by Rye Brewer
Unstable
Under Realm Academy
Rye Brewer
Contents
Unstable
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Unhinged
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Afterword
Copyright © 2020 by Rye Brewer
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Art by www.mirellasantana.deviantart.com
with Model Mirish – Deviant Art
Unstable
Fierce witches. Necromancers. Soul reapers. Mysterious dragons. Secret councils. Forbidden alliances. The Under Realm Academy awaits.
Senior year at Under Realm Academy. Perfect, right? Should be, but isn’t.
Moira Bloodworth’s got a crush on the hottest demon in school—Calder Darkmore. Lucky her, it seems he feels the same way. Cool, right? Nope. Two problems. Aidan Grimsbane, Calder’s best friend, a necromancer, and an all-around jerk of a bully. He’s one problem. The other? A secret she’s trying to keep hidden and decipher at the same time. A horrible rash between her shoulder blades. Her eyes turning black.
There’s only one person who can provide the answer to her problems. Her dead mom. What kind of solution is that. You can’t talk to dead people. Unless you know a necromancer. Ugh. Aidan Grimsbane, that same jerk who’s trying to keep her from getting to know Calder better.
Caution: Cliffhangers, violence can be found in this series of action-packed fantasy including necromancers, hot dragons, and fierce witches.
1
Late again. I’d be late for my own funeral. That’s one thing you could count on.
My gravestone would probably read something like:
Moira Bloodworth. A witch. Definitely not a time witch.
Time. Yeah, right. Time.
You’d think that after seventeen years on this planet, I’d finally have learned how to tell time. Right?
Unfortunately, though I absolutely knew how to read a clock, I just couldn’t ever seem to avoid being late to things. All things. Anything.
Speaking of things, the thing was, I had an excuse this time. The stupid train to Under Realm Academy was super delayed last night—maybe that train and I were kindred spirits, both delayed—so I ended up arriving past midnight, mere hours before the first day of my senior year was supposed to begin.
After saying a quick hello to my best friend Kendra who was in the common room, and who was always up late reading, I’d totally crashed.
Thankfully, the sound of the ravens cawing outside my window as the necromancers began their strange morning rituals woke me up fifteen minutes before my first class. If it weren’t for those creepy death wizards, I probably would’ve slept right through until noon.
Wouldn’t think I’d ever have appreciated a necromancer, would ya?
Sleeping ’til noon would’ve sucked because that would mean sleeping through my first class.
AP Potions, my favorite subject, and a class I’d been looking forward to taking ever since I was a little freshman witch.
So, anyway, back to the matter at hand, as I was well-versed in the art of oversleeping and dressing swiftly, I quickly sprang into action. I tore open my suitcases and flung aside all the cute outfits I would’ve preferred to wear instead of our silly school uniform. Hopping around the room, I yanked on a navy-and-yellow—baby-poop color if you asked me!—pleated skirt, a white blouse, and a matching navy-and green blazer, and the required tie, then managed to shove my knee-socked feet into a pair of black boots all in the span of approximately four minutes and sixteen seconds.
I was a pro. I couldn’t wait until I learned how to slow down time or, even better, how to speed up my own body. I bet they taught that at witch college. That would come next year.
Grabbing my backpack, I ran for it. Not bothering to apologize for the loud slamming of my dormitory door, I dashed down the wide stone halls of the ancient, crumbling castle that Under Realm Academy called a school.
Thick velvet tapestries and flickering wall sconces presaged every turn. For a moment, I wished I could take my time getting to class. A whole summer away from this place had really made me miss it. I’d have enjoyed a leisurely stroll through the halls.
After all, Under Realm Academy wasn’t just any old high school. It was a special school… for freaks like me.
Established centuries ago by a famous sorceress named Eleanor, Under Realm was a school that accepted witches, demons, necromancers, and soul reapers. It was the perfect place for those of us painted as villains and nature’s evildoers by the outside world. We were here not only to learn the usual necessary stuff but also to master our respective abilities.
It was a pioneering idea, really. Without Under Realm Academy, witches like me would probably have to go to school with humans in order to learn basic things like algebra, biology, and grammar. We would have to hide our true nature our entire lives in order to avoid being found out by the rest of the world. If that were the case, witches would likely not be as powerful as we’ve become because we would’ve had to save all of our magic-practicing for secret moments behind closed doors.
Historically, humans weren’t kind to witches. You know, the whole burning-at-the-stake thing. Not only that but even in our modern era, I could hardly believe that humans would take kindly to creatures like demons and soul reapers.
So, we kept to ourselves. And it worked out pretty well for us. Did it ever.
There were schools like Under Realm Academy all over the world, but ours was one of the best. Everyone in my family—generations of witches—had gone here, including my mother and my aunt. Despite the dumb homework and the dumber uniforms, it was like a second home to me.
Anyway, there’d be time for nostalgia and admiring ancient architecture later.
Knowing I didn’t have time to even attempt to brush through my long, thick hair, I yanked off the elastic I always kept on my wrist and managed to pile my unruly, onyx-black strands into a somewhat presentable top knot.
Finally, I reached the Potions laboratory located in the south wing near the Enchanted Botany Garden—EBG for short—it’s where we got most of our ingredients. The classroom door was still open, which was a good sign.
I burst into the room with time to spare—hey, three minutes count as time!—only to find nineteen familiar faces glancing up in either annoyance or amusement at my arrival.
“Moira Bloodworth.” Professor McGill sighed, fixing her cool gray gaze on me. She looked like she only in her thirties, but she carried herself with the wisdom and austerity of an elderly witch who’d dealt with far too much nonsense in her day. “You are twenty-seven minutes late to my class.”
I frowned, standing awkwardly in the doorway. “But Potions starts at eight. I’m three minutes early.”
“Advanced Placement courses begin at seven-thirty if you remember from the letter sent last month,” Professor McGill replied, raising an artfully shaped eyebrow at me.
Letter. Oops.
Heat rose to my cheeks. Now that she mentioned it, I freaking did remember getting some kind of announcement about that in the mail.
Who reads that stuff anyway?
I
t was stupid of me to mess up this bad on the first day. Potions had always been my best class, and I was counting on Professor McGill to write me a good recommendation for an apprenticeship after graduation. I wanted to be a Potions Master and work for a top Brewing firm.
“Regardless,” continued the teacher, waving her hand in a gesture that I assumed meant I was at least somewhat off the hook. “I had a feeling you would be late, so I left the door open for you. Please go take your seat.”
With a relieved exhale, I scurried over to the empty seat next to Kendra in the third row. We weren’t just best friends; we’d also been lab partners since freshman year when we first met. I still remember the way she had smiled shyly at me, bright red hair done up in pigtails when I sat down next to her on our very first day at Under Realm.
Kendra, her ginger hair now pulled back neatly in French braids, shot me a smirk.
“You’re definitely her favorite student,” Kendra whispered. “No one else would’ve gotten away with that.”
I shrugged in response but couldn’t help the proud grin that made its way to my lips.
“Now, as I was saying,” continued Professor McGill at the front of the room, shooting me one last sharp glance. “Potions are not to be taken lightly. This is not merely a cooking class. Potions can be deeply powerful and have been known to raise the dead, control minds, and start wars.”
That all sounded awesome to me.
“Until now, you have been developing your skills in basic potion-making methods and learning elementary-level recipes,” the professor lectured, brushing a strand of hip-length platinum hair behind her ear. “For those of you wishing to pursue a career as Potions Master, that will not be enough to earn you a coveted apprenticeship position. That is why we have Advanced Placement Potions. Each one of you will be expected to exhibit a level of maturity congruent with the seriousness of the magic you will be attempting in this class. The work will be challenging and dangerous, and nothing in this course should be given only half effort. Half effort in the real world will get someone killed.”
“Yikes,” murmured Oliver from the table beside us, shifting uncomfortably at Professor McGill’s words. Nearly six feet tall and built like a tree, I never expected Oliver to be the wimpy type of witch, but I supposed not everyone’s stomach was strong enough to be a Potions Master.
“Let’s begin with the laboratory portion of today’s class,” said Professor McGill, who clearly hadn’t heard Oliver’s anxious exclamation. “Please turn your books to page ten and work with your partner to begin brewing the Draught of Forgetfulness, a memory-loss potion.”
Kendra and I immediately got to work, moving like a well-oiled machine. She propped open the book and headed off to the cupboards for ingredients while I busied myself with setting up the cauldron, scales, and measuring spoons. When she returned to the table, arms laden with pots and packets of herbs and oddities, she waited patiently for my cue.
That’s what I loved best about my friend. Kendra always let me take the lead in Potions class because it was my passion, and I had a natural talent for it. On the other hand, Kendra was better at Enchantments, so I always followed her guidance in those courses. We never got jealous or competitive with each other, either. Not ever.
“How’s Auntie Inez?” Kendra started mincing clover.
I snorted. “Same as always. She cried so much when I left yesterday. She made me promise like nine times that I’d write every week.”
“My mother was the same way with me, ugh,” Kendra replied, rolling her eyes. “Hello, we’re busy when we’re at school. I don’t have time to chronicle every little mundane thing that happens to me.”
“Tell me about it,” I sighed, shaking my head in mock exasperation.
Aunt Inez was my guardian. After my mother, Inez’s older sister, died when I was eight, she adopted me. Inez had always been single and childless, so even though it was heartbreaking to lose her sister, I think she was happy for the chance to raise a daughter. I didn’t remember much about my mother except that she was really pretty and super-smart, and, of course, I still missed her.
“Now, when you get to the dragon scales...” Professor McGill spoke up from the back of the room, where she monitored the progress of other students at one of the tables. “Remember that they should sizzle at the bottom of the cauldron for no more than a minute before you add the saltwater leech extract. If you leave them for too long, you run the risk of creating a draught that will give the drinker much more than mere amnesia.”
Eager to prove myself worthy of Professor McGill’s class after my tardiness that morning, I snapped my fingers to light the cauldron between me and Kendra. A soft blue flame immediately sprung to life under the heavy iron.
Every witch was born with a natural affinity for one element. fire, water, earth, or air. Mine was fire, which was probably what made me so good at potion-making because it was effortless for me to control temperatures and monitor the “cooking” of each ingredient.
While all witches could do magic related to all elements, your affinity was where most of your strength was. Kendra’s affinity was air, which made her great at things like levitation and object manipulation. If you were ever too comfortable to get up and collect something you needed from all the way across the room, Kendra was your girl.
Kendra dropped three small dragon scales into my open palm.
I observed them before dropping them into the warming cauldron, admiring the pale pink pearlescent color. These must have been donated by an old dragon-shifter, since scales tended to grow lighter with age.
Dragon-shifters were rare, but they could live for hundreds of years. Back in our world’s more barbaric days, they were hunted nearly to extinction for their valuable scales, which were expensive ingredients for many useful potions.
Nowadays, they mostly kept to themselves.
“Earth to Moira,” giggled Kendra. “Are you gonna put those in or what?”
I realized I’d been staring at the shimmering dragon scales for a moment too long.
So, what? I like shiny things. Sue me.
I dropped the scales into the cauldron and reached for the leech extract, which would go next. At the bottom of the shallow black pot, the scales wriggled and popped in the heat like slices of garlic, though they smelled more like smoke than Italian food.
Suddenly, a wave of lightheadedness overtook me, causing me to clutch the table for support. Out of nowhere, it was like my body had become weak. My knees wobbled underneath me, and my stomach flipped unpleasantly.
I felt a warm blush rise to my cheeks, continuing all the way to my forehead.
“Whoa,” I breathed, forgetting the finicky contents of the cauldron for a moment.
I felt like I had a terrible fever, like my skin was too hot, and I had to escape out of it. It was like I was wearing too many winter layers and standing in the middle of a sauna cranked on high heat.
My head spun.
“Moira?” came the sound of Kendra’s voice, though it sounded like she was talking to me from across the classroom. “Moira? Are you okay?”
“I don’t… I don’t feel so good,” I murmured, placing my palm on my forehead and gasping when it felt scalding to the touch.
“Moira, what’s wrong?” Kendra dropped the dried beetles and grabbed my arm. When I didn’t respond, she called for the teacher. “Professor? I think Moira’s sick.”
Without warning, the entire cauldron before us burst into flame. The surrounding students yelped in surprise, leaping back to avoid getting burnt.
Professor McGill hurried over to our table and stopped the fire with a simple wave. She took one look at me. I was bent over the table with a light sheen of sweat on my face. She frowned.
“Ms. Shadowmend, please escort Ms. Bloodworth to the nurse’s office,” she said.
Kendra nodded and quickly wrapped an arm around my waist, leading me out of the classroom. Stares and whispers followed us, but I only felt disappointed in myself.
Professor McGill had told us to be careful with the dragon scales for a reason. I never lost focus like that in Potions class. Sure, I spaced out in plenty of other classes, especially Politics of Magic, but never a class that I actually cared about.
It was so juvenile to lose control of a cauldron flame like that.
I moaned as Kendra helped me shuffle down the deserted halls—everyone else was still in class.
“I’m such a joke.” I sighed.
“Oh, please,” Kendra replied, clearly trying to play off whatever happened like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s just the first day back. Everyone’s a little rusty after the summer. Plus, you looked like you were about to faint back there.”
Yeah, that was weird. The more we walked, the more normal I began to feel.
The unexplainable fever that appeared so suddenly was already fading, and I no longer felt so weak that I couldn’t walk on my own. I gently shrugged off my best friend’s support and placed my palm back on my forehead.
Still warm, but pretty much normal.
“I feel fine now,” I told her, frowning.
“Are you sure?” she replied, hands still slightly raised as if she was ready to catch me again. “That was really random.”
I shrugged. “It was like I had a raging fever out of nowhere, but now it’s gone.”
“Do you think you’re getting sick?”
Probably not. Witches didn’t get sick often, and certainly not with something as dreadfully human as the flu or the common cold. Plus, I didn’t have a cough or a sore throat or anything like that.
“Really, I’m good,” I insisted. “Let’s just go back to class.”