Chapter 1
The grandfather clock strikes nine, its loud chime sending my pulse into a skitter. I’m late. I’m so late. I toss whatever I can into my case. It’s not as though I even want to attend that school. I absolutely abhor half its population. But apparently, going is a must, so now I have to cram my entire life into a case and hope I survive the next three years. Hope is a generous word for it.
“Slow down,” my mother says. “You’ll end up forgetting something.”
“But I’m late,” I mutter.
“The school isn’t going anywhere. You have time.”
“I have to be there by noon.” I spin around to face her. “And it’s an hour’s ride away. Which means I have to leave by ten at the latest, so I can register and be done with orientation.”
She raises her hands in surrender. “All right.”
Every time she does that, it irritates me. I know that somewhere in the back of her mind, she has something else to say.
“What?” I ask.
“I’m just saying you have time,” she says.
“I have an hour,” I counter.
“That’s plenty of time,” she says. “I’ll help.”
She steps further into the room and plucks clothes from the armoire, folding them neatly before placing them one by one into my case. She’s taking too long. Everything is taking too long.
“Can’t you just spell them in?” I ask, my frustration getting the better of me.
She looks at me with a raised brow before flicking her wrist. All my clothes, toiletries, and everything else I could possibly need lift into the air. One by one, they drift into my case, folding themselves neatly into place. It’s not like I can’t do it, but my magic is sort of wonky, hence why I’m going to school for it.
“Told you, you’d have time,” she says with a smirk.
“That’s because…” I stop myself and draw in a breath. Snapping at her would be unfair, and I’m running out of time to be unfair to her, which I shouldn’t even be doing in the first place. “Thank you.”
“I would have done it even if you hadn’t asked. But you have time, so why rush?” she says. “Breakfast?”
I exhale. “Sure.”
“Great. I made pancakes.”
She turns and steps out of my room, disappearing down the stairs.
I take one last look around my room, letting my gaze wander over the familiar brick walls, the wooden armoire that has stood in the same corner for as long as I can remember, and the little vanity where I’ve spent countless mornings getting ready. Everything is just as it has always been, right down to the smallest details. The faint scratches on the wood, the little imperfections in the brickwork, the familiar scent of my room. I’ve never given much thought to any of it before, but knowing I won’t see these walls again for three years makes my heart clench. Three years. It seems an awfully long time to be away from a place that has always been mine. I wonder what it will feel like to return, whether everything will look the same, or whether I’ll be the one who has changed.
With a sigh, I step out of my room and join my mother at the breakfast table.
She sets a plate in front of me, two golden pancakes stacked neatly beside a scattering of fresh fruit. The sweet scent rises from the plate, and for a moment, I simply stare at it. This will probably be the last time I get to eat my mother’s pancakes, too.
Shit. Three years feels far too long.
I still don’t understand why we have to attend a boarding school once we turn eighteen. I mean, yes, I understand the need for peace, and peace means we have to learn to coexist, but boarding? Can’t we simply come and go like students at an ordinary school? Granted, it’s an hour’s ride away, but perhaps they could have built more than one school. Then none of this would be necessary.
“Why is there only one school in the whole country?” I ask, slicing into a pancake.
“You know why,” she says. “It’s neutral ground. It’s where the first massacre happened. Those grounds are sacred.”
“And you’d think they’d want a place with a less horrific history.” I look at her, meeting her green eyes.
They always remind me of my own. We share the same bright green eyes, and there’s something comforting about that. One less thing I inherited from my father, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
She sighs. “It’s the way of the world. It’s not as though we can change it.”
No, we most certainly can’t. We’re ordinary citizens without a shred of authority. Our voices fall on deaf ears, and no one in power seems inclined to listen.
But alas, this is the way of Duskelle. A world inhabited by one predatory species and two somewhat docile ones. Well, one is docile. The other, us witches, do our best to maintain some semblance of balance after everything that happened.
From what I’ve heard, Duskelle was once a peaceful world. No monsters roamed the night, and people lived without the fear that now shadows our every step. Then we made one mistake. One terrible mistake that went against the very order of nature. And from that mistake came the monsters that now threaten our world.
But it already happened, and there’s no undoing it. All we can do is live with the consequences.
“You should eat before the carriage arrives,” she says, pushing a piece of fruit around her plate.
My gaze drifts from my breakfast to the kitchen around us. The wooden cupboards line the walls, their handles worn smooth from years of use. Morning light filters through the windows, falling across the table where I’ve eaten more meals than I could ever count. The room is modest, with nothing remarkable about it, but every corner holds a memory. The faint marks on the tabletop, the old kettle resting near the hearth, the chairs we’ve sat in together through countless breakfasts and lunches and dinners. I’ve never thought much about these things before. They’ve simply always been here, as constant as my mother herself.
My gaze returns to her. Her pale skin, her hazel hair, the soft lines around her eyes. The only thing I didn’t inherit from her was her hair colour. No, I got gold instead, thanks to him.
“I’m going to miss this,” I admit softly. “I’m going to miss you.”
She looks at me with that soft, comforting smile of hers. “I’m going to miss you more than you know, sweetheart.”
She reaches across the table and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. Her palm is warm against mine, and I find myself holding on for a moment longer than I mean to.
“Let’s get breakfast finished before the carriage arrives.”
I nod and return to my pancakes.
We go over the do’s and don’ts of the school, how I should keep my head down, avoid disputes, and stay out of trouble. Apparently, even the smallest disagreement can turn deadly if I cross the wrong person. I try to ignore the shudder that runs through me at the thought. The last thing I need is to spend my first day making enemies, especially when I have three years to survive.
My appetite dwindles with every passing minute, but I force myself to eat. The pancakes have always been my favourite, yet each mouthful feels heavier than the last. I know my mother wants me to have a proper breakfast before I leave, and I can’t bring myself to disappoint her over something as simple as a meal. Besides, if I stop eating, I’ll have nothing to distract me from the thought of leaving.
The carriage wheels grind to a halt outside, and my stomach plummets.
This is it. I’m leaving. I’m leaving my mother, my home, the one constant, safe place I’ve ever known.
She gives me a weak smile. “It’s time.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, staring at the wooden door as though I might somehow delay what awaits me on the other side. My legs feel reluctant to move when I finally rise. I take hold of my case by the handle and make my way towards the door, each step bringing me closer to a place I have no desire to see. My mother follows close behind.
When the door opens, I am greeted by the sight of a gleaming black carriage waiting for me, its polished surface catching the morning light. Two midnight-black horses stand harnessed to the front, their dark coats shining and their breath misting in the cool air.
Painted in gold upon the carriage door is the crest of Blackrose Collegium. A black rose with its petals unfurling around a narrow, upright sword, the blade running through the heart of the flower. Beneath it, a circle of fine golden thorns encloses the design, its sharp points fanning outward in a crown of their own. The gold stands stark against the black lacquer, elegant and imposing.
I turn to my mother, and the sight of the tears gathering in her eyes nearly undo me.
She pulls me into an embrace, holding me so tightly that I can feel the rise and fall of her breathing against me. I bury my face in her shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of her, cream and floral, committing it to memory.
“You stay safe,” she says into my hair. “You stay out of disputes. You stay out of their way. Don’t give them a reason to challenge you to a duel.”
She pulls back, her eyes shining as she searches my face. “Do you understand me?”
I nod quickly, wanting to ease the fear in her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will.” She smiles shakily. “You have a strong mind.”
I smile. “That I do.”
It’s the one thing that isn’t as wonky as my basic magic. Thank mother nature for that.
I heave my case into the carriage, settling it where it won’t slide about during the journey. Then I look back one last time.
My home stands just as it always has. The door remains open behind my mother, and she stands on the threshold with her hands clasped before her, trying to smile through the tears she hasn’t quite managed to hide. For a moment, I’m tempted to run back inside, to return to my room and the little vanity, to sit at the breakfast table and pretend that none of this is happening.
But I can’t.
Three years. I repeat the words silently, trying to make them sound shorter than they are.
My mother lifts a hand, and I manage a small smile in return. I hold on to the sight of her standing there, framed by the wooden doorway of the only home I’ve ever known, until I’ve committed every detail to memory.
Then I climb into the carriage and settle against the seat.
The door closes, shutting away the sight of my mother and my home with a click that sounds far too much like a lock. The carriage lurches into motion, its wheels rolling over the gravel as the horses carry me towards the one place I do not want to go.
