LOGINELVIRA'S POV
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My first lesson of the day is business studies. Anika walked me to the door of my classroom; she ran off toward her own class. I stood in front of my classroom, struggling with my bag strap while staring at a room mostly full of strangers. The classroom smells like old wood polish and whiteboard marker. The walls of the classroom were decorated with werewolf business tycoons. I saw that half of the desks were already scratched with initials going back decades, I believe; some of the carvings look old enough to have been left by actual founders of Wolford Academy.
My business studies teacher is middle-aged, gentle-looking, and absorbed in something on her computer screen. I approach her, and she glances up, smiling at me.
"You must be our new student, Miss Giamatti," she says. "I am Mrs. Cooper."
"Nice to meet you, ma’am."
"Take the seat on the right; Gideon's not in class today, so you'll have the desk all to yourself."
Gideon. I file the name away and take my seat, grateful. I was happy not to have someone staring at me or share a desk for the whole hour with anyone.
The class passes quickly enough that I can mostly ignore the stares from my classmates. I found the maths classroom on my own after my business studies class, with the help of Mrs. Cooper's directions. When I got there, the classroom was already full; everyone was watching me walk in the classroom. I took the empty seat at the back, next to a bored-looking girl who gave me a single glance and lost interest, to focus on the maths class.
I got my things out after I sat down. As the class continued, my shoulders finally started to drop after everyone focused their attention on the teacher.
Except for one person who kept stealing glances at me.
He sat in the row ahead of me; he half-turned at intervals. Watching me over his shoulder like I was more interesting than the mathematics lesson. He already got my attention even without his staring — he has golden-blond hair like it's been kissed by an actual sun goddess. His eyes match his golden-blond hair like it was made perfectly for him. I get pulled straight into his eyeballs each time our eyes lock. He didn't notice I'd stopped breathing until the teacher asked the class a question and he finally looked away from me.
His face possesses a Nubian nose. A square jaw is one of his facial features, with skin tanned deep gold. His broad shoulders straining gently at his blazer were obvious for me to see. To me, he was gorgeous, minus whatever attitude usually comes attached to that face.
He glanced back and caught me staring at him this time. I look down at my book so fast I nearly get shy, blushing furiously like I committed a beautiful crime.
I didn't look at him again for the rest of the class. I could feel him not quite looking at me either after he caught me stealing glances at him a couple of minutes ago. I had a strange mutual agreement with myself to pretend the last five minutes never happened. Mrs. Cooper works through a problem she set on the board. I copy it down without absorbing the method she uses in solving it, entirely too aware of the desk in front of me.
——∆♣§§♣∆——
When the bell rang, I was out the door with the students, heading for the Pentagon to meet Anika and dorm mates. The Pentagon is a five-sided courtyard boxed in by five buildings, benches, and trees ringed around a fountain at its center. Most students carved their initials into some of the benches inside the Pentagon to remember those who passed through Wolford. Older students walk across the grass in loose clusters; blazers were discarded, ties loosened in a dozen different color combinations as every walk across the busy Pentagon. The girls saw me and waved me over from a picnic table in the corner of the pentagon.
"How were your lessons?" Anika asked as I sat next to Daphne.
"It is not bad. Yours?"
They fill me in on their morning classes. I take a long drink of water and try to look normal.
"Elvi's got her prophecy flame at eleven," Anika announces the news to the table, practically vibrating. "What do you expect to get?"
"What did the three of you get?" I ask instead of answering. Prophecies are personal to everyone here in Wolford. People who got a black flame tattoo tend not to share the information.
Daphne's tattoo is green. She can talk to her cat, Katty, who lives permanently in her bedroom and apparently has opinions about everyone. Lexa's prophecy flame is blue; she can control one element of earth, especially wind.
"Basically, my powers are useless unless it's already windy," she admits.
Anika's tattoo is red. She carries the Love flame. She has a destined mate.
"Two words, Elvi," she says, smiling at me. "Benjamin Fisher."
My jaw drops. "Your boyfriend from high school?"
"The very same Fisher. He'd already got his red flame and was waiting for when I got my confirming tattoo. A week later, mine turned red too. First time we made proper eye contact after that — I just knew it was him."
"How?"
"Everything clicks naturally. It only happens once you've both got your tattoo color. We got a year here together before he left. I see him on weekends now, mostly."
"That's amazing."
"I bet you get red too, like me," Anika says, nudging me.
I hope so. There's a colder possibility sitting under my ribs that I don't say out loud. My flame might turn black or worse, which is the one nobody at this table has mentioned yet.
"You're having a worry-face," Daphne says, kicking my foot under the table. "Whatever your flame turns out to be, we're still going to make you eat your first hunt kill with us this weekend. That's our non-negotiable roommate law."
"Is that an actual rule?" I ask
"It's an actual rule now," Lexa says. Somehow that helped me more than any reassurance about the flame itself.
——∆♣§§♣∆——
The bell rings across the courtyard. Everyone drains back toward the buildings. I follow the map to the Alchemy and Botany Building, and find Room 68 just as the tower clock strikes eleven exactly.
I knock at the entrance door to Room 68. The door opens on a man with tiger-striped glasses, short salt-and-pepper hair, and kind brown eyes.
"You must be Elvira," he says. "Come in…. I'm Sir Albert."
He leads me into a back room where the flame is already lit, burning in a stone urn like something out of a story. It doesn't burn like a normal fire. It just sits there, patiently casting a yellow glow across shelves of jarred herbs and neatly labelled vials lining the walls.
"Are you nervous?" Sir Albert asks while catching my expression.
"A little bit, sir."
"Everyone is whenever they come in here. I've done this a thousand times, and it still doesn't hurt a single one of them. The moon Goddess is merciful; she's not cruel about it." He gestures to a chair. "Remove your blazer and roll up your sleeve, please. This won't hurt you."
I did as he said, with my heart hammering. My father's told me the same thing my whole life: it doesn't hurt, it's not real fire, it's just old magic wearing a fire's face.
I lean forward and hold my wrist above the flame.
The heat is barely there. My eyes widen as pale pink starts to bloom across my skin, spreading in the shape everyone before me takes…. an ancient symbol, older than the academy itself, stretching from my wrist nearly to my elbow.
My eyes snap up to the flame… after it fully forms, desperate to know what color it'll turn.
ElviraA hatch slid open at the bottom of the iron door, and a tray came through it with no face behind it.I saw a dark sleeve and the edge of a glove. The tray scraped across the stones to my feet. On it were half a loaf of bread and a tin cup of water. Then the hatch slid shut, and a bolt dropped on the other side.“Don’t call out to it,” the old woman said. “They won’tanswer. They never have.”She sat against the cold wall with her chain slack across her lap. Her eyes caught the lamp and showed a little red. They went dark again when she looked at me.“Once a day,” she said. “Through a hatch I’ve never seen open. I only hear it.”I broke the bread in two and held out the larger half. She took it. Her fingers were cold and dry. She ate slowly, and in the quiet I could hear her three slow heartbeats.I had slept a little at a time since Monday. My mouth tasted of dust. Last night the heavy door had opened, and two people had stood over me in the lamplight for a long while. I had kep
GideonA hundred candles burned in the Pentagon at midnight, and every flame leaned the same way when the wind came across the stones.I stood at the front of the line with my hands open at my sides. I had kept them open since Monday. It was the only job I had given myself, and it was harder than any fight I had ever been in.Lyssa walked the rows with her rota sheet and a pencil behind her ear. She crossed off the names of students who had stood for four hours and sent them to the dining hall for bread and tea. She did it fast and loud; nobody argued with her. The sheet held more than two hundred signatures now. Xavier’s post on the east side had been empty since eleven, and he hadn’t come back. I noticed that, and I noted the particular number of the days in my head.Mrs. Pruitt came through the east arch with eight guards behind her. Her boots were loud on the stones.“This ground closes at midnight,” she said. “Every student goes back to the dormitories. Now.”Nobody moved. A firs
XavierThe night lamp in the clinic had been turned down so low that it gave only a small dot of light.It was eleven o’clock at night. I had come in through the laundry side door, because Pruitt’s patrol was on the yard and the front door had a guard. The corridor was dark, and the air was full of soap. The night nurse’s shoes were going slowly up and down the far ward. I counted her steps as I walked. Forty to the end of the hall, forty back. It gave me about two minutes.Susan’s bed was the last one by the window. She was awake. She lay propped on three pillows with a blanket to her chin and a bandage around her throat. Her eyes were open and watching the door. When she saw me, she lifted one hand off the blanket and moved it twice, which meant come here.I sat in the chair beside her and kept my voice low.“The others sent me,” I said. “Eliano, Gideon, and Rafael want you to think about anything you know. Like anyone she might have talked to. Anything about where she could be.”Su
ElviraA match struck in the dark corner, and a face appeared. It was older than any face I had ever seen.I stood very still with the water jug in both hands. The flame was small and yellow. It lit a pair of hands first, with dry skin that looked creased and folded. Then the flame lit a candle stub on the floor, and the candle lit the rest of the space.She was sitting against the wall with her legs drawn up under a long dark dress. Her hair was white and hung all the way to her waist, uncombed and very fine. Her face was narrow, with deep lines running from her nose to her mouth. She was the smallest grown person I had ever seen. On her left ankle, below the hem of the dress, was an iron cuff. A short chain ran from the cuff to a ring set in the floor.Then she looked up at me, and her eyes caught the flame.Her eyes were red. They weren’t brown eyes with a trick of the light on them. They were a deep, clear red, with the reflection of the candle burning in each one. I took a step b
XavierI read the notice once, and it sounded wrong in my head.It was noon, and sixty students stood in front of the notice board outside the dining hall. I counted them without meaning to. They were about sixty-two. They pressed close together, and nobody was talking. The notice was pinned in the middle of the board on cream paper, with the Board’s round seal pressed into red wax at the top.By Order of the Board.Under that were four short lines. Elvira Giamatti. Placement withdrawn. Consent of guardians: received. The school wishes her well. I counted the words under the heading. Thirteen. It was a plain notice, and it said what the Board wanted it to say.Below it, held by a single pin, was a smaller sheet of cream paper with handwriting on it. A letter. I leaned in and read it.Dear Headmistress, Our Ellie writes that she is happy and doesn’t want a fuss. Thank you for everything the school has done. We hope you will let her go quietly. With love.There was no signature. Only a
ElianoI was on my knees in the laundry room, speaking to a pile of sheets.It was eight o’clock in the morning, and I hadn’t slept. The room was long and hot, with steam hanging under the low ceiling and washing lines strung from wall to wall. Baskets of clean linen stood in rows. One of the piles, at the far end under the last line, had moved when I came in. Then it had gone still.“I’m not going to shout,” I said quietly. “I’m not going to take you to Pruitt. I only want to talk.”Nothing answered.“You’re not in trouble. Nobody is angry at you. I need your help, and I think you’re the only one who can help me.”The sheets shook. A hand came out and pulled the sheets tight again to cover him properly.I had found him the hard way. Pruitt’s patrol had searched the girls’ hall at first light and found nothing. Now the whole school had started telling stories. Some said she had run away. Rafael had told me at dawn, on the cold steps, the one thing he had heard Albert say, very quietly







