide grand staircase with a black iron railing that twisted around half the room. It was made from black and grey speckled marble with a plush red velvet runner laid down the middle. Scarlett thought it was exquisite. Forcing her gaze away from the stairs, she made her way towards the administration desk to the left of the foyer. The desk itself was high. It came up to Scarlett’s collarbone and was made of the same marble as the stairs. Behind the desk on the back wall was the Blackbell emblem and underneath, four antique gold clocks—each showing the time of a different city around the world: London, Los Angeles, Sydney, and Rome.

  Scarlett set her bags down on the ground. She always carried way more than necessary. She tried to make eye contact with the Nephilim woman sitting behind a desk, who still hadn’t noticed her. She cleared her throat.

  “Hello, I’m Scarlett P…” she began, but the receptionist cut her off. Her dark straight hair was cut in a bob, and her face was emotionless and pale like she had never seen the sun.

  “Scarlett Porter, yes, we have been expecting you,” the receptionist said in a nasally monotone voice as she began typing at her iMac.

  “Am I the last to arrive?” Scarlett tried again.

  “No,” she replied bluntly, offering no explanation as to how many students were due to arrive after her. Scarlett wanted to ask the receptionist how she knew her name without checking the files. But before she could say another word, a shadowy figure at the top of the stairs caught her eye. She was about to turn her head away when the shadow began descending. She noticed it was a Nephilim in his late twenties to early thirties, and he had the most striking eyes she had ever seen, even more so than the boy in her dreams. These eyes were the colour of the underside of an iceberg, and as he spoke, his voice chilled her to the bone.

  “Welcome to Blackbell,” he said, reaching the bottom. Looking her over, he added with a smirk, “We hope you’ll feel very comfortable here.”

  “Thanks,” she managed, with a dry mouth. She licked her lips and bent down to gather her bags.

  “Don’t! The maids will do that. That’s their job,” he said. Then he gestured to someone Scarlett couldn’t see. A young Nephilim around the same age as Scarlett stepped out of the shadows and picked up her bags, taking them through a door to the right of the admin desk.

  “So where are the other students?” she asked the mysterious and dark stranger.

  “They’re in the dining hall waiting,” he said.

  “Waiting for what?”

  “Waiting for you, Scarlett,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him. How did he also know her name? She was beginning to freak out a little.

  “But… she said…” she turned to look back at the receptionist, but she was gone.

  “Don’t worry, Estiel doesn’t know the time of day,” he said. Scarlet thought his last remark too harsh, but couldn’t find the time to tell him. They had already arrived.

  “Enjoy,” he said, leaving her.

  “Thanks,” she muttered under her breath, entering the room.

  The voices of the waiting students echoed in the expansive room, and all eyes turned to her as she made her way to the last vacant seat in the room, muttering numerous apologies along the way. She sat down next to a brunette Nephilim girl with long straight hair who was texting someone prolifically.

  “Hi,” said the girl, not taking her eyes away from her smartphone.

  “Hi,” replied Scarlett.

  Then the Brunette looked at her. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”

  “Who?”

  “That guy that walked you in. He’s really cute.”

  “I suppose, but he’s not really my type,” Scarlett said, scanning the room to see if the blue-eyed stranger was still around. He wasn’t.

  “You’re the only one I’ve talked to that thinks that. I’m Kat, by the way.” She offered her hand.

  “Scarlett,” she said, shaking Kat’s hand.

  “Anyway, he’s off limits,” added Kat.

  “Why’s that? He has a mate?”

  “No, he’s a Professor.” Just as the word Professor left Kat’s lips, the room fell to silence, and a woman in a flowing black dress walked into the room.

  “Hello, students. I am Professor Beth Blackbell. This is my son, Professor Lakyn Blackbell,” she said, and the mysterious blue-eyed stranger reappeared. He was her son? Lakyn’s gaze immediately found Scarlett’s, and she turned away.

  His mother continued. “And my husband is Professor Zachariah Blackbell, who is also your headmaster.” She lovingly touched the arm of her husband who stood beside Professor Lakyn. The older Nephilim’s beard was greying and his eyes matched. Zachariah Stepped forward and took over from his wife.

  “Thank you, Beth. As first year recruits, you will learn what it means to be Nephilim in today’s society, and over the next four years, you will learn what it means to be an Angel.”

  Kat whispered in Scarlett’s ear, “Amazing speaker.”

  “Yeah,” she whispered back.

  “Classes will begin tomorrow morning at nine sharp and breakfast begins at eight,” added Beth. “You will be shown to your rooms shortly, and by that time, your bags should have arrived.”

  Beth paced back and forward at the front of the room. She looked fierce and wild with her wavy black hair and brown eyes. Scarlett had no doubt that the students were a little afraid of her.

  “Lunch will commence at noon, at which time, you will receive your class schedules. Any questions or queries about your class selections should be directed towards me, Professor Lakyn, Headmaster Blackbell, or Estiel at administration. See you at lunch.”

  The hallways inside Blackbell were a maze. Scarlett was so glad to be led through them. She would have gotten lost trying to find her room.

  “Your bags should have arrived by now,” chimed the maid, Henrietta, in a musical British accent.

  Henrietta’s pace was quick across the hardwood floors. Almost running just to keep up, Scarlett’s boots didn’t grip very well. She was glad for her fast reflexes. Scarlett secretly wondered if Henrietta had the blood of a higher ranking Angel than herself or was she a lower ranked angel. She made a mental note to ask later.

  Henrietta finally stopped and Scarlett nearly crashed into the back of her.

  “Here we are
,” said Henrietta. She took a key out of her pocket—a silver skeleton key on a long black tassel. It was odd in a building like this, Scarlett thought. It must have been renovated. Everything was new or modern except for the doors. Henrietta pushed the key into the lock, twisted and pushed the door inwards. Scarlett followed her inside and stopped short. Before her, in the centre of one wall, was an amazing red velvet curtained four-post bed. The curtains were tied back with gold tassels. Straight ahead was a set of white French doors that led onto a private balcony. Scarlett thought at that moment she must have done something good to deserve this because surely this was not standard living quarters.

  Scarlett would have forgotten Henrietta was in the room if it hadn’t been for her tiny musical voice.

  “Is something wrong, Miss Scarlett? I hope the room’s okay. Mr Blackbell specifically reserved it for you.”

  “Mr Blackbell?” she turned to face her maid.

  “Yes, you being a Legacy and all.”

  She almost forgot. Of course, being a Legacy meant automatic enrolment in an Academy if your parents or family had previously been students. Her heart sank into her stomach. Being a Legacy also meant backlash, as Legacies were almost untouchable. Legacies received a lot of immunity in the half-yearly exams because they were expected to know The Chronicle back to front and upside down because they were taught most of the topics at home. Nevertheless, Scarlett didn’t want any special privileges. She didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb.

  “Does everyone know that I’m a Legacy?”

  “Most of the professors do.”

  Great, she prayed that they didn’t single her out in front of everyone so that she wouldn’t become a walking bullseye.

  “You better get ready for lunch, Miss. It starts in twenty minutes in the dining hall.”

  “Okay. I’ll be down soon.” She waited for Henrietta to leave before opening the French doors and stepping outside.

  The sky had clouded over since the last time she had looked at it, and a light mist of rain was falling—but not so much that Scarlett was in danger of getting drenched. As she tipped her face up to inhale the sweet smelling rain, something caught her eye. Something black was fluttering in the wind just above her head. It was stuck in the balcony railing of the room upstairs. She dragged a metal chair over, checked if it were stable enough to hold her, and climbed up onto it. When she was close enough, Scarlett realised that the object was a large black feather. She plucked it out of the railing and turned the feather repeatedly in her fingers. It was like no Nephilim feather she had ever seen, yet it was familiar, and she was unsure why.

  She sauntered back inside the room and closed the doors behind her. She then placed the feather on her nightstand and began to freshen up. She took her perfume out, Heat by Beyoncé, and sprayed a bit here and there. Now she didn’t smell like public transport. She re-tied her crazy hair, which never stayed in place. She pinned onto her black sweater, the brooch all the new students had received—a smaller version of the Blackbell coat of arms.

  Leaving her room, she found her way down much easier than the way up. She just had to make her way to the ground floor, three flights down. When she reached the second floor and rounded the corner, she crashed right into one of her professors.

  “Whoa. Easy there, you should watch where you’re going.”

  “Sorry, sir.” And then she realised it was him, the blue-eyed stranger.

  “Please, call me Lakyn. Sir makes me feel so old,” he chuckled.

  “Sorry, Professor Lakyn.”

  “That’s what my other students call me, but please, I’d prefer it if you call me Lakyn, Scarlett.” He grinned, and it made Scarlett feel uneasy. Was he hitting on her?

  “But I’m a student, Professor Lakyn. Now if you will excuse me, I’m going to be late for lunch, someone just struck the gong.”

  Three strikes of the gong meant punishments were going to be handed out. At Blackbell, one of the most important rules was never to be late.

  “I would hate for you to be punished. I’ll see you in the dining room.” He patted her on the back and retreated up the stairs she had just come down. He seemed different in person than he appeared on TV, but still had the same cocky, over- confident attitude. This was Scarlett’s second run-in with Lakyn Blackbell in one day, and she didn’t want there to be a third. He made her feel uneasy, and she was unsure why.

  She entered the dining room, and the wafting smell of food overwhelmed her nostrils. She hadn’t realised she was starving. She made her way along the outside of the room to the front until she found an empty chair. Moreover, she realised too late that all the places up front had name cards on them, and this place was not hers. ‘Dyston Blackbell‘ was scrawled on the card in delicate cursive—another member of the Blackbell family she was yet to meet. She ended up at the Fourth year student table, which were now giving her strange looks. She apologised and quickly fled to the next vacant seat. She finally found her place at the opposite end of the dining hall amongst a table of other First Year students. As she sat down, she wondered if any of them were Legacies like her.

  “Hey, Scarlett,” said a voice, snapping Scarlett out of her daze. She was staring at her minestrone soup entrée while thinking about the feather she had found on the balcony. Scarlett looked up at the Nephilim who was talking to her.

  “Oh, hey. Sorry, Kat.”

  “Scarlett? Named after your hair?” asked a girl with platinum blond hair and emerald green eyes.

  “Um, yes.”

  “I’m Emerald, named after my eyes, but everyone calls me ‘Emer,’” she said with a giggle. Scarlett had a feeling this girl loved to talk.

  “So are you a Legacy? There are rumours that five Legacies are starting this year, and Del and I have been trying to figure out who they are,” stated Emer, speaking in a rush. Emer whispered into another blonde’s ear—that must be Del, Scarlett thought.

  “Um, no, I’m not a Legacy,” Scarlett lied. She didn’t want anyone to know who she was, but more importantly, she didn’t want anyone to take advantage of her or being friends with her because of what she was.

  “Well, I’m not afraid to say that I am. I’m Thomas,” added the guy with a black buzz cut and dark blue eyes sitting next to Del. He put his hand out for Scarlett to shake, and she took it reluctantly.

  “Nice to meet you, Scarlett,” he said. Del linked arms with him.

  “I know you are, baby,” Del said with a smile. Thomas and Del’s relationship made Scarlett feel slightly jealous inside. No one had even been remotely interested in Scarlett. Well, except for Professor Lakyn, but that didn’t count.

  “Get a room, guys,” said a guy with curly brown hair and lime green eyes that had just joined their table, which was now full.

  “Whatever,” replied Del.

  Kat glanced over towards the Fourth Year table that an attractive guy with dark brown hair and a masculine jaw had just joined. He sat next to a guy with a perfectly toned body and sandy hair. Kat’s stomach flipped. Scarlett followed Kat’s gaze and leaned closer to Emer who was on her left.

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  “Oh, they’re Fourth Year boys, Dyston Blackbell and Jacob Fox.” Scarlett couldn’t even remember if she had replied or at least nodded. Her attention was solely trained on the dark-haired guy who was laughing and joking with the blond one until his gaze caught hers. He was looking at her with a gaze so powerful that Scarlett felt as if she was a piece of metal and he was a magnet pulling her towards him. A nudge to her arm broke the magnetic field.

  “Earth to Scarlett!” It was Thomas’ voice.

  “Huh? What?” she asked, acting silly. Emer giggled.

  “We asked if you know what Talent you’re going to explore,” said Kat.

  “Um, I’m not sure yet,” she replied and continued to fiddle with her soup.

  Chapter Three