Atlas The grand marble halls of Blackwood Academy had never felt colder. My footsteps echoed across the vast corridor as I walked, each step steady, measured, and forced. The polished floors gleamed under the golden sconces lining the walls, reflecting fragments of my expressionless face back at me. My reflection looked tired. Outside the arching windows, the sky was darkened with gathering storm clouds, the gardens cast in a murky twilight. Thunder rumbled somewhere far beyond the forest, a low growl that vibrated through the stones under my feet. It felt like a warning. I adjusted my tie as I neared the Headmaster’s office, my fingers trembling slightly despite my iron grip on my emotions. The heavy oak doors loomed ahead, carved with intricate glyphs that flickered faintly. Students weren’t allowed past this point without an appointment. But I wasn’t just a student, was I? As I reached for the brass handle, memories surged unbidden, ghosts of a past I spent years trying to bur
Atlas The sound of her flats scuffing against the marble floor was the only thing that filled the silence between us as I led her away from the courtyard. I didn’t loosen my grip on her wrist, and she didn’t try to pull away. Her fingers remained curled under my palm, trembling slightly, so small it made something cold twist in my chest. We moved past the rose garden, its blossoms drooping. I stopped near the carved stone fountain where the roses draped over its rim, petals floating in the stagnant water. The scent was cloying, sweet to the point of nausea. I released her wrist abruptly. She stumbled back a step, rubbing at the reddened skin where my grip had been. Her wide eyes lifted to my face, searching, afraid, hopeful, and broken. The sun caught her features, illuminating her small nose and trembling mouth, her eyes dark with unshed tears. There was dirt smudged across her cheek where she’d fallen earlier. Her lips parted like she was about to speak, but the words died as
Zara I could hear my breathing, harsh and ragged, as I watched him swallow hard and look away. We walked to the edge of the east courtyard, away from the bustle of students streaming toward the lunch hall. The marble fountain beside us gurgled softly, water splashing over moss-stained stone, filling the silence between us. Jace let go of my wrist and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting away as if searching for the right words. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead, carrying the faint scent of pine and smoke from the kitchen chimneys. “That night… after you passed out,” he began, his voice cracking slightly, “I… I didn’t just leave you there.” My heart squeezed painfully in my chest. “Then what happened?” He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a shaky breath before meeting my gaze again. “When Alex said she’d send someone to come get you… I didn’t believe her. I returned later and waited. I stayed close, hiding by the rose archway. Minutes passed… no one came.
Zara My breath came in ragged gasps. My legs burned from the adrenaline, and every footstep seemed to echo louder in the empty hallway. I had to get out, away from that suffocating room, away from the professor’s words still lingering in my ears. My fingers tingled as I pressed them against my lips, trying to wipe away the phantom touch of his stale breath when he leaned too close. The corridor lights flickered overhead, painting white stripes across the walls as I ran. Every flicker felt like a spotlight on my shame. On my fear. I turned the corner too quickly, my shoes skidding on the polished floor. And then—Bang! I slammed straight into someone, hard enough that I stumbled back and fell to the ground. My elbow smacked painfully against the tiles, sending shockwaves up to my shoulder. I braced myself for impact, but instead, I landed on something warm and firm. A muffled curse followed as a warm hand gripped my arm, steadying me. “Zara!” The voice was familiar—Jace. M
Zara “Mira…. Blackwood.” He paused, a thin smile playing at his lips. “Do you remember what we talked about last time?” My stomach twisted into knots. Talked about…? My memory scrambled, trying to connect the dots through the haze of exhaustion and confusion. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the stiff hem of my uniform skirt brush against my knees. He tilted his head slightly, as if amused by my silence. Then his smile widened just enough to show even white teeth. “Oh, wait… I almost forgot. You’re Zara now, aren’t you? Not Mira anymore.” My lungs froze in my chest. The way he said Mira made it sound like a secret he’d been keeping just for himself, tucked away in a hidden drawer of his mind. “I—Professor, I think you’re mistaking me for someone else,” I croaked out, but the words felt limp and unconvincing even to me. He chuckled softly, the sound scraping against my ears like sandpaper. “I wonder why you decided to change your name and everything about yourself. Hm?” His gaze
Zara Saturdays at Blackwood felt different. Not calmer. Never calm. But the noise slowed. The halls quieted, emptying into the weekend’s looser schedule. Professors retreated to their towers, leaving only the echo of distant footsteps. Breakfast tasted sweeter. The morning fog clung to the windowpanes longer, grey and soft like wool, making the castle feel more homely as though the stones themselves sighed in relief at a day of rest. I wished I could feel the same relief. But the questions kept scratching at the inside of my skull, demanding attention. I sat on the stone ledge of the corridor window, knees pulled up to my chest, chin resting on them as I watched faint streaks of the morning sun cut through the fog outside. Below, the training fields lay empty. Above, ravens nested against the battlements, their black feathers shifting like restless thoughts. My phone burned in my hand. It was one of the few days calls were allowed out. Saturdays only, for a short window before c