by Ava Corrigan
“Wait. Bloom is a changeling?”
“Whoops,” purred Stella.
Before Riven could respond, Stella’s phone buzzed. Across the way, so did Terra’s. From the look on both girls’ faces, the texts were important.
Terra snapped into take-charge mode. “Come on, Stella! We have to go.”
She abandoned Dane and ran at Stella, seizing her wrist.
“Wait, wait,” said Riven. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t have time for you right now, Riven,” snapped Terra. “Something important is happening. Gotta go, enjoy the party, leave poor Dane alone.”
She rushed off, leaving Riven and Dane behind. Riven found that to be unwise.
Leave Dane alone, she said? Oh, Terra, Terra, Terra. Didn’t she know how Riven felt about a challenge?
Fire
The whispers rose in my ears as Sky and I hunted through the woods. They were louder than before, terrifying. I could almost make out words. Sky unsheathed his sword.
“It’s close,” I warned.
I turned around. We stood back to back.
“Do I want to know why you can track these things?” Sky asked.
Hunt Burned Ones now, Sky, I thought. Talk later.
“One of the many mysteries of my life we could be solving in the protective embrace of the Barrier.”
Suddenly, Sky spun to see a Burned One bearing down on him. He was clearly thrown, but he got a strike in. Everyone said Sky was the best warrior training at Alfea. Maybe he could just kill the monster and we could go home.
The monster shrieked, then tossed Sky aside and turned. It leaped at me, knocking me down. The Burned One reared back to strike, and I knew in a moment of moonlight-cold certainty that I’d been as foolish as Aisha had warned me, that I was doomed, that I didn’t stand a chance.
Stella’s voice called out, “Close your eyes.”
I shut my eyes, trusting, as the Burned One raised its arm to deliver a killing blow.
The blow never landed. Instead, I saw the pale impression of a blinding light behind my eyelids. When I opened my eyes, the forest was still illuminated. The Burned One was staggering back, stunned.
My suitemates were all around me. I’d texted them, and they had come running.
Aisha raced forward, helping me to my feet. The monster was back on its feet and heading straight for her … until a chain of ivy wrapped around its legs, pulling it to the ground. Terra caught my eye and grinned.
The Burned One broke through the clinging ivy without trouble. But Terra had slowed it enough for me to summon my magic again. Flames moved in straight, sharp lines toward the creature. But they didn’t reach it.
I yelled, “Aisha!”
Aisha summoned a massive wall of water in front of the flame, and when our fire and water met, the forest erupted in steam.
We saw the dim shape of the Burned One staggering toward us, disoriented, lost in the whiteness. Until out of the fog, a blade gleamed true. Sky’s sword pierced the monster to the heart, and the Burned One fell to the ground.
As the steam cleared, we moved toward the Burned One’s corpse.
“Wait,” Musa said behind me. “Stop, I don’t think it’s—”
I was within reach as the monster reared up suddenly to strike, but then it was paralyzed by a light emanating from within its own blackened body. Before our eyes, the Burned One incinerated from the inside out.
“No,” came Ms. Dowling’s cool voice. “It wasn’t dead.”
Specialist
Sky watched from across the room as Professor Harvey treated Silva. It felt just like the last time he’d had to watch this, helpless to aid Silva, hope and fear seeming to tear his heart in half with every beat. If he’d killed the wrong Burned One, this had all been for nothing. He didn’t know, he couldn’t be sure, but Silva seemed to have more energy.
Silva told Sky, in a strong, furious voice, “You’re an idiot.”
“I know,” said Sky, hardly daring to hope. “But is it better?”
Silva continued ranting, “You’re a stupid, reckless, impulsive …”
“Professor Harvey?” Sky begged.
Sky turned to the professor, desperate for any sign. Harvey looked up with a smile that gave Sky the answer he wanted to hear.
“Don’t smile at him!” Silva ordered.
Silva turned, and Sky saw what he’d been desperate to see. The wounds were healing.
Silva was scowling. Sky had spent his whole life trying to please Silva, fearing to inspire that look on his face. Yet in this moment, Sky didn’t care one bit. He rushed to Silva, pulling him into a hug, and held on tight. He hadn’t failed, after all. He wasn’t letting go. He wasn’t losing someone else that he loved.
Gruffly, into Sky’s hair, Silva muttered: “Your dad would be proud.”
Light
“So Dowling can do more than one kind of magic?” Bloom asked. “That’s a thing?”
Poor, foolish Bloom. What did they teach kids in California? It seemed a lawless place.
Stella was feeling benevolent about everything. She’d used her magic to save the day! Sky and her Winx suitemates were no doubt extremely impressed. Her mother might be proud when she heard.
A party was only as good as the clothes you wore to it. A battle was only won by the power you brought to it.
“If you’re strong enough,” Terra told Bloom.
“Which she is. Obviously,” Stella chipped in helpfully. Ms. Dowling was strong, and she was teaching Stella to be strong, too.
“So of course we pissed her off,” said Musa.
Musa was not a very positive person.
Stella began to feel slightly negative herself as the sound of heels approached. They all stood as Dowling turned a corner to face them, putting her phone away.
“That the lot of you and Headmaster Silva are alive doesn’t change how thoughtless you were,” Dowling said crisply.
Stella was relieved at this piece of good news. Silva was alive. They had succeeded, and Sky would be fine now, back to his usual self.
But Dowling remained harsh. “We’ll discuss consequences in the morning.”
As Dowling walked away, Musa’s eyes glowed purple. Aisha leaned into her, whispering.
“Is she, like, detention pissed off or expulsion pissed off?”
Musa said, “I’m going with the first one. But only because of the very tiny bit of pride I also felt in there.”
More good news.
Just then, Sky entered. He looked steadier than he’d looked since Silva was hurt, and Stella relaxed at the very sight of him. Sometimes she felt as though she was a bit of Terra’s beloved ivy and could only flourish with his support.
Then Sky glanced between Bloom and Stella, and for a moment Stella felt a weird tension in the air, as if he was trying to weigh something heavy. Make a decision. Stella felt like Aisha, trying not to let water slip through her fingers.
Bloom took action, making the decision for him. “We should get upstairs.”
Stella was annoyed by how grateful she felt to Bloom for that, but this was no time to dwell on it. Not now, when she felt as though everything might finally go smoothly.
Stella was truly thrilled for Sky, and surely Sky would forgive her for being a little weird before. They had all saved Silva together. She remembered seeing him in the woods, wielding his sword like a knight. He was so brave. And it made sense, that a knight was destined for a princess.
As she looked up at Sky, though, she saw an unfamiliar look on his dear, familiar face, and felt panic clutch at her heart. Was it really that he was mad at her, or was it that he wanted Bloom?
Maybe Sky wasn’t brave about everything.
Don’t go, Stella thought. Don’t leave me alone in the dark.
Specialist
Now that Sky was feeling better, apparently Stella liked him more. She drifted toward him, clearly wishing to catch his hand and cling.
“I was awful today. I’m sorry.
Seeing you scared and vulnerable? I couldn’t handle it.”
“I know,” said Sky. “I felt it.”
It had been pretty obvious.
“You’re the only one who knows the real me, Sky,” Stella whispered.
“That’s your choice, Stella.”
“It’s not, though. I am the heir to the Solarian throne. If you knew the kind of pressure I’m under …”
“I do. You know I do.”
If he didn’t, nobody did. He and Stella had known each other so long, he knew her pain as well as he knew his own. He saw her pain now, written all across her beautiful face as she struggled to speak.
“Your strength is my safety net. I have to know it’s there if I fall.”
Their patterns together were so set, he could fall into them without thinking. Every cell in his body was telling him to put his arms around her and comfort her, the same way he did every time she revealed her vulnerable side.
Only every time before, he hadn’t known she would never reciprocate.
“And what if I fall?” Sky asked. “Who’s there to catch me?” He turned and walked away from her.
He kept remembering the warm feeling he’d had, just from having Bloom sit down next to him at a stupid party. He’d made the wrong choice on the first day of school. He wished, so much, that he’d sent Stella away from his room, and that he’d sent that text to Bloom instead.
Earth
In bed, Terra scrolled through her Instagram stories, and found Beatrix. No doubt being cool. Sharing a single piece of fruit. Terra didn’t want to see it.
She clicked on the video, anyway.
It was a shaky video of Riven, and a shirtless Dane. Riven winked at the camera. Dane put his arm around him.
“Hey, Riv,” he slurred. “Shotgun me.”
“What about your girlfriend?” Riven asked.
Dane said: “Who?”
And then they were mocking her, Dane suggesting Terra should get with a flower, Riven snickering. Having fun at her expense. Riven, the meanest guy in Alfea, and Dane, the boy of Terra’s dreams.
Riven took another hit, and Beatrix moved into the frame.
“My turn,” she said, motioning to Dane, and then added with all the easy, sexy confidence Terra would never have, “Come on, third degree.”
Riven exhaled into both Dane’s and Beatrix’s mouths. This time, all three of their mouths touched. It looked messy and out of control, and Terra felt messy and out of control.
Dane, who she’d thought was so sweet, who she’d thought really liked her. But no, of course he liked Beatrix, who was everything Terra could never be. And somehow, for some reason, Riven was involved.
Overwhelmed by shock and pain, Terra’s hand trembled as she slowly put her phone down on the nightstand. She couldn’t process this. Not tonight.
Fire
Aisha and I got ready for bed, still humming from the near miss, and I filled her in on what I’d done. And more importantly, what I hadn’t done. I hadn’t summoned all my magic in the stone circle and burned down the forest. I thought she’d be proud of me.
Aisha seemed more worried than proud. She turned to look at me, where I sat on my bed, and I could feel something big coming.
“Bloom, I know you want to find your birth parents, but … What if there’s no big conspiracy? You said Rosalind was headmistress.” Aisha selected her words with obvious care. “Isn’t it possible you’re just the daughter of a student? A scared teenager who got pregnant and didn’t know what to do?”
Put that way, it sounded plausible, but I shook my head. “There are just too many things I can’t explain.”
A steely note entered Aisha’s voice. “You know, some people would kill to be a natural with magic like you. Even if it meant they were just a regular fairy.”
Aisha glanced over at the bowl of water she couldn’t master, and plunged ahead.
“Magic is … not easy for me. I had to work really hard to get into this school. And I’m gonna have to work really hard to stay in it. But you …”
“What? Are you saying I should be grateful?”
I never wanted to come here. I wanted to go home.
“I’m saying you should be realistic,” Aisha told me.
I knew Aisha was only trying to help, trying to be sensible.
“Do you even know what that means for me, Aisha? Being realistic?”
I stared up at Aisha, totally vulnerable, begging her to understand me.
“It means my real mom didn’t want me. That she looked at me when I was just a baby and gave me up. And if you don’t think I’ve thought about that every day since I found out I was a changeling …” I struggled to speak. “I have to believe that there’s something more. I have to.”
And with that, I collapsed on my bed. I couldn’t push away tears anymore. Aisha ran to me and threw her warm arms around me, and I relaxed against her, leaning into her strength.
I loved Aisha. I loved my new friend. I really did. But she was wrong. She had to be wrong.
There must be more to the story of me and Rosalind.
Come, faeries, take me out of this dull house!
Let me have all the freedom I have lost.
—W. B. Yeats
Farah Dowling, Saúl Silva, and Ben Harvey were on a mission. Just like the old days. Farah’s secretary Callum had gone missing. That would be disquieting at the best of times. At a time like this, with Burned Ones stalking the woods and Bloom asking questions about Rosalind, it was actively alarming. They had to find out what had happened to him.
Someone had tried to access the secret door in her bookcase, but nobody had reached what lay at the end of the secret passage.
Farah reset the spell, a trap laid for anyone who found the door, but they needed to know who it had been. Her missing secretary Callum was the prime suspect, but if it had been him, how had he evaded the trap, and where was he now?
Had he had help getting in through the door? Had he had help getting away?
Time to find out. Ben was at her bookcase, preparing a solution of nettle amalgam in a beaker. He poured the solution into an earthenware censer, sealed the censer, and then lit the flame beneath it. After a moment, mist seeped out of the censer, and near the bookcase, something began to take shape. A huddled, incomplete form that had once been a body.
Callum’s face re-formed. His expression was a rictus of pain, his eyes filled with the terror experienced in the moment of his death.
Ah. So Callum hadn’t gotten away, after all.
“Callum,” Farah said heavily. “Yes.”
She hadn’t loved Callum, but she’d felt responsible for him. As she did for everyone at Alfea.
“He was killed. With magic,” said Ben.
Every inch Professor Harvey right now, Ben pulled out a specimen jar half filled with Vessel Stones. He scooped the jar through the image of Callum’s dead face, collecting a sample. Then he closed the lid as the remnant of Farah’s secretary vanished.
“At least now we know where he went,” said Farah.
She and Saúl exchanged a look of grim understanding.
“And that there’s a murderer in our school,” Saúl said.
Someone in this school had tried to break in, through all Farah’s defenses, to the worst secret she’d ever kept. Someone lethal. And not long ago, she’d told Bloom that Rosalind was dead.
They had to find Callum’s killer.
Specialist
Riven was pretty sure Beatrix was actually his girlfriend. He’d never had a proper one before, and it was nice. She was in Riven’s dorm, wearing one of his T-shirts. They were just hanging out, enjoying each other’s company.
While she stared at a picture of the weird changeling Bloom on her phone, but okay! Riven had heard women were mysterious.
“It’s your fault for spreading it around that she’s a changeling,” Beatrix informed him. “She’s now the most interesting person at school.”
Riven shifted, uncomforta
ble with guilt. “People will forget in a few more days. They’ll move on.”
“I won’t,” said Beatrix.
There was an intensity to her comment that wasn’t lost on Riven. He just didn’t know what it meant.
“Is this like one of those obsession movies where you dye your hair red and take over her life and then, like, wear her skin or something?”
“Don’t be disgusting,” said Beatrix. “I have much better skin.”
Beatrix’s hair was currently dark auburn. Riven liked it the way it was. He grinned and decided he didn’t care what her hang-up was. She was funny, in exactly the petty and mean but whip-smart way he enjoyed. She was a challenge. He liked her, and he hoped she liked him.
“I guess I’ll just have to fight for your attention, then …”
Riven kissed the back of her neck. She let him, closing her eyes. When he stopped, she sighed.
“No, no. Keep fighting. A little to the left.”
Riven kissed her, and wondered why he always had to battle so hard for everything he wanted.
Then again, if he didn’t have to fight, would he want it?
Fire
I crossed the courtyard under a cloud. Literally, in that a cloud hung over the castle, but also figuratively, in that I was under a smoke-dark cloud of suspicion. I was carrying much-needed coffee and breakfast in takeout containers. As I went past knots of chatting students, I heard two fairies gossiping. And I knew the burning-hot topic of gossip was me.
One fairy said, “I’m telling you, she lit her nursery school on fire.”
The other claimed, “Nope. Softball team. Torched ’em at an away game. Her human parents never stood a chance. Did she kill them both, or just one of them?”
“Neither,” I said loudly.
When they turned, cringing, I smiled. They cringed more.
I told them, “So I’m due for a murder or two.”
