by Olivia Ash
Wow. These people like their rules. But I can’t really blame them for that. Not really. Just as the trolls relied on the protection of secrecy for their community, so must the academy. The rules are in place for the safety of the island and everyone who stays here. It feels like a very special thing to be invited to the school. I, for one, have no intentions of leaving. Or risking my place here, for that matter.
“Each initiate must formally announce to me they are willing participants in the trials. Once you formally accept the invitation, you will be marked with a special symbol unique to each initiate, which will be placed on the inside of your wrist. Refusal of acceptance is your decision, but you will be faced with having this placed erased from your memories and you will be removed from the island.”
I look around at the other nine initiates invited to take the trials and not a single one is batting their eyes at the possibility of their minds being messed with. Either they are that confident they will pass, or they accept the consequences of failing.
I, for one, don’t intend to fail or have my mind messed with, thank you very much. Though there are some down sides to the trials, it seems the benefits far outweigh the risks of failing. But I won’t fail. Failing is not an option.
“Take time, deliberate on your options. This isn’t a decision to be made lightly. Once you have announced your decision, there is no turning back. As soon as you are ready, come to me.”
She reclaims her original position in the center of the garden.
I sit back and wait, not wanting to be the first person up there. Jesse jumps up and winks at me from over his shoulder as he approaches the statue first. Lady Alene turns to him, smiles, nods, and takes his hand into hers. With her other hand, she covers his wrist, and a bright white flash forms under her hand. Just as quick as it flares up, it fades and is over.
Jesse turns to face me winks, and hops off to do what I assume is flirting with the ladies of the academy.
As he walks off, my magic settles.
Four more people have approached Lady Alene and received a mark. Time for me to go.
I stand and approach the amazing figure in front of me. She turns her gaze to me and smiles in greeting. It’s a soft smile, a kind one.
“Miss Blackwood, it’s an honor for you to grace our school. I trust you have made your decision?” she asks.
“Something tells me you already know what my decision is,” I say, and that doesn’t seem to bother me. There is something about the spirit of the school that calls to me and makes me feel like I can trust her. She’s safe, and that gives me hope.
“Indeed, but it must be official,” she states matter-of-factly. “Do you accept the invitation to the trials?”
“I do, Lady Alene,” I respond, and this strange excitement burns through me and makes me giddy inside. I want to giggle and run and dance like I used to when I was a little girl.
I give the lady my hand, and she does the same thing I have observed her doing for the last five initiates. The light is cold, but warm at the same time, and strange tingling ripples through my wrist and into my arm and hand. It’s not unpleasant, but tickles. And just like with those before me, the flash is over as quick as it starts. I hold my wrist up and a faint, glittering outline of a shape, slightly lighter than the rest of my skin, takes up the inside of my wrist.
Three sets of circular-swirling lines that meet in the middle at a single point. If I were to trace the outer perimeter of the swirls, they would be perfectly enclosed within a triangle.
“A triskele?”
The lady nods. “You have some time before lunch to enjoy. Go have fun. Good luck, Wren. I look forward to our talks.”
I smile. “Thank you. And me too.”
Chapter Seven
This place is enchanting.
I walk through the grounds, mingling in the sunlight, absorbing the warmth and enjoying the butterflies, gnomes working in the gardens, and the way the trees seem to breathe.
This place is so magical, I love it. Nothing will stop me from passing the trials. I will do anything not to be sent away from here. Whatever it takes, I won’t leave this place.
I find a bench close to the ocean, although I can’t see it beyond the small wall that seals off this courtyard I’m in. I can hear the waves crashing against the shoreline. The birds sing a melody that is inviting and peaceful and pulls me into a serene mindset from the tree that shades the bench I sit on. Walkways surround and circle around me, wrapping around buildings, huts, and gazebos. The gardens and trees seem to be in constant bloom.
As soon as I give into this peaceful moment, crunching of grass and dirt pulls my attention to a guy stepping out of a shadowy pathway nearby. I set my eyes on him and he is beyond hot. He’s tall, and by the look of his bulging muscles against his polo shirt, he clearly loves to work out. He sets his gaze on me and I can’t tell if it’s the sun that shines in his eyes or if it’s me, but he seems to glower. Beyond that, his mouth has that kissable attraction to it, and I force myself to look away from them before I do something embarrassing like lick my lips.
He starts to walk off and I close my eyes, listening to the sound of the waves mix with the song of the birds.
But the rhythmic sound of boots thumping against the sidewalk that encircles me interrupts the wonderful music.
I open my eyes to find the guy sort of pacing around me, his eyes focused on me.
What the actual…
My magic erupts in heat. Like a ball of flame burning inside me. It’s a pleasant warmth though, and as it moves through me, I’m embarrassed to find myself a little aroused. I try to ignore that feeling, but it’s almost like this guy is causing this. I open my mouth to ask what the hell he is doing, but he beats me to the point.
“You’re new here?” he asks.
I gawk for a moment, thinking that has to be obvious, but if not, I guess I can spell it out for this guy. “Yes. I’m an initiate.”
“Name?” he made it sound more like a demand and I bite my tongue on the remark that wants to escape my mouth.
Instead, I say, “Wren Blackwood. You?”
He nods and continues to slowly march around me. “Where are you from?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I say, and it’s true. Jesse didn’t believe me when I told him, and I realize it’s because the existence of trolls is something of a secret in the world. A sort of Big Foot legend.
“Why here?” he asks.
This guy is nosey. Not pushy, but nosey.
“Because I was invited. And it’s a far cry better from where I was before, so why not?”
“But you don’t want to tell me where you are from?” he asks.
“I’m not so sure why that matters. I’m here to participate in the trials as an initiate. What does it matter to you?”
“Do you come from a magic family?” he asks.
At first, I want to demand he answer my questions first, but I really dislike the idea of getting into a heated argument and ruin what is left of the mood I was just in. Besides, he strikes me as someone militant and used to being in charge and having his orders followed. If I cross him, it could spell disaster for me, and I need to avoid that. Especially since I want to stay here for as long as I possibly can. He strikes me as someone that doesn’t get crossed without repercussions, and I don’t need him throwing me off my trials to keep me from being here.
“Sort of. My father is Michael Blackwood.”
He stops in front of me and his glower softens slightly, but his eyes take in everything. They are a beautiful, unique shade of amber, and I’ll be damned if they don’t make me feel like he can see into my very soul.
But more frighteningly of all… they almost seem like they already know my dark little secret.
“You’re half-human?” he asks. It comes off as though he doesn’t believe it himself. And I can’t help but wonder if I just told him too much.
“Who are you, and why is what I am matter to you?” I ask.
“Name is Soren McCallister, First Lieutenant of Blackbriar Academy Special Forces. I’m here to keep the school safe. My instincts are never wrong, and right now they tell me that you’re hiding something. Something you don’t want anyone to know.” He points at me. “Mark my words, Wren Blackwood, I will find out what that is. It’s only a matter of time.”
I cross my arms over my chest and arch an eyebrow. “So, you’re a glorified hall monitor. Good luck with your mission. If you don’t mind, I was enjoying my peace and quiet until your little inquisition came along, I’d appreciate it if you’d go about your merry little way and leave me alone.”
His mouth slightly hangs open in shock, but he quickly recovers and returns to his stern face. Yep, definitely a guy used to giving orders and not accustomed to someone like me. He steps closer, and that sets my magic even more on fire. Blissful, sweet burning… go away.
Up until now, I thought my magic only responded to Jesse, but it seems like Soren is one of the lucky ones too.
Yay me.
“How good are you at keeping secrets?” His voice is dark, seductive, and does nothing for the pressure that is pooling between my legs. I want to grab him and kiss him, but that’s absurd. Clearly, my magic and body are confused.
Don’t get me wrong, this guy is totally fuckable.
But he’s an asshole.
“You may be Lawrence’s pet project, but you will not get special treatment from me. You are expected to uphold all the rules and laws of the academy. Fail to do so, and you’ll find how little of an issue it is for me to administer the proper punishments.” He looks me up and down. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was checking me out. He turns away and starts to walk off.
I stand, ready to just go to my room and keep my head low to keep from bumping into him again. “Thanks for the warning, jerk.”
He spins around to face me with a glare that is meant to make me cower. But what he doesn’t know is compared to the trolls, this is nothing. I stand there staring at him, unwavering, not willing to back down. After all, I’ve done nothing to this guy, and he’s delivering ultimatums like I’m a branded criminal.
Screw him.
He doesn’t scare me. Nor does his threats. Small potatoes.
“I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
“Looking forward to it.” My voice is flat, deadpan.
We glare at each other. Each of us probably waiting for the other to back down first. I don’t. I won’t. Finally, with a growl, he storms off. My eyes drift to the nice ass he has.
Such a waste.
And that, ladies and gents, is a beautiful start here in this new life of mine.
My magic cools as I wait until Soren is out of sight before turning to go in the opposite direction. A girl, about my height, with dark brown hair and purple streaks walks up to me with a smile as bright as the sun. My magic doesn’t react to her, and I’m unsure of what the deal is. Clearly, it doesn’t react to everyone. I definitely need to find out more about these little reactions.
“What’s that guy’s problem? You have history together or something?” she asks.
“Oh, him?” I point behind me. “That’s just my amazing charm working its magic.”
“So, no history?” she asks with her eyebrows raised above her silvery eyes that hold their own purple hue. There’s something about this girl that makes me want to talk with her. She’s just so happy. It’s contagious.
I chuckle. “Nope. None whatsoever.”
“Ah, too bad. Maybe there can be history, huh?” She bobs her eyebrows.
I don’t know who this girl is, but she makes it easy to laugh.
She holds out her hand and says, “I’m Savannah Fey. I saw you in the garden earlier. We’re fellow initiates.”
I take her hand and say, “Wren Blackwood.”
“I know,” she says with a casual bounce of a shoulder.
“Y-you do?” I ask, surprised that anyone knows my name here besides the obvious ones who should.
She winks as she says, “It’s a gift. So, that guy, I hear he’s totally a hard ass. I don’t know what you did, but a friendly bit of advice, try not to stay on his bad side. He’s the youngest member of the Academy Special Forces, which means, he could probably kill with a look.”
My eyebrows knit together as I cock my head to the side and say, “Thanks for the warning.”
She grabs my hand and pulls me back to the bench. “So, are you ready for the trials to start?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess so.”
“Well, I heard that there is a secret fifth trial that only certain students go through. It’s the hardest trial. Puts the fourth one to shame. Do you think we’ll have to do that?”
“I hope not. Sounds like a horrible thing to be selected for if it’s that hard. Especially after what we saw earlier.” It’s just so damn easy to talk to her. I sort of don’t mind that at all.
“Right?” She smiles and it reaches her eyes, making them shine brighter. Not like Deacon’s.
She slides her arm into the crook of mine and it’s like we’ve been best friends forever. But I don’t know if I should get attached to anyone. Everyone I care about has a bad habit of leaving me in one way or another, and until we pass the trials, I feel like it would be best to keep her at arm’s length.
But damn it all if there isn’t something purely magnetic about her. Maybe that’s one of her gifts.
After we share a few laughs and exchange a little more small talk, I wonder if there wouldn’t be any harm in having someone to talk to after all.
Chapter Eight
I could have spent the whole afternoon talking with Savannah. And I nearly did. After eating lunch together, we went our separate ways. Now, I’m in the academy’s library, and it’s huge. There are endless rows of bookshelves taller than any house I’ve ever seen, and all of them are stocked full of books. It will probably take a lifetime to read all the books that are housed here.
One look at the massive room, and I know this place will be a sanctuary. But first, I have to get through the trials. Still, this is definitely finding itself at the top of my list of favorite places.
The sweet smell of leather, paper, and ink is a scent all of its own and lures me deeper into the room. Before long, I’m in full-on research mode, practically dying to learn all I can about using magic without a conduit.
To be honest, I have no idea where to start. I begin with the histories of some of the more notable mages in history, focusing on some epic battles they’ve had with shadow mages. One particular account I find interesting is Isaac Blackwood. I pause to wonder if he’s a distant relative. He saved a small human town against a shadow mage that had called on several lamias to destroy the town’s children. I shudder, remembering my recent encounter with the lamia right before meeting Professor Lawrence.
The book’s historical account dutifully describes how Isaac defeated the lamias and the shadow mage, but it seems to skip over the spells used by the shadow mage or the manner in which he had used magic without a conduit. Not very helpful for me. I then backtrack to try and see if there are any accounts of good mages who may have used magic without conduits, but again, I find no record.
Is using magic without a conduit evidence of darkness, or is it all in the person’s heart and intentions? I’m certain I’m neither the first nor the last person with magical abilities who has encountered something like this, so there has to be a historical account or story about this. But the books so far would lead me to believe that all those who use magic without a conduit are dark—but I can’t accept that I’m dark, that’s not who I am.
I keep searching, thumbing through crisp pages. No hints of someone going dark much less using magic without a conduit. I figure I’ll have to refine my search, but for the first go, I consider this an okay result. At least I know where to look next time.
Three hours into it, and nothing to show beyond basic information is getting frustrating. I’m no cl
oser to an answer than I was when I started. But at least I can check these books off my list. There are undoubtably hundreds more here that I could use to find answers. I just have to find them.
At least, that is my hope.
When I first came into the library, I scanned the shelves for certain categories of books before settling on the ones I picked from. But there is a room that was locked up with a barred door. There are hundreds more books in that room, but I have no way to get into it. I wonder who I have to talk to gain access?
“Well, hello new girl,” a guy says.
I jump a little and look toward a guy wearing the academy’s uniform, leaning against a bookshelf near the table I’m sitting at. He’s cute, in a basic way, with the way his dirty blond hair is disheveled on the top of his head in a sort of purposeful way, and his ice-blue eyes settle on me. But my magic is calm. Not that I’m sure what I would do if it had reacted toward him. There is something about this guy that sets my intuitions on high alert. So, honestly, I’m relieved.
A little.
Jesse and Soren must be special. I just don’t know how. That’s something I will have to look into further later. For now, figuring out my magic is my number one priority.
“Um… hi,” I say and turn my attention back to the book that lays open in front of me.
“Enjoying your research?” he asks as he steps closer, drawing my attention toward him once more. He fingers a title I had cast aside a few hours ago.
“I guess you could say that,” I say as he takes a seat across from me. Never mind there are ten other tables in the library—at least—and I clearly had my area claimed with books and my notes. But he doesn’t let that stop him. He simply pushes the pile of books in front of him to the side and props his elbows on the table.
“I was using those,” I say, gesturing to the books he just casually discarded to the side. I wasn’t done with them, and I expect him to put them back in the exact order I had them laid out in.
