by G. Bailey
He looks at everyone in what feels a lot like disappointment. “You all look like shit.”
A few of the students laugh.
Sage mutters something under her breath about seeing him fighting the cursed trees and still looking good.
“The name’s Mr Gage Michaels,” he resumes, folding his arms over his lean and, I can’t help but notice, muscular chest. “I’m the doctor here at the academy, and yeah, I look like a student. Whatever. I’ve been here for a very long time. Anyway, enough of that. I bet you’re all exhausted.” Nodding to Willow and another boy from the pool of students, he says, “Show everyone upstairs. Oh, and there’s no point pushing and shoving for the best room,” he adds, just as everyone starts shuffling toward what I assume is the dormitory hall. “Your rooms have already been assigned.”
Sage and I groan at the same time. I hope they paired me with her.
As I follow Willow and the others up the stairs leading to the dorms, I can’t help but wonder what exactly Gage meant by doctor. It’s got to be something to do with us, otherwise, why would he bother introducing himself so soon?
I just hope he isn’t a therapist of some kind.
Oh, my sweet fuck.
After all the bullshit ones the wardens forced me to ‘work with’, that’s honestly the last thing I need.
I really don’t want more people telling me how fucked up I am. I already know that.
And Pitch isn’t like the other monsters in my head. Guilt, regret, shame, and self-loathing, to name a few. They’re the real reason I’m standing here, trapped in this academy for four whole years.
The wardens say it’s to learn how to control my dark magic. Just feels like another prison to me.
Shoving my back into the door, I walk first into our new room, smelling the bleach it’s been drenched in mixed with freshly washed linen. Thankfully, they’ve roomed me and Sage together, much to both of our delight when they told us. We would have sneaked out into each other’s rooms anyway, and I’m sure they knew that, which is why they saved us all the hassle.
The room is one giant square, bright from the light that bursts through one whole wall that is made of pure glass, stretched out so you can sit and look over the forest. The glass is crystal clear, showing dozens of trees outside that somehow simultaneously shield the view into the actual room and out at anything around it. In the night, I imagine you can just see trees and flickering stars behind them. Right now, the trees are illuminated by the touches of sunlight bouncing off the varied green colours of the leaves.
The other side of the room has exposed brick walls and small cross-patterned, blocked-out windows between two double beds draped in thick white sheets and red wine comforters. Above each of the beds is the crest of Shadowborn Academy made of solid granite. Two stone goddesses facing each other sit just underneath, one of them holding the moon while the other is holding the cloth full of stars, much like the story. Next to each of the beds are heavy wooden wardrobes that are open, showing about five uniforms in each, with our suitcases pushed up against them.
Surprisingly, right in front of the glass window, there’s a small bath integrated into the floor, the tub filled with shimmering water that lets off steam that heats up the room a little.
Sage follows me into the room, her eyes bouncing around like mine are doing as we spot the two bookcases hidden around the corner of the door. I tug open the only other door in the room and find a small bathroom with a modern three-piece suite. A full-length mirror hangs on the wall and I find myself staring into it for a second, wondering exactly how I’m going to escape this academy any time soon.
My dark blue hair curls around my shoulders, the locks somehow wilder than usual; probably from being attacked by living trees. My pale skin makes me look like a ghost, not a bit of colour as per usual. The more I stare, the longer I wish I saw someone else. I wish I saw the girl I was before I became a shadowborn, the girl with black hair and big, innocent eyes. The girl who loved her parents and dinosaurs. The girl who wasn’t… this.
I clear my throat, wanting to dig myself out of my thoughts before I get lost there. Constantly wanting to live in the past won’t do me any good.
Sage is looking through the bookcases as I go and sit on the bed. I sink my fingers into the soft blankets after I put my own book down, knowing I’m actually excited to read the fae book later. Pitch comes out of my soul like a wave of darkness before forming into the handsome man I know. He sits down on the bed next to me, looking around the room, distaste clear on his face.
It makes me wonder where he could have lived that makes this place seem bad. For some reason, I can’t see Pitch in a big rich house, a castle or palace.
Pitch is no prince, that’s for sure.
He’s more like a demon.
“This is an improvement on the last place,” he drawls, though I can tell he is being dishonest. I turn and smile at him, and he knows I cannot reply when Sage is in the room since I’m the only one he allows to see him.
He leans closer, enough so I can sense him more than before and pick up on his scent. It’s like a mixture of sandalwood, something sweet like candy that I’ve never been able to compare to anything else, and an undertone of jasmine. His eyes are so dark, almost like dark magic itself as he looks at me. and my breath hitches in the silent room.
“The double bed is definitely an improvement for when I come back later. When you’re alone.” His lips tug up, a breathtaking seductive smirk playing on his face. And just like that, he disappears once more.
Always leaving me…but never really going anywhere.
It’s a strange game of cat and mouse with Pitch and me, and I’ve always been the mouse in the game. I don’t really know how to upgrade myself to the cat when Pitch is always going to be in charge. Even just his smile makes my knees weak. He knows my soul better than I do and he never tells me about his past.
The mouse can’t learn to be a cat when it’s always in the dark, after all.
“What do you think?” Sage asks me, turning around with four books in her hands as she goes to her bed. “I really love it. So much better than the foster house.”
Not wanting to be a buzzkill to Sage’s happiness, I say the only thing that isn’t quite a lie. “I think it will do.”
“Did you see the bath? It’s filled with healing water from the faerie pools. I read about it in one of the books that were given to me by the keeper with the spotty face. I can’t remember her name off the top of my head,” she says with a frown.
“Lily? Actually, I can’t remember to be certain,” I muse, knowing exactly who she is talking about. Keeper Rose lasted two months at the foster home before having a breakdown of epic proportions and running away.
“It wasn’t Lily, I don’t think,” she mumbles, picking one of the books up. She starts reading as she lies back. I lie back too, noticing the way the ceiling has been plastered to look like swirling clouds of storms, much like the storms going on in my head right now. It reminds me of the ceiling in my human home all those years ago, and it’s funny how I can remember certain things about my past but I struggle to remember how my mum spoke. I remember the yellow sofas in our living room, but not the colour of my dad’s eyes.
And as the years go, all the memories are slipping away faster than the guilt can swallow me whole.
When the memories are gone and I’m left with just guilt, what will be the point?
What is the point?
I’m a shadowborn, the scum of the magic world and a murderer in the eyes of the human one. There isn’t a home for me. This isn’t a home for me. It’s just a cage.
Four years… then I’ll be as free as can be, even when in moments like this, I feel like I’ll never be free of anything.
My demons are too strong. They’re never going to let me go.
“How is your first day the famous Shadowborn Academy?” Ambrose asks, knowing things he really shouldn’t; unless he’s made from my imagination, which I don’t think he is.
I couldn’t imagine someone so pure. It’s been six years since Ambrose first appeared in front of me. Six years since I stood on a cliff and talked myself into stepping right off it and into the sea. But I never jumped because Ambrose flooded my mind with light and stayed in my head for hours until the sun rose.
And so did I.
Pitch is real…so why can’t Ambrose be?
I flicker my eyes to Ambrose, who’s manifested as a pure white deer resting on a rock beside me. Sometimes Ambrose is an owl, sometimes he’s a horse, or whatever creature tickles his fancy. It’s always different, but one thing never changes.
Ambrose finds me in my dreams when there is nothing but darkness, and he fills it with light.
“Are you going to tell me how you know that?” I ask him, walking over to the rock.
“No,” he quickly answers, flicking an ear.
“Then I’m not answering it,” I dryly reply.
“Stubborn children are not the fun kind.”
I chuckle at his stroppy reply. I’m certain Ambrose is an old, grumpy man under all the animal forms he hides behind.
“Then what is the fun kind?” I play along, reaching out to gently stroke the side of his head.
He leans into my hand. “One of my sons was fun. He was my favourite,” he tells me and I look down at him now, wanting to meet his white eyes as he tells me something real about himself.
Pitch and Ambrose have one thing in common. They’re both masters at never revealing who they are to me.
They’re also always there for me when I need them most.
“Where is he now?” I ask softly, not expecting him to answer me.
“Dead.” My hand falls away from his ear, surprised by the response. Ambrose chuckles. “But do not think that death is bad. For those who deserve death, it is a gift.”
It reminds me of the first time I saw him and the words he said: “Many would do anything for your life. Do not throw it away because you can’t see the light yet. It is not your fate to give up. It is not your choice, and you must not do this. Believe in yourself as much as the world does, and it will not forsake you, child.”
Those words tugged me through the darkest years of my life, and even now, they give me a peace that I struggle to find anywhere else. But the world did forsake me the second I became a shadowborn. There’s no denying that. I lost everything, including who I used to be.
“That world did not forsake you that night, Corvina,” Ambrose softly interjects, reading my thoughts. “It jump-started the life you were always destined for. All great and powerful people have terrible beginnings. It’s the final destination that matters the most.”
Before I can tell him I’m not great or powerful, the dream fades into a darkness that is just as comforting.
“Wake up! We are going to be late for breakfast,” Sage all but shouts in my face, shaking my shoulders.
I hit her with my pillow as I sit up, dragging my tired ass out of my bed and cringing as my feet touch the cold wooden floor. Sage is pulling on her clothes as I go to my wardrobe, rubbing my eyes to wake myself up. I pick out my uniform and grab everything I need before using the bathroom and getting dressed. I stand in front of the mirror and pull on my thigh-high black socks, followed by my worn as fuck dark blue boots, doing up the laces last. My long hair is still a little wavy from the pillow. I brush it quickly, plaiting the one side and leaving the other down. I tuck my white shirt into my high-waisted black skirt, which stops mid-thigh on me. Finally, I slide my arms into the dark blue cloak and fasten the top button. When I step out of the bathroom, Sage is dressed in trousers that go up to her waist, and every button on her crisp shirt is done up. Her blue cloak is somehow perfectly straight as it falls around her.
“You look like a mix between a stripper and a student,” she points out, absently twirling her crystal.
“Some people would pay double for that shit,” I tease and her cheeks light up.
I grin and grab my own crystal necklace. We add our shoulder bags with the SBA crest on the side of them, and in seconds, we are following the flocks of students towards what we think is the cafeteria.
Just as we open the double doors, a girl barges past us, deliberately knocking me out of her path.
“Watch out, show off,” she hisses, storming into the cafeteria.
“Bitch!” I shout after her and Sage grabs my arm, dragging me to the side so I’m not in the way of the hundreds of students rushing to the front of the room where the food is. Gods, it’s like a pack of hungry animals in there, which, as we are shifters, I guess is the right description.
Second time lucky, I push into the cafeteria with Sage at my side. A tall, lean boy with dark skin, periwinkle eyes, and curly brown hair stops in front of us. He’s holding a plastic bag full of delicious smelling food, and my stomach basically says hello to the guy for me, rumbling loud and clear.
“Hey, don’t worry about them,” he says, his voice a little husky. “Breakfast is basically feeding time at the zoo if you don’t arrive before eight. Here.” The guy offers me the bag. I take it and peek inside to see two paninis and two bottles of orange juice. “You’ll thank me later.”
“What’s our saviour’s name?” Sage asks with a big smile, inspecting one of the paninis. “Cheese and bacon. Nice!”
“Ronan Fairweather, Miss,” he answers with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m new, too, but my big brother came here eight years ago and taught me all the tricks of the trade.” He winks, and even though he isn’t handsome in a classical sense, he has charm, that’s for sure, and it’s a little alluring.
“I’m Corvina Charles and this is Sage Millhouse. Thanks for the grub. We owe you one.” I take a large bite of my panini. It’s delicious and I barely acknowledge Sage or Ronan as I devour the rest so fast I practically inhale the damn thing.
He watches me scarf the food down, his eyes flickering with mischief for just a brief moment. “I’ll keep you to that.”
“We’re supposed to meet Professor Lochlan at the Ghoul Bridge for Basic Magic Control,” Ronan says as we walk down the corridor. We’re still in the Upper Half of the castle with generous bursts of sunlight and luscious trees peeking through the porticoes, but the closer we come to the ebony doors at the end of the hallway, the colder the air becomes. It lifts the hairs on my arms and the nape of my neck, causing me to shiver.
“The ghoul what now?” I can’t help but ask, a little bummed we bailed out on eating breakfast in the cafeteria. As chaotic as it’d been, I wanted to check out the competition more closely and get the name of that bitch who shoved into me. But when Ronan mentioned he had the same class as us, Sage practically jumped at the chance of a guide.
Ronan flashes me a wolfish grin. “Don’t worry. The bridge ain’t haunted by ghouls no more.”
“Where is this Ghoul Bridge?” Sage presses, finishing the last of her breakfast as we step into the entry hall. “Don’t tell me it’s inside the forest because that place ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. Enchanted, my ass. More like cursed.”
“The bridge is just outside the forest,” Ronan says, wrapping a hand around the door handle and looking back with a playful grin. “But if I had to guess, we’re headed into the woods for the day, so I’d have your wits at the ready.”
“Wits?” she counters with a hoarse laugh. “I’m grabbing my battleaxe.”
I tug the hood of her cloak before she runs off. “Come on, it’s not going to be that bad…” I peer up at Ronan. “Is it?”
He shrugs. “Nah. Only one student died last year. You’ll be fine.”
We watch him push through the doors without so much as a backwards glance.
“Well, that was comforting. Thank you very much,
Mr Fairweather!” I turn to Sage and give her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine, Sage. Trust me.”
“Famous last words, Buzzie,” she mutters under her breath.
I smile at her, lifting my hood over my head, and follow in Ronan’s wake.
As I suspected, we emerge into a part of the castle where the shadows bathe every corner. The vaulted ceiling curves into a pair of wings that crawl down the cave walls, wrapping around the intricate details carved into the dark stone. We slide under a beautiful arch at the other end of the hall. The sconces on the walls accentuate the flights of stairs winding down in a seemingly never-ending spiral. By the time we reach the fourth flight, my pulse has spiked and droplets of perspiration glide down my forehead.
“Isn’t there an easier way to get around here?” I ask Ronan, wiping the beads of sweat from my brow. “‘Cause I’ve gotta level with ya. This is not my idea of fun.”
Ronan throws me a grin over his shoulder. “Not a fan of stairs, pretty lady?”
“Not a fan of dying, pretty boy?” I spit back, though I smile innocently when he glances over at me. “Just kidding.”
“You’ll get used to Corvina’s sense of humour,” Sage tells him. “So, about this whole death-by-stairs thing. How does everyone get around? There must be a quicker way.”
“Most people tend to translocate,” he answers curtly. “Others are able to travel through the light. Lamps. Torches. Candles. Fireplaces. You name it. It all depends on your skill level.”
“Suppose we’re just noobs,” I ponder, throwing Sage a glance. We’re hardly newbies when it comes to dark magic. Pitch and Ambrose have taught me, and subsequently Sage, too much for that to be true. Funny how I’ve never asked them to teach me translocation. I make a mental note to check the book Greyhorn gave me later. “Does that mean we have to walk everywhere?”
“Yeah, but there are quicker ways to get around.”