by Kirah Nyx
“Miss Rosado,” the Instructor had said. “Tell us Concord Allman’s expressed views on Foundlings.”
“Allman said that Foundlings, officially known as humans, are improperly named. He claims that to use a term derivative of ‘humanoid’ only increases our emotional response to them, because we, the Arcane, are humanoids. Allman explains that the term ‘human’ should only be used to describe the species in the Arcane, and not Foundlings, because they are our prey.”
Addie raised her hand. “The problem with Allman’s claims is that the Arcane are the ones who named the Foundlings. Our kind were around before the Foundlings, and as such, we named them. Before the Foundlings came into existence, the Arcane fought against and fed on each other. Vampires fed on Videer, Fae ate Vampires, and Videer were aligned with the Fae. But now that we have humans, we’ve united and use them as our food source.”
Instructor Wart wagged her chubby, red finger in Addie’s direction approvingly. “Excellent point, Miss Adberry. Concord Allman believes that Foundlings are not like the Arcane species, yet we are the ones who named them. He wishes for the term to change.”
Jasmine Waters, a bubbly Fae, raised her orange arm in the air. But her violet eyes gleamed with a glint of malicious intent, her pointed teeth revealed by her feral grin.
“Miss Waters,” Instructor Wart permitted.
“I don’t know why we can’t just kill them all,” Jasmine said, earning a few chuckles and cackles from the other students. “I mean, they do it with their own food, don’t they? Foundlings farm pigs, cows, chickens, and sheep. They breed them, line them up, and slaughter them. So, why can’t we do it to them?”
“Because they’re people,” said Ivy, aghast. All gazes darted to her the moment she spoke. She shrunk back into her chair to hide from the critical stares.
“That may be so,” said Instructor Wart, eyes on Ivy. “However, the primary reason we cannot eradicate the entire Foundling species is due to the Videer. Can anyone tell me why?”
Addie said, “The Committee can’t pass the Act to farm Foundlings. For an Act to be passed, all three parties need to agree on it. The Vampire monarchs support it, and the Fae monarchs, too. But, the Videer Keepers reject it every time it’s presented in the Summits.”
Penny agreed, whether out of righteousness or love-goggles, Ivy didn’t know. “The Videer Keepers believe Foundlings are our brethren, and that one day we might all live together, not separately. That’s why they won’t sanction the Act. Because Foundlings are like us, but without magic.”
Zeke Parker, a Vampire, snorted rudely. “The Arcane are the only worthy on this planet. The humans are not worthy of the name they carry; nor are they worthy of the lives they lead. They are inferior, they are food.”
“Exactly,” concurred Jasmine Waters, staring at Penny. “Don’t you see how unlike us they are? When a Foundling is bitten by a Fae or Vampire, but left alive, what happens?”
“They turn,” said Zeke. “But not into one of us. They turn into a frenzied species, void of conscious thought, only thinking of their next meal. Even with our magical touch, they are worthless.”
“That’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard,” barked Ivy. “If I’m bitten by a Fae, I’m not going to turn into one, am I? And a Fae bitten by a Vampire? Nothing happens. Why should Foundlings be any different?”
That debate had gone on for the entire lesson, and Ivy was no closer to agreeing with the barbaric views of Jasmine and Zeke.
Ivy almost admired Foundlings in a sense. She’d learned loads about them from Addie and Penny, who both took The Technology of Foundlings. Foundlings had all sorts of magic; machinery and innovation for starters. How could anyone think them inferior when they were so marvellous?
But then came her mentor session with Coach Aldon. The session itself wasn’t grim, but Ivy couldn’t shake what she’d seen. She had arrived early to the Coach’s office in the cellar corridors. Without announcing herself, she’d pushed through the heavy door, but stilled in the threshold.
In the centre of the room stood a swaying, rotten creature. Ivy tried to digest the sight before her. Samael Valac stood with his back to her, Coach Aldon sat on the desk, facing Samael and the strange creature in the middle of the room. The creature appeared to be a female Foundling. But that wasn’t possible. Foundlings couldn’t enter the Academy, let alone stand in the middle of one of the school classrooms. But something was wrong with the Foundling creature.
“Ivory,” greeted Coach Aldon warmly, sharing a pointed look with Samael. “You’re early.”
Ivy just gawked at the Foundling-esque creature in the centre of the room. Samael clicked his fingers to catch the attention of the thing. It was rotting, quite literally, and its glassy eyes were focused on Samael. The prince pointed at a cupboard against the wall, and the decomposing creature immediately lurched over to it.
Ivy watched as the creature sluggishly pulled open the cupboard door, stumbled inside, and closed the door behind itself. A few bangs and dreary moans were heard before it had fallen silent.
“What the hell was that?” Ivy shrilled, her white eyes almost bulging out of her head. “Was … Was that a person?”
“Of course not,” Aldon laughed, jumping off the desk. “Merely a ghoul used to test Prince Samael’s strengths.”
Samael slowly turned to face Ivy as she remained in the doorway. His white eyes glinted with malice, and his stoic face was as hard as the walls. A glimmer of colour shimmered in his eyes, and Ivy frowned at him as she tried to decipher it. It almost appeared as though his eyes were silver for a moment, not white.
“That didn’t look like a ghoul,” Ivy argued, her voice quivering noticeably. She suddenly felt vulnerable under Samael’s intense stare, even if there was a teacher in the room. “That looked like a dead Foundling.”
“It was fresh,” Aldon smiled, but Samael showed no signs of emotion whatsoever. He merely continued to stare frostily at her. “It’s spirit is trapped in the Blood Forest, wandering for eternity as a Bodach. The Fae Houseparent found it washed up in the lake rocks that passes through the cliffs. It spent too much time in the water for the Fae to consume the flesh, so she offered it to us for Samael’s training.”
Licking her lips nervously, Ivy kicked her feet against the floor as a shudder clutched her body. She nodded, but wasn’t convinced, and shakily put her bag down on a nearby desk. Ghouls had bubbling, grey skin.
They looked like they had been boiled before being left out to rot on a hot summer’s day. The creature in the cupboard had none of those features. It was a walking corpse, and she knew it. And, Ivy was absolutely certain that Samael could only control creatures that he’d killed himself, not already dead. Had he killed a Foundling to practice on it?
“Same time tomorrow, Samael?” Coach Aldon asked. Samael didn’t tear his hard gaze from Ivy, but nodded once in response. “I will see you then.”
Swallowing thickly, Ivy took a step back as Samael stalked toward her.
Every muscle in her body tensed, her fangs protruded, and her veins prickled. She almost flinched as he reached her with that familiar cruelty in his eyes, but he barged past her and out the door.
*
It was fortunate that Ivy had the Fae party that night to take her mind off things. With the mountainous pile of homework growing on the foot of her bed, her poor grades for Spirit Magic, Samael’s Foundling-ghoul, and her brother’s excessive Banshee-hunting, Ivy welcomed the reprieve. And, she had no intention of sticking to her blood ban. The Videer were beginning to smell scrumptious, and Ivy didn’t trust herself to not spiral into a frenzy.
At ten past nine, Addie, Ivy and Penny left the manor for the Fae Lake. Ivy wore her nymph-inspired dress, bought at the Fae markets two summers ago. Finally, she had the opportunity to wear it.
They strode down the cobblestone path, and veered left onto the flowery trail curtained with vines and flanked by trees. The grassy path wound and weaved in pointless circles, forked b
y fake turns that led far into the forest, and full of shielded ditches, adding an extra thirty minutes to the journey than necessary. First-years were sure to get lost on the path, or end up stuck in a deep ditch.
“How did you manage that?” asked Addie exasperatedly.
They ducked under a drooping tree before they hopped over a flowery ditch.
“It’s not like I meant to kill the dragonfly,” Ivy whined. “Coach Aldon just told me to get into its mind. Next thing I know, its breathing fire everyone and exploding into little pieces all over me. It ruined my favourite black cardigan.”
“Does that mean it committed suicide?” pondered Penny aloud. “Dragonflies breathe fire … It died by its own fire. Therefore, it killed itself.”
Ivy grimaced from the pang of pity that struck her gut. She hadn’t intended to kill the poor insect, whether by fire or otherwise.
“I’m cursed,” complained Ivy, tossing her head back and clenching her fists. She stomped her foot and followed the girls as she moaned, “Whenever I try to use my spirit magic, something dies.”
“Not always,” corrected Addie as she leapt gracefully over a gnome burrow. The gnome poked its head out of the ditch and shouted something about trespassing at the three Vampires, but they paid the critter no mind. “There was that time, last year,” continued Addie. “You tried to influence your scarab beetle to eat a leaf, but it ended up eating its own leg.”
Ivy scrunched up her nose and gaped stupidly at Addie.
Addie shrugged and said, “Well, it didn’t die, did it?”
They reached the curtain of twisted vines and humming flower petals. Ivy pinched a sparkly white petal between her fingers and yanked it off the stem. Addie and Penny did the same, leaving only two dozen petals on the stems—only two dozen students could gain entry to the party, now.
The draping vines split down the middle and parted. Through the curtained gap, colour burst. Fae and Vampires danced to ethereal tunes played on flutes; a few Videer let their weapons down, so to speak, and dipped their toes in the purple lake; ghouls lurched across the pebble-stone shore, offering drinks to the partygoers; pixies buzzed in the air, cleaning the litter from the water; the grottos and caves were etched into the stone on the far side of the lake, with slanted wooden doors, lopsided windows, straw porches, flowery table sets, and slimy toadstools.
“Elves of the darkness!” River appeared from a carved log, carrying a tray of wooden cups filled with glittering pink juice. “Welcome, welcome! Have a drink, or five.”
Ivy didn’t need telling twice. She greedily snatched an oak cup and brought the rim to her upturned nose. Sniffing the beverage, she narrowed her eyes at the grinning Fae. “What’s in it?”
“Oh, a little blood here, a dash of pixie essence there,” said River happily. “Just stay away from that.” He pointed his bony finger at the birdbath across the shore, filled with bubbling punch that blew black and gold steam into the air. “A drop of that concoction, and you’ll find yourself in another continent, marrying a tree before the week is out.”
Ivy noticed that a few first years drank from the dangerous punch.
Someone should warn them, she mused.
But the thought dissipated as quickly as it formed, and she tossed back the pink tart liquid in her own cup.
The girls jumped, swayed and twirled on the shore to the upbeat melody of flutes. The song was an earthly Fae tune; a traditional unity song of the Arcane.
The pink juice had kicked in. Or, maybe that was because Ivy had guzzled down five cups of the pink substance. Peacefully, she closed her eyes, lolled her head back, and hummed. She twirled and dipped with the melody. Penny mostly bobbed from side to side and randomly squatted. It was strange, but Ivy dismissed it as a side-effect of the drink.
Addie and Ivy clasped their hands together and hopped around in circles. Even a few of the Videer guests had joined the dancing students on the shore. Mostly, though, they watched and laughed and scoffed at the amusing display. The Videer hadn’t touched the beverages or snacks on offer. Their presence sparked the image of Domenic in her mind.
Ivy hadn’t seen him in a few days, but she suddenly endured a dreadful yearning sensation, not in her tummy, but in her chest. It hurt, she realised, as she rubbed the dip between her breasts, soothing the ache.
It was just like magic. Maybe it was magic. But the moment she reached for her yearning heart, Ivy saw him. Domenic appeared on the far side of the lake, by the grottos. How peculiar.
Ivy stopped dancing. Her tranquilly clouded eyes gazed across the purple water at the cloaked figure. His hood was pulled over his head, but she saw his lips and chin. She recognised those features, even over the vast distance separating them.
“What’s the matter?” asked Addie, slowing her sways and swirls.
“That’s him,” whispered Ivy. A soft smile graced her lips as she pointed her black fingernail at the cloaked figure. “That’s my Videer.”
Addie and Penny traced her gaze to the grottos.
“There’s no one there,” said Penny.
Cocking her head to the side, Ivy blinked. As her eyes opened, she saw what Penny saw—nothing but grottos and straw furniture. Domenic wasn’t there.
“No more juice for you!” declared Addie. She and Penny continued to hop on the spot, but Ivy still stared across the calm water. She had been certain that she’d seen him there, above the grottos, across the lake.
“I’ll be right back,” muttered Ivy.
Penny asked, “Where are you going?”
“To the toilet,” she lied and left the girls to their dance.
Ivy wandered up the shore to the grottos. A few toads were perched atop their stools, and some younger Fae students peered out of the lopsided windows. But there were no signs of Domenic anywhere. Ivy climbed up the rocky caves to the forest edge. It was possible that he was in there, somewhere.
Maybe he’s on duty and stopped to observe the party? Did he see me? Does he like my dress? Not that I care, or anything. Besides, it’s a lovely dress. How could he not like it?
Ivy’s thoughts spiralled as she reached the visible roots of the trees. What began as doubtful questions had evolved into short daydreams of her and Domenic kissing in the forest. That juice was trouble, that much she gathered as she wandered through the trees.
On her aimless journey in the Blood Forest, she passed a small stream; sixteen rotted tree trunks; a few gnome burrows, one of which she treaded on; and a wild Pegasus that went running the moment it caught a trace of her scent. Ivy couldn’t blame the creature. Vampires enjoyed hunting Pegasi from time to time. But Ivy was hunting a different creature in the woods—one that turned her legs to jelly and her tummy to bubbling mush.
Ivy didn’t know how long she’d been searching. But, eventually, she reached a meadow. It seemed familiar, she thought. A tug pulled and twisted at her mind, but she came up short. She couldn’t place the field in her memories, but she had an inkling that she’d been there before. Perhaps she’d passed it by during her hunting trips in the Blood Forest a couple of times.
The meadow was peculiar, though. It didn’t shimmer emerald green or sing the songs of the birds. Instead, it was doused in darkness. Even the moonlight unable to pierce the looming trees that roofed the field. Creaks groaned from the sturdy trunks of the trees that circled her, lined so closely together that there was no way out. The leaves above hissed in the light breeze, but no wind touched her skin. She could hear the nature whistle, and see the faint slivers of the moonlight above. But, her sense of smell was deprived of the rich soil and freshly blossoming flowers.
“Ivy,” sang a familiar voice.
Ivy surveyed the field. No one was there. Her nostrils flared as she sniffed the air. Only the aroma of nature wafted up her nose.
“Ivy. Run.”
Frowning, Ivy stepped further into the clearing. She recognised the voice—It was Penny’s. But the Vampire was nowhere in sight.
“Ivy, run. Go. It’s c
oming.”
What’s coming?
As if hearing her mental question, Penny’s eerie voice whispered out and brushed through the leaves, “The solstice is coming. Run!”
A twig snapped.
Ivy’s muscles tensed and a gasp whispered from her lips. Eyes, widened, were glued straight ahead, alight with horror. She tensed and inhaled sharply.
A black beast emerged from the shadows. Ivy emitted a shaky breath and squinted at the strange creature. It’s legs, long and thick, slinked forward; its head, bigger than her own, bowed; but its menacing yellow eyes glowered up at her as it neared. Ivy tried to stumble back, but her bare feet were rooted to the soil.
Ivy’s lips parted in a silent scream. The beast stopped beneath a faint dusting of moonlight. The white glow washed over the darkness, and betrayed what the beast was: The same from her dream.
Bones outlined the hairless and skinless creature, exposing its bloody, meaty insides and the muscles slapped around its body. The skeletal wolf, towering over her, bared its rows of sharp fangs in a savagely wolfish grin. It was a Shifter. Standing metres away from her, hungry eyes locked onto its target. Its prey.
Dirt rose and billowed behind the bloody beast. The cloud of brown wafted behind it. Its claws had torn into the soil for leverage. Ivy’s silent scream curdled into an ear-splitting shriek. Her bare feet scrambled beneath her as she frantically scrambled around and sprinted in the opposite direction. The monster panted. Its heavy paws bounded behind her, gaining closer.
Screaming wildly, Ivy raced into the jagged rows of trees.
Tears clouded her sight as she leapt over broken trunks and hovels. The skeletal wolf pursued her into the woods, its salivating, snapping jaws chomping out at the air behind her.
Each time, Ivy cried out, and pushed herself to run faster than she thought possible.
The noise at the Fae party whispered in the distance. Ivy swerved left and headed straight for it. There were Videer at the party; Videer and Fae and Vampires. Too many of them for one Shifter to challenge and survive.
