When we reached dorm room 267, Dad dropped my duffel bag and pointed out the shiny silver panel to the left of the frame.“As long as you’re the first to press your hand against the magic scanner, then this room will be yours.”
The door was white with ornate detailing and picture framing timberwork. The silver scanner looked out of place, but I appreciatedthe security nonetheless. Pressing my right hand against it, the icy metal bit into my palm, warming a few seconds later.Metal and earth elementals used the strongest materials from the land itself to create such technologies. This scanner showedno obvious signs of what it contained, but from my studies, I’d guess there was iron, rhodium, platinum, and gold—the bestconductors of magic.
“Your energy has been accepted,” Dad said.
Jerking my head up, I removed my hand, flexing my fingers against the tingles still skittering across my palm. “It has? How do you know?”
Dad cracked a proper smile for the first time since Ms. White delivered her message. “Well, the door is open, Little Gem.”
Oh, right. That was a decent indication. Ready to see my home for the next ten months, I hurried inside to find a sparse,simple, but very comfortable room. The main furniture included a white timber twin bed, small dresser, and desk for studying.The carpet was as plush as the hallway, but a muted gray instead of red. Dad set my suitcase and duffel by the door and followedme over to the window.
“That’s the western gate,” he said, “beside the apothecary forest.”
“Where we’ll find spell material,” I confirmed, taking note of the landscape.
“Exactly,” he continued, “and over there is the Weatherstone graveyard where you’ll take a few of your necromancy classes.”
Most of the graveyard wasn’t visible, tucked in beside the western gate forest. Only the arched stone entrance could be seen,and as I observed it, a shiver traced down my spine. I had no necromancers in my family, and I’d never not feel uneasy aroundthose who communicated with the dead.
Dad turned from the window and perched on the edge of the desk to watch me check out the rest of my room. With its white duvetand thick down pillows, the bed looked comfortable. There was the mild scent of lavender from its magical cleaning. The dresserwas empty, ready for me to unpack my bags, but in the small wardrobe to the side, ten or so uniforms hung neatly.
“I hope I can stay,” I said to Dad, sinking against the bed. “I just feel there’s so much for me to learn here, and a lotof growth to be had as a witch.”
Goddess knew I needed it.
“My college years were some of the best of my life,” he admitted, with reluctance. “But there are dangers here now.” The linescarved around his eyes painted a picture of worry. “You’ve only just turned twenty-two. You could stay home for a few moreyears, give us more time.”
My heart hurt, but even as he implored me to take this offer, I couldn’t. “I love you, Dad, and I will miss you and Mom, butthis is the right time for me to leave. Magic blooms when you’re ready to step forth, and I won’t ignore the call.”
We both knew it. Our schooling system was already set up differently to humans, in that we were home with our parents untilthe age of ten, when we started primary. This was to give us a chance to learn how to exist in a family unit first, whichwas akin to a coven. It was also designed so that we’d finish primary and secondary school near our twenty-second birthday.
No one really knew why our magic bloomed in that year, but it had been reasoned that children weren’t mentally prepared tohandle magic, so to keep our species safe, the ancestors had spelled our kind. Or maybe it was the goddesses themselves.
It had been this way for as long as our records of history existed.
Dad’s worried expression did not ease. “It’s going to be okay,” I reassured him. Now that I was here, surrounded by the tinglingenergy of Weatherstone, I couldn’t be torn away from it. As an unexceptional witch, if I missed my chance at Weatherstone,I’d remain unexceptional forever.
“It suits you,” he admitted with reluctance. “I’ll go now and speak with your mother, before you settle in too deeply.”
“Give me a chance,” I all but whispered. “That’s all I ask.”
He nodded. “I love you, Little Gem. I’ll cast some protective energy around your room as I leave.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“I’ll see you soon,” he promised, before adding with a flash in his eyes, “and don’t wander around on your own.” He made a show of closing the door tightly.
“Give Mom all the facts,” I shouted through the closed door, but there was no reply from the other side, and I wondered ifhe’d even heard me.
Settling against the bed, I tried not to let stress get the better of me. There was nothing I could do to influence this decisionyet, and even though I didn’t need their permission as an adult, I also couldn’t afford the tuition on my own.
I had to hope Mom would be on my side.
Exhausted but also strangely energized, I bounced to my feet and made my way to the simple white desk. There were two smalldrawers on either side, with sets of larger drawers underneath each, and a black leather chair. Taking a seat, I opened onedrawer to find a collection of pens, while the other was empty. The larger drawers held notepads, textbooks, and a small apothecarykit.
I’d grown up seeing our battered kit in the kitchen, used almost daily between healing, cooking, and small spells. Ours wasan all-purpose kit, coded white across the tag, but I knew Dad was desperate for one of the black combat kits.
This was the first time I had a kit of my own, and even as simple as it was, I felt more grown-up and ready for college juststaring at it. Almost all witches and warlocks incorporated herbs into their daily lives, and smelling the chamomile tea andlavender ointment was enough to bring me back to my childhood home.
