As I practice this second sigil, I feel the day’s tension slowly unwinding. My hand moves more confidently across the screen, and when I look up, I catch Wylder watching me with an unreadable expression.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He collects the stylus. “You’re a quick study. Practice these daily. They’ll help you maintain control as your powers grow. And if you find yourself in a moment of panic, draw them with the same focus you just showed and they should help.”
I nod, feeling a strange mix of pride and apprehension. This is just the beginning, and I’m already exhausted.
“That’s enough for today,” Wylder says, standing.
I glance down at my pot. “What about my plant? I didn’t make it grow.”
He chuckles. “Not on day one, no. Practice your sigils for focusing your intention and emotions, and we’ll work on growing your plant once your powers settle from today’s unbinding. The last thing we want is for you to tap into the rush of your powers and give it a job to do before you know how to control it.”
Okay, I suppose that makes sense.
“Keep your plant in your room. Consider it your first magical responsibility.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ican’t sleep. How can I be so exhausted and not sleep?
Hours after turning in, I’m still wide awake, staring at the ceiling of my room. My skin feels too tight, like it’s struggling to contain whatever’s happening inside me.
The unbinding has left me buzzing with energy that has nowhere to go.
With a frustrated sigh, I slip out of bed and pull on a pair of yoga pants. Careful not to wake anyone, I tiptoe through the common area and stop at the door.
Does Wylder lock it or ward it to notify him if someone is sneaking out? I don’t think so. The only witch I haven’t seen from our cluster is Rowan from the Thornhill coven.
Apparently, her affinity has something to do with shadows and the power of the moon, so she’s in and out at all hours of the night.
For a second, I consider seeing if Orion is awake and up for a midnight stroll through the halls. But on second thought, it’s really late, and I don’t want to be the reason he’s a zombie tomorrow for his sessions.
The hallway is quiet when I step out of our dorm, and just like at Hallowind House, the moment I start down the corridor,an ambient glow takes hold along the floorboards to guide my way.
The academy building feels totally different at night. The shadows grow longer and deeper, but the quiet stillness of the place is comforting.
“Making your attempt at a great escape, little witch?”
I spin around searching for the source of the voice. There’s no one there. The laughter that follows is lilting, amused. Definitely not human.
I spin again, my heart thudding, scanning the darkened corridor. Moonlight spills through the high, arched windows, casting beams of diffused silver across the tiled floor.
Still no one.
Then something moves in the corner.
A flick of a tail. A shimmer of color.
A tiny mouse, no bigger than my palm, perches on the lip of a high bookshelf. It wears what looks like a miniature velvet cloak clasped with a bead-sized amethyst, and a single whisker curls like a question mark.
He blinks slowly at me. “A bit early to be making a run for it, don’t you think?” the mouse says, twitching his nose. “Most students wait until at least their second week to sneak away.”
I blink at him. “I’m not making a run for it. I was going to walk the halls to burn off some energy. Are you someone’s familiar?”
He sniffs. “Certainly not. I’memployed.”
He hops delicately down to the next shelf, then to a floating book, then onto a globe that spins slightly beneath his weight.
