HUSH, Ivy: The Arcane Academy

by Kirah Nyx

The monumental day was Ivy’s eighteenth birthday.

  Ivy and Domenic hadn’t seen one another since their spat. But she wanted, needed, to see him that day; that very special day. The only gift she wanted was Domenic’s company.

  And trinkets, and shoes, and gowns, and spirit magic, and—

  Her thoughts carried away from her. Her mind spiralled with the expectedly great range of gifts she would receive. No doubt, they were sitting on her bed back at the dorm, waiting to be opened by her greedy hands. But she stalled, waiting anxiously in the library, hoping for Domenic to arrive.

  He’s not coming … He doesn’t want to see me.

  It was peculiar feeling, difficult to describe. It crept down from her heavy heart to her churning stomach, something between anger and anxiety. In part, she understood why he didn’t meet her, but, then again, it was her birthday and they were close. Were they close? Self-doubt didn’t agree. In fact, self-doubt contradicted everything she’d thought she knew about her relationship with Domenic.

  He knows I attacked that girl … He thinks I’m a monster.

  She wrung her hands together, muttering something under her breath that sounded a lot like ‘hive sore ninnuts.’ With every stop and swift turn of her pacing, her bun of hair wobbled atop her head, and stray strands whipped around her face. Her heeled boots clumped against the mahogany slabs beneath her, and her black jeans creaked from her swift movements. She fidgeted nervously with the neckline of her black cropped top, wondering if it was too revealing—a sliver of her white tummy, still tinged with grey, was revealed between her jeans and top. Her gussied face showed the markings of cosmetics, and she denied, even to herself, that it was all in effort of recapturing Domenic’s affections. A simple conversation, and perhaps apology, could repair their fractures, but Ivy avoided such talks when she could. Her comfort zone blanketed the manipulative and sneaky approaches instead—

  Her senses prickled. Her body stiffed as she faced the window. A slight movement caught her attention in the reflection. Before she could turn around, something hard pressed against her back, and a small gust of warm air brushed over her exposed neck.

  “You know,” came Domenic’s voice, seductive and soft, but with a sharp bite to it, “for a Vampire, you’re surprisingly easy to catch off Knight.” He was still angry, that much was clear in his barbed tone. But he’d come, and Ivy breathed a whisper of a sigh in relief. “You should work on that,” he said, his finger brushing a curl from her bare shoulder. “You never know who might sneak up on you in this place.”

  Slowly, she looked over her shoulder at him, her nose grazing his chin slightly. “Even if the wrong sort snuck up on me, my other talents would save me.”

  “And what talents are those?” he asked, not without malice. He stepped away and walked around her, settling himself nonchalantly on the desk against the window.

  “Oh, you know,” she shrugged lazily. “My charm and pretty smile.”

  She was joking, of course, and emphasised that with a bright, fanged grin his way. He cocked his eyebrow, and didn’t smile. His lips didn’t even twitch.

  “A pretty smile you have,” he agreed, one foot on the ground, the other dangling above the wooden floorboards. “But charm? It’s more of an alluring vulnerability.”

  Ivy’s grin fell from her lips and her expression slacked. “Ouch,” she mumbled. He didn’t apologise, but unclasped his cloak, revealing his usual combat gear. He billowed the cloak to hang over the desk and pulled out a small glittery object from his trouser pocket. Her eyes sparked with intrigue, but his fingers clasped around the object before she could get a good look at it.

  “I didn’t think you’d come,” she said, shattering the silence. He looked up at her from beneath his lashes, his eyes darker and harder than she’d seen them before, as if they’d been crafted from the black pebbles on the lake shore down by the grottos.

  He raised his head slowly, watching her, considering her. His gaze never left hers, and the silence thickened further. “I almost didn’t.”

  The argument was your fault, Videer, she spat inwardly. But if that were true, why did she feel so guilty? Perhaps it was his unyielding stare that had her squirming on the spot. A fleeting memory of her father scolding her in her youth passed through her mind.

  “So, why did you?” she asked. “Come, I mean.”

  He looked lost in thought, mulling over her question quietly, observing her as he did. His fist rolled the mysterious object in his palm, like one would do a stress stone. “I don’t have long,” he said, avoiding her question. “I need to leave for a mission soon.”

  “Domenic,” she sighed, approaching him. She stopped between his spread legs. “Can we just pretend for today that we’re not fighting over stupid things? It’s my birthday.”

  No flash of regret or surprise showed in his hard eyes. He opened his palm slowly and revealed the object to her. A necklace, shimmering silver, with a dyed-lilac ruby pendant in the shape of an oval. It winked at her invitingly, and she smiled down at the jewel. Jewels, she had plenty of, and all far grander than the one in his palm. But none given by a man who angered her so intensely, whilst bringing her such joy at the same time.

  “I know it’s your birthday, Sky. I got this for you on my last mission.”

  Delicately, she ran her fingers over the pendant, feeling an odd pulse of magic nip at her skin. She looked at him questioningly.

  “It’s been spelled to bring you luck and protection,” he said indifferently. But the gift in his hand contradicted his nonchalance. “Wear it when I’m not around, and I’ll be there with you.”

  The sentiment softened her features, and she smiled sweetly. The necklace couldn’t really provide her with protection, of course. That sort of magic was non-existent, for it meddled with the fates, and the fates were unyielding. It would merely enhance her intuition. But the gesture was lovely, all the same.

  Her finger hooked through the silver chain and she lifted it up, inspecting it at eye-level.

  “This is so thoughtful of you,” she said fondly. “Can you—”

  Her sentence fell as she handed him the necklace. She turned around, allowing him to scoop the chain around her neck and clasp it securely. Her fingertips grazed over the beautiful, yet ordinary pendant as she smiled down at it. “Thank you,” she said, and turned back around to face him.

  Domenic appeared lost in thought as he inclined his head. His eyes bore into hers, but slowly pulled away to rake down her face, stopping at her plump quirked lips. Her gaze mimicked his, and landed on the soft pink of his lips. Butterflies suddenly sprung to life in the pit of her stomach, and drips of nerves trickled down her spine to her toes.

  Her tongue darted over her lips as she hesitantly stepped closer to him. His hands clutched onto the edge of the desk, his neat fingernails leaving crescent shapes in the wood. He leaned closer to her.

  Their lips were close. She could feel his warm breaths brush over her face. But, he paused, and so did she. Ivy wanted to kiss him, for him to kiss her. His hesitation stopped her.

  As if the moment never happened, Domenic pulled away and slipped off the desk. She stepped back and swerved her gaze, looking at the table instead.

  “Happy Birthday,” was all he said before he grabbed his cloak and left.

  Soaking in humiliation and rejection, Ivy simply stared glassily at the desk. Domenic knew about her attack on the Videer girl, that much was clear in his hostility. But why was she surprised? Videer knew everything after all.

  Following her stiff encounter with Domenic, Ivy was in dire need of presents. Or, she was in dire need of the happiness they brought her. She returned to the den, where presents would be piling up on her bed.

  Slicing a line down her palm with her sharp nail, Ivy offered her own blood to the goblet at the entrance of the den. It accepted her, and the heavy door swung open. As she stepped inside, she was enveloped by the warmth of the fireplace, the scent of loose thin parchment, flavoured blood at the co
cktail bar, and the sound of laughing and chatting Vampires, all as merry as they would be on their own birthdays.

  The atmosphere was contagious, and Ivy perked up the moment the door slammed shut behind her.

  Out of nowhere, Penny appeared in front of her, grinning like a giddy devil-cat.

  “Happy Birthday!”

  A pink tinge crept up her cheeks as Penny abruptly yanked her through the bustling den. Addie was waiting, and possessed a dignified aura even as she sat on a fluffy pink cushion on the floor. Silus, Ivy’s wolf-pup, was curled up on his own cushion, its eyes warily darting around the den. No Vampire even looked at the grey wolf. Silus didn’t stop watching them. He could sense their natures, but was fond of the three Vampires on the cushions with him.

  “Sit, sit,” ushered Penny. Ivy hesitantly obeyed, watching as the Halfling rummaged through her bag and pulled out a parcel. The parcel was clearly a birthday gift, wrapped in sleek black paper and tied with a baby-pink ribbon. Immediately, Ivy’s hands stuck out and a gluttonous glint gleamed in her eyes.

  “Longer friendships triumph,” said Addie. She removed a parcel, wrapped the same, from the inside pocket of her cashmere cardigan. Penny looked at Addie indignantly and dropped down onto another cushion. Addie paid her no mind.

  “What is it?” asked Ivy as she took the parcel and hastily shredded the wrapping paper to ribbons.

  “Generally,” said Addie dryly, “one must open the gift for its contents to be revealed.”

  Ivy rolled her eyes, but a fond smile tugged at her lips. She opened the small box, and gasped. It was an old pocket-sized book, with faded letters on the worn leather cover. A first-edition of the ‘The Fables of the Arcane’, a book filled with the old tales.

  “My turn!” declared Penny excitedly before Ivy could even thank Addie. Penny tossed the parcel at her, and shifted to the same cushion. Ivy had to scoot over to fit them both. “Open it.”

  “Oh,” said Ivy sarcastically. “I was just going to sit here and stare at it.”

  A playful punch to the arm silenced her, and she unwrapped the parcel. A shiny, flat, black device sat neatly in a white box, and showed her own reflected. Ivy scowled—from that angle she had a double-chin. She didn’t like this mirror-device at all.

  “Thank you,” said Ivy uncertainly.

  “You’re welcome,” said Penny proudly. Her chin raised slightly and a smugness washed over her face. “Turn it on.”

  “On?” echoed Ivy. Her nose crinkled, and brows furrowed.

  “It’s a phone,” laughed Penny, mockingly. “You have to turn it on. I’ve already charged it, so it’s got juice, and my number’s been added already. That way, we can text when we’re not at school!”

  None of what she’d said made any sense to Ivy. And by the bemused expression on Addie’s face, she didn’t understand either. Ivy lifted the shiny metal device from the box and shook it lightly. No juice oozed out of it. And what would she, a Vampire, want with juice? Unless it was infused with blood, of course. How silly.

  Penny looked between the pair. “Oh, come on!” she said. “It’s from the Foundling world. I had my mother send it a few weeks ago.”

  “Ohhh,” sang Addie, scooting closer to the object. “I’ve heard of those. We learnt about them in The Technology of Foundlings. They use them to communicate with each other and play games, all sorts of things really.”

  Penny leaned forward and held in a button at the side, which caused an odd symbol to light up on the black bit. “That’s the screen,” said Penny. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Ivy nodded slowly, a stunned expression on her face. She delicately placed it back in the box and tucked her presents into her bag. “Thanks,” said Ivy uncertainly. Penny grinned smugly.

  “Your brother’s waving you over,” said Addie, inclining her head to the study tables across the mahogany room. Ivy followed her gaze and saw Felix sitting on a desk, not the chair, summoning her over.

  Samael sat on the desk opposite, looking coolly over his shoulder at her. They each held wrapped parcels in their hands. Well, Samael held one parcel, and two more sat beside him on the desk. Instantly, Ivy sprung to her feet and ran over.

  “Happy Birth—” Felix began.

  “What’d you get me?” Ivy snatched the present from him and settled herself on the chair between the tables.

  “Gracious, as always,” commented Felix with a smirk.

  “You’re my brother,” she snorted, ripping apart the wrapping paper. “I don’t have to be nice to you. And you’re hardly ever nice to me.”

  A fond grin spread across his face, but Samael remained his stoic self.

  She opened the present and her lips formed a circle as she gazed down at it. Being the wealthy siblings they were, Ivy had expected a fancy ballgown, an expensive broach, or a diamond bracelet. But what he’d given her was much sweeter. It was a hardback book, with white leather skin, sewn with gold thread and embedded with jewels to create the image of the family crest. Handmade, clearly, and beautiful.

  Ivy gently opened the heavy cover, and her eyes grew glossy at the many pictures, inscriptions, and drawings within.

  He’d scrapbooked everything from their youth to their present. Stick figure pictures she’d drawn of them both in her childhood were glued to the crisp pages of the scrapbook, and photographs of them playing in the gardens covered page after page. What was most touching, however, were the inscriptions—written quotes of things she’d said to him over the years, ranging from ‘you’re a butthead’ (her first curse word) to ‘I wouldn’t give you my blood if you were withering away’ (said only six months ago when they’d fought over who fed on their mother’s tiger. It was Felix, but he’d tried to blame her).

  Watery eyes glistened with nostalgic sentiments, and she smiled up at Felix. He appeared quite proud of himself, lounging there on the desk without a care in the world.

  “If you weren’t so annoying,” she said, “I might’ve said I love you.” She stood and flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly, a rare embrace. He returned it half-heartedly before shrugging her off.

  “All right, sis,” he said. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

  She scoffed and sat back down on the chair. “Yeah, you don’t want anyone to know that there’s a good guy deep down, do you?”

  “Precisely,” he replied with mock severity. He leaned closer and whispered, “I might’ve said it back.”

  Smiling, she fixed her curious gaze on Samael.

  He handed her the pile of three presents. She wasn’t surprised that he’d gotten her gifts—he did so every year, due to the closeness of their families. It was expected. But, normally he’d simply attach his name to whatever Queen Anouk sent her on behalf of the whole family.

  This year was different.

  She opened the gifts swiftly, using her sharpened nails to shred through the paper blocking her path. Before long, she sat on the chair with three opened parcels stacked on her lap. He’d gotten her a pair of designer shoes, the same as her normal school shoes, but a newer addition with two straps instead of one; a new pegasi-leather backpack, snow-white and square in shape; and a diamond tiara. She was most fond of the backpack, but loathed that it was made from pegasi skin; they were truly magnificent animals.

  He stared at her for a moment. Felix smirked, glancing between the two, before Samael said, “I chose them, myself. If you do not like them, I’m sure I can return them for something—”

  “No,” she said hastily. “I like them. Thank you, Prince Samael. It was very kind of you.”

  His jaw ticked at her formal addressing of him, but he inclined his head.

  Felix leaned forward and whispered, “Mother and father’s parcels are upstairs. Quite a pile, so I’m told.”

  Holding the stack of presents in her arms, Ivy wasted not a moment before she scurried out of the den. It would be rude to keep her gifts waiting. And Ivy had been raised to be polite.

  The window seat in the dorm was alrea
dy warm by the time Ivy reached it; the strong sunrays poured in through the iron-barred windows and thawed it. Torn wrapping paper littered the room, and half-opened presents lay scattered over her bed. Ivy sat on the window seat with her legs bent, and placed the gift Addie had gotten her on her thighs. The crispy pages were beige and weaved onto the leather spine. As it was centuries old, Ivy had to be careful with the delicate parchment pages. Each page crinkled and creaked as she gently sifted through to find her favourite tale.

  ‘The Fables of the Arcane’ was a collection of tales; tales of the angels, the rebellion in heaven, the grim reaper, and the garden of Eden. But none matched the popularity of the tale ‘The Divine Artefacts’, Ivy’s favourite.

  ‘Two men and one woman stood in the field beside the apple tree. They watched the sudden strangeness plague their earth. Blood rained down from the sky, and fell, a white chest. The chest dented the grass, unblemished by its descent from the heavens. A Videer, a Vampire, and a Fae gazed at the chest, wary and awe-struck.

  Sorrow overcame them, and their tears dropped to the grass. The soil and blades of grass soaked in the dewy drops of the blood of their Gods.

  A voice rumbled from the earth, taking the dirt as its own. “My children, you are not,” it said. “My children, you will never be. My children will see you rot. My children will devour thee.”

  A bolt of white light struck the closed petals of the buds. The white seared the blades of grass; barren and brown, they were now. In its wake, stood a woman. A woman with dark skin and coiled hair.

  “My kin,” she said. “Of Gods and Angels, we are, but of heavens, we are not. The tools of paradise itself lay in the chest. Are we not in heaven?”

  “Blasphemy!” cried the Videer. She wielded her weapons fiercely.

  “Gods, we may be,” said the woman. “And heaven we may build. A Fae, a Vampire, a Videer, and I.”

  The stranger snatched the chest from the soil. As the chest was torn from the grass, the pearly gates of Eden opened. She opened the chest, and bestowed her eyes on the relics within.