by Ava Corrigan
Instead, there was a woman leaning over a table toward me, blocking the light. She was in her sixties, wearing a military-style coat. She had long, honey blonde hair and striking features, stress lines carved deep into her skin, and the kind of sunken steel-blue eyes that come from years of no sleep and hours of staring at horrors.
Suddenly, those eyes glowed.
My vision of a mystery woman whispered, “When the time comes … find me.”
And I wanted to. But I didn’t have the first idea where to look.
But seek alone to hear the strange things
said … to the bright hearts of those
long dead …
—W. B. Yeats
Fire
My vision was of a human hospital room, and it was more sound than sight. I heard the erratic beeping of a heart monitor. Then the flatline.
A doctor’s voice said, quietly urgent, “We’re losing her. Come on. Come on.”
The flatline cut off. The only sound left was silence, and a sigh.
The doctor’s voice said wearily, “I have to go tell the parents.”
A new sound came, a new set of footsteps, and then—
The doctor said, “Excuse me, ma’am? You can’t be in—”
The doctor’s voice cut off, and there was only silence again. And a soft light that turned blinding.
A human hospital room, with two fairies in it. Me, as a baby, and the woman with glowing eyes and the military coat.
I really was a changeling. My parents’ real daughter had died on the surgical table in my vision. And I’d been placed in that room for them instead. A cuckoo in the nest, and they never even suspected.
The image of the woman was so clear. She burned in my vision … until she reached out a hand, and there was only darkness.
The darkness was replaced by Aisha’s face. I was back in my bedroom, and Aisha looked frantic with worry for me.
“What the hell just happened?”
I took a deep breath, and answered: “I think I saw the fairy who left me in the human world.”
I’d been looking to Ms. Dowling for answers, but this woman was the one who actually had them. She was too old to be my mom, but she must know where I’d come from. She wanted to tell me. She wanted me to find her. And somehow, I would.
Specialist
Riven was giving Sky a run for his money at swordplay on the training grounds today, so maybe Sky was off his game. Or maybe Riven was just getting more awesome!
As Specialist Headmaster Silva approached, Sky glanced Silva’s way. Silva was looking pretty rough these days. Concern flickered across Sky’s face every time Silva so much as shifted his weight. Riven took advantage of Sky’s distraction and almost got a jab in.
Silva, whose sharp cold eye never missed a thing, spotted it and called out: “Sky, watch your footwork. Riven, when he favors his left—”
Riven knew what Silva was saying. He made a strike at Sky’s right side. Sky hit the mat.
“Nicely done, Riven,” Silva said, and Riven did his best not to grin like an idiot.
Riven offered Sky a hand up, and they headed over to the benches. Sky’s girlfriend was there. She didn’t appear concerned that her guy had taken a fall. She was, in fact, texting.
Sky was frowning.
If Stella was Riven’s girlfriend, he would be frowning every day, and also he would cut his own head off. But Riven suspected this wasn’t about Stella.
“Does he seem worse to you?” Sky asked quietly.
No need to ask who “he” was.
“Riven gets a compliment, and all of a sudden Silva’s got brain damage …” Riven grumbled.
Okay, he got it. No need to rub it in. Sky was the most awesome, and Silva would always like him best.
Sky’s frown only deepened. “It’s been a week since he got infected by the Burned One, and—”
They reached Stella at the benches. Riven started to untape his hands and get changed. He didn’t love wearing the Specialist symbol emblazoned across his chest.
Sky turned to question Stella about his all-absorbing topic of interest. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Silva,” Sky answered tensely. “How does he look to you?”
Stella barely glanced in Silva’s direction. “Fine.”
“Dr. Stella, coming through with the zero-effort diagnosis!” Riven cheered with mock enthusiasm.
Stella ignored him. What else was new? Fine by Riven. He’d rather have poison ivy than Stella’s attention.
“Are you training later or are we hanging out before the party?” Stella asked Sky.
Sky didn’t respond. He was still focused on Silva.
“Sky?” Stella prompted. “He’s fine. Professor Harvey still has him on the Zanbaq, right?”
“That just manages his symptoms,” Sky fretted. “He won’t be better until they kill the Burned One that attacked him.”
“And there are people out there looking for it. It’s not going to get away from every fairy and Specialist in the Otherworld.”
But Sky didn’t seem convinced. There was a look in Sky’s eyes that Riven had never seen before. He’d never imagined his best friend, the hero of Alfea, actually looking vulnerable. It freaked Riven out.
Clearly, it freaked out Stella as well. She stood up hastily.
“I have class. Stop worrying.”
As if it was as easy as that. Stella kissed him swiftly on the cheek, then hurried off.
Poor Sky. Where was he meant to get, like, emotional support? With a girlfriend like Stella. And a best friend like Riven.
Since Riven couldn’t provide emotional support, he tried to get to the bottom of the mystery of why Sky had started up with Stella again.
Since Riven wasn’t a gentleman, he made a suggestion of a salacious nature about what Stella might permit in the boudoir.
Sky shoved him clear off the bench. Riven landed, sprawling, and then got up laughing. He was hoping Sky would laugh, too. Riven could usually get him to do that, at least.
But Sky wasn’t laughing. Riven looked at Sky’s tense unhappy face and felt a weird pang in his chest like something small getting broken or going soft. It had been decent of Sky to take Riven under his wing last year. Sometimes he was patronizing and that stung, but Sky was the best guy Riven knew, and he did try to be kind. Someone should be kind to Sky in return. And Stella wasn’t stepping up.
This wasn’t actually about Riven’s feelings. This was about how Sky felt. Sky looked up to Silva so much. Riven lived in constant fear that Sky would copy Silva’s sketchy facial hair.
“Well, I’d blame her for your terrible sparring the last week, but …” He tried to make his voice gentle, though he was pretty sure his voice didn’t do that. “I know how close you and Silva are. I’m around if you want to, like …”
Riven swallowed, trying to find the words. Talk? Cry on my shoulder? Have me say “it’s gonna be all right, man, I’m here”?
Sky’s head turned to track Silva’s movements. Silva seemed to be trying to slip unobtrusively away from his students.
“I gotta run, okay?” said Sky.
Riven nodded, with a smile that wanted to twist in on itself. It had been a dumb idea to reach out, anyway. Given the choice, he wouldn’t choose himself to talk to, either.
Water
Bloom had to wait to solve her mystery. Aisha dragged her to magic class, where Bloom was presented with a pile of kindling on a table. Aisha sat down next to Bloom and devoted her attention to a bowl of water.
Aisha was actually a little excited for class. Now was the time to hone their skills and build their team.
“I think it’s actually impossible,” Bloom announced. “Maybe it’s a trick assignment.”
Aisha, focused on her bowl, muttered, “Maybe it’s all the talking.”
Dowling prowled by and interjected, “A fire that lays waste to everything in its path is instinctual and impulsive. What about when you need t
hat fire to stop?”
Bloom didn’t respond. Aisha feared that hit too close to home.
Dowling continued severely, “Can you light a single piece of kindling and leave the others untouched?”
Bloom focused, and saw one tiny piece of wood start to smoke. She made a clear effort to hold it, keep it going. And then she began to smile big. Holy crap—she’d done it.
Dowling nodded, which was high praise coming from her. Aisha was a tiny bit jealous. Dowling had the stern aspect of a coach Aisha had had once, who everyone had resented for being a hardass … until she led them to victory. Aisha wished she would get a nod, but she hadn’t even made a ripple on the water’s surface yet.
Then Dowling turned to another student. An Air Fairy whose eyes glowed gray as she used what Aisha figured was something like static electricity to lift single grains of rice out of a pile.
Dowling said, “Impressive, Beatrix. Keep it up.”
“Got it, Miss D,” said Beatrix the Air Fairy.
Dowling shot her a look.
“Headmistress Dowling,” said Beatrix.
Ms. Dowling moved away.
Under her breath, Beatrix intoned dramatically, “Your Grace.”
Bloom stifled a laugh. Beatrix shot her a smile, conspiratorial and friendly, shared between two people whose class was going great. Maybe Beatrix and Bloom would be friends, easy as that.
Trying to make friends with Bloom had been pretty tough for Aisha. Now Aisha was sitting in class, the only one whose magic was failing her.
Aisha made a small frustrated noise. She was aware of Dowling hovering near her, breathing down her neck. Before Dowling could speak, Aisha snapped, “Yes. Control. I get the idea. I mean, I can do this.”
She concentrated so hard she felt her brain bend and her eyes glow. All the water sloshed to the center of the bowl, forming a perfect sphere. She hoped Dowling would be just a little impressed.
“Good, Aisha. However, a mass of water is persistent and reliable. Consider the individual elements that combine to form the whole.”
Dowling’s eyes glowed. A single drop separated from the sphere.
“A drop of water is unpredictable. Vague. Amorphous. Can you isolate it? Can you maintain that which fights form?”
Aisha focused harder. Suddenly, the water splashed right out of the bowl and onto her desk. She’d accomplished nothing but making a mess.
“Something yet to be learned,” Ms. Dowling said dryly. Then she addressed the class. “That’s all for today.”
Everyone packed up, but Aisha took a moment to clench her jaw and try to work through the frustration. She’d been thinking of magic as a team effort, but if she wasn’t any good at magic, nobody would want her on their team.
“You cool?” Bloom sounded concerned.
“Just … tired,” Aisha claimed.
Earth
Terra was only trying to have a nice lunch. A potentially romantic lunch with the boy she really, really liked. It was tricky enough, trying to entertain Dane with witty conversation and ultimately get him to like her back.
But Terra couldn’t have a nice lunch because Riven spoiled everything. He cut in line to get lunch, which was so rude that Terra despaired.
Now Riven was sharing an apple with the Air Fairy in the short skirt. Strange. Unsanitary. A whole apple was too much for either of them to handle?
“She’s so weird,” said Terra. Who couldn’t eat a piece of fruit by herself? Also, who could ever like Riven? Terra felt Riven’s weirdness went without saying.
“Apparently, she’s also a huge nerd,” Dane contributed, offering details about Beatrix’s interest in fairy history and a hard-partying lifestyle that Terra certainly wasn’t interested in, thank you very much.
She sniffed. “Riven has questionable taste.”
Beatrix’s questionable taste also went without saying. Dane sent a look Beatrix and Riven’s way that almost seemed admiring, but surely not. Surely, Dane was just too nice for his own good.
On the other hand, Terra bet Beatrix was the kind of girl every guy liked. Terra abruptly felt too sick to eat even a single bite of apple.
“Maybe …” said Dane. “But I kinda think they’re not terrible? Plus, they invited me to the party tonight, so—”
“Wait, what?”
“The Senior Specialists party?” said Dane.
“Yeah. I know what it is. They do it every year. It’s a mess.”
“Does that mean you’re not going?”
Terra abruptly realized she was being very uncool, and she badly wanted for Dane to think she was cool. She tried to play it off.
“Maybe,” Terra said. “Gonna see what the vibe is.”
There! That was a cool thing to say, right?
Dane smiled. “Then maybe I’ll see you tonight.”
Was that a signal? Was Dane trying to tell her to come to the party? Did Terra really have to go to a party? Especially a party like that …
Terra had grown up here. She’d heard the rumors about the Senior Specialists party.
Oh, what had she done?
Fire
Having lunch with Musa was nice, but Aisha’s performance in class was still bothering me.
“It’s just strange seeing Aisha not get something right away,” I fretted.
“Agree. Not sure why that makes you feel so obnoxiously guilty, though.”
Musa shot me a smile. But I couldn’t help bristling.
“I know you have to feel everyone’s emotions, but here’s a thought: You don’t have to broadcast them.” I sighed, and tried to explain the guilt. “Aisha’s tired. My parents think Alfea is in Switzerland, so they Skype me at nine a.m. Switzerland time. Every morning. Which is …”
“Two a.m. our time?” Musa sighed. “Yes, we all hear.”
Oh good, more guilt.
“Am I loud? I’m trying to be quiet.”
“Like every old lady unwrapping hard candy in a theater. But I’m doing fine in class,” Musa assured me. “And so is Terra …”
Musa trailed off, now distracted. Her eyes glowed purple as she scanned the room, eventually landing on what she was looking for.
“Where’d you go?”
I followed Musa’s sight line to find that boy Sam weaving through a few students. His gaze found Musa’s, and he gave her a brief, warm smile.
“My turn to broadcast your emotions?” I asked Musa.
Musa grinned. “They’re still developing. Plus, there’s a complication. So do me a favor and don’t broadcast them in front of—”
Terra arrived, dumping her lunch tray on the table with a resounding clang.
“Here’s a question,” she said abruptly. “When did being a nerd become cool?”
Musa and I exchanged a look. A patented Terra-style rant loomed on the horizon like a thundercloud.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Terra raged. “It’s great. So amazing. Power to the nerds. But suddenly it’s cool to talk about fairy history?”
“Um,” I said. “What?”
Terra ranted on. “I like school. I like good grades. I like reading alone with a cup of chamomile … But nobody is sharing a freaking apple with me. Even though, gross.”
Musa said slowly, “We’re gonna need so much more context for this.”
“Beatrix.” Terra said the name with loathing. That was new. “I don’t really get what the difference is. Between her and me. Why for her it’s … working.”
Musa and I exchanged a look while Terra pushed her food around. Who exactly was ready to tackle that remark?
Then Musa’s guy held up two Popsicles to her, across the way. A clear bribe. As if Musa needed any bribe.
Musa began to pack up. “Actually. Gotta run. Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry.
As Musa headed out, I stared at Terra helplessly. This must be about Dane. Did Dane like Beatrix? But I’d heard that Beatrix was running around with Riven. Terra had spoken at length of Dane and her longing to drown in the chocolate pools
of his eyes. She’d also spoken at length of Riven and her longing to drown him in the Specialists’ lake.
I hoped Dane didn’t like Beatrix. I hoped he liked Terra. She deserved that. And she deserved a friend who knew what to say to her.
Terra sighed. “It’s okay. I know the reason. She smokes and she drinks and she looks like her. And I …”
I look like me.
The sentence hung in the air between us.
Before I could say anything, Terra shook her head and firmly redirected herself away from self-pity.
“How are you doing? How’s your search for the memory lady?”
“Stalling,” I answered honestly. “Does your dad happen to have any old yearbooks?”
That had been Aisha’s bright idea.
“Probably, but I’ll have to check myself. He’s been so busy with Silva, I don’t want to bother him.”
I’d been trying to avoid thinking of Silva. Whenever I thought of Silva, I thought of Sky.
“How is Silva?” I asked guiltily.
“My dad has been pretty down, so I don’t think it’s looking good.”
Now I’d started thinking about Sky, I couldn’t stop. I barely knew him, but I’d never felt such a strong connection to someone so quickly. Thinking of him felt like my fire magic: dangerously close to being out of control.
“I can’t imagine how hard this must be for Sky. I know they’re close. Have you seen him today? Sky?”
Terra eyed me, her expression saying she was fully aware of what was happening.
“Sky is a great guy, Bloom. Legit one of the good ones, but Stella …”
Terra’s gaze skipped a few tables over, where Stella sat with a bunch of second years.
“I’m just worried about him, Terra,” I said. Too quickly.
Terra gave in, but her face stayed skeptical. Clearly, she didn’t buy it.
I didn’t blame her.
Earth
After listening to Bloom worry at lunch, Terra darted off to intercept her dad on his way out of the greenhouse, where she knew he was treating Mr. Silva. The moment before he saw her, Terra saw her father’s face. There were lines graven around his mouth, worry so deep it made him look years older.
