❧ 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖎

Relief was not a large enough word for what Genevieve felt knowing Alex was alive.

Gen, despite a plethora of friendly acquaintances, had never had a true friend—not until Alexandra Starling. They had been an unlikely pair from the start, but the two girls understood one another and that bond had withstood longer than any other friendship Genevieve had tried to maintain over the years. Losing her would have been unbearable.

She clung to the other girl until she convinced herself that Alex was real. That she was breathing.

Tears filled Gen’s eyes only as she realized Alex was choking back sobs of her own. It was jolting, almost, to witness Alexandra cry. It was something she had never seen. The girl typically had such a precise control over her own emotions—something Gen guessed Alex had needed to learn in a family such as hers.

The voices of the professors shooing them out of the ballroom grew louder, but she and Alex didn’t move. Gen could only nod when Alex asked if she was okay. She was traumatized and exhausted—but that was more than many of her classmates could say. “You?” She asked as the professors became more and more insistent. And when Alex told her to send a pigeon if Gen needed her, she tried to smile—it was more of an effort than she thought it would be—and nodded. “Same goes for you, I’m here if you need me.” She squeezed the girl’s hand once before they went their separate ways.

The walk back to the dormitories felt like a death march. The halls were silent save for the echoes of footsteps. No one spoke. Gen kicked off her shoes halfway there, needing to feel the rough stone under her feet. Needing something to ground her to this moment, because she was truthfully afraid she might drift away in the sudden numbness.

Even her room looked different, as she stepped through the door. Like someone picked everything up and moved it over an inch. She was overcome with an uncomfortable sense of wrongness in a setting that should have been familiar. She felt like crawling out of her skin.

Instead, she closed the door behind her with a soft click, leaning against the frame and slid down to the floor. There was a weight on her now. A pressure in her head. She hadn’t cried yet. All she could picture when she closed her eyes, was the pressing feeling of cold and bony hands on her shoulders—and the creature’s face gazing into hers.

She couldn't help but see the blood. Hear the screams.

Gen thought briefly that she should message Alex. Or just show up at the girl’s door. But Alex had done enough comforting tonight. She couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like for her. That terror of coming face to face with death clung to her still—and Alex had experienced that same wash of emotions, only tenfold.

The moment the world felt off-kilter kept replaying in her mind. She couldn't help but picture the feeling she had right before the glass broke overhead. The last moments of normalcy before everything went to hell. She prodded at the memory for the same reason someone presses on a bruise—there was something satisfying in the way it ached.

Her guilt was a living, writhing, thing in her chest. And she was angry. Angry at the sick bastard who orchestrated the attack, angry at the horrors she witnessed, angry at the faculty for not being able to keep them safe, but above all—she was angry with herself.

The same questions ran circles around her mind: Could she have done more? Why did she get to live when she watched so many others die? What good was it to have access to the fantastic, but not possess the skill to utilize it in a way that mattered?

She was a useless waste of magic.

And when that self-loathing became a beast so large it pressed against her the confines of her skin, wanting to break free, Gen let it. She rose to her feet and pushed everything from her desk. Pulled the books from their neat places on her shelf. Ripped papers apart. Broke the mug on her bedside table. For once, she gave into destruction. She let herself fall apart. And when her room mirrored the broken, chaotic feeling in her heart—Genevieve sat on her bed and cried.

———

She hadn’t managed a wink of sleep when the headmistress’s message came. Her tears had long run dry, replaced by a deep pit in her stomach and a surprising dullness to her senses.

Last night, once she had regained a semblance of composure—Gen went about putting back together all of her broken pieces. She cleaned up the mess she had made, throwing away the things too broken to save and taking extra care to reshelve her books and organize her desk. She showered and applied products to her hair. She hung her dress back up—blood and dirt and glass and all. She finished her charms homework.

And when she had nothing left to do but wait for the sun to rise, she sat in the center of her bed, knees pulled to her chest, and cried again. This time, for herself. For the parts of her she wouldn’t be able to fix.

But the headmistress’s summons was enough to motivate Genevieve out of bed and into a fresh set of clothes—barely. She swiped at the dark circles under her eyes, but decided that she didn’t care enough to cover them.

Some of the other students were already in the office when she arrived. Alex and Tav were on one end, while Foster was already arguing with Headmaster Carmine. Gen fell into place on Alex’s other side, offering a small good morning as the rest of the group appeared in the doorway. She wasn’t sure why they were here, when the headmistress should be getting to the bottom of the incident last night.

“This hardly feels like the time to rectify our punishment for the library mishap,” Gen said sharply. “When much more pressing events have happened since then.” She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to speak to the headmistress in that way, she’d barely ever spoken in the woman’s presence before.

But that anger she had felt the night before still simmered below the surface.

All he could see was her. Staring back at him without an ounce of life left in her eyes.

Foster's hands dragged down his face as he replayed the scene in his head over and over again. He could still hear her scream as she was ripped from his grip and it caused goosebumps to travel along his arms.

Sleep did not visit him. Instead, he sat at the edge of his bed, his eyes glued to the wall in front of him as he tried to process that she was truly gone. The thing about death was that it wrapped itself around the living and the ones who passed got the easy part of death. If there really was one. The living had to sit in the stench of death while the rest of the world was able to continue as if nothing happened.

Black circles clung beneath Foster's eyes which ran dry from his lack of blinking. His mind whirled with the what-ifs and whys and he sat unmovingly. An emptiness lived in his stomach building a knot of guilt, confusion, frustration, and sorrow. He felt like if he were to move, he would crumble. Part of him wished that he would.

Dropping his hands to his lap, Foster moved his gaze toward the neon numbers on his clock which now read that it was three in the morning. He still wore clothes covered in blood and ash. He needed to shut it off. He couldn't stand to feel nausea in his stomach any longer or the way his heart wanted to explode out of his chest. Just shut it all off.

So he stood from his still-made bed, tugged off his tie, and unfastened the buttons of his dress shirt that she made him wear. He dropped them to the floor as he made his way to the shower.

And when the lock clicked on the bathroom door, he did just that. He shut it off.

* * *

The familiarity of numbness snaked around Foster as he sat in the music room of the estate. The lights were still off and he remained the only person in the room, granted, it was six in the morning.

Black and white keys sat beneath nimble fingers. They burned across each key, and every tap erupted a dark melody. His head sat bowed, but his eyes were shut, taking in the sound that echoed across the room. The song continued to grow darker and darker until his fingers came to a sudden stop. He released a deep breath and his eyes were back open. Sliding his hands off of the instrument, he stared at it in silence for a moment when he heard someone behind him.

"Did you write that?" A girl he'd never seen before asked, standing with an instrument in hand. She sported a scratch across her face, he assumed it was from last night.

"I was just leaving," Foster dodged her question, standing from the piano.

"I'm sorry about Isabella. . . You're her adoptive brother, right?" she spoke up as he began walking and he stopped at the door, his back to her now.

"Not anymore," he pushed the door open, letting it swing shut behind him.

The hallways were beginning to fill as the morning continued and Foster had half a mind to pack up his things and vanish. With Isabella gone, he could only imagine the rage that would be swelling in the Morrison's towards him. For once in his life with them, he didn't blame them either.

Halfway back to his dorm, Foster caught sight of some of the others from last night. Alex and Octavius. It looked like they were headed toward the headmaster's office and he wanted nothing to do with it. Quickening his pace, he continued past the office door only for a hand to stretch out and grab him by the collar of his jacket.

"Not so fast, Mr. Morrison," headmaster Carmine clucked her tongue at him and he pursed his lips as he shrugged his jacket back in place once she let go and he was inside her office.

As more piled into the office, he couldn't help but notice it was the same group from the library. Shifting his gaze away from all of them, Foster leaned against one of the many bookshelves, refusing to be any further from the door. Or closer to them.

"Listen, if you're going to blame us for what happened last night too, I'm going to need a lawyer." Foster mutter sarcastically, his gaze trained on his boots.

"That's enough, Morrison," Carmine warned.

The metallic stench of blood coated Alexandra’s nostrils, clogging her airway and choking her of any sense of relief she could’ve garnered as yet another life slipped between her fingers. The death itself wasn’t comforting, no, but with death came the absence of all of the terror and pain she’d been channeling from it’s victims, so in her own way Alex welcomed the grim reaper in the presence of her peers who couldn’t otherwise be saved. She felt each of their final moments deep in her soul, and had truly never felt so alone. There was not a single other person here that she could share this anguish with, not another pathokinetic in all of Veritus who could relate to the anguish and dread that filled her in this moment. No one but herself would ever understand what this night had been like for someone who felt everything to be in a room full of the dead and dying.

Kyrell Rothbury was the closest person Alexandra had to relate to, and even that seemed like a stretch. Green eyes had spotted him across the ballroom, his face focused as he pulled the red-headed Genevieve behind him. Kye’s face would twist occasionally, mirroring the moment Alex would feel the sharp grip of death on another student somewhere in the room, and she knew that the two of them were both experiencing the life leave someone else’s body in their own unique ways. She wanted to go to him, to hug him and remind him that he wasn’t as alone as she herself felt… that she felt each of their deaths as he did, and that like himself, Alex practiced burying the grief far beneath the surface of her consciousness.

But Alexandra Starling did not hug, she rarely comforted, and now was certainly not the time for her to go soft.

Foster had, thankfully, ripped Alex’s blank stare away from Kye and out of the trance her own self loathing had on her. Alexandra hadn’t even noticed that she’d stood, knees wobbling, until Foster had gripped her by the waist and forced her to move towards an exit. The intoxicating smell of sandalwood and ash swarmed her senses, blocking out the coppery stench of blood long enough for her to catch her breath. This was the second time he had come to her rescue this night, a sharp contrast to his usual character. The two didn’t share any words, only the shattered breath of relief that slipped from Alex’s lips as she gripped the boy’s shoulder, thankful to have someone to share her weight with and keep her steady.

Exhaustion seeped so deeply into Alexandra’s bones that she wasn’t even sure how she were still standing.

Foster and Lex hadn’t made it very far before Octavius erupted into flames, daring to set every last one of them on fire if he didn’t extinguish himself soon. Foster sprung into action after stating that Tav was only a few unhinged moments away from killing himself and everyone else, and Alex followed shortly after the taller male. “I know.” She whispered in reply, watching as the pyrokinetic garnered a tornado of smoke to choke out Octavius’ flames. For someone who was revered so harshly by his parents and covens for his magical ability, Foster had been a vision of precision and lethal power.

Once Octavius was extinguished, Alex followed close behind Foster, gripping the frazzled boy’s hand. “It’s going to be okay.” Was all that she could manage right now, a whispered breath on trembling lips. She didn’t have the energy to take his pain or erase the suffering, but Alexandra managed to push a small wave of strength towards him with whatever power she had left.

Lexi had just dropped Tav’s hand when she heard her name screamed from across the room, her head whipping in the direction of the call in full expectance of another dying student needing her powers - but then there was Gen. A ball of pink tulle and red hair crashed into her, engulfing her in the most violent, rib crushing hug that Alexandra had ever experienced. The relief that washed through her body was almost palpable, the same feeling Alex could sense was also filling Genevieve. Alexandra choked on a sob, wrapping the golden hearted girl in a hug of her own as she realized for the first time since they’d been separated that Gen was alive and unharmed.

But not only that, Lexi’s most loyal friend had chosen to come back for her. She had been so close to an exit, only a few steps from safety, and instead had chosen to sprint back through the throng of fleeing monsters and bodies scattered on the floor to get to her. The gratitude and love that Alex felt in that moment was more overpowering than she’d ever felt before.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d held Gen in her grip, but by the time she pulled away the professors were ordering them to bed and instructing them not to leave their dormitories until the morning. Alex held her friend at arm’s length, her hands cradling each of Gen’s cheeks as she gave her a quick once over. “You’re alright?” She confirmed, her tone harsh and calculating despite her gentle touch as she scanned the ginger’s petite body for injuries. Her tears hadn’t stopped their steady trek down her cheeks, though Alex hardly noticed them anymore. “Good.” She swallowed, swiping the back of her hand across her cheeks in an attempt to hide the evidence of her tears, yet they still came.

By this time the headmistress was growing insistent, ordering them from the room now. “I’ll see you in the morning - send a pigeon if you need me.” She instructed in her usual no-nonsense tone. Archaic as they seemed, Genevieve and Alexandra had been using pigeons to communicate since their first years at Veritus. Being in different covens meant that they lived in different wings of Veritus and couldn’t see each other after hours - so they’d taken to writing notes, folding them into origami birds, and charming them to float through the halls right into the receiver’s hands. What had started as funny game between two young girls had suddenly become what felt like a lifeline.

Alex turned to find Kyrell and Foster waiting on her to return to the Lunar Coven’s dormitory, a rare show of solidarity between them after this night from hell. She offered them each a nod, arms wrapping around herself as she fell into step between them. The chill in Veritus’ halls was especially crisp with the ceiling shattered, and what was already far from a modest dress had been torn to nothing but shreds during the battle.

Guilt picked at her as the three of them left the ballroom, dying students still left suffering and calling out for their mothers, for help, for anybody to ease their suffering. Alex knew that she alone had the power to take away their pain, but she hadn’t a single ounce of energy left in her body to do anything about it. Hell, she was scarcely confident she would make it back to their dorms without collapsing.

She parted ways with the two Lunar boys as they entered the shared common room with a soft “Goodnight.” as she escaped to the girl’s sleeping quarters. The moment the door closed behind her Alex began stripping out her dress, kicking out of her shoes, and walking directly into the steaming showers. She turned the water to a scalding temperature, her skin screaming in protest the moment she stepped under it’s punishing stream. But she didn’t mind the pain… tonight she preferred it.

It was a rare occurrence for Alexandra to be able to drown out all of the emotions that constantly flowed through her, and her methods of doing so weren’t exactly what most would consider healthy, but there were times that it was absolutely necessary. Whether it was pleasure in the form of sex, or pain from an evening of self harm, the only times Alex were able to ignore the constant onslaught of emotion was when she could focus all of her energy on one singular feeling. Tonight, it was pain.

The cool tile of the shower floor called to her, and Alex sat with her knees to her chest under the scalding stream of the shower until the water had stopped running red around her and she had lost all track of time. Each drop of water cut into her like a blade, her skin glowing red, her body begging her to stop. She had screamed, and sobbed, and vomitted until there was nothing left in her aside from the physical pain.

Once she had finally shut the water off, only a blank numbness remained. Her ears rung and vision blurred as she stood on unsteady feet, shuffling to her bed in a haze.

—

Sleep had escaped Alex for most of the night, leaving her to toss and turn in bed as she struggled with the reality of what had occurred that night seeping back in. She had awoken earlier than usual that next morning, unrested and exhausted to her core. But despite the trauma she’d experienced, Alex figured that life must go on - and she wouldn’t be caught dwaddling over what she could have done differently. She had a reputation to uphold. So, Alexandra forced herself up out of bed and made herself presentable.

To most, Alex probably looked like she did every other day. One wouldn’t dare imagine the pretty blonde girl with the flawless complexion, wearing a skirt and sweater would be fighting her own internal demons. Alexandra assessed herself in the mirror, picking at a snag in her sheer tights for just a moment before deciding that some fresh air before their meeting would do her some good. She’d awoken with the sun, so she had plenty of time to spare.

Lexi had found herself wandering the gardens in the early hours of the morning, a thin veil of mist still floating through the greenery. Her only companion, so she she’d thought at least, had been the quiet birds chirping in their bath. Alex had drifted through the grounds for nearly an hour, enjoying the solitude before she’d have to be bombarded with her classmates emotions again, when she’d finally decided to return to the still waking halls of Veritus, but she soon found that she hadn’t been as alone as she thought she had.

“Good morning.” The petite blonde offered to Octavius, somewhat startled to meet him so early in the morning, and out of the castle at that. Although Alex figured she shouldn’t have been so surprised, the boy was always turning up where he shouldn’t be. It was clear that he had been out here for some time, the soot and ash from his flames still clinging to his hair and face from the previous night.

“The headmistress would like to see all of us in her office again,” Alex began, pursing her lips as she attempted to swat some of the mess from his hair in hopes of making him at least somewhat presentable. “They sent message this morning, but I’ll assume that you weren’t in your dorm.”

“Come, walk with me.” Lexi insisted, taking Tav’s arm in a rare act of kindness. The headmistress, like most figures of authority, was fond of Alex. Surely they wouldn’t be too hard on the poor boy if she were on his arm.

Time has a funny way of slowing down and then spending past so fast that you become momentarily impaired. Like fire, time is out of control, an unstoppable force capable of swallowing the world whole.

Tav sat on the burnt floor next to Foster, their elbows touching. Although they both appeared untouched by the flames that had consumed Tav, both of them were dirty and covered in blood. Tav's eyes wondered curiously over the other's side profile. Tav had been a Disney villain and yet, Foster had snuffed out his lava like it was nothing. His own magic had treated Foster like it knew him, like it trusted him. Tav shook his head, turning to look at the floor instead.

The spot where Will had died was now black. Ash and soot were the only evidence that Will's body had ever been there and Tav's shoulders shook as he compressed the tears that begged to be released. He had accidentally cremated his friend. He closed his eyes and tried to regain his composer, tried to keep it together. Everyone else seemed to do this with out difficulty. Foster had lost his sister and yet he didn't seem to be falling apart.

Tav stood abruptly, interrupting a professor who was in the middle of telling them all to go to bed. Someone called his name as he left the ballroom, but Octavius didn't turn around or acknowledge them. His legs carried him through a court yard, past the looming dorm buildings. He walked until his knees shook and he sat against the dew covered grass on the edge of the school lawn. He couldn't return to his room, he couldn't spend one second staring at those empty walls. Will was dead. Will was never coming back. Not only was that a forever fact now, but so was his shameful flirting with Kryell Rothbury.

"I'm so fucking stupid." Tav screamed into his hands, his fingers curling into the locks of his hair.

Tomorrow morning was probably going to be his last day at this school. He had done everything he wasn't supposed to do tonight. Lay low, stay out the way, don't draw attention to yourself. That's what he was supposed to have been doing. Maybe if he had for once just followed directions Will wouldn't be dead right now. Maybe if he'd just listened to the head mistresses instead of trying to be a hero nothing would be this bad. It was his fault, and he didn't know how he was going to live with it.

"Sir. Are you dead?" A gruff voice called down to Octavius. A moment later, the cold metal of a shovel tapping against his side had his eyes flying open. Bright sunlight danced in front of his eyes and Tav stuck his hand out to block some of the rays.

"What?" He croaked, his voice raspy and dry. He was still on the lawn of the school, only it wasn't night time anymore. Had he slept out here? What time was it? Blood still covered his suit and a grim look flashed over his face.

"Well, it's nice to see you're not dead. Thought I was just going to have to bury you right where you were laying." The man in front of Tav spoke, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

"What time is it?" Octavius asked as he stood up, brushing the dirt and grass from his clothes. His body ached from sleeping on the hard ground. Before the man could answer Tav spotted Alex, calling her name loudly.

"Hey wait up!" He shouted, jogging to meet her as she walked towards one of the buildings.

Gen was quickly coming to the realization that she was going to die.

She hadn’t done much with her life yet, and the thought that it would be over just like that was nearly as horrifying as the creature standing before her. She’d had goals, and a family, and a handful of unfinished books on her nightstand that she would never know the endings to. The number of loose ends in her life was enough to cause a panic all on it’s own, but her mind didn’t let the thoughts spiral any further as pain and excruciating cold seized her limps, her lungs, her throat. Gen almost wished Death would come just so the pain would be over. And as if answering a prayer, he did.

Just not the one she’d been expecting.

A scream suddenly pierced the air and a weight was lifted. Air filled her lungs again. She felt warmth spreading through her body, though she still felt nearly frozen and stiff. Tendrils of shadow swirled around her as they attacked the monster at her feet. Unlike the unnatural darkness the creatures brought with them, this darkness was not malevolent. Genevieve did not balk from it—she felt nearly comforted by it’s presence. Especially since it had been instrumental in the fact that she was still living and breathing. The creature who nearly claimed her life was now nothing but a shriveled, wrinkled, horror of a thing. Gen looked back up as the shadows retreated to boy who wore Death’s face.

Kyrell was staring back at her.

When he finally spoke, about cats of all things, she’d wanted to sob. “They would have been so disappointed,” she responded, attempting to keep the tears at bay. Normally, she would have laughed. Easily. She wasn’t sure that was even possible anymore. But Kye’s attempt at levity felt like a lifeline. A light in the darkness. He’d saved her and now he was, perhaps unwittingly, keeping her from unraveling entirely. Gen she clung to that feeling. Then she took his outstretched hand.

The two raced to the edge of the ballroom, toward a rarely used exit and away from the largest congregation of shadow demons. The pair dodge the bodies and debris that littered the ground—as well as the creatures that had left them there. And if they became targets again, Gen wasn’t sure how much help she could be. All she had done the first time around was cause a distraction. And even then, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to summon that amount of light again. She was running on fumes. Gen hoped Kye was faring better, but the exercise of pure power he’d demonstrated had to have taken it’s toll.

Gen flinched away from the feeling of sudden heat at her back. Whirling to face the next potential threat, Gen saw a massive fire erupt in the center of the ballroom. Very near where she and Kye had just vacated. If she had been freezing before, now the ballroom felt stiflingly warm. Foster approached without a semblance of fear and began to use his own magic to smother the flames. Vaguely, at the very center, Gen thought she saw a silhouette of a man. She had a very good guess as to who it was.

Before the flames had completely subsided, a burst of radiant light flashed through the room—it had put her own to shame. The creatures let out horrific screams before disappearing into nothing. Once the light dimmed, Gen could see it had been a group of faculty members that had dispelled the beings. “It’s over…” Gen murmured, more to herself than anything.

Silence settled over the space as the full reality of what had happened here sank in. The threat was gone, but Gen’s own body was still on high alert as she surveyed the carnage. The ballroom was utterly destroyed. Bodies lay twisted and bloodied and broken on the ground. They were people she’d known, had gone to school with for years. They were faces she’d seen countless times in the halls and classes and the library. And they were just…gone.

Guilt sat heavy in her stomach as she recalled the uneasy feeling she’d gotten moments before the attack. If she had been confident enough in her own abilities she could have prevented so much unnecessary death. If she had honed her skills enough, perhaps she could have prevented the entire event. Not only that, but she’d been all but useless in that fight. One single burst of light had been enough to nearly get herself killed. She could have been some kind of help if she’d had powers like Kye, or Foster, or Tav, or Alex even…her heart stopped at the thought of the last name. She’d seen the others but Gen hadn’t seen her friend since they’d gotten separated in the chaos.

Gen visibly sagged when she saw a streak of blonde across the room, her friend knelt down over the body of a fallen student. “Alex!” She cried, dropping Kye’s hand—she hadn’t even noticed she’d still been holding on to him for dear life—and running to wrap her arms around the girl. “Are you okay?” She wasn’t sure why she had even bothered asking, it was evident that she was not. Gen couldn’t imagine having a power like hers in a situation like that—like this. But she admired the girl as she watched her relieve the pain and suffering of those who were struggling in the transition to the other side. And she watched from the corner of her eye as Kye did the same—only in a slightly different capacity. It tugged at a place deep in her chest.

As the dying and the dead were tended to, the remainder of the living surrounded the professors who had ended the torment. She was relieved, at least, to see the entire group from the library had survived. Question after question were shouted over one another as the students demanded answers. Gen was no exception.

“How did this even happen? There are countless wards surrounding Veritum, how did the creatures manage to get past them without alerting anyone?” It was unfathomable. Gen had always thought this place was a fortress against the the outside world. Now, she’d be lucky to ever feel safe under it’s roof again.

Jasmine went over the steps again and again in her mind as she stood in the old clock tower. Every moon stone and crystal she owned spilled from the bag at her feet and Jasmine calculated where each one had to go. Nothing, not one single thing, could be out of place tonight. Siam's life depended on it, depended on her.

The Celestial Council had ripped his name from him, buried him, and shit on her whole family. They had ruined everything and in return she would ruin them, one piece at a time, one person at a time. The pathway to their rot had been here the whole time, locked away in a stupid fucking book. Who would have ever thought something so valuable would be stored in such a silly place, surrounded by foolish students who licked the heels of any council member who looked their way. What faith the Celestial Coven had to think that every student who kissed ass did it out of good will. Nothing of such power was safe in a place like Veritum and she would prove that tonight. Sighing, Jasmine tied her hair up in a sloppy bun and got to work. Incense smoke burned her nose as she drew symbols in the damp stone floor. Siam's watch, now covered in ash and blood, cultivating the west corner of her circle. The East, a sun charged quartz. The north was full of water she had pulled from her own pores. Inside, moon charged obsidian gleamed back at her. The South was a mound of stones she had charged for months, her own small collection of stored powers. By the time she was ready, the room resembled more of a smokey rock quarry than a tower. Jasmine had picked this place because it was close to the ballroom and the library. It was close enough that her magic wasn't stretched too far and yet confidential enough that two fondling students wouldn't interrupt her. She sat, eyes closed, and counted her heart beats. It was difficult to split herself, to pull her mind in two places at once, and sweat glistened across her forehead as she struggled. With one hand extended Jasmine pushed an imaginary blanket through the wall. She guided it, the frayed edges quivering with the rise and fall of lungs it didn't have. Like a ghost it drifted between this world and the next before it entered the library. The forbidding section didn't shrink from it's touch as it molded itself to the shelves. Hide, she purred to it in her thoughts, lie to any that look upon you. With the other hand she clutched her chest. Her fingers curled and pulled for the soul she wasn't certain existed inside of her. When the man from the store told Jasmine how to do this, she had doubted it would work. She had never learned of soul magic, not from her parents, school, or literature. When her nails scraped the silk of a string she pulled, ignoring the warning her body screamed out. Was this her soul that she was unraveling or simply just a fragment of pure imagination. "Shit." She rasped out as the string snapped between her fingers. One second, she was just her, and the next she was two. "Don't lose concentration bitch." The other Jasmine hissed, yanking the dress over her nude body. Jasmine snapped her illusion over the new manifestation of herself, applying makeup that wasn't really there. An illusion over an illusion inside of an illusion. Already her head ached with the confusion of it all. The manifestation snapped her fingers impatiently and stared at Jasmine with disgust. "Are you going to send me downstairs or am I just going to stand here all night?" She snapped out, folding her arms across her chest. Jasmine nearly eye rolled herself before yanking the fake her into the ball room with a tug. Inside of her chest a hollow spot festered and she thumbed the wound with her astral body. Hours passed. Her vision, split between a library and crowded party, blurred. Her body trembled, soaked with depleted energy, and her eyes tried to comprehend everything she was seeing. The other her mingled, followed Alex like a shadow, and behaved. She smiled, she laughed, and she did not stagger or stumble. After awhile she lost sight of everything and instead walked numbly around the tomb of her own mind. She didn't visit this place often. The boat house floated on an ocean of dark water and Jasmine sat on the safety railing. Her shoulders slouched and her back ached. She eyed the door and she sighed, going over to look through the fogged glass. There wasn't a door knob to enter this place so she simply pushed, stepping through the threshold. There were endless doors. What appeared to be a small boat was in reality a sea castle, crafted to deter people who tried to crack her mind. She wandered the halls aimlessly, not caring where she went. She would have stayed there forever if the screaming hadn't started. Jasmine's eyes snapped open and she collapsed, coughing for air as her astral body squeezed itself back in too quickly. The jagged end of a crystal snagged her dress as she stood and stumbled towards the staircase. The screams were loud, mixed with the echos of crashing glass and tables, and Jasmine staggered. What the hell was happening out there? She pushed past her shrieking classmates as they scampered down the halls, running over one another in their attempt to escape. Jasmine grabbed a blonde hair girl by the shoulder and spun her around wide eyed. Blood covered her face and a gash ran across her cheek and mouth. Jasmine let her go quickly, breaking out into a run. The ballroom wreaked of havoc. Smoke clogged her nose and Jasmine attempted to conjure water only to find herself too weak for magic. Across the room she spotted the soul illusion of herself and she scowled. How had she forgot about that? Looking around Jasmine shoved tables and broken chairs out of her way, heading towards herself. A shadow fell in front of her and Jasmine wrinkled her nose at the smell of singed skin. It was a weird creature and she wanted to stare, but there were more important matters to attend to. The moment she reached the other Jasmine, the pair reached for each other. It was like two magnets and in a flash they were one again just as the ceiling above her glowed with harsh light. Black monsters scrambled up the walls and under doors, something that she didn't have the energy to even think about. Jasmine glanced up only to see the curious gaze of Kryell fall onto her as he and Genevieve made their way towards the exit. Had he witnessed her colliding with herself? Fucking great. Professors seemed to storm the room now. It was crawling with them and Jasmine chewed her lip, watching as they secured the place and attended to those who moaned and whimpered from the floor. Once again, stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time, with a bunch of people she loathed. Everyone was talking and the room smelled of copper and ashes. Jasmine's eyes darted over Foster and Tav who seemed oddly way too comfortable with one another. Alex, catering to the bodies of the injured like some kind of god. Sliding down a broken beam, Jasmine put her face in her hands. Unable to illusion herself into perfection, her tan skinned seemed pale. Bags were deep under her eyes and her hair was a ragged out mess. She didn't even care that someone elses blood was soaking into the hem of her cloak. "Ms. Kim-Luong, have you been injured?" A professor Jasmine vaguely remembered from her first year asked, bending down to check on her. His forehead wrinkled as his hand touched her face and his eyes filled with concern. "I think I over exerted my magic trying to fight off those things." Jasmine lied, her eyes brimming with fake tears. "I'll be okay. Go help someone else that needs it more." She insisted, forcing her shaky legs to stand and move themselves in the direction of everyone else.

Kyrell had grown used to Veritum, and frankly the rest of the world, disappointing him. He expected his night to be filled with nothing but liquor saturated breaths, dirty and exploratory hands, and enough lowered inhibitions that would make even the darkest of souls feel at home.

Like his.

Conversing with the masked stranger was easy – conversation flowed just as much as their drinks had. He didn’t fail to notice the prolonged gazes the other man sent him, either. Curious, damn near intoxicating looks that caused him to focus extremely hard on his drink. Warmth spread throughout his body and traveled to his abdomen. And then lower. He watched the stranger’s neck as he took a long sip of his drink, watched the small droplets of sweat sparkle against the flashing, neon lights. If all parties at Veritum were like this, he might actually start attending them out of his own free will. And, as a plus, this boy seemed to hate events like this one just as much as Kye did.

A lazy, seductive smirk spread across his face as he finished the last of his drink. “High society isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Balls like these are just the icing on the fucking cake.” Fishing out a cherry from the bottom of his drink, Kye placed the fruit between white, straight teeth and popped off the stem before turning lazily to the drunken stranger and plopping it in his drink.

An offer to move the conversation elsewhere was on the tip of his tongue, but the ceiling caving in interrupted.

Instinct took over and Kye immediately sprung to the boy, covering him with his body and pressing them both to the floor. “Get down!” he shouted over the piercing sound of shattering glass. Shards coated them like ice, along with fear, freezing them to the ground.

Until darkness began to sweep inside the ballroom… Thick shadows that neither belonged to him nor anything else he had ever experienced. Their presence felt like the raging anger he stumbled across back in the library, with his bonds around Jasmine's throat and his words as brutal as a blade. These monsters were destruction incarnate, but also seductive in their call.

Vaguely, he swore he felt his shadows chomping at the bit, yearning to come out and play.

Rolling over and off of the stranger, Kye shot to his feet while his eyes wildly tracked the scene. Already, screams of terror echoed across the marble and the scent of death hung in the air like a noose. His skin prickled and his power flowed effortlessly through his veins, just waiting for the moment to strike. The necromancer’s body was being pulled in two different directions.

He wondered if this was what his parents felt, right before they signed their souls away.

Ignoring the tiny cuts from the glass across the left side of his face, he took one last look at the drunken stranger before sprinting into the brawl. He was not his parents… He would never be his parents…

Creatures that only nightmares could conjure began filling the room, and they were thirsty for blood, for soon enough it began to coat the marble floor effortlessly. Screams and tortured souls saturated the air, causing a shiver to spread down his spine as he physically felt the life being drained from the students.

It was a heavy, heavy fucking feeling.

Ducking the stray carnage and being sure to keep himself hidden from the light, not wanting to fall into the creatures path, Kye had half a thought to simply turn and escape through the grand entrance. He even whipped his head towards the long steps while blood trickled down his face like tears, only to find the beasts had already infiltrated that escape, as well. The entire ballroom was blocked off, surrounded by death. And, for he knew all too well…

It was rarely ever kind.

A flash of red, though this time not belonging to splatters of blood, caught his attention like a beacon. Focusing in on the brawl taking part in the middle of the dance floor, where the demons were most prominent, Kyrell noticed a very peculiar, yet thrilling sight. Genevieve Greenbriar, dressed as a mythical butterfly, was kicking ass.

Light flowed from her hands as if she were the sun incarnate. An ethereal glow swam throughout her body, solidifying the angel she was and the savior she was trying to be. Kye blinked at the assault of light, but did not – could not – take his eyes away. Her power flourished here, whereas his only felt like a burden.

Eventually, the light dimmed and Gen looked thoroughly exhausted – but she had saved a life.

He wondered what that was like, instead of being the thing souls sought after it was too fucking late.

However, she clearly didn’t think through her heroic act. Once the beast had lost its prey, it merely needed to seek another. And who better to target than the very thing that let their victim escape? Leathery skin, dripping fangs, and obsidian eyes assessed the redhead and started towards her. Gen ducked and evaded the beast for as long as she could, but eventually, its striking claws seized hold of her – its blood-ridden mouth was inches away from her flesh. He watched her freeze upon contact, as if the life was already draining from her.

He was not his parents…

He would never be his parents…

Kyrell called to his power, the depths that carved out a home within his chest and his soul. He began striding towards the creature, tendrils upon tendrils of shadow stemming from his back viciously, poised and ready to strike. His teeth were gritted in a near-feral scowl as an overwhelming sense of purpose filled him. He could be good. He could be good. The wicked temptation that gnawed in the back of his mind was now screaming at him, trying to rein the boy in as his power grew more and more bountiful by the minute. It fed off of the passed students that slowly filled the room and he could see the glowing, gentle auras of them through his shadows.

Yes, he would avenge them.

Right before the creature sunk its fangs into Gen’s pale, sparkling skin, Kye let his shadow build and build until it was nothing but a towering wall behind him. Living. Breathing. It whispered to him, urging him to let it run rampant. With a sinister gleam in his eye, the sorcerer lifted both hands.

And then let out an unearthly scream, releasing the horde of shadows, sending the wall right towards the demon.

It flew to the ground as the force began to suck the life out of it – an ability Kye was unaware of until now. Within seconds, only a shriveled mess of the monster rested across the bloody floor. Dead.

Panting, slicked back hair now mussed, and with sweat mixing in with his makeup and causing it to slide down his face, he turned to Genevieve. For a moment, only silence sat between the two.

And then she thanked him.

Still trying to catch his breath and muster up more strength, he simply nodded and extended a hand out to her. “Can’t have you missing your morning cat feeding appointments, can we?” While he tried, there was barely an ounce of humor lacing his tone. Shock and fear still hung over the boy like a thick cloud. Formalities could be exchanged when they were safe. For now, his voice was gruff and sharp.

“Come on, we need to go,” he barked, snagging her hand once more and racing towards the back of the ballroom where he knew a small exit door sat. Hopefully, it was free of more of those shadow demons. If not…

Well, they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

Just before they were about to round a corner, a burst of light swam through the room, illuminating every crevice and corner. Anguished shrieks of pain erupted from the creatures and they quickly began scrambling away, rushing towards the shattered windows and ceilings from which they came. Within seconds, the ballroom was vacant of the threat.

And yet, death still remained. The space reeked of it.

Kye, due to his ability, could still see the faint glow of the new souls floating in the room. Most were slowly rising towards the sky, passing on to rest fully. Others were more confused, remaining stationary or staying level – no longer knowing what path to chart now that theirs had been cut short. His throat grew thick and his chest pricked with a discomfort he often found when dealing with lost souls. If one wanted to move on, they could. It was the others, still clinging to unfinished business, that had difficulty accepting their new fate.

Silently, as he strode towards the middle with his eyes roaming the room slowly, he reached out to some. Giving them that final push.

It was all he could do.

Vaguely, he heard Alex whispering tender words with gentle touches to the dying. In turn, after they had passed, he would observe their souls gradually making their way to the ceiling until they disappeared into the sky. Across the room, he noticed Tav and Foster with smoke brewing beneath their hands. The entire scene smelled of blood and ash – nothing but destruction. However, when the two boys grew closer to the professors, Kye took note of Tav’s costume – how he had been marginally flirting with him unknowingly only minutes ago. As if this night couldn't get any more terrifying.

He made eye contact with the boy before he cut his eyes to the professors, waiting for a goddamn explanation. “What the fuck were those things?” he panted, clearly exasperated and disheveled, as his suit was torn in places and the blood from his injuries swirled with his melting makeup. Stray pieces of his hair settled across his face and a small train of shadows once again curled across his arms.

Mor, with her impeccable timing, burst through the void at his feet. She silently assessed the scene with her golden, knowing eyes. Instead of prancing off like usual, she stayed at his feet loyally.

Boot prints seared themselves into the marble floors beneath Foster's feet with each step he took toward the monster that had taken Isabella's life. At each side, his fists uncurled only to be filled with blinding white-hot flames that crept up each of his arms in a hypnotic dance.

Foster's teeth clenched behind a closed jaw and his eyes burned with fury. He had barely reached the shadow figure when his flames became too much to harness. They sprung free from his grip and to the ground in front of him, creating a trail that ran straight up to the creature, engulfing him in an inferno. The monster screamed as it thrashed against his flames, but it was to no avail. The creature diminished into thin air right before Foster's eyes and then all flames ceased.

Foster's gaze fixated on the place where it used to be. The only evidence of it ever existing was the black charred floor where it had disappeared into smoke. His chest rose and fell at a quick pace and he forced himself to recollect before turning around to what he knew would be the crumpled body of Isabella behind him.

Although his breathing had become more stagnant, it completely halted at the sight in front of him when he spun around. Just a few paces in front of him lay Isabella's body as he expected, but she was not alone. Izzy was being cradled in the arms of no other than Alexandra. Foster's hardened stare that he had worn for longer than he could remember softened for the briefest moment as he watched. Alex's lips formed soft unheard words to Isabella's struggling body and Foster took a step towards the pair but stopped as Izzy's body fell limp beside Alex, her head full of bunny-soft platinum rolling to the side, her blank stare all that was left.

His heart felt like it was being bent in half. If it wasn't for Alex, Isabella would have died in pain and fear, her abilities were unique and at this moment, the most promising for anyone to find peace in the chaos that was surrounding them. No power came for free, there was always a price, and judging by the dark circles that hung beneath Alex's eyes, Foster knew what the cost must have been for her. Taking in so much terror and suffering, it all had to go somewhere. She was the vessel.

Several live people still surrounded the room and the floors were marked by magic, blood, and bodies. Foster's white shirt now had been marked by the blood of others, he himself left unmarked as far as he could tell. He took a survey around the room, forcing his emotions to go back into the darkest parts of the box he hid deep within his mind. He needed to get out of the room and make a game plan for himself.

When he started towards the outer corner of the vast room, he pursed his lips and groaned at the stupid feeling that was pricking him the same way he knew Isabella would have if she was disappointed in him.

"She helped me, and you're just going to let her die?" Isabella's voice echoed in the back of his mind and he reopened his eyes, turning on his heel reluctantly as he pushed back into the crowd he was trying to leave behind.

It took a few moments, but he spotted her in the horde of people once again. Alex stood on shaky legs and Foster managed to fall in step beside her, his arm scooping around her as he supported her body for her. He didn't make eye contact and got the two of them moving more fluidly through the room.

The two of them didn't make it but a few steps when a burst of flames exploded through the room, more screams could be heard and Foster stopped, stepping in front of Alex instinctively as he looked around. The fire did not belong to him, this he knew, but when he saw who it was, he couldn't say that he was all too surprised.

Octavius once again caught completely on fire and was out of control. The oddest part of it all was that he had never seen the boy harness fire abilities before the past few days.

"He's going to kill himself," Foster's patience was wearing thin, but he knew the best way to kill a fire was to take away its air. So that's what he would do.

A dark cloud formed towards the ceiling, becoming denser with each passing second until it was so dark one could barely see through it. The smoke swirled into a tight circle before shooting down towards Octavius' body, swarming him like a tornado whilst depleting any sort of oxygen that the fire could use to reignite. Foster moved closer and closer to Octavius until the fire became just his arms and legs. Once he was close enough, Foster grabbed a hold of Tav and glared at him, taking his face in a firm hand as if he were a small child about to be scolded.

"You're not like them," he yelled through the whirling smoke. "Snap out of it!" Foster's brows furrowed and he waited for the flames to cease before letting the smoke evaporate around them slowly. Little time passed when a large beam of blue light blinded the room and Foster shielded his eyes with his arm.

At the center of the room stood the headmaster and several other professors, their powers erupting together in a large beam of light that shot through the ceiling. All shadow creatures that wreaked havoc had screeched in disapproval of their light, one by one shooting through the hole in the roof and out into the night sky that hung above them. The beam stayed strong for moments after all creatures had been expelled before they dropped their hands and silence filled the room.

Foster, now sitting on the ground in dismay stared at the group before his face screwed up into hatred.

"You couldn't have done that hours ago?!" he broke through the silence, his chest heaving from the use of his powers and the anger that was bubbling back up to the surface.

Octavius did not like dancing. He didn't enjoy the feeling of hot, sweaty, bodies pressed against his own. There was fear of course, that he would light one of the pretty twirling girls on fire, but there was also a severe lack of comfort at the ideal of anyone watching him.

A black and silver mask clung to his face and Tav hid against a back table, observing the crowd. He wasn't sure how he had found himself drunk, but he was. Four empty wine glasses balanced themselves where he had stacked them, one on top of the other, and Octavius imagined nudging them ever so slightly. The mental image of the noise it would cause made him cringe.

When a group of loud girls came chattering towards the table, Tav made himself scarce. "Where is Will when I need him?" Tav cursed beneath his breath as he squeezed himself into another dark corner. He hadn't realized it was preoccupied until the smooth voice of another spoke out to him above the music.

"Shit!" Octavius snapped, his hand coming to his hammering heart. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were here." Apologizing, Tav quickly looked over the stranger. Although the sorcerer wore face paint, he was still strikingly beautiful. Dark, but not in a way that made Tav want to jump up and run to a different place.

"Is my anxiety that obvious?" Octavius asked, a flush creeping over his throat as his fingers grasped the full drink. "I'm not good with socializing. Balls like this make my skin crawl." He remarked, somehow unable to stop his mouth from embarrassing him farther. "If being a part of high society means social events like these, count me out. Sounds dread-fucking -ful."

Movement caught Octavius's eyes and he burrowed his brows as he watched a darting shadow skitter across the dom ceiling. "What is that?" Tav asked, bringing the drink down from his lips. The shadow, as if sensing it had been spotted, turned to look at him. Octavius stared back, wide eyed. Another flickered across his vision, and then another, as if the dome itself was falling. There was no time to comprehend what he was seeing before the entire ballroom erupted in glass and screams.

---

Blood and smoke stung Tav's nose as he shifted his way over the broken mess that was the dance floor. Flames torched his fingers as he threw blazing fire balls towards anyone who looked like they needed help. Shockingly, he was managing to hit his targets. The attractive man with the skeleton face was long gone, lost in the shoving panic that corrupted the room.

For a bunch of elite magical humans, Tav had to admit he was thoroughly disappointed. Although some people were in deed fighting back, it also appeared to him like most of the fellow student body had forgotten they could defend themselves. Of course he was scared too; of course he wanted to say fuck the school and run for his life, but he knew that trampling over fallen people was wrong. He knew leaving people behind to die was nothing to be proud of.

The glass that had exploded around Octavius earlier was now embedded in his skin. His lips down to the hollow of his throat throbbed painfully and a slow trickle of blood discolored the collar of his dress shirt. There were bodies everywhere. Alex was leaned over a girl who Octavius instantly recognized as Isabelle Morrison.

"Octavius! Hey!" A voice called from somewhere behind him. Tav pulled the plague mask from his face and whirled around, looking into the tired face of William. His friend had a shield around him and protection charms flowed freely from his hands like light blue oxygen bubbles. "I've managed to help a lot of people get out through the back entrance. What were you looking.." Trailing to a stop, Tav watched as Will took in the scene of Foster's sister and Alex. Neither of the boys noticed the large shadows skittering across the floor.

One moment Octavius was standing, the next moment he was slammed against the floor with enough force that the air evaporated from his lungs. He coughed and scrambled, pain bursting from one of his legs. The shadow creatures touch felt like falling into the artic ocean and Tav gasped for a breath. Sharp, needle like teeth, sank into the flesh on his calf and Tav screamed. Several more shadow monsters pounced on top of him, pinning him to the floor. Beside him Will gurgled and Tav's head whipped towards the sound. A shadow creature was on top of Will, it's claws shredding into his throat.

Will, his only friend. The only person that made being in this school bearable. He was the only person Octavius had ever trusted in his entire life. There was no more blue orbs floating around them. Will's face, once full of such humor and life, stared blankly into the emptiness of the once beautiful ceiling. He was dead; he was never coming back. Octavius's world was nothing but uncontrollable fire.

Everything, including Will, seemed to fall into ashe. Alex, Foster, the remaining people fighting in the room faded from his sight. The floor glowed like malted lava beneath his body. Tav screamed and fire poured from his mouth, from every inch of his body. He was a walking inferno. He was going to kill every last thing that had ever hurt him. Tav wasn't sure if he'd stood up or if he had simply levitate onto his feet. The only thing he was certain of was that he going to burn this whole fucking place down until it resembled hell. His hell.

“Genny!”

The name ripped from her mouth as the two women were tossed apart by the surging crowd of students clamoring for an escape. Glass rained from the ceiling as hundreds of shadowed creatures darted through the room, the small shards knicking her skin and leaving small cuts scattered in their wake. The ballroom had dissolved into utter chaos… students trampled over other students, exits bottlenecking, screams and sobs coming from every direction while those monsters attacked, leaving lifeless bodies already littering the ground. Her classmates, her peers, people whom she’d once called friend all laid before her with unbeating hearts. As if her own terror wasn’t debilitating enough in this moment, the shock of everyone else’s was almost too much to bare.

Fear is a natural instinct designed to keep humans safe, to caution them away from danger and to urge a reaction when it was inevitable. The body’s natural response to such a feeling is typically one of three things: fight, flight, or freeze. But how is one expected to react when they’re ambushed with more than just their own instinctual response, but a hundred others’ all at once? It’d be practically impossible to sort through all of those emotions all at once, in fact, it was more likely to drive someone mad.

Alex had just barely begun to rise when the flood gates to her consciousness finally crumbled, leaving her mind stripped bare of any protection against the flurry of horror seeping through the school. Falling to her knees, Alex clutched her head between her palms, an agonizing scream tearing from the back of her throat as she doubled over at the waist. Terror, fear, horror, disgust…. all of these emotions seeped through her mind like poison, drowning out any other thought before it could take root.

Alexandra lay on the cool tile floor trembling, head clutched between her hands and heart hammering in her chest for what felt like ages before she was finally able to begin filtering out the onslaught of emotions from the people around her. It wasn’t that she has miraculously found a way to manage her powers, or even that the terror in the room was starting to ebb… no, it was simply that her own horror had surpassed all of the others’ that she was feeling.

May it be sex, or adrenaline, or fear, or whatever other feeling she was able to capture - heightening her own emotions to a point at which she couldn’t ignore them was one of the very few ways Alex had learned to block out the emotions of others and focus on her own.

A shadowed figure snatched Alexandra from the ground, it’s icy talons digging into her skin until her once white dress was stained with streaks of scarlet. “Please-“ She bargained hopelessly, choking on her own words as terror gripped her throat. Alex desperately searched for that small ribbon linked to one’s mind that allowed her to zero in on an emotion, tugging on any tendril of consciousness that she could within the monster’s essence in an effort to fill it with enough regret to not kill her… but there was nothing… no ribbon for her to follow, no emotion for her to manipulate, just a cold, empty, unwavering cavern of dread behind that thing’s eyes.

Despite being fully aware that she was only moments away from death, Alexandra fought with every ounce of energy she had left in her. Where magic had failed her, she willed her body to fight back, to buy her just a few more seconds of life. She kicked and screamed and thrashed, crying out as the monster’s iron grip tightened in response.

And then there was fire. Burning, scalding fire colliding with the robed creature that held her in it’s grasp. It recoiled at the hit, shrieking as it tossed Alex back to the ground in a last ditch effort to escape the flames, but by the time Alexandra hit the tiles the thing had been incinerated, raining ashes all around her. Alex’s head snapped in the direction the ball of fire had come from, finding a very frazzled looking Octavius clutching another orb of flames in his hands. For someone who was notorious for being unable to control his powers, his aim had been impeccable.

“Thank you.” The blonde mouthed the words to Tav from across the room, swiping the back of her hand across her cheek to erase the single tear that had slipped from her eye, a trail of soot smeared across her face in it’s path. Alex would be indebted to that boy until the favor was repaid… he had quite literally saved her life.

Sucking in a breath, Alexandra forced herself to focus on the anger rising in her chest. Fists clenched, teeth gnashed together, there was enough fury in her to block out the fear she felt from all the other’s. She was angry that her friends were dying. She was angry that this place that was supposed to be safe had become anything but. She was angry that she’d never trained for combat, and had been wholly unprepared when attacked.

Never again, she vowed. Never again would she play the victim like she had this evening.

A faint lavender glow gathered at her palms, the magic tickling her skin as it danced between her hands. It was so rare that she’d ever practiced anything other than mind-magic that she scarcely new what to do with this power in it’s raw form.

Alex gathered the light in one hand, bringing her right arm out wide as she tested the balance of the small orb she held, weighing how it felt in her grip. Another robed creature darted across her line of sight and Alexandra took the opportunity, pushing the purple light from her palm with a surge of energy that carried it directly into it’s target. Alex’s raw magic wasn’t strong enough to kill with a single hit, she wasn’t naive enough to think that, but it had stunned the monster long enough for another student to finish it off.

Alexandra used this technique to clear herself a path through the ballroom, following the ribbon of those feeling the strongest emotions - the ribbon connected to the consciousness of those who were dying. Alex knew her power’s weren’t offensive nor particularly useful in this fight, but she could still be of some good.

The first was a boy, an electro-kinetic that she recognized from herbology. He lay in a puddle of scarlet, choking on his own blood as he slowly suffocated. The terror he felt at his impending death was palpable. “Shhh..” Alex cooed softly, kneeling beside the boy’s head. “Close your eyes, everything will be okay.” The witch promised, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. Her power as a psycho-kinetic, a mind-witch, were twofold: her very presence eased fear and relaxed those in close proximity to her, urged people to trust her, a tool used in gathering intel from those who would otherwise be uneasy in her presence. But if she were able to touch them it also gave Alexandra the ability to take one’s emotions into herself and manipulate them into something different. “Everything will be okay.” She repeated a second time, wincing as the boy’s pain seeped through her, replacing it with a cool sense of ease.

She could not stop death, but she could make it a hell of a lot easier for them.

Alex drifted through the room as the fighting began to dwindle, letting her magic draw her to those who were in the most pain and kneeling beside them to ease their transition to death. She repeated the process over and over again until the pain and fear coursing through her was almost too much to drown out with her own anger, until each time she stood her legs shook, and she stumbled with each step.

She was nearly ready to call it quits when she sensed her, a girl whose psyche was writhing in dread. Fatigued legs carried Alex to the center of the room where she finally spotted her - the Morrison girl - her neck twisted in an unnatural position yet her chest was still rising in sporadic bursts. The poor girl’s fear was rivaled only by her brother’s anger, Alex could tell that much without even laying eyes on the boy.

“It’s going to be alright.” Alex began as she neared the fair haired girl, dropping to her knees beside her. “It’s almost over now.” Alexandra assured, brushing her fingertips through the girl’s tangled hair. Alex couldn’t find any pain to mask as she searched the girl’s psyche, likely a result of paralysis from her clearly broken neck, but she could certainly take away the fright of what was to come. “Almost over now, Isabella.” Alex repeated, offering the girl the warmest smile she could muster despite her trembling hands and quivering lips. The panic in Izzy’s eyes quickly ebbed, her tensed muscles relaxing, and she even managed a thin smile in return once the fear had left her body.

It hadn’t taken death long to collect it’s toll once her body had released it’s panicked grip on life.

Alex released a shattered breath, the grief of feeling so many deaths in such close succession twisting her stomach into knots. Tonight had been a rare show of empathy and kindness from Alexandra’s usual facade of cool uncaring detachment, and it had left her feeling raw and exposed.

Rising on unsteady legs, Alex made the briefest of eye contact with Foster. He had been kind to her earlier in the night, before all of the chaos that had followed. This final act of decency for his sister had been her repayment, yet she still couldn’t stop herself from whispering an “I’m sorry.” in his direction. It had always been clear that Foster cared for very little in this world, but she could sense just by the emotions rolling off of him that he had cared very much about Isabella.

The amount of loss Alex felt throughout the room was deafening.

Foster's eyelids had grown heavy in the short time he had spoken to the girls in front of him. His fingertips still grazed the cool metal of his empty flask, and a cloud of dread formed over him at the recollection.

Raising a hand to his hair, he raked his fingers through loose waves of ebony and watched as both girls scurried off into the sea of dancing bodies. Foster's feet stayed planted where he stood, slouched

against the wall as if they were chained to the earth. His icy gaze rose from those in front of him towards the skylight above them. Clusters of stars scorched the galaxy like cigarette burns in an onyx fabric. Through his foggy vision, he watched as one of the stars flung across the sky with a flash. Then another. A shower?

Blinking twice, Foster's brows furrowed at the skylight, and then a shatter rang throughout the room. Raising his arm, he shielded his face as millions of glass shards rained down on the room. A low groan of irritation slid from Foster's chest as he shook off his shirt and looked around.

Music no longer filtered through the room. It had been replaced by screams and chaos. With all of the dimmed lights, it had been nearly impossible to make out any of the figures that seemed to flicker by in different directions. A ghost-like figure shot past Foster, nearly shoving him to the floor. Stumbling out of the way, he locked his eyes on the figure as it headed in the direction of Isabella who let out a scream when she took notice of whatever it was.

Foster's arm began crawling with black veins that stretched to the tips of his fingers until his hand was enclosed in ebony. The darkest parts of his arm quickly grew in heat, until they were glowing rivers of white-hot flame. Once his hand was engulfed by the flame, he shot it hand out towards Isabella across the room, and with it, he sent the fire spiraling towards the shadowed figure.

It screamed at the contact and recoiled quickly, but there was no use, it had begun slowly falling to ashes as Foster approached Isabella who grabbed his arm tightly.

"What the hell was that?!" she breathed.

"Someone with a lack of boundaries," Foster muttered sarcastically as he shoved her towards an opening in the rushing bodies. "Keep moving, find an exit," he ordered as her grip on his arm tightened and he pushed a path for her.

"Oh my god," Izzy cried, covering her mouth as she stared at the unmoving body of one of the students in front of her.

Foster glared and lifted her chin up. Tears brimmed her eyes.

"We're getting out of here okay?" he reassured her and she nodded slowly, he could tell she was trying her best not to look back over at the lifeless body. "Come on," he ushered her to step over the corpse when a cloud of black slammed into the two of them and sent them both to the floor.

Foster rolled onto his back, groaning at the impact and Izzy's scream got him shooting upright.

"FOSTER!"

His eyes darted through the constant stampede of students for her to no avail. By the time he got to his feet and shoved people out of his way, he had found her.

Too late.

There she stood, being held up by the dark figure, her neck being wrung like a towel as it dug its claws into her shoulders. Her dress didn't take long to become crimson.

Foster's ears began ringing as he stood in the center of the dance floor staring at the creature tearing up the closest thing to family that he had ever had like she was some piece of meat.

His feet had started moving before his head and he drew closer and closer to the monster. A fire burned in his eyes as his anger rolled off his body in waves.

He was going to burn the place to the fucking ground.

A smile tugged at Gen’s lips at Foster and Alex’s easy banter. “It feels a bit bigger than you getting laid, though depending on the rarity of that event that could be what I’m picking up,” Gen smiled sweetly at him before placing her empty glass on a nearby table. She had definitely had too much to drink because she was not typically that glib. She nodded as Alex tried to reassure her. The girl was probably right—and even if she wasn’t, it could wait until tomorrow, couldn’t it? Gen let Alex loop an arm through her own and lead her back to the dance floor. Her friend pointed out a couple in the corner who were very clearly having a…moment. “If we could all be so lucky,” she joked.

When Alex spoke again, Gen barely recognized the vague concern lacing through her voice. She glanced up at the glass ceiling above them and shook her head, not seeing anything except the serene night beyond. “No, I don’t—“ Then Alex was all but doubled over, feeling a threat that Genevieve’s own senses couldn’t. She felt panic begin sluicing down her spine, that wrongness settling even deeper in her bones. Gen nodded quickly as Alexandra told her they needed to leave. “Okay, okay,” she said, reaching for the girl’s arm. They made it all of two steps before the glass shattered.

Gen saw a mass of dark figures descending upon the mass below before she had the sense to shield her face from the rain of glass. She felt the bite of small shards in her skin, but with the fear raking its claws over her body, she barely noticed. Her grip tightened on Alex’s arm as all hell broke loose, the two of them getting swallowed into the maelstrom of commotion. “What are those things?” Gen’s voice was a whimper as she watched the monsters begin preying on the students around her. One moment Alex was within reach, and the next her fingers were grasping for air as the crowd surged around them.

Scanning the crowd for her friend’s face Gen noticed that most of the students were rushing toward the exits, but there were a few dispersed throughout the ballroom who were actually fighting back. And some who had already fallen from the inky black figures before them.

Gen was decidedly not a fighter.

Her father was always one to compliment her big heart. But it was precisely that which made her mother weary when Gen had told her she’d decided to come to Veritum. Her mother had spent years of her life disentangling herself from the magical community, just for Gen to come running back. And it had been a culture shock—for sure, but it hadn’t broken her like her mother had been afraid of. It hadn’t robbed her of her empathy or optimism. And despite what anyone told her—her kindness did not mean she was weak. Nor that she was a coward. Still, that didn’t mean she knew what the hell to do when face-to-face with the stuff of nightmares.

So it wasn’t instinct or self-preservation, that got Gen’s feet moving again. It was the innate desire to help someone in need. Not twenty feet from her, there was a young girl who was pinned by one of those creatures. She was a first-year, by the look of it—and she was terrified. Gen looked around for anything to grab, and her hand clasped around a serving platter twice the size of her head. She threw it with her entire body weight behind it, and it hit the creature with a thud before clattering to the ground. But the beast didn’t so much as flinch. “Hey!” Gen yelled at it. Nothing. No reaction. So she did the last thing she could think of save charging the thing and hoping she’d suddenly gained the strength of a linebacker, in the last five minutes.

Light pooled in her hand like Gen had plucked a star from the sky. It was so bright she had to squint against the glare of it. But the creature looked up, released the girl, and began coming towards her. Her eyes flicked to the girl on the floor who was heaving great, shuddering sobs. “Now would be a good time to run,” she muttered. The girl nodded, pushed herself up to her feet and joined the crowd pushing and pulling their way towards the door.

Gen backed cautiously away as the thing appraised her—no doubt assessing the threat that her power made to it. Which was absolutely none. In truth, she hadn’t thought this far ahead. She’d merely seen the girl and wanted to help—her own well-being hadn’t been part of that equation. She didn’t have time to think of a plan before the thing lunged at her.

For a split second, everything around her slowed. She was sure it was a trauma response—a reaction her brain was having to the dump of adrenaline in her body. Then time stopped. Only for a second. Only long enough for Gen to sidestep and make the creature crash headfirst into the cocktail table, she had been backed into.

Genevieve was certain her chronokinetic ability was the one and only reason she’d secured a place at Veritum. Still, she’d never been able to control it—not like she could light. Nor did it come as often as her “visions”. Time had only stilled a handful of times in her life. All triggered by her heightened stress. It was still such a novel feeling that Gen had been too preoccupied to notice the creature rise and finally descend upon her.

Cold like she’d never felt before seized her as boney hands gripped her shoulders. Icey winds and unforgiving tundras and freezing, black water paled in comparison to the cold that soaked Gen to her very core. She felt her teeth chatter, her muscles tense—it felt like her very soul was being torn from her body. She couldn't talk, couldn’t cry, could think. But she forced her eyes open—if it was going to kill her, the thing ought to have the decency to look her in the eyes as it did. Every second they stood locked like that, Gen felt the very air being squeezed from her lungs until suddenly the pressure was gone.

She fell to the floor, taking in gasping breaths as tears filled her eyes. She willed herself not to unravel right there on the floor as she looked up at the person that had knocked the beast off of her. A skull was painted on his face. “Thanks,” was all she could muster. How ironic to be saved from death by Death himself.

Alexandra wouldn’t exactly classify her evening of dancing and whooing men fun, but it was definitely becoming less painful the more that she drank. Frankly, she probably wouldn’t have bothered with socializing at all if she hadn’t had a certain image to maintain amongst the other students. Tradition, honor, excellence - it was the Starling motto, the words that her family had lived by for generations. In translation, it meant that the final remaining Starling heir was expected to exemplify perfection in every way. Alex had always been one of the brightest witches in her class, her manners were impeccable, she’d won more awards and distinguishment from Veritus than she could count, she’d rarely be caught with so much as a hair out of place, she was popular amongst her peers - and quite frankly, it was beyond exhausting to keep up with.

Lexi’s parents weren’t cruel people by nature, but they also weren’t very warm and fuzzy either. Their expectations for their only daughter had been set at an early age, and there had never been any room to lower that bar. She performed, she behaved, and she excelled - that was their tradition, it was where their honor laid, and it was what made the Starling family excellent.

So, Lexi put on her most dazzling smile and socialized with the other girls, pretended as if she didn’t notice the vile, lustful emotions rolling off of the men who’d asked her to dance, and acted as if she were having the best time with each and every one of them.

Foster Morrison had been her salvation - a thought she would have never thought would cross her mind. Foster didn’t care about, didn’t feel anything most of the time so she’d never needed to attempt to dazzle him like she did so many others. The two could amicably despise each other in silence, and that was perfectly fine with her - in fact, she preferred it that way. But tonight she thanked the gods for that broody miserable asshole and his flask. The silver canister had to have been charmed, because at the pace that the pair of them were drinking from it the bourbon should have ran out a long time ago, yet Alex was thoroughly buzzed by the time she settled beside him for the final time.

Okay, maybe ‘buzzed’ was a little bit of an understatement.

A small unexpected laugh bubbled out of her at the male’s quick reply, expressing his appreciation for the neckline of her dress. “You’re insufferable.” She returned, though there was no malice in her voice. The corners of her lips twitched up into a hint of a smile, the alcohol in her system loosening her up more than she’d expected. Foster shared a similar look, the closest thing to a smile she’d ever seen on his face at her own words. “Let’s not pretend like I haven’t caught your eyes wandering a little too close to the hem of my skirts before, either, Morrison. . . but next time I’ll try to remember that you’re more of a tits guy.”

A cheeky statement that she normally would have been embarrassed by, but not tonight. Lexi was far too relaxed to worry about the opinions of a man who literally felt nothing most of the time.

“Gen!” She greeted excitedly, slamming shut the door on whatever conversation had begun between herself and the pyro. “Not glum, just very relaxed.” The blonde corrected with a grin, snagging a cocktail off of a passing tray and clinking it against her friend’s in solitude.

The joy of Alex’s only real friend joining their party of three was short lived though as the auburn haired beauty suddenly got a far away look in her eyes. Lex was familiar with Genevieve’s visions and waited expectantly for her explanation, but of course, Foster had interrupted. “Don’t be rude.” Lex hushed, swatting his arm with the back of her hand.

Gen’s vision’s were often so vague that it was hard for Alex to worry too much about them, despite the obvious concern on the other girl’s face. She’d been moment’s away from attempted to console the oracle when, once again, Foster interrupted with his own interpretation of the vision. For the second time that evening, another unexpected laugh slipped out of her - this night had to have been more than she’d heard the usually aloof boy speak than in all of their years knowing one another combined. “Hopefully both, if we’re lucky.” She teased, raising her glass in faux salute before taking another sip. Good sex just before being wiped from the planet by a giant asteroid - that was the way Lex wanted to go out.

“Let’s not worry too much, Gen.” Alexandra tried to reassure, looping an arm through the other girl’s affectionately as she turned them back towards the dance floor “Come, let’s have some fun, shall we?” Lexi insisted, eyes scanning the crowd for their next beaus of the night. But it was what she found instead that captured her attention.

Across the room nestled against the opposite wall were two men nearly concealed by the shadows - the only reason Alex had even noticed them was the flickering of one’s aura. It was also what allowed her to recognize who they were. Almost like a particular taste or smell, each person had a unique feel to them that was linked to their aura which allowed a pathokinetic to distinguish one person’s emotions from the next. Had she not been drawn to them in the library, had not soothed away Octavius’s flames and grown up alongside Kye’s shadows, she wouldn’t have bothered to remembered who those aura’s belonged to - but there was no mistaking them now. Anxiousness and lust and desire swirled all around them, causing a single blonde brow to quirk up in curiosity. It was no secret that Kyrell’s partner’s weren’t always women, but the usually timid Tav had come as a surprise to her.

“See, they’ve got the right idea.” Lex teased, nodding her head in the direction of the two men who were very clearly wrapped up in one another. They were unrecognizable from this distance while in costume and concealed by the shadows, so it would be Alexandra’s secret to keep. There was no judgment or malice, only a sparked curiosity at this new information.

Alexandra hadn’t been able to linger long on the couple before her gaze darted elsewhere - a shadow had darted across the glass ceiling, but was gone before she could focus in on it. “Did you just see-“ She started before the feelings of those creatures punched her in the chest. There was so many of them all feeling the same thing, but it wasn’t she same sensation she got from sensing a human’s emotions. This was something different, something sentient but without any sense of morality or direction. The overwhelming feeling of ill-intent flooded into her like a tsunami, drowning out anything else in her head.

The feeling nearly brought her to her knees.

“We need to leave. Right now.” She gasped, pupils blown wide as she fought her way through the evil pumping through her. But it was too late, another glance skyward revealed a small army of those shadow creatures swirling and darting along the crystal ceiling.

And then the glass began to shatter, welcoming the swarm of monsters into their school.

Foster's icy gaze pierced through the shifting bodies in front of him, his head was beginning to tingle in response to the alcohol he'd been drowning himself in. He indulged himself in the numb feeling that wrapped tightly around his body like an angry viper.

Emerging from the crowd was a young woman with straight, supple strands of gold hair. Foster's dark gaze drank her in from head to toe as she drew towards him with smooth strides. Her dress, although it hung down to her feet, was anything but concealing. His eyes were quick to leave her face, traveling along the inviting neckline that beckoned Foster's indelicate thoughts.

Before long, Alexandra Starling was pressed to the wall beside him. It wasn't common for the two of them to converse with each other outside of their studies, but he didn't bother questioning her actions - he truly couldn't care less most of the time. Without a sound, Foster brought his arm out to her, flask in hand for her to take.

"Mm. . .That's highly doubtful," Foster insisted, taking the flask back from her as he took another swig. He still couldn't get over the whole dressing up for a dance part of it all. They all reminded him of children, but maybe that was because he had never been able to be a child - never celebrated anything, not a Christmas, a Halloween, his birthday. It was all relative to him.

The two of them swapped a few words here and there, continuously taking shots that were far stronger than any of the drinks being served at the event. Foster could see the progression of the bourbon taking over Alex as she often began leaving his side to dance, chat, and do whatever it was people did at dances. She seemed to be a bit of an icon at the dance seeing all the random men that would come and swoop her up. Foster raised a questioning eyebrow at a couple of them but kept his mouth shut. Not his monkey, not his circus.

One thing that he had noticed as Alex came and went from his side was the energy that she radiated each time she returned. He shifted his gaze towards her momentarily as she released a sigh, her body untensing beside him. She would twirl around, smile, and dance out in the crowd, but eventually, a look would cross her features. Her social battery drained quickly until she returned to his side like he was some sort of docking station.

Alex's words entered his ears, cutting off his train of thought. One corner of his lips tugged into a short-lived half-smirk. "If you always wore clothes with necklines like that, you wouldn't be so bad either, Starling," Foster shot back, sarcasm coating each word.

Before he could be entertained by her response, the two of them were interrupted by a red-head in a pink dress. Jennifer? He really had no clue who she was. He had seen her before a couple of times, but the two of them talking was rare. It was obvious as to why. She was the type of girl that screamed 'good'. Just standing next to her might have tainted her in some way.

"Ah, yes, I forgot that being surrounded by a bunch of drunk idiots that I hate was supposed to be fun," Foster shrugged, taking another drink that only fueled his disappointment when the liquor slowed and then stopped entering his mouth altogether. He shook the flask, only getting drops on his tongue before he grimaced.

Foster's pout session was put on hold as he noticed the expression crossing the girl's face. She looked as though she was seeing something that they couldn't. As if there was a ghost in the room.

"Is she having a seizure?" he murmured to Alex and then she came to. Her expression shifted to a sort of concern.

Something big? Foster's brow arched.

"Like I'm getting laid tonight big? Or like a freak asteroid hitting the earth big?"

Going to the Hallows Eve ball hadn’t been much of a punishment to Genevieve. In truth, she’d already planned on attending. It was just the sort of thing she loved; a night where anyone could be anything they wanted to be—there was more magic in that alone than most realized.

However, by the time Gen arrived she had been sorely in need of a drink and a good time. The library clean-up had taken far longer than she’d hoped, and her apology letter to the headmaster had been two and a half pages of rambling that she was sure had just been tossed in the trash as soon as she had turned it in. Then there was studying for her Charms quiz while trying to throw together her costume. She was relieved when she was finally able to leave the stress of the day behind her and let loose as she made her way to the ball.

The ballroom’s decor was stunning, to say the least. Gen felt like she was stepping out of Veritum and into some fantastical fairy-tale. The glass dome above them showed the night sky beyond, but the ceiling itself had been illusioned to shine with starlight. Thousands of stars twinkled and cast the entire room in a silver ambient glow. There was live greenery dripping from the arches and climbing up the walls.

Most of the other attendees had committed fully to the theme of the evening and wore exquisite costumes that made the event feel even more otherworldly. Gen had picked her own costume weeks ago. Her gown was a soft pink tulle with gold flecks sprinkled throughout and a neckline that dipped just to the swell of her chest. She dusted her face with pink shimmer and butterflies and had braided greenery into her hair. She even completed the look with an illusion of iridescent wings on her back. Gen might have let loose on the light she controlled and let it shine through her skin just to add to the ethereal look she was going for.

There were trays floating around with themed appetizers and drinks. Gen picked up a bright pink one in a martini glass with pink sugar crystals on the rim—mostly because it fit her costume. She sipped at the drink as she flitted from one group of students to the next. Gen was on friendly terms with a good portion of the students in attendance. Most she either knew from class or from her own coven. Most of her conversations revolved around upcoming exams and graduation or the latest gossip about who was sleeping with who, but Gen didn’t mind. She simply liked to be included—even if the conversations were trivial.

She danced when she was asked—which was often; she found herself laughing and joking and actually enjoying herself. Genevieve had no idea why the headmaster had thought tonight would be a punishment for them, but she wouldn’t be the one to complain.

Gen placed her second—or third—empty cocktail glass and grabbed another when she spotted Alexandra and Foster lingering at the back of the ballroom. Alex’s costume was nothing short of breath-taking, but Gen would have expected nothing less from the girl. She was a vision in white and gold and looked every inch the goddess she was portraying. Foster, on the other hand, had worn a simple white button-down. Again, she would have expected nothing different. This type of party didn’t seem like his scene.

“You two look entirely too glum to be at a party with free alcohol,” she told them, sipping on her drink and leaning against the wall beside Alex. It was a good place to watch as the throng of Veritum students drank and danced under the twinkling lights. It was almost intoxicating to watch. Gen was beginning to think the drink her her hand had was stronger than she’d originally thought as she felt her head growing lighter.

Perhaps that was why the feeling of the future hit her like a ton of bricks. Gen sucked in a deep breath at the enormity of it. Everything around her felt like it was grinding to a halt but the crowd hadn’t so much as flinched. She tried to narrow in on the feeling—tried to identify it’s source or what it would entail but the vision was hazy. All she knew was that it wasn’t going to end well. Gen drained what was left in her glass and turned towards Alex and Foster. “Something big is about to happen,” she realized how vague that sounded. But there was no other way she could describe the deep wrong-ness she felt in her bones.

“Happy Hallow’s Eve.” Alexandra returned to a passerby who’d complimented her outfit, a soft smile on her lips. Spirits were high thanks to the impending fun of the annual Hallow’s Eve Ball and the occupants of Veritus were chattier than usual. Most were already a little bit drunk or maybe even high, and Alex hoped to join them rather soon. While most looked forward to the music and camaraderie that a ball would bring, it was quite frankly one of Alexandra’s worst nightmares.

It was rare to find a pathokinetic willingly mingling amongst a large crowd unless they’d fully mastered their gifts - the onslaught of so many emotions pummeling into someone at once was almost enough to make them go mad if they weren’t able to channel them. Drowning out the feelings of others wasn’t a skill Lex was particularly adept in, but to be fair she wasn’t necessarily going to this dance willingly either. A condition of their punishment, the headmistress had said, so that they would be easier to keep track of and monitor all in one place - to keep them from causing any more trouble than they already had.

Of course, that was just a ploy to get all of the young wizards and witches in one place, to make them easy targets when the villains of Veritus unleashed the evil to come - but she hadn’t known that yet.

Yet still, despite the unease rising in her gut at the torture to come, Alexandra carried on down the hallway towards the school’s grand banquet hall. It was clear the school had spared no cost when decorating for the event, the halls twining with ivy and fairy lights that thickened the closer you got to the ball, and once you entered - wow - it exploded with what looked like a thousand shimmering stars. Night had fallen over the entirely glass ceiling, leaving only the moon, the shimmering lights, and a few orbs of witch-light floating through the room to brighten the way.

Alexandra knew most people thanks to her family’s place in the council, it was important for the blonde to have an in with her peers if the need to influence them would ever arise, and it was because of that unspoken rule that so many of the other students distrusted her. That being said, it also made most of her peers eager to get on her good side… no one wanted someone with her powers to be against them.

The sorceress didn’t miss the many eyes that locked onto her as she entered the ballroom booming with people in costume. Alexandra made it her standard to always look put together but tonight she’d put in a little extra effort, and quite frankly, was near flawless. The long flowing billows of her white dress made it look as if she were floating as they drifted around her when she moved. The gown was backless, with a plunging neckline and sides that nearly brushed her navel and left her ribs totally exposed, barely enough fabric to cover her breasts. It connected at the waist with a band of gold before dropping into the skirt, two slits on either leg that ran clear up to that golden band. On each shoulder sat a piece of gold scaled armor, matching chains draped across her back to connect the two pieces with a few matching bands of gold wrapping her arms. Her platinum blonde hair was ironed pin straight, tucked behind her ears and left to brush along her back. Simple, smokey eyeliner and a dark ruby lip completed the look, leaving her looking rather ethereal, angelic... like a goddess.

A war goddess, to be exact.

Though it was only a costume, Lex looked battle ready as each step she took her dress parted to reveal her personal favorite part of the ensemble - a golden dagger strapped to her thigh with a matching garter. Delicate yet fearsome, violence but full of grace, brute strength and quiet wisdom… it was a balance that Alex had grown to favor in her everyday life, not just in her costume.

But before Alexandra could really begin to enjoy the night and soak in the lingering gazes traveling over each part of exposed skin, she was bombarded with emotions. She blinked slowly as she fought for control, her gait almost faltering at the sudden smack of feelings. Excitement, anxiousness, lust, and desire saturated her mind so thickly that it was difficult for her conscious to fight it’s way back into focus. “Fuck.” She released on a silent breath, forcing her way forward and through the crowd as if nothing was wrong at all.

Lexi drifted through her peers for a long while, stopping to mingle or dance with those who’d worked up the courage to ask, but ultimately found herself desperate for a break form the unrelenting pounding into her head. She’d made her way to the edge of the room, eyes set on a door leading to a small outdoor garden when she caught a flash of silver from the corner of her eye.

Foster Morrison, out of costume of course, but … with a flask.

The blonde didn’t waste any time approaching him, a sigh of relief slipping from her scarlet lips as that signature emotionlessness he always seemed to emit began to fill her head instead of the other hundreds of emotions floating through the room. The fact that Foster often felt so little was one of his best qualities in Alex’s opinion - on the occasion that she was able to zero in on it, it gave her a brief reprieve from everyone else’s feelings. Tonight his aura was twinged with annoyance, frustration maybe, but like most days the most prominent thing she felt from Foster was only what she could describe as radio-static. It was there, whatever it was, but it wasn’t a clear feeling like she got from most others.

“Please tell me you’ve got more of that.” She all but begged, reaching out a delicate hand expectantly. Once the dark haired male had handed over the flask Lex took a few deep swigs, scowling at the burn as it settled in her stomach before passing it back to him. “I hate this.” She offered in an attempt at conversation, glancing up at the taller sorcerer. “Maybe more than you do - if that’s even possible.” She joked in reference to the permanent scowl on his face.

The two had stood in amicable silence, occasionally filling the gap with idle chatter, for a long while, passing that flask back and forth every few minutes - the most non-argumentative interaction the two had ever shared, probably. Occasionally Alex would leave Foster drift back into the throng of dancing and gyrating bodies for a while, would accept the hand of a man when they approached her to dance if they were handsome (or she was drunk) enough, but continually found herself drifting back over to Foster’s side to soak in that blessed silence that he radiated.

Lexi was thoroughly buzzed by the time she settled back at Foster Morrison's side, releasing another contented sigh. Between that static she could focus on when Foster was near and the general fuzziness of her mind thank to the generous amount of bourbon he'd shared with her, Alexandra was the most relaxed she'd been in days, despite the full room in front of her. "Ya know, if you weren't always so broody you wouldn't be half bad, Morrison." She offered, lips twinging up at the corners in a hint of a smile.

Voices surrounded Foster like a whistling wind as he stared down at the porcelain plate sitting down in front of him. Beside him sat his blonde-haired foster sister, Isabella Morrison. She smiled as Richard praised her for passing one of her recent assignments while Jeanette cooed, a wide smile sprawled across her face. One that had never been directed towards himself in all his years of knowing them.

Most of their conversation went into one ear and out the other, a symphony of incoherent mumbling as he shoved the steak in front of him around with his fork. His appetite was nowhere to be found.

Instead, his mind wandered to the events that would be taking place tonight. The Hallows Eve Ball he was being forced into attending. It made him sick to his stomach just thinking about going. Having to be surrounded by people he didn't care about when he could have just stayed locked up in his dorm instead. Now, with the wraith of Jeanette and Richard Morrison, he was not only forced to go to the dance but he was forced to have a formal dinner with them before he went. He wasn't sure why they cared if he had dinner with them in the first place - it wasn't like they enjoyed his company. Part of him wondered if they just did it to spite him.

"Foster," Richard's voice caused Foster to blink, falling free from his reverie. Slowly, he lifted his gaze from his plate. "Don't play with your food. Eat," he demanded.

Foster's jaw ticked and he shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

"Your father worked hard on this dinner," Jeanette chimed in, her voice one decibel away from raging. Foster's gaze snapped over to her with darkness sitting behind them.

"He's not my father," Foster shot back and Richard stood from his seat, his silverware slamming against the table.

"Dad!" Isabella yelled before standing herself. Foster kept his eyes locked with Richards, ready for a fight when Isabella grabbed a hold of Foster's arm. "We're going to be late to the ball. Let's get ready." she insisted, shooting her parents a warning look before dragging him away from the dining room.

Once the two of them were halfway up the staircase, she shot Foster an annoyed expression. "Why do you push so much?" she whispered.

"Why do you care?" he muttered behind her.

"I don't, it's just annoying listening to everyone yell all the time," she rolled her eyes and stopped at the top of the stairs. "Mom put your clothes on your bed, put them on, and don't be difficult. It's one night, swallow your fucking pride for once." Isabella turned on her heel, heading for her own bedroom to change, and left Foster watching after her in astonishment.

Pushing open his old bedroom door, Foster stepped inside the dark room, his eyes wandered towards his bed where a suit lay draped across. Rolling his eyes, Foster released a low groan as he scooped the suit up and began peeling off his clothes.

* * *

To say that Foster felt like a fucking clown was beyond an understatement.

"You could have worn the jacket you know," Isabella finally spoke as the two of them walked up to the entrance of the Hallows Eve Ball. The event was lit up with star-like twinkling lights on everything they could hang them on. Ever since Foster had been outside of the orphanage as a kid, Veritum never failed to make him feel small and plain.

Crystal chandeliers spiraled down from the arching skylight ceiling, illuminating the glimmering golden walls that connected to a floor that was so polished it resembled an iced-over lake. Not only did the event twinkle in the night, but the people did too. Girls were dressed in their best dresses, sparkling like boxes full of jewels, shades of emerald, ruby, and amethyst swirled before him. Low chatter and music entered his ears while wafts of rose, hyacinth, and jasmine entered his nose.

Foster glanced down at his attire. Black slacks, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, and the buttons undone below his collar two notches. The only decoration to him was the loose hanging crimson tie and the silver flask in his pocket.

"You didn't even dress up," Isabella's snide remark brought him back to the present.

"Just be grateful I'm here in the first place," he muttered as he pulled his flask free, taking a long pull off the rich bourbon inside. He had already drunk quite a bit before arriving - the only way he was going to get through the night was if he was intoxicated.

Scoffing at him, Isabella walked off to go meet up with her friends and left Foster to his own devices. The tall pyro shifted past warm dancing bodies until he could find a spot that wasn't completely overtaken by people before he took another pull from his flask, the burning liquid warmed his stomach and the dark circles under his eyes felt heavy as a buzz danced inside his head. The slightest of smirks tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked at everyone in their costumes.

"What a fuckin' joke," he muttered, his lips pressed to the flask.

It wasn’t often that Kyrell Rothbury lost his composure. He had prided himself in remaining nothing but background noise to the community after his parent's downfall. In his eyes, causing any more turbulence for the Rothbury name, no matter how positive, would only accent the shame that was forever tied around his neck like a noose. So, becoming reserved and living his life in silence was the only option he saw fit. Mind his own business and hopefully everyone else would get the damn picture.

He didn’t want to be bothered.

Jasmine Kim-Luong bothered him.

The defiant way she craned her head, away from his shadows but with enough malice that her words were nearly as threatening. She wasn’t afraid of the darkness, of his power that held her soul in the palm of his ring clad hand. If he wanted his words to hit their mark, he would have to bargain with something far more valuable than her life. He could enter her mind himself — do his own unauthorized exploring like she had done to him only hours ago.

But she wasn’t a physical threat to him right now. He did not fear for his life.

He wouldn’t be like his parents.

She had secrets though, it was that easy to tell. And she was looking for something. Wanting something.

His shadows tightened around her neck and his eyes began to cloud over — something sinister replacing their dark hue. He felt himself slowly slipping, driving into the darkness that he offered and letting the shadows have a mind of their own. He had read theories, that a sorcerer's shadows were not a trick of the light, but something… living. A parasite feeding off of its host’s power. And, due to his rage, his moral compass was currently skewed — if he even had one at all.

He could kill her, if he wanted. It would be easy. Death was nothing more than a transaction for him.

"When you two are done fornicating over there, we have shit to do."

Of course, it was the harsh rattle of Foster Morrison’s voice that brought him out of his malevolent thoughts. The light in the darkness – how fucking ironic. Noticing that the pressure around Jasmine’s neck was growing tighter and tighter by the second, he immediately beckoned the tendrils back to him and they pulled themselves away until they dissolved beneath his skin. He was shocked. Worried even, at the wicked thoughts that had plagued him, but he didn’t let it show.

She shoved past him and that malice buzzed through them once more as their bodies collided. A soul as nearly as dark as his own.

Face more ashen than normal, Kyrell took one last look at the group in the library before striding out the doors briskly. Not a shadow followed.

He was used to apologizing. For a while, it seemed as if that was the only power he possessed – constantly trying to win over the affections of the ones his parents wronged, only to realize that maybe, just maybe, he deserved the same in return. Once he realized his efforts were about as meaningful as dirt to society, Kye stopped. Replacing guilt with anger, instead. Because of this, his apology letter was mechanical. The bare minimum, if anything. He sprouted a few impressive words, used his practice in order to make it sound somewhat believable, but not weakened. The Headmaster was more furious about his possession of the forbidden grimoire than the fire, it seemed. Though, the woman made it fairly obvious that the disdain she held towards some of the other students did not weave its way into her opinion of him. If anything, she showed interest in Kye. A paternal sort of concern he hadn’t acquired in a very, very long time. She was friends with his parents. She knew them, probably more than he did.

“Have you heard from your parents?” she asked him as he made to leave her office the next morning, after turning in his stiff apology letter. The question made him freeze in his tracks and peer over his shoulder at her, his hand levitating in the air as he reached for the door.

He swallowed and moved his attention back to the dark, twin doors, fixating on the intricate designs woven into the wood. “Not in a year.” His jaw clenched. “They stopped writing.”

Before any more questions could throw him even more off kilter, Kye yanked the door open without another word.

He was a walking corpse. Literally.

Kyrell arrived to the Hallow’s Eve ball an hour late – skipping dinner and heading in right for the drinking with a skull painted across his face and dressed in a tight, all black suit. He knew the students would be far less… annoying, and he would be far more tolerable after a few shots. This whole ordeal was utterly ridiculous, after all. Forced to spend his detention at a damn ball. The wards between worlds were at their lowest tonight, which meant he would have been able to sneak in some much needed research time into the many veils in which souls lingered. He had questions that needed answers.

And yet here he was, hiding out in a darkened corner, nursing a small glass filled with ice. And also vodka. A few cherries sat at the bottom, their juice mixing in with the liquid like blood. It stained his painted lips with a matching hue. Conjuring the makeup was easy, merely a quick wave of his hand. He had wanted to remain anonymous tonight – despite the sinister costume.

Within the large swarm of bodies dancing to the thrumming, rhythmic bass, in unison with the blue flashing lights, Kye managed to snag a glance of Alex in a sheath of white and gold, looking ethereal within the flow. And then there was the redhead, Gen. The butterfly wings and faint sparkles dusting her cheeks as she sipped on a vibrant drink were entirely too fitting. So far, no Foster was in sight. Lucky bastard. He hadn’t seen Jasmine yet, either.

Or Octavius.

With his swirling shadows shielding him, he continued to watch the dancefloor as the alcohol slowly began to loosen his tense shoulders, caused his locked jaw to unclench. After a few minutes, even his shadows were starting to slink back into his body from the relaxation.

Until a harsh, staggering breath sounded next to him, until a tall body fled into the corner he was occupying. Kye’s eyes grew wide as he assessed the stranger – one who wore an old plague mask, but still revealed full, open lips. He couldn’t make out their eyes, but it didn’t take a genius to realize that this student was flustered. Anxious, even, perhaps.

With a defeated sigh, his shadows disappeared, revealing the top half of his body, which held out his drink towards the other sorcerer. “Looks like you need this more than I do.”

This was all very overwhelming. Although it was excruciatingly obvious everyone was trying to make light of the burnt library situation, Octavius couldn't shake the guilt he felt. Foster's sarcastic jab made his back stiffen and Octavius moved a few paces away, a frown pulling at the corner of his lips.

"Jasmine and Kyrell are intense." Octavius muttered, glancing over Genevieve's head at the dark shadows that now surrounded the pair. What ever they were talking about, he knew he didn't want to be a part of it. Honestly, the two of them were way too much and Octavius didn't want or need friends like that. He had a hard enough time trying to deal with his own drama. Adding a psychopath and a goth to his friendship list didn't seem like much of an intelligent decision on his part.

"I'm sorry about getting you caught up in this." Octavius mumbled, his gaze flickering back to Genevieve. With a shrug, he pulled another burnt book down and shoved it into a trash bag, his hands now stained black from all the ashes. "I really didn't mean to do it. I heard what you said about being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I sympathize with you on that subject. As you can probably tell by now, I too am often at the wrong place."

--

An hour later Octavius sat at a table in the library, his fingers knotted around his dark brown hair. A blank sheet of parchment stared up at him and several crumbled letters cluttered the space around his elbows. No matter how many times he wrote his apology, he felt like he couldn't get it right. How in the hell was he supposed to admit that he had lost control of his own magic? He was a month away from being free of this place and he felt like admitting the truth would be admitting he wasn't ready. What if the Head Mistress tried to hold him back or worse, send him to the council. Octavius may have hated his gifts, but he certainly didn't want to lose them. Permanently.

"This is bullshit." Octavius groaned under his breath, tossing the quill down with enough force that ink splattered across the table. If the Head Mistress wanted an apology, she could get one one in person. Without wasting another minute, he gathered his things in silence and left the library.

Before Octavius reached the already open doors to the office, he knew Alex and Genevieve were inside. It was a strange sensation that made his chest ache, pain similar to having a panic attack. He knocked, his knuckles rough against the smooth wood, and stepped inside.

"Mr. Bianchi." The headmistress greeted, her eyes flashing towards him. "I see you're hear for your detention and to turn in your letter?" She pressed, her gaze moving to Octavius's empty hands. If Tav had known he was going to have an audience for his verbal explanation, he would have practice what he was going to say. A flush crept over his ears and he shifted his weight, his eyes searching for something to focus on besides the curious stares of his fellow misfits.

"I decided that since I started the fire and burned part of the school, I needed to apologize in person and not hidden behind a piece of paper. As you probably already know, I was returning books for my Ancient Language Professor. The library was dark, I got overwhelmed, and I tried to cast some light for myself. I made a mistake and I am sorry." Octavius breathed, his voice entirely too calm.

"Alexandria, Genevieve, could you please step into the hall a moment?" The Head Mistress stated, now rising from her desk. She moved swiftly, a snake ready to strike, and grabbed Octavius hard by the jaw. Her sharp nails dug into his skin and she yanked his face so he was staring at her.

"Do you remember when I first found you? Fifteen years old, scared out your wits and rotting in some city jail for arson? That was a mistake. What you did last night however, was nothing but childish carelessness. The only reason that you're still welcome in this school is because of who your father was. I can't say I cared for him much, but he was powerful and of very high status. I can't dismiss that his DNA runs through you too although I have yet to see one fragment of it. If you so much as stick a toe out of line until graduation, I will see that they rip every last drip of that chaotic useless power out of you. You really are your mother's son. I expect to see you at the Formal, I expect you to act like you aren't a waste of talent, and I expect you to keep your head down. Now get out my office."

They were so close. Jasmine, in all her life, had never been this close to another person. She hated intimacy and she hated being touched, but most of all she hated Kyrell Rothbury.

"I don't have the slightest idea of what you're talking about." She hissed back, tilting her head slightly at the sudden coolness around her throat. While the shadows she created were of imagination, Kyrell's shadows were of physical body. She could feel the firmness to the smoke and she knew without a doubt that if he wanted to, he could choke her, maybe even to death. The thought didn't scare her and neither did he.

"If you're doing some sick fantasizing about me, that is entirely not my fault. Now get off me, you fucking freak." She scolded, her small hands clenched to her sides. She knew if Kyrell wanted, he would invade her mind. Jasmine also knew all he would find was a wall. He wasn't the only one who had spent years trapping the depths of one's thoughts into systematic boxes and she certainly wasn't going to allow him to dig through them. She had secrets and they belonged to no one but herself.

The sharp sound of Foster's voice snapped Jasmine's attention and anger flushed both her cheeks. Fornicating? He thought she was fornicating?

"Mind your own fucking business Pryo." Jasmine barked back, now drawing the attention of several others. Kyrell's shadows moved and Jasmine took the opportunity to shove past him, a shiver running down her spine as their bodies brushed together. Without another word to anyone, Jasmine absorbed the water from each book, table, and a shelf before leaving, the library door slamming behind her. If Kyrell really thought he could threaten her to stay out of his twisted mind, he was wrong. If anything, it sparked a deeper determination to get inside. What ever it was he was hiding in that dream world of his, Jasmine vowed to know.

Shortly after, Jasmine walked her freshly written letter to the headmistress's office. It had taken her awhile to decide on how she wanted to explain herself, so she went with mostly the truth. She had been up most of the night practicing her magic and realized she had forgotten a book she needed for an assignment. When she arrived at the library, Octavius was already burning it down, and Foster, Kyrell, and Alex were hanging out. She apologized for ruining the books with water and promised to never go into the library again after hours.

Before Jasmine had time to even knock the large doors open and she reluctantly stepped forward. "Ms. Kim-Luong, please, have a seat." The head Mistresses beckoned, her hand waving Jasmine towards a chair in the office.

"I look forward to reading your letter and I have decided your detention will be served at the formal ball tomorrow night, with the other students from the library. You and Alexandria Starling are both at the top of your graduating class but I have noticed that neither of you are entirely fond of each other. If you plan to move into the Celestrial Coven, that needs to change."

Moving around the large desk, the headmistress now stood beside Jasmine. Although she wasn't a large or tall woman, she was a very intimidating one. "Tomorrow night is a very a special one, because the veils that hold this world closed become thinner, and magic is easily accessed. A lot of important people from the Celestrial Coven will be here, as well as members from other covens. Do some networking with Alexandria, and what ever the two of you do, please remember, it reflects back on me."

--

Jasmine stood in the dresses department of Divination Designs longer than she wanted to. The store was cramped and Jasmine stood back and waited for the students and parents to clear out so she could go through what was left. Most dresses did not fit Jasmine well. She had delicate features, a small waist, sharp collarbones. Although she wasn't lacking in the breast department, she also wasn't going to win a wet shirt contest anytime soon.

Half off it's hanger, Jasmine looked over a navy blue dress with stars. A see through cloak hung over the thin material and Jasmine checked the size before pulling it into her hands. It was nothing like what most girls wore to balls, it wasn't frilly or puffy or cute. She wasn't a child anymore and it was time that the Celestrial Coven knew it.

"The blue pairs well with your skin tone." A familiar voice echoed to Jasmine and she jumped, the dress falling from her hands. Jasmine didn't hear the man approach her and yet here he stood, as if he had just teleported into the shop. Maybe he had.

She turned her head, slightly, and looked at him with shocked eyes. Dark skin, dark suit, the same penetrating dark eyes. The only difference between this man and the one that had invaded her mind for weeks was the book, or rather, lack of.

"Th..thank you." Jasmine stuttered out, scooping down to grab the dress. Her fingers shook and she squeezed her hand closed to hide it. An amused look flashed over the man's features as he watched her.

"I heard about the little fire in the library. It was good timing Jasmine, and the storm allowed me to do what needed to be done. But there's something else.." The man pressed, his voice low.

Jasmine shook her head, her face suddenly blank. What if this was a set up? Maybe she had allowed Kyrell or the Head Mistress inside her mind without realizing? Something about the man in front of her seemed off. She was no aura reader, but the vibes that seeped from every ounce of him was nothing like what she'd felt in her dreams. Plus, why now? In a Boutique shop?

"I'm sorry I don-" Jasmine began, only for the man to laugh, his voice dark. "Do not play games with me Jasmine Kim-Luong. I know what you want and I'm willing to give it to you."

Reaching into his vest pocket, the man removed a pocket watch, pressing the cold metal into Jasmine's free hand. On the outside was a dragon and Jasmine knew, even without opening the golden watch, what she'd find on the inside. She had held this watch, once long ago, and now that she held it again she knew she could never let it go.

The thing most didn’t understand about divination was that Genevieve didn’t see the future so much as she felt it. She often described the process as throwing stones into still water. Every event made a ripple through time, but some were pebbles and others were boulders. Sometimes Gen caught glimpses of the reflection the event made—faces, numbers, silhouettes—but more often than not, she merely felt the impact.

Which is why the size of this ripple made Genevieve sit straight up in bed—any hope of sleep gone for the night. This felt less like a rock being dropped into water and more like a tidal wave threatening to knock her over. She tried to still her breathing, tried to focus on the reflection the event would make, but it was as churning and tumultuous as the sea. Still, she felt a tug.

Another thing Gen had come to understand about her power was that, sometimes, an event was revealed to her simply for it to be observed—like when she’d known it would snow before the forecast could predict it. While other events were revealed so that Genevieve could play a part in helping them come to pass. Once, when she was small, she pulled her brother out of the path of a speeding car. Gen had felt the same pull then that she did now—the universe urging her play her part. She shoved her bare feet into shoes and followed the feeling.

Genevieve was the only one in her immediate family to attend Veritum. Her mother had been similarly gifted, and even been accepted into the university, but had declined her admission to marry Gen’s father, who was—as her mother’s family put it—disgustingly non-magical. Gen had been raised completely separate from the world her mother had been born into. She wouldn’t change it though; her childhood had been happy and loving and free of the hierarchy she had come to accept at Veritum and the magical world as a whole—but Gen had always felt like she had been destined for something more. So she had jumped at the chance when her acceptance letter came, only to find out that she was…entirely average compared to her peers.

Her entire academic career at Veritum had been an uphill battle of keeping up with her peers. Gen lacked the natural skill and finesse that most of them did, and often she found herself balking at the sheer power they possessed. Her ability to bend light and to sometimes feel when something was going to happen, and even then she barely knew what that something even was, felt like party tricks in comparison. But she still tried, still fought her way tooth and nail through the curriculum the only way she knew how—hard work and networking.

It was because she constantly had to bust her ass to keep her head above water, that she very rarely stepped out of line in terms of student conduct. So roaming the halls of the school after dark was not an activity she partook in frequently. Anxiety coiled in her gut like a snake and threatened to squeeze the breath from her lungs. Had she been smarter, or had the pull of her intuition been weaker, Gen might have simply turned around and gone back to bed—but now she was curious.

Twice, Gen had wandered down a hallway only to determine that it was the wrong way and retrace her steps to try a different path. It wasn’t until she stood before the imposing doors to the library that she knew she was in right place. Something in her chest settled. Gen pressed her ear to the door and heard hushed, panicked whispers, but unfortunately didn’t see the smoke trickling out from under the doors until she pushed them open.

She’d arrived just in time to catch the tail end of the scene that was unfurling before her. Several of the faces before her were familiar, if only in their notoriety amongst the students of Veritum, and there was, of course, the fire raging around them. It was a scene of pure and utter chaos as one boy still had sparks shooting from his fingertips, one was attempting to conceal the flame and smoke with shadows of his own making, one girl was calming the other, and one came rushing in to hose the entire area down. Gen severely wished the universe had left her the hell out of whatever this was, but the thrum in her chest reassured her that this was where it had wanted her to be.

Genevieve felt it moments before it happened, the headmistress appeared not far from her, taking in the scene for herself before raising her voice above the din. The students quieted at once as they were all ordered to her office—Genevieve right along with them. She tried to protest, unable to stammer out that she had just happened into the library right before the headmistress had, but she’d simply received a stern look and Gen decided it was perhaps in her best interest to keep her mouth shut.

The six of them filed into the headmaster’s office, a place that Gen had never seen the inside of and wished it had stayed that way. She stayed as close to the door as she possibly could, hoping to make a quick escape as soon as they were dismissed. The tension in the room was palpable, and most of her peers were pissed rather than nervous—Gen on the other hand was mortified.

“And what do you have to say for yourself, Ms. Greenbriar?” The headmaster’s voice was cold and Genevieve didn’t quite like the way her mouth curled when she said her name.

“Wrong place, wrong time. It won’t happen again, headmaster.” Despite the fear clawing it’s way up her throat, Gen kept her voice soft but steady. And she even prided herself on the fact that she didn’t balk at the old woman’s gaze even though everything in her wanted to.

“You’d think your gifts would prevent against that sort of thing,” she’d said it like an insult, and it stung like one.

“One would think,” Gen agreed, swallowing hard, her gaze finally dropping to the floor. When the headmaster finally dismissed them, Genevieve was the first one out the door.

———

By the time Genevieve walked into the library the next morning, she had already been up for hours. She’d barely gotten sleep the night before, unable to quiet her mind enough to relax, so she’d resorted to early morning productivity. She’d done the readings for two classes, had three cups of coffee, and was on the verge of cardiac arrest before deciding that she should probably head back to the library. Gen had pulled on a pair of black slacks and a cream colored sweater before swiping her stack of overdue library books and making her way down the busy corridor.

Gen hadn’t gotten a good look at the damage of the library the night before, and the sheer size of the scorched section did not disappoint. She exhaled softly, trying not to let the enormity of the task at hand discourage her. There were six of them, she reasoned with herself, if they worked together they’d surely have this done by the end of the day, and she’d maybe even have time to study for the Charms quiz later.

She spotted two familiar faces from across the room and crossed to them. Octavius was a boy from her own coven, and though she didn’t know him well, she liked him. He was quieter than a majority of their peers, and kept to himself, for the most part, except that one good friend of his. She also sympathized with not having a firm grasp of your specialty. The smile she gave him was genuine.

The other boy, Kyrell, was hard not to know around Veritum. His family had been something like magical royalty before everything happened, and Kye took the cake for standoffish loner. Genevieve couldn’t blame him though. What happened to his family had to have been a hard pill to swallow, especially if it meant he was alone in the world now. Gen couldn’t imagine how she would react if the roles had been reversed.

“Good morning,” she replied, her tone even more chipper than usual thanks to over-caffeinated. "How are your hands?" She asked Octavius. She'd noticed the blistered the night before.

Gen laughed at Kye’s comment toward her, though she was almost positive he hadn’t meant it as a joke. She didn’t think it was a bad thing to be considered a kind person. “Tackling world hunger doesn’t start until after noon, so I guess you’re stuck with me until then. The stray cats, however, were fed this morning—right on schedule.” She told him, rolling up her sleeves. She was joking, sort of. Gen did often feed the stray cats she found on campus when she was sure she wouldn’t get caught.

“Speaking of cats,” Gen said, nearly squealing with delight as Kyrell’s white cat suddenly appeared beside him. “Hi kitty,” She bent down and held out a knuckle for her to sniff. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?” she cooed at it before the cat lost interest and Gen returned to the task at hand.

Just as Gen began scooping debris into trash bags, Alexandra walked in—followed by Jasmine and Foster, neither of which looked entirely thrilled to be there. Alexandra Starling was the only one of the group that Genevieve knew beyond a few passing words in a corridor. They’d had several classes together at Veritum and Gen enjoyed her company. Alex was nothing like the rumors that spread around the school about her. Sure the girl was intimidating at times, but Gen had always given her the benefit of the doubt and she had not been disappointed.

She glanced at the book that Lex held out between her and Octavius and bit down on a laugh. “I’m surprised the herbology professors aren’t in mourning,” she joked, opening the trash bag so that Alexandra could throw the title into it. Gen’s gaze cut across the library at Foster’s crass words. She could barely make out the silhouettes of Kye and Jasmine, though she was sure Kye’s shadows had something to do with that. “That seems…intense.” And also entirely none of her business.

It was dark, and it was sprinkling. Just a few droplets here and there. Within seconds, it began to pour, drenching Foster as he looked around the empty street he stood on.

A single lamp post beside him.

Foster's skin had begun boiling, but his flames refused to ignite. The eerieness and unfamiliarity of it all were quick to tell him that something wasn't right.

Just as the thought had come to mind, everything shifted around him and he was falling. Foster felt nothing beneath him for several moments before colliding with the crashing waves below.

The water felt thick. It was hard for him to move in. No matter what he did, it wouldn't stop him from being pulled down beneath the surface.

He was dreaming. He rarely ever dreamt.

A familiar emotion - anger - settled deep in his chest and although he was now aware of what was happening, he still had no clue who was behind it. There were several students that he knew could jump into the minds of other students like this. Why they decided to mess with him specifically, he had no clue. Not many students even had the balls, but someone did tonight, and now, he was pissed.

His eyes flew open, gazing at the ceiling above him. His body was tense and he clenched his teeth in annoyance. When he found out who it was, he was going to play with their head. Maybe set it on fire.

* * *

Tugging a red and black hooded-flannel shirt over his white crew neck, Foster then began to slip on his black combats on. The leather on them had long since cracked and developed lightened age spots.

Rolling his shoulders, Foster released a heavy sigh before pushing open the doors to the library open. Part of him hoped he was so late that the others had already finished up with the mess, but to his disappointment, that was not the case.

The sunlight showed the true damage of the library before him and his eyebrows rose in little amusement. To say he would rather be anywhere else was an understatement.

Stopping beside one of the bookshelves, Foster appeared just in time to hear Alex's attempt of breaking the ice with the others. Looking over all the charred books and shelves, Foster released a scoff.

"Yeah, quite the favor he did," his voice was full of ridicule, and he didn't bother to look at Octavius, who he was sure would be found whimpering somewhere. Foster stepped around the shelf and created a swooping gesture of his hand and all of the ashes from the ground and books had begun moving, slowly collecting together and separating until they created a form of smoke around the group. A skill he had been forced to learn when he was fifteen. He still had the scar across his back to prove it.

With another sharp gesture of his hand, he sent the snake-like figure of smoke towards one of the large trash bins. It entered the trash like it had a mind of its own and a majority of the filth was taken care of, but there were still the broken shelves and burnt books.

Foster took a moment to assess the situation and his attention fell on Kye and Jasmine in a corner doing God knows what. Rolling his silver gaze skyward, Foster began collecting books off the shelves and tossing the lost causes into the garbage left and right. He just wanted this to be over with.

"When you two are done fornicating over there, we have shit to do," he called over without looking. For all Foster cared, these guys could enjoy each other's company on their own time. Right now, he wanted to get away from them all as soon as possible.

* * *

It felt like hours, but the library was back to normal - or as normal as it was going to get. Not that anyone would have noticed unless they were creepily into planting. Regardless, he was ready to get out of there. Foster dug around his jacket pocket for one of his smokes, retrieving one as he stepped outside towards the courtyard which was connected to the library. All he had to do now was that stupid letter and he was home free. Lifting his middle finger, a small flame ignited at the tip of his finger for him to use as a lighter.

* * *

Writing the letter was like pulling teeth. What was he even supposed to write? He hated his family and was about to trap them in a burning house so he had to leave? That would go over just swell. Not to mention, the Morrison's were disgustingly close with the headmaster. The way Jeanette and her reconciled with each other was like something straight out of a horror film. Foster finally gave up and simply said he was 'avoiding his studies'. Which wasn't a complete lie.

Foster walked reluctantly towards the headmaster Carmine's doors, knocking once before shoving them open. She gave him avian vibes, the way she twitched her head in his direction. She already looked distressed by his presence and he hadn't even spoken. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Morrison," she greeted him and Foster set his letter down on her desk.

"Did you do something different with your hair?" Foster asked, knowing damn well her hair never changed. Headmaster Carmine knitted her brows into a glare at him for even trying. Foster grimaced before turning on his heel to leave when she clicked her tongue at him, causing him to stop in his tracks.

"Not so fast, Mr. Morrison," her voice was like nails to a chalkboard. "After speaking with your parents, we have come to an agreement that you will be attending the formal ball this weekend."

Before she could finish, Foster had spun around to look at her, flames igniting around his hands without permission due to the sudden irritation he felt. Carmine shot her hand out, extinguishing his flames with yet another dagger look.

"The others are expected to be there as well. You all seem to be in desperate need of human interaction in your lives. I don't want to hear any of your snide remarks about it either. You will attend and that is final. If I don't see you there, you will answer to me, and trust me, Mr. Morrison, these punishments were just the surface of what I could do." she finished and Foster's lips pursed into a thin line to keep from defying her.

"Is that all?" he finally mustered out.

"You're dismissed,"

Walking out of her room, all he could see was red.

Bright, blinding, fiery red.

Sleep had never been something that came easy to Alexandra… not as a small girl who was experiencing the curse of her powers for the first time, not as a teenager when she’d finally learned to master her particular discipline of magic and begin to regulate the feelings that constantly pummeled her, and especially not now as a young adult when she was more powerful than she’d ever been, and felt everything so much harder than she ever had before. Her evening in the headmaster’s office and her verbal scolding certainly didn’t help matters either.

All things considered, the group of them had all gotten off relatively easy. It was certainly because so many of the students caught in the library blaze were from high ranking covens and some of the school’s star pupils - had there been a different set of students found in such a compromising position the punishment would have been much, much worse.

Alexandra had shuffled back to the Lunar coven’s dormitory in a mutually frustrated silence with Foster and Kyrell before they wordlessly split off into their respective rooms. Despite being coven-mates and living in relatively close quarters, there wasn’t much love between the trio of sorcerers, and that was perfectly fine with her. Alex crawled back into her unmade bed to the same rumpled sheets and frustrations as she he had left only a few minutes ago. Much to her favor, though, it seemed that most of her suite mates had thankfully, blissfully, mercifully fallen asleep where their emotions were trapped in their unconscious and off of Lexi’s radar.

She’d been trying to fall asleep, tossing and turning to the pitter patter of the rain on the stone roof of Veritus and flinching at every clap of thunder that reverberated against her walls, for what felt like hours before she’d finally slipped into unconsciousness. Her sleep was dreamless at first, her body unable to settle as the fright of the storm still ravaged her body even as she slept - heart pounding out of her chest, sweat covering her skin, breaths ragged - storms had always left the normally level headed witch a frazzled mess.

But even so, as the blonde finally slipped into a relatively pleasant dream it was only a matter of moments before it all came crashing down around her. As if a switch had been flipped, the sky darkened, hoards of spiders began closing in on her from every angle, and she'd been left with no where to run. The ground looked like a solid sheet of onyx rippling back and forth, but no, it was spiders trampling over one another to get to her. Alex screamed, thrashing as the arachnids finally reached her and covered almost every square inch of her skin - down her shirt, in her ears, up her nose, in her mouth every time she opened it to scream….

Alexandra woke in a terror, throwing herself out of bed and to her knees as she choked and gagged on the feeling of tiny legs crawling down her throat until she nearly made herself wretch. The girl’s chest rose and fell in ragged pants as she got her bearings, reminding herself that she was in her own room and free of spiders. Unshed tears burned at her eyes, causing her to dig the heels of her hands into her eyesocktets and let out a sound nothing short of utter despair. Lexi had been plagued with horrid nightmares from the night she’d returned to Veritus for her final year of schooling - not that she’d let anyone know that, and they were finally beginning to wear on her.

Frankly, the usually determined and undeterred Lexi wasn't sure how much more of this she could take.

- - -

Alex hadn’t wasted any time getting herself cleaned up, wiping away any trace of the horrors she’d endured throughout the night. Aside from a light sweeping of dark circles under her eyes, Lexi looked like she always did - flawless. Her blonde hair was left down in loose waves and the light film of makeup she wore did wonders to blur away the remnants of the night left over on her face. She wore a plaid skirt that was maybe a tad too short to be appropriate for school but accented her long lean legs beautifully paired with sheer tights, a form fitting black long sleeved shirt tucked into the top of it, and pair of heeled boots to finish off the look.

She’d had to waken even earlier than usual, making her lack of sleep even more painful, for a mandatory excursion to the school gardens for her herbology class. It was anticlimactic for the most part, and Lex had mostly just been bidding her time until she could get to the library and get their shared punishment over with so she could go on with her day.

Almost worse than her nightmares, Alexandra had also been plagued with the presence of Jasmine Kim-Luong in nearly every class. Alex and Jasmine were two of the brightest witches in their grade, and often battled for the top seat in their class. Alex wasn’t a fool and knew that it was purely for competition sake, yet still, Jasmine was an expert at getting under her skin.

Lexi’s eyes cut to the dark haired girl when she finally decided to speak up with a jab that should have been expected by this point. “Wow..” Lex mused, turning to face the girl with a look of faux pitty. “If they’re saying I look like shit, then I’d hate to see what they’re saying about you.”

Alexandra didn’t wait around for a response, turning to leave for the library.

- - -

The library looked, admittedly, much worse in the daylight than it had last night. The witch sipped at the coffee in her hand, a look of pure boredom sweeping the room to gather who was already present. Octavius, who was covered in soot and looked like he’d been there for hours already, Kye, Gen, and soon Jasmine followed after her. Still no Foster - not that she was surprised.

Alex pulled her long honey colored locks of hair out of her face and into a ponytail as she moved towards the charred book cases. She settled for a place between Octavius and Genevieve, the only two out of the whole group she could stand to be around at the moment. Octavius was generally a sweet kid, timid most of the time, and the overwhelming feelings of anxiety, shame, and… something else she couldn’t quite place almost made her feel bad for him. It was no secret that the boy didn’t know how to control his powers and was pushing his luck at Veritus, but Lex believed he was one of the few good and pure souls that this wretched school still had. She wordlessly sent a small burst of calm, relaxation, his way to ease his nerves. Again, a kindness she would likely never admit to.

Genevieve on the other hand was probably the only true friend she had, if you could call them so much. Gen was sunshine, goodness, and kindness embodied, and one of the few people that didn’t outwardly hate her. Lex was trusted by so few and feared by so many because of her powers, but Genevieve had always treated her without judgement.

Alexandra wordlessly gathered the remains of scorched books for a short while, tossing them to the bag of rubbish that Octavius had already started. “Can’t exactly blame you for choosing these ones to torch,” She began quietly, tossing a glance between Tav and Gen as she held up a book referencing the care of different species of ferns. “such a bore, you’ve probably done the school a favor.” She offered with a dull laugh, letting the scripture join it's brethren in the literary graveyard before swiping the back of her hand across her cheek in an attempt to push a stray strand of hair from her face, dragging a smear of soot with it.

He was born into a house of knives, serrated with prestige and promise and sharp enough to where he had felt like his entire life had been molded from caution, as if he were treading across crackling ice. Some often said that a family name could only go so far, that he needed to pave his own way into the world and stop relying on his mother and father to do it for him. When they were on top, when his parent's lies were still shielded by tight smiles and glittering jewels, the expectations he had felt unreachable. How even though his marks and achievements in school were damn near at the top of his class, there was nothing he could amount to that would be as infamous as the rise of Katrine and Bristen Rothbury.

And also their fall.

It was funny, how the impressions of the entire community shifted once news of his parent's rebellion took flight. Kyrell, a boy who everyone swore could never amount to his parent’s ways, was now pushed right beside them. Shoved into the darkened box they set themselves in and never being able to escape from the cage. Expectations had a funny way of disappearing once fear took over. They were no longer envious of him – no -- they were afraid of him. Even though he had been cleared of all affiliation except his shared blood, even though finding out his parents were nefarious criminals nearly drove him into madness, the entirety of Veritum Institute of Magic had collectively decided that Kyrell Rothbury was in too deep to be considered anything but a traitor.

He lost friends. He lost his family. Even some of the professors eyed him warily. All of his achievements and hard work felt like nothing but ash compared to the target that lingered across his skin. His entire life had been dedicated to living up to the Rothbury standard.

Now all he wanted to do was run from it.

The shields within his mind were as thick and impenetrable as the ones he put forth in his day to day life. Covered with onyx marble, without a crack to be seen. His mother had taught him the importance of protecting one's mind, for when it was breached, your soul sat within another's hands. He felt the same about relationships – about any other bond deeper than surface level. The master of his own fate, Kyrell stayed clear of anyone who dared to step foot into his murky waters.

And yet, in his dream last night, there had been one who tried.

Jasmine, the sour faced girl whose tongue was nearly as sharp as the glares she cut the group as she left the Headmaster’s office. She had disrupted his sleep and he awoke to her lithe frame standing right outside his mind, attempting to peer through. He could only stare back, his body rigid and ready to shove her out if need be. As he panted in his bed, shirtless and covered in a layer of sweat, he breathed through his nose, clenched his jaw, and ignored the stab of pain spreading through his forehead.

Leave.

He wasn’t sure what had given him more of a headache – the Headmaster’s scolding or the unwelcomed visitor in his dream. Even as he stood in the darkened library, between the shadowed shelves and cleaning up the burnt grimoires, his head throbbed. Ash and grime covered his fingers, turning the tips of them black, as he sifted through the books. Not wanting to be bothered and to remain undetected for now, Kyrell’s shadows covered him, only breaking through to unveil his arm as he snagged ruined books, or reshelved others. He winced every time he noticed another, lost to the ferocity of the flames from last night. Books were far better than people, after all.

Ahead and a few shelves over, he heard Octavius cleaning. The boy had been hard at work longer than Kye and the sorcerer continued to observe him. His movements were gentle, timid at times, even, as if he were terrified of his own skin. He was… different than the others. No sense of superiority lingered and clearly the fire was an accident, judging by the flustered expression he saw last night.

But that didn’t explain why a pyro, just like Foster, was in the lowest coven. Everything about Octavius was puzzling, and Kye intended on doing his research before jumping to conclusions.

About finished with his section and deciding to unveil himself fully, he snagged the bag of destroyed books and trekked over a few rows of shelves before he came face to face with Octavius. He tossed the tied bag at the boy’s feet and leaned a shoulder against the shelf. At Octavius’ expression, Kyrell shrugged. “Something tells me you shouldn’t be without supervision around flammable material.”

A chime from the library door sounded behind him and he peered over his shoulder, catching sight of ruby red hair and a constellation of freckles scattered across Genevieve’s pale cheeks. He only knew of the girl simply due to the fact that her powers were nearly the complete opposite of his. Light. Toying with time, while he dallied in what happens after it ended. Besides, she was hard to miss, considering she was a stark contrast to everything he was. Kind. Patient.

Good.

She neared the pair and Kyrell instantly stiffed, crossing his arms and no longer leaning against the shelf. “Shouldn’t you be solving world hunger or feeding stray cats?” he grumbled, preparing to step away from the group.

Just as the rest of their little entourage from last night entered the library.

Instantly, his headache intensified. Kye debated on slamming it into the wooden shelf for reprieve. Mor, being alerted about his discomfort, appeared in a burst of shadow at his feet. Her white tail swished, excited about the newfound entertainment.

The group neared and his eyes locked onto Jasmine, the depths of his irises darkening with distaste. With a jerk of his chin, he motioned for her to follow him and he slid around the shelf until they were separated from the others. Spinning around on one designer-clad foot, he hissed at the dark haired girl.

“I will tell you this one time and one time only.” Kyrell took a step closer, nearly inches from her intriguing face. In warning, his shadows sprouted like vines around him, circling his frame until they wove their way towards her, wrapping around her neck like a collar.

“Stay the fuck out of my head.”

The moment those heavy doors closed in their faces, Jasmine wiped around, her face a stone of pure fury. Her eyes fell to Octavius and she scoffed at his burnt fingers. "You're not even worth the words I have to say to you." She snarled, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she stomped past the group. This was bullshit, complete utter bullshit, and she blamed Octavius Bianchi for the crash and burn of it all. Detention? Cleaning the library? Apology letters? This wasn't going to look good to the Celestial coven and she fucking knew it. If she lost her chance of switching covens for the likes of Alexandria, Foster, Kyrell, and that dweep Octavius, she would kill each one of them. Slowly.

Later that night, when Jasmine was sure the entire school was sound asleep, she folded herself into her floor. Crystals and stones lined the room in precise formations and she pulled the moons energy through them. She searched, frantically like a mother longing for a lost child, until she felt the heavy walls of Foster Morrison's mind. The silence of his dreamless sleep was suffocating and Jasmine slipped in like a thief through the dark. She created endless seas, bottomless pits of dark water, and rain clouds that poured from the darkest of skies. "Let there be no light or fire here, Foster Morrison, and let the water drown you."

Alex's dreams were always beautiful, vibrant images of a good life. It was easy invading the precious astral worlds that belonged to her and she bathed in how simple it had always been to torment Alex. For a girl who seemed so brave, Jasmine had found over and over with immense satisfaction how the other seemed to be afraid of just about anything. Jasmine walked through the pages of Alex's subconsciousness as gracefully as a warm summer's breeze. She stood, hidden only by the veil of her own illusions, and poured thousands of spiders from her hands. As she disintegrated herself from the dream, she pulled all the exits with her. Let Alex wake herself the hard way or let her not wake at all. It's not like Jasmine herself gave a shit if the other fell into a deep coma, it would be one less classmate she had to compete with.

Jasmine had never sought out the dreams of Kyrell Rothbury because she had never felt like she needed to. The guy seemed already tormented, with the whole gothic emo thing he had going for him. Tonight however, she didn't care if he did already have nightmares. She would make them worse, or worse yet, make his nightmares ones in which he had to wear bright colors and boat shoes. She would make him get a fade hair cut and go golfing. Whatever it took to make him awaken with sweaty palms and a racing heart beat.

The moment she slipped into Kyrell's mind however, Jasmine knew something was wrong. Her astral body stood, now much more physical than it ever had been before, directly in front of a large empty mansion. The hundreds of windows stared back at her, black and secretive, and the gate that surrounded the property seemed so untouched. There was a deafening sorrow that clung to the outside of the place and Jasmine knew if she approached the door, she would find it locked. Kyrell Rothbury had a shield over his mind and it wasn't one of mediocre skill. This was the product of years worth of practice, of pure raw power, but mostly, it was the product of someone who truly wanted to be left alone.

--

"Keep this up and the schools garden will look the best it's ever been." Professor Brownstone praised, watching as Jasmine weaved streams of water in and out of the school's greenhouse. Jasmine was proud of her work with the plants, but that's really all anyone saw Hydrokinesis good for, and that part bothered her. She could create rain, yes, but she could also pull the water right out of any living object or move tidal waves to swallow cities. She still didn't understand how moving water around wasn't more of an appreciated gift when water itself was the essence of all life.

Alexandria and several other students stood at a nearby table, repotting the newest additions to the greenhouses plant family, and Jasmine made her way over to them. A fake smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she got a good glance at Alex. "Sleep good?" She asked, moving to stand beside the blonde she despised more than anyone else. She grabbed a succulent and careful stuffed it into a pot, adding soil to hold it up. "I don't actually care, but you just look like shit, so I thought I'd ask."

"I don't think I understand," William Eddington murmured to Octavius sleepily, "You burned down part of the library and got a whole bunch of those upper crust trust fund brats in trouble, so you're leaving school?" He asked, not for the first time since Octavius had showed up at his dorm room, shame and guilt burning through him. Octavius sighed, chewing his bottom lip. When he had returned from the head mistresses office he had truly meant to take himself to his own room but his feet, with a mind of their own, led him to Will's anyways.

William Eddington was the only actual friend Octavius had. Will was in his coven, an athletic type that spent most of his time doing something physical. Boxing, running, football. William was able to shield himself from danger and happened to be fantastic with runes of protection. However, he was born to a half magic household and there forth considered bottom of the food chain.

"Will. I fucking lit the library on fire. I pissed off Jasmine Kim-Luong and Foster Morrison. You know that one guy, the one whose obsessed with death? Yeah he was there too. This isn't a bunch of wealthy nobodies. Everyone is in trouble and it's my fault. They're probably going to kill me tomorrow." Octavius explained, leaning his head against his knees. The tips of his fingers ached with fresh blisters and Will extended his hand to inspect them.

"You need to relax, Tav. You're doing that thing you do again." Will yawned out as he began the tedious work of addressing each burn with balm. "You know, where you go all extreme and make rash decisions that leads to more problems. Everyone in that library was there for no good. That crowd getting detention is legit not your fault. This hand however," he pointed out, "is entirely you. You panicked again, didn't you? You're going to end up killing yourself if you don't learn to understand your body."

Octavius nodded, choosing the silence over arguing. Will was right, of course, but Tav didn't feel like filling his best friends head even bigger than it already was. He leaned back against the bed and closed his eyes, exhaustion taking him to the only safe thing he had, sleep.

---

The library was worse than Octavius had originally thought. Two rows of books glared at him from their torched shelves and a nearby wall appeared black from the soot and fireballs. He had been there since before the sun had risen, attempting to rescue the knowledge he had destroy. He had more than just burnt property on his mind and he worked with determination to take the intruding thoughts away. Most of which consisted of Will.

He had slept in his friends bed last night and when he had awoken to find their legs entangled he had felt such unwanted feelings. Again. This wasn't the first time his stomach had flipped in the presence of the other and he so badly wanted it to stop. He liked girls, he knew he liked girls, but there was some part of him that maybe liked Will too. There was also a piece of him that understood how quickly acting on those feelings would completely ruin their friendship. William Eddington was a lot of things, but gay certainly wasn't one of them.

The door to the library dinged and Octavius looked up as a girl with ginger hair entered, books beneath her arm. He had seen Genevieve Greenbriar many times before but he had never spoken to her. She was beautiful and kind, two things he didn't deserve to be around. He'd probably accidently light her on fire if she came too close; he was only good at ruining things and she didn't need to be ruined. She was, to him anyways, perfect.

The trash bag at his feet was filled with charred books and Octavius picked it up, throwing it over his shoulder. No one else had showed up yet but he didn't mind, he didn't want to see them anyways. He had almost cleaned the entire section alone and he would clean the rest of it alone too, as long as it meant he didn't get tormented for the next month of school.

A tingling sensation began prickling the skin of Foster's face and scalp, trickling down to the base of his neck as Kyrell invaded the depths of his mind.

Foster's eyes darkened and the muscles in his jaw began to tense with irritation, but just as quickly as he had entered his thoughts, he recoiled with the information he'd been searching for which only fueled Foster's anger.

"Stay out of my fucking head you --" Foster's words were interrupted by the sudden sound of footsteps nearing the two of them and Alexandra's face was birthed from the shadows of the library. So much for the library being a place of isolation. He thought grimly.

Alex and Kyrell were students within the same Coven as Foster - the only reason he bothered to remember their names. Unlike Kyrell, Alex seemed to be a character of many words and he often found himself silently wondering when she would finally close her mouth. It was the only reason he wasn't entirely surprised to see it was her stepping between the two, her nosey attributes were something he'd forced himself to endure many times.

Kyrell on the other hand wasn't one of many words. He was often seen brooding somewhere away from others and Foster wasn't ignorant to the rumors that took over the school after his parents went rogue. Part of Foster wanted to feel some sort of empathy for the boy, but that emotion had been fleeting from existence for Foster since he was adopted.

Ignoring Alex's words, Foster was about to extinguish the flame in his hand and leave when her next words came out. Another body had entered the room, but that wasn't what caused Foster to go still. It was the sensation of smoke that radiated toward him. The smell of the pollution came shortly after and Foster didn't bother looking over at Kyrell as he hissed accusations out at him. His fingers curled closed, getting rid of the flame that danced in his palm, and the light around them diminished.

"It's not me," Foster insisted, letting his legs carry him towards the growing light across the room with the others.

As he drew closer, he could hear a murmur of words, and then a large ball of light came hurtling toward him, bringing a wave of warmth with it. Foster shot his hand out, grabbing the orb of fire, his gunmetal eyes trained onto the boy who sent it out of control. He wasn't too familiar with him or the girl that sent a wave of water splashing around him. Where the hell did all of these guys even come from?

Alex had successfully brought the stranger's flames to a halt and now a section of the library was drenched and all powers had come to a standstill. All that could be heard between the group was panting breaths, but from where Foster stood, he could see a figure moving closer and closer, only for Alex's words to be cut off as they all craned their heads in the direction of the headmaster who scowled, looking at each and every one of them with annoyance.

* * *

The headmaster's laboratory consisted of several prehistoric-looking curio cabinets full of ancient artifacts, books, wands, and creatures in bottles. In the center of the room sat a large executive writing desk made up of stained rosewood. Several skylight windows adorned the dome-shaped ceiling, letting the glow of the moon rain down from above. The only other light in the room was from the floating lanterns that seemed to have a mind of their own as they twirled around the room, creating a lit pathway for the headmaster to find her desk and take a seat.

"You are not to be outside of your dormitories at this hour," she began, "but, you already knew this. Have you all decided that the rules do not apply to you?" she didn't wait for an answer - not that any of them seemed to plan on opening their mouths at this time. The headmaster had a look to her that made anyone go silent when she was around. Her silver hair was always tied up into an intricate bun, and the corners of her mossy-colored eyes were sporting crow's feet. Although headmaster Carmine seemed to be a typical old woman, her skin timeworn and wrinkled; she was much older than she appeared.

"The library is ruined because of you fools," she scolded, standing from her desk in rage. She neared the group, stopping in front of Kyrell. She reached out her hand and the book he had been stowing away had flown into her hand. She looked over the cover and sent him a glare. "Forbidden literature."

Turning to Foster beside him, she continued. "Your parents will be hearing of this." She then looked between Jasmine and Alex. "I truly didn't expect such behavior from the two of you. . ." and then her gaze landed on Octavius. "And you," her voice was cold.

"If you don't watch your step, Mr. Bianchi, I will have no choice but to throw you out like we did your mother." she hissed out and looked over the group. "You will all be expected to repair the library tomorrow and then you will all return here for your detention. By the end of the school day, I expect the library to be as it was and I want a written explanation written by each of you on my desk. If I feel that any stories do not match up or I have been lied to in any way, your minds will be searched." her voice was stern and again, the silence had never been louder. "Dismissed!" she clapped, pointing her finger out her door and the group began filing out of it and into the hall, her door slamming shut behind them.

Foster's fingers raked through his tousled black hair and his eyes held little to no emotion, regardless of what they had just endured. "Just what I needed; to bond with you people," he muttered before walking off down the hall, the flames of the hallway torches flickering around him due to his loud annoyance radiating off of him as he made his way back to his dorm room.

Alexandra rolled her eyes at the harsh edge in Kyrell’s voice, sensing his annoyance as he clearly planned to make his escape.. but not before slinging some insults before he left. “Always so moody.” She sighed, absently twirling a strand of honey hair around her finger as she watched him. Kyrell and herself had been something close to friends when they were small - the kind of friendship that only a young child can form, without inhibitions or the worry of another’s reputation or station. At that time they’d hardly even begun to tap into their powers, they’d just wanted to escape the boring coven meetings like the other children. But all of that changed when his family’s reputation began to sour. The Rothburys became more and more aloof, Kye drew in on himself, and they’d hardly spoken unless necessary ever since.

It all made sense when Katrine and Bristen had been arrested, their crimes, the magic they’d been practicing finally coming to light and exposing the evil their family had done. Alex supposed something like that would make her a little moody too. Still, Kye hardly tolerated her presence these days, their brief encounter in the library obviously no exception to that rule, but that was okay. Lex wasn’t particularly fond of the necromancer either.

To be fair, it wasn’t like Foster Morrison was much better, in her mind. A late edition to their coven, Alexandra had never really bothered to try making nice with the boy - not then, and certainly not now. It was his foster parents, Jeannette and Richard, who initially made Lex uneasy around the boy - they were always so hostile, even when putting on a nice face for the coven she could feel the hatred and loathing seeping out of them like poison.

A part of her felt bad for the young boy she’d met all those years ago, shoved into a family he hated with parents who were so cruel. As they’d grown up, Foster became more and more of an enigma, until eventually she feared feeling his emotions more than his parent’s. Most days now Foster Morrison was full of hate and despair, but sometimes, more and more often it seemed, it was as if Foster didn’t feel anything at all.

It was perplexing for someone like Lex to not feel any emotion coming from someone when she was so used to them relentlessly bombarding her. Sometime people felt things in waves, others let their emotions seep out of them like ink, the more exuberant ones felt things in manic bursts - but sometimes Foster just felt like radio static.

Thunder cracked from above, ripping Alex from her thoughts and causing her to flinch at the harsh sound. Storms were not her favorite thing, yet they seemed to be occurring more and more often at Veritus. Before either of the boys could notice her reaction, Alex sensed a fourth person entering the library. “We have company.” She warned the two boys before her in a tone that was just barely audible. Slipping off the table she’d perched on in preparation to make her escape, Lex offered a mildly sarcastic “Enjoy your reading.” To Kye as she slipped away.

Well, she had tried to slip away, at least. She’d barely made it a handful of steps when the stench of smoke filled her nose, bursts of light shooting at random an aisle or two away. Alex heard Kyrell scolding Foster for the flames, but she could feel the sharp tang of someone else’s panic near by.

Magic was tied to your emotions - it was one of the first lessons they taught you as a small child. It was why so many magic children born to non-magic parents discovered their powers by tragedy. One bad tempter tantrum and a kid could burn their house down, grieve too hard and suddenly you’ve flooded your school. Magic was a very scary weapon until you learned to control it, which was why the room grew brighter and brighter in flame as the boy’s panic rose to a roar.

Alex’s feet were moving of their own accord before she’d even had a chance to think, instinct kicking in as she tried to dodge the wayward orbs of fire being shot in every direction.

“Calm down.” More of a demand than a request.

She closed in on the boy, feeling the heat radiating off of his skin. “Calm down.” She repeated, small beads of sweat pooling at her temples as neared him and the flames.

Lexi tried not to use her powers on someone unless it were absolutely necessary. It always felt invasive, deceitful, to manipulate someone else’s emotions and left her feeling dirty afterwards - but she felt that this situation probably called for a little bit of her help. “Calm down, Octavius.” She repeated a final time, pressing her palms to his cheeks as she forced him to look at her in the eye. The heat coming off him was nearly unbearable this close.. the ends of the sleeves on her jacket began to singe, her palms blistering against his skin. The power tickled her palms where they rested against his face, soothing and calm flowing from her like steady stream until it would fill his consciousness and ebb any other feeling. The flames flickered once, twice, three times from his hands before they sizzled out all together.

Alex stepped away from Octavius Bianchi the moment he was no longer actively flaming out, taking a quick survey of the room to see that they’d been joined by another girl, Jasmine, who’d managed to put out the burning bookshelves. Things had been so chaotic that the hydrokinetic had gotten there without her even noticing.

Part of Lexi’s use to the Council was the garner trust and collect secrets, which meant that she knew pretty much everyone. It was how she’d known Octavius’s name, despite having relatively few classes with him over the years. But Jasmine was no stranger to her - not even close. For whatever reason Alex wasn’t really sure, but Jasmine Kim-Luong had taken it upon herself to torment Lex at any given opportunity. Lexi wasn’t yet aware of her ability to invade her mind, send her images or garner illusions like the storms that had been plaguing the school grounds so often, but that hadn’t stopped the raven haired girl from pulling more mundane tricks. Starting rumors, gossiping about her, and just being hateful in general - Alex didn’t think Jasmine was above any of it.

“We should get out of here before-“ was all Alexandra managed to get out.

“My office.” Said the headmaster, wrapped in a robe as if she’d woken from her sleep and came immediately to the library to catch them all in the act. “Immediately.”

The year following his parent's imprisonment had been filled with random break-ins and attacks in the middle of the night – though the perpetrators always left significantly less confident. Kye picked up on the patterns quickly, and he was already ready for them. His tactics may have been a little… extreme. He didn’t feel sorry, though. The multiple citations and detentions he received from his defense mechanisms were nothing but a pinch in his side.

It was only a few memory-altering spells. Maybe a couple of his shadows had slithered their way into their eyes – causing them to see their worst fears. For days. Weeks, even. A constant state of panic and fear.

It felt nice, giving them a taste of their own medicine.

That itch once again pricked at his fingertips as shadows began to unearth themselves and swirl around his body like an armor of vines. The light to his lantern flicked once, before it became doused entirely. Even though his posture was rigid in the chair, his face held nothing of fear – darkness was just another extension of himself. He had no reason to feel intimidated by someone foolish trying to unnerve him by playing with his own expertise.

Though, as Foster Morrison revealed himself by sheathing his hand in flame, it was safe to say that Kyrell Rothbury was unruffled. Of course, it was the pyro. While he had purposefully strayed away from the boy’s radar, as well as everyone else’s, it seemed that the fellow sorcerer had other intentions. As a defense mechanism more than anything, wondering what he wanted, Kye wordlessly dipped into Foster’s mind for a brief moment. He ripped into his memories and thoughts with a pointed, black claw, before he riffled through the flashing images. It wasn’t a tactic he liked to use often, due to its violating nature, but he didn’t trust the fire wielder. Especially since he found Kyrell in such a… compromising position.

It only took a moment to understand Foster’s sour mood and Kyrell seamlessly slipped out of his head.

He cleared his throat. “Perhaps your concerns should lie elsewhere. Like fire shields, for instance.” Pulling the grimoire towards him, preparing to stuff it into the lapels of his jacket, Kyrell then scoffed at Foster’s words – resisting the urge to shake his head. “No, not entirely. I just consider myself…” His dark gaze assessed Foster. “Selective.”

Another set of footsteps, although quieter this time around, came from the opposite end of the library and, before he could escape, Alexandra Starling appeared and the tension between him and Foster immediately dwindled. Unfortunately. Kye gave the blonde a pressing look before he rolled his eyes, scooching away as she propped herself on his table. He was expecting the library to be empty – void of any interaction, not drowning with nosy members of his own coven.

Cutting a sharp look to Alex as she pestered him about the grimoire, Kye rose from the table, preparing to move his studies to his room. “Unfortunately, I’m not feeling particularly inclined in spelling out the words for you. Maybe another time.”

Just as he was about to cut through the pair and make his way out of the library, the smell of smoke drifted past his nose. Out of habit, he glared at Foster, but was surprised to see that he looked equally confused. Just as Kye was about to open his mouth, light flashed behind a shelf a few rows down, and more smoke escaped. Fire… There was a fire in the library.

“What did you do?!” he snarled at Foster before rushing towards the burning shelf. Books, all of these precious books were growing lost to the ferocity of the flames. Fury swelled inside of his chest as he rounded the corner, facing the fire.

And the boy wielding it in his hands.

As the fire grew, more and more light began sheathing the library, which would surely alert any staff. Without a second thought, Kye allowed his shadows to circle around the scene, forming a nearly solid wall of darkness in order to block the light from escaping. However, there were still the wayward flames to be dealt with. As well as the frantic student attempting to control them. Sweat began to pool across his pale skin as he dodged a flaming ball, it nearly singing the side of his hair. Kye sometimes thought about how hand in hand fire and his power seemed. Destruction. Death. And yet he found no solace in the loss of the books. Or his raven locks, for that matter.

“Put it out before you burn this place to the damn ground!” he panted, dodging more balls of fire. Penetrating the shadows behind the erratic boy came a lithe figure with hair matching the rich onyx of his shield. The girl appeared to be seething as she cursed, quickly dousing the fire with streams of water stemming from her hands. While a soaked book also made him cringe, it was far better than the pages turning into ash.

With the fire now being somewhat controlled, Kye’s attention drifted between the two. He barely knew anyone outside of his own coven, and that was by his choice. Hell, even the students in his coven were more strangers than acquaintances, he was just able to put a name to a face. As well as a reputation.

Kyrell Rothbury knew all about the power of reputation, after all.

Scanning the shelves, noticing that the books burned consisted of topics on herbology, the tension in his shoulder released, only slightly. Those books were hardly ever touched. Thankfully, nothing involving his research had been harmed. Still, he was furious at the carelessness and he shot the perpetrator a chilling glare.

“I don’t exactly enjoy encyclopedia’s about the different species of ferns either, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to fucking annihilate them.”

When Jasmine first learned of her illusion powers, she used it for petty things. She found a certain satisfaction in spiders, shiney black dots with long spiralling legs. She studied the images, watched hours of videos, programmed how each leg scampered. She drilled the knowledge deep into her memory so that she would never forget, so that even when she dreamed, she could create hoards of them. Spiders inserted fear in so many and in a way, she bathed in that emotion. Fear meant power and god, did she love power.

Her obsession with Alexandria Starling also developed around that time period. Perfect Alex, adored only for her naturally born status and abilities. Jasmine supposed there was pint up jealousy against the other, but she could never truly admit that. Jealousy was an emotion felt by the weak.

Jasmine slowly unfolded herself from the plushy carpet of her dorm room and stretched, her back aching from the hours she had spent meditating there. She had invaded the dreams of several of her coven, mostly for fun, and now longed for something more entertaining. She needed to practice and unfortunately night time was her only choice. Jasmine didn't plan to reveal her true powers until graduation, when she would have her turn to express why she deserved to jump covens, why she deserved something better than a houseboat.

Throwing on a light jacket over her black tank top, Jasmine glanced at herself in her dresser mirror. She looked tired, the slightest hint of darkened skin beneath her eyes. With a quick wave of her hand she covered it, a mask of a perfection, an illusion to everyone but herself. She tied her long hair up in a careful bun and slipped out her dorm room.

For the last several weeks a man she did not know had managed to slip into her own dreams. Of course, she had security inside her subconscious mind, but it failed to be enough to truly keep him out. He had showed her the same thing every time, a book, one he held in his slender dark fingers. A book she did not know, but one she supposed sat nested in the forbidden section of the schools library. Curiosity had eloped her, as if she was a feline playing a game of cat and mouse.

Jasmine walked slowly and in the open. She wasn't afraid to be seen, because no one important was out this late anyways. She could see their dreams, fragments in the edges of her vision. The headmaster, of course, and several on sight professors. It was harder to pin point dreams when half the school was sleeping, but Jasmine had visited her teachers so many times she could practically taste the difference between dreamer.

As she closed in on the side door into the library Jasmine threw on a glamour, covering herself head to toe into her surroundings. In the sky above she pulled rain from the scarce clouds, the first drops falling against the roof as she stepped inside, the noise of the door closing lost in the new storm outside.

Without hesitation she beelined for the forbidden section of the library. A movement caught her eye and she turned her head as she passed by a small group of students, her pace slowing to a stop. Alexandria Starling, Kyrell Ruthbury, and Foster Morrison. Jasmine breathed out softly, calming her thoughts as rapidly as possible. Her eyes fell to the book in front of Kyrell and interest sparked inside of her. A forbidden grimoire, how ironic. It wasn't the book Jasmine herself was looking for, but it was something. It was also enough to get everyone in serious trouble.

The corner of her lips turned up in a smirk. There was no way in hell she was going to be able to hunt down the book with everyone having a midnight hangout session. Stepping slowly backwards Jasmine lowered herself into a crouch and closed her eyes. She breathed, in and out, and let her mind wander.

The headmaster was having her usually dream. One in which she was being courted by some fancy man Jasmine had no desire to know. She slipped in without notice, a ghost in the void of someone elses astral mind. Like blowing pixie dust she morphed the scenery into the school library. The faces of Kyrell, Alexandria, and Foster swam through the pages of every book. Smoke filled the library..

Jasmine jerked so quickly from the dream that her head banged into the shelf behind her. Smoke burned her nose and she jerked up, her illusion dissolving around her.

"What in the fuck?" Jasmine scolded, waving a hand in front of her face. Two rows down some of the books were blazed, bright and unnatural in the dark library. Jasmine sprinted towards the unbelievable chaos in front of her, her mouth hanging open. Octavius Bianchi stood, his hands fraying around him like a drowning moron, fire balls shooting left and right. Hot heat scorched her face as she neared him and she grimaced. She hated heat.

"What the hell are you doing!" Jasmine hissed, a wave of water already moving down the aisle to drench everything in sight. "Have you lost your fucking mind?!"

Octavius Bianchi sighed, his foot tapping impatiently against the bottom of the mahogany desk in front of him. His Ancient Language professor, Dr. Wolfsburg, didn't seem to notice that Octavius was beyond ready to leave. The middle man in front of him was busy rummaging through a stack of books, the covers decayed and tattered. He had been in here for over three hours, practicing the speech of several long forgotten dialects. Outside the sky had turned from orange to purple to shades of deep blue. The clouds had become highlighted by a silver moon and the grassy lawn was now nothing more than various shades of gray. By this time Octavius was usually locked away in the security of his own bedroom, which was exactly where he longed to be right now.

"Ahhh!" Dr. Wolfsburg exclaimed, his thin lips turning upwards into a toothy grin. "This is exactly what we were looking for my boy. Akkadian, a dead Language from the 1st Millennium BCE. This, this is what you will do your oral project on for my class. Here is the book with some script, and also if you don't mind," the small man added, his hand waving over a handful of other texts. "Could you return this back to the library on your way out? If anyone asks tell them I sent you."

Octavius blinked, his eyes falling down to the fading ink sprawled into the rough pages below him. Akkadian? Millennium BCE? He didn't even know the exact dates of AD or BC. "I'm not so sure this is the right choice for me." Octavius muttered, already standing with the book clasped firmly in his hand.

"Don't be silly." Dr. Wolfsburg scoffed, his tone dismissive. "It's challenging and it will look good on your transcripts if you ever desire to switch covens. Now go, I'm racking up fines by the minute. Money hungry leprechauns, those librarians, always squeezing every last penny." Without waiting for another protest, Dr. Wolfsburg leaned back, grabbed his office bag, and seemed to pop right from the room. The only evidence of his teleportation was the slightest swing of his office chair, and Octavius stared for much longer than he should have at the space where his professor had just been, only seconds before. "Fucking magic." He grumbled, leaning forward to gather the decaying books.

There was something about empty halls that brought comfort to Octavius. He wasn't sure if it was the silence, solitude, or security of it he liked the most. Although he had become expert level at blending in, his magic could not. It was always in crowds that he felt the chaos inside of him, that shadows slipped from one hand and flames bit at the other. On more than once occasion he had sent lighting jolts that busted lights and ruined technology. He was, like most of his professors had concluded, unpredictable, useless, and dangerous. The jabs had become so frequent in the last couple years that Octavius had began to wonder if he would turn out just like his mother. A substance abuser who found content in the hateful touch of others.

The normally well lit hallway was dark and Octavius stumbled, nearly sending books worth more than his soul sprawling across shined wooden floors. His brows furrowed as he neared the Library doors, which he noted seemed slightly ajar. With a quick hook of his foot he pulled it wide, slipping in as quietly as someone with eight giant books could be.

He wasn't alone. He knew the moment the cold stale air grazed his face. A small part of him could feel there were others there and almost as if against his will he walked between stacks of books, dumping the load in his hands off on the nearest table. Without as much as a thought of his own he headed towards the only hint of light in the crippling dark. This was irrational, a voice whispered, this was how you ended up cursed or under the whim of someone's compulsion skills. There were only a select few individuals that spent their free time sulking in a library and it wasn't anyone he knew.

A warm tingling feeling grazed the tips of Octavius's finger tips as he closed in on the nearly silent voices. He hissed, panic setting in, and gave his hands a frantic wave. "Not here. Not here." He pleaded with himself, the fainted hints of blue and orange sprouting from his palms. Typical, he thought in sheer anxiety, it was just like him to burn a library down.

It was late… late enough that Alexandra should have been fast asleep and finding reprieve from the overwhelming feelings of those around her - but alas, that was not the case. Sometimes being a pathokinetic was exhausting, not in the way that her power was particularly hard, but by the fact that she could hardly ever drown out the emotions of the people around her. Sometimes people just felt things so loudly… Alex preferred not to feel at all.

Each time she closed her eyes, Lex was pummeled with the emotions of the fellow Lunar students whom she shared a dormitory with. Someone was having sex in a neighboring room, evidenced by not only their loud ass moans, but by the waves of lust she felt floating around her. Someone was heartbroken, another had snorted too much powdered dragon claw and was way too high, but the rest seemed relatively content. Regardless, she felt all of these emotions slamming into her like she were caught in a current, keeping her mind turning and consciousness in tact - much to her annoyance.

With a huff, the blonde launched herself out of bed and shoved her feet into a pair of white converse, tugging on a jacket baring the Lunar coven’s crest to cover the tank top and shorts she’d been attempting to sleep in. This was one of the rare occasions that Alex would be caught in casual attire, but the girl was too frustrated to care at the given moment.

Plus, she hadn’t exactly planned to run into anyone.

It was past the hours that students were allowed to roam the estate at free will, despite the fact that they were adults, there were certain rules they had to abide by when they lived on campus. Typically Lexi was the perfect pupil and followed every rule to a tee, but tonight the onslaught of emotions in the dormitory had been overwhelming, worse than it had been in a very long time and she just needed quiet.

The library. The library would be far enough from the dorms that she wouldn’t be able to feel the other students, no one would be in there at that hour, and she would finally be able to get some peace.

An innate mastery of stealth was one of the powers her family possessed, it helped them to go unnoticed and gather secrets - or in Lex’s case, get across the building without being caught by a professor. The petite blonde slipped through the shadows on silent feet, the only hint of her presence the click of her untied shoelaces as the tapped the tiled floor.

Alex could feel the pounding emotions of her classmates dwindling away the deeper she made it into the school, a sigh of relief escaping her pink lips as she finally slipped through the large double doors of the library. That was, until she felt the eternal angst of two boys she knew very well beginning to build.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” The words were almost inaudible, caught on a very annoyed, long exhale. Lex followed the feel of her two peers through the library, winding around bookcases and desks until she saw the dim flicker of light hovering near a table - not a light, she soon realized, but a flame from the hand of Foster Morrison.

With an eyeroll so hard that it hurt, Alex approached the pair on silent feet, slipping from the shadows and into the illumination of Foster’s flame just in time to catch him chastising Kyrell. The three had practically grown up together sitting at the feet of their parents at coven gatherings, Foster being a later addition once he was adopted into the Morrison family, but they all generally ran in their own social circles outside of the coven.

Still, the annoyance rolling off of Kyrell was almost palpable, you didn’t need to be a pathokinetic to pick up on that.

“Don’t be rude, Foster.” She hushed, brushing past him to perch on the corner of the table Kye had been working at. “Ooohhh, research from the forbidden section?” She prompted, quirking a single brow in the dark haired boy’s direction. “Care to share?”

"If you're going to be a Morrison, you're going to learn how to control yourself you idiot," Jeannette Morrison barked, her dark brown eyes boring into him as he stood across from her in the family study.

He had an issue with his temperament. Other than boiling over with infuriation, Foster was actually quite gifted with using his powers.

His silver gaze stared into hers, almost challenging her to raise a hand to him. For a moment, he had envisioned her head engulfed in flames and the corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly.

"Are you listening?!" she snapped her fingers in his face and he closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them and nodding. "Again!" she ordered.

Trying to grasp some form of tranquillity he had left, Foster faced his palms to the sky in front of him. Flames ignited from his skin and slowly began to travel up his arms to his shoulders. She had been trying to teach him an ability that would cause him to full ignite in flames before letting it explode around him as a sort of shield. He had only been able to get so far before the flames would either exhaust or he'd send one of the pieces of furniture in the room to ashes. He was only ashamed it hadn't been her that he had turned into a bonfire.

That had been most of his life growing up. Orders here and there, constant training to be something better. He was so different from this family and he could never put a finger on exactly why they were so desperate to adopt him in the first place. It was like getting a pet dog and if it didn't become the prize winner, it was beaten into obedience. He wondered why they would get something they didn't even want in the first place. Where the logic was in all of it.

As the flames grew hotter, he could have sworn he saw a glint in her eyes he hadn't seen before until now, but with distraction came failure. The flames quickly died out all around him and he released a heavy breath before getting Jeannette's hand to the side of his head causing it to turn.

"Wait until Richard hears of this, you should be embarrassed," she glared before turning on her heel and storming from the room.

He watched after her before rolling his eyes and glancing toward the clock on the wall. He knew that Richard would be home any minute and so he took it upon himself to remove himself from the situation. Foster had one little trick that he had been silently teaching himself over the years. He slowly let himself lean backward until he was about to fall and instead of hitting the ground, his body morphed into a cloud of smoke and he was reappearing at the entrance of Veritum. The school full of sorcerers just like him. Only it wasn't nearly as cool as it sounded. Maybe it was because he hated most people, or it could have been the way they ran the place. Everyone was like a dog to a bone. Constantly chasing the top tier. He supposed his motivation was lacking - his mind constantly elsewhere.

Black boots carried Foster up the steps of the entrance and he shoved open the doors. It was late and not many people wandered the halls at this time. He liked it better this way. As his footfalls echoed against the marbled floors, Foster played with the candles that lit the corridors, making them go in and out as he passed them and he rounded a corner and headed down a set of stairs towards the one place he knew nobody liked to go to - especially at this hour.

The library.

Craning his head around a corner, Foster checked to see if the coast was clear before he shoved open the door, letting them close quietly behind him and he cast a flame in the palm of his hand to illuminate the area when he saw a flickering light across the room through the cracks of dusty old books.

He neared closer, letting his flame go out. His curiosity got the best of him and as he drew closer, he decided he would give himself some entertainment. Snapping his fingers, Foster caused the light of the boy's lantern to go out and he stepped around the bookshelf, standing directly in front of the student before he lit his hand back on fire, exposing himself.

"Unauthorized grimoire research?" Foster commented, looking at the book in his hand. "Should I be concerned?" he looked around before returning his gaze to the boy he recognized from his Coven but hadn't had many conversations with. "You know, you aren't one of the 'quiet kids' or something are you?" he wiggled his eyebrows, each word dripping with sarcasm - the only language he liked to use.

Was he being an asshole? Probably. Did he care? Not a bit.

Kyrell’s long, pale fingers weaved through the thin pages of the forbidden grimoire in front of him. Piles of tomes of resurrection flayed bare, inky drawings that dated thousands of years old stared back with an expectant grin — practically beckoning the sorcerer forth with the promises written between the lines, within the shaded shadows of ink. He didn’t often like to dwell inside of these certain books, finding that becoming too inflicted with death often led one down a slippery, dangerous slope of promises in the afterlife.

As well as evading it.

He was all too familiar with the mechanisms of death. The process of dying. Though, whatever sat beyond that veil, where one's soul traveled when they were too grand for this world, he wasn’t certain.

And that was exactly what he was trying to find within these prehistoric books. Some inkling to what sat beyond, where one would travel, if there was peace after death. Or just an endless oblivion. His professor, a frantic, wiry woman named Gwendolyn, had assigned their last research paper last month. The final emphasis on his concluding year at the institute, and she had given her students the opportunity to explore every aspect of divination. Of future. Or, in Kyrell’s terms, lack of.

Though, so far, all he acquired was a papercut. And dust. Lots of dust. The option of partnering with another was offered, but he had banished that idea before it became a hope. His dark gifts were deemed “unnatural” by most of the students, which often left him in the state he was in currently.

Alone. Perched in front of a book.

A white, fluffy creature rubbed against the back of his leg, dusting his black pants with strands of ivory fur. Knowing Mor and her… temperament, it was surely more out of pettiness than actual comfort. Still, he found peace within the small dose of affection all the same. He glanced down at the cat, arched a brow as she blinked and mewed at him, before sighing once.

“Why I decided on a white cat, I shall never know…” he murmured to himself before returning to his book.

It was why he had chosen the solitude the back corner of the library provided. The Rothbury name would forever be tainted by the shortcomings of his parents, of people he thought he would conquer life and death with. But, he was instead thrust into this world all alone. Innocence hung across his name in mockery. The first few months of isolation for him had nearly driven the young sorcerer into thinking the accusations against him were, indeed, true. That he was a monster his family had created, and not the talented, curious, and generous soul he had strived to be. Resentment had made him bitter as nightshade. Had made him cling to himself and stray from any that dared to draw near.

His life had been filled with trials of being praised for his talent and then shunned and feared because of it. The stares Kyrell Rothbury received would haunt him more than ghosts. More than death. More than anything that darkness claimed, and yet to which he often sought shelter in.

Mor sniffed the air, hopped on the table, and began to strut forward, her white plume of a tail swaying with every step she took. Kyrell often damned her dramatics, but he also knew that she had to have learned them from somewhere. Despite locking himself away, the boy wasn’t exactly known for being… subtle. Rich and extravagant clothing from top designers riddled his body, sheathing him in shades of black with touches of jade here and there. An onyx earring dangled from his right lobe, followed by an array of rings before his fingers ended with dark polish on the nails.

While death may be delicate, he would definitely not be.

Just as he reached to turn a page, footsteps echoed between the shelves behind him. It was late — only the subtle glow of a lantern illuminated Kye’s table. Technically, students weren’t allowed in the library at this hour. However, the benefits of controlling shadows allowed one to slip into them quite easily. While he wasn’t an expert, he did manage to sneak around the staff. Mor got in at her own accord, for the cat seemed to drift between worlds at her pleasure, sometimes disappearing for days on end.

As the footsteps grew closer, Kye shut the grimoire, not wanting to be caught with prohibited material. His eyes flicked to Mor, who disappeared into thin air with a subtle flash of light. The traitor. Left to his own devices, Kye awaited his discovery. Annoyed that his research was interrupted, more than anything.

Octavius Bianchi never knew his father. For most of his childhood, he didn't even know he was special. His mother, a hopeless romantic and drug addict, never told him otherwise. Octavius had always thought his mother was just charming, a talker who could talk her way out of everything, someone who was just lucky when it came to not having him thrown to DSS like trash. He had always been average, a neighborhood boy who played street hockey with the other kids from the bricks. He had spent his childhood running wild through the slummy streets of the city his mother called home. Sometimes, to avoid his mother's newest abusive love affair, he'd sleep on the roof of their apartment building and imagine that gods truly did live in the stars. He didn't hate his life, but sometimes he craved peace, the calm before the storm.

When Octavius was fifteen his life changed forever. It had happened so quickly he wasn't sure it was real. One minute he had been in a crowd at a festival and the next everything was burning down around him; the fire had flowed through him, a part of him. Two days later he was shipped off, doomed to spend the rest of his life in a community he wasn't sure he even belonged in. His magic was spotty, ever changing, never exceptional. He was placed in the lowest of covens, barely magical but unsafe for the non magic society.

Calm, kind, quiet, and loyal Octavius tries to blend in with the masses. He stays out of the way although he can't always avoid staying out of trouble. He's dependable, reserved, and sometimes lost. The best he can do most days is just show up and half ass his assignments. He has a few close friends but mostly just acquaintances. He typically avoids returning home during breaks or holidays and longs for the day he graduates so he can get the hell out of dodge.

Appearance: 6 foot one with an athletic build.

Growing up in a very traditional Vietnamese-Korean household, Jasmine has always felt pressured. Her parents, although of middle class and coven, have always despised their status. Since Jasmine was old enough to remember she was taught to always win, to always be number one, to never ever bring failure to her family name.

For a long time, Jasmine hated the training. The hours spent practicing Hydrokinesis with her father, the nights spent pooling water into the sky to rain down on the farm lands of the desert. She had dreamed of the day she would attend Veritum and escape from the suffocating grips of her father; when she would be free to slack off without the watchful eyes of her mother. Of course, all of that was before her elder brother Siam decided to shame the ancestors and bring disgrace upon the Kim-Luong name. That was before she felt like she had no choice but to climb her way up the food chain, no matter who she shoved down on the way.

A perfectionist in Hydrokinesis but an illusionist at heart, Jasmine often uses her skills to make sure no one makes a better score than her. She's known to send nightmares to her fellow classmates the day before exams, cause uncontrollable crying, and jumble the words on any written paper. There have even been occasions where she has used glamour to hide books in the library. It's easy to get away with things like that when you've kept most of your talents a secret. It's easy for people to like you when they don't know you're really a wolf in sheep clothing.

Determined, witty, driven, and malicious, Jasmine keeps her enemies closer. She has a habit of befriending those in higher covens, because sometimes it's about who you know, not what you know.

"TOBIAS" T W E N T Y - O N E ♦ H E T E R O G E M I N I

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h i s t o r y

Inside a mansion built from deteriorating gray bricks were over a hundred beds that felt as though they may have been created with rocks. There was no such thing as privacy, possessions, kindness; or heat for that matter. Sat on one of the beds, a thirteen-year-old Tobias Whitlock -- better known as Foster Morrison. Rain slapped against the window he stared out of, his gaze fixated on a couple dressed in all black, both the man and woman covered themselves with a matching umbrella. He could remember the sound of the other boys around him creating a ruckus. They did this every time they saw someone approach the mansion. One of them was getting a home. Usually, the youngest of them all.

But for some reason, that day, it was Tobias.

It had become very evident to Tobias that this adoption was far from nurturing. The couple just so happened to be the Morrison's, a wealthy family who was known to pride themselves in being near the top of the food chain and close friends to the headmaster - yes, they did kiss a lot of ass to get there, although Tobias had a good feeling that the headmaster was fully aware of it. Why he let it occur was beyond him.

Now, you're probably wondering, if his name is Tobias Whitlock, why does everyone call him Foster Morrison? Great question. He was wondering the same thing.

Although Tobias is unaware of his true last name and the meaning behind it, he was put into the orphanage as an infant with one thing that had any significance to his true heritage. A watch with his father's first name etched into the inside of the gold band. The only thing he had ever owned. That was quickly torn away from him the moment he was adopted into the Morrison family.

"As far as I'm concerned, he has no name. A mutt," Mr. Morrison scoffed, staring down his nose at Tobias as he stood at the entrance of their manor. "Once a foster, always a foster." he spat, turning on his heel and walking off down one of the halls, his footfalls echoing through his ears.

"You'll answer to Foster and nothing else. Nod if you understand." Mrs. Morrison snapped, grabbing his face with her boney fingers and he glared into her beady eyes, forcing himself to nod so she would let go.

He was Foster Morrison. Nothing more.

p e r s o n a

o u t s i d e; sarcastic, selfish, angry, untrusting, cruel, unloving, heartless, fuck off, blah blah

d e e p b e n e a t h;

loyal, trustworthy, pained, tired, bb just needs some love

t h e m e s;

ilomilo - billie eilish // nothing personal - des rocs

t r i c k s

Pyrokinesis;

Pyrokinesis is the purported psychic ability allowing a person to create and control fire with the mind.

Typhokinesis;

The user can create, shape, and manipulate smoke, collection of airborne solid and liquid particulates, and gases emitted when a material undergoes combustion or pyrolysis, together with the quantity of air that is entrained or otherwise mixed into the mass.

ALEX - LEX - LEXI ༄ TWENTY ༄ HETERO ༄ PISCES

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The Starling family has one of the oldest and most prestigious lineages in the entire world of magic. Much like their namesake, the Starlings are a people of song, of story, and of truth. They’ve been at the right hand of the Celestial Council for generations, gathering secrets and whispering sweet lies in the ears of anyone who questions the council. Their ability to garner trust amongst discourse, prompt one to spill all of their deepest secrets, and manipulate the emotions of other have made them a very valuable tool to the Council.

Sorcerer’s with their abilities are extremely rare, the power running almost exclusively through the Starling line. This means that the Council keeps the Starling family close and in great favor, where they know that their loyalty will fall with them if ever challenged.

Alexandra Maeve Starling was born the second child to Atticus and Cressida Starling, although her parents never took a particular interest in her rearing. Their oldest child, a boy named Sebastian, would carry the family name and was thus doted on from birth.

That is .. until he went missing from Veritus in his final year of studies.

Thus, all eyes fell to the remaining Starling child, left to carry her family’s legacy. Unfortunately, with that came their reputation.

Pathokinetics and raconteurs are widely mistrusted due to their ability to manipulate the feelings of those around them, as well as draw the truth from even the most unwilling subjects. Additionally, the Starling family are often envied for their close alignment with the Celestial Council, which grants them enormous privilege.

Alex was raised with a silver spoon in her mouth, nothing but the best for the heir to her parent’s name and the next council’s pet. She studied under the best tutors, wore the most expensive designers, and was now attending the most prestigious school of magic on the continent. People had constantly whispered that she was better than her peers down to her very breeding, and she’d begun to believe it before she met the people at Veritus.

Despite her reputation for being a manipulative, lying, rich bitch, Lexi is surprisingly down to earth. She rarely uses her powers unless absolutely necessary, and secretly values companionship and being liked. Maybe it was the mostly absent parents or the strict governesses she’d grown up with as an only child, but Alexandra craves genuine trust and connection more than anything else since it’s something she so rarely encounters. Once you’re in her fold, Alex is loyal to a fault and wouldn’t ever think of using her powers against you… not that she’d ever admit that.

Due to the icy glares and general mistrust of the people around her, Lex has grown hardened, with an icy exterior that’s difficult to melt through.

The Starling daughter stands at a petite 5’3, with a slim build and long dirty-blonde hair that is always immaculately styled. Blue eyes, another marker of her lineage, stand stark against dark lashes and seem as though they could cut you down with a single look. It is rare to catch her not dressed to the nines, her tan legs almost always on display with a skirt. And finally, you’ll never find Lexi without the Starling signet ring on her finger. The small silver ring adorned with an engraved bird is spelled to call her to the Council whenever they bid her necessary.

"kye" ✦ twenty one ✦ bisexual ✦ scorpio ✦ board ✦ playlist

BACKGROUND

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born into a powerful, wealthy family, with a strong lineage of necromancers, kye has always been in the spotlight. he had wanted for nothing growing up -- had needed nothing. some would say that he was raised fairly spoiled, considering he is the only child of katrine and bristen rothbury. this resulted in kyrell having a hard time forming deeper relationships as a child, for most either feared or marveled at his family's money, and not the boy he truly was. it left him with a very grim, superficial outlook on life, but also made him grow even more in tune with his studies, turning him into a very powerful sorcerer and exceptional student, like his mother and father.

however, the discovery of his parents using forbidden, dark magic to summon otherworldly beings, in order for pure bloodlines to rule, was what really put the rothbury name on the map. he was eighteen when their crimes shook the entire magical world, crumbling everything he knew right before his very eyes.

with his parents seen as merciless traitors, kyrell was forced to seclude himself inside their expansive, grand estate on the edge of town while his parents spend the rest of their days punished for their crimes. rotting in prison and leaving their only son to rot inside their home, which now felt more like a tomb. even though he was completely unaware of their actions, kye can't help but feel exiled by the entire community. when he is not at school, he keeps to himself inside of the home, minus the few house staff that decided to remain. nowadays, he only prefers the company of his sassy, temperamental cat named mor. she throws off his gloomy aesthetic by being stark white, but the golden eyed creature can hop between spirit worlds and seems to have her own sense of purpose -- though kye is not exactly sure what it might be.

when he is not studying (or brooding) kye is quite fond of scouring the library for a new novel to dive into. he also enjoys learning about ancient magic and everything about where his power stems from. he rarely uses a wand and is often spotted with his shadows swirling around his form, which is more of a defense mechanism, than anything.

• more fun facts:

• a night owl, very rarely does he get a decent night of sleep

• only wears black, grey, and sometimes the occasional emerald clothing. though, he takes pride in his appearance and always likes to be put together

• literally his only friends are ghosts or his cat if that tells you anything about his social skills

• has erratic, violent tendencies and needs so, so much therapy

• he's literally so emo i'm sorry

APPEARANCE

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extremely tall with a lean and lanky build -- around 6'3'' or so. he has chin length, raven black hair that is naturally straight that only heighten the depths of his dark brown eyes. kyrell's skintone is on the paler side with dark shadows resting underneath his eyes. you'll find him dressed to the nines. always. he wears a few rings and is often seen sporting black polish on his nails. while he is ashamed of his parents downfall, he sure as hell will use their money to make himself look damn good. although, you'll often find a few stray, white hairs from his cat adorning his clothing, much to his disappointment.

ABILITIES

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umbrakinesis: mentally generate and manipulate darkness, if perfected, could potentially travel through shadows

necromancy: to utilize magic involving the dead, death-force and/or souls, can communicate with the deceased, can potentially reanimate the deceased/dead beings (humans, animals, and plants)

• note: full resurrection is forbidden

mind invasion: while he cannot control ones thoughts, he is able to dive into a person's memories and communicate through mind speak